Rushed (The Rushed Series)

by Gina Robinson

  Dakota must have seen them, too. "Alexis, you've played rugby, I hear?"

  I nodded.

  "You know how to tackle?" he said.

  "Yeah. Why?" I frowned, not getting where he was going. "We're playing flag."

  He ignored my question. "And fall so you don't get hurt?" He didn't wait for me to answer. "Let's show them how it's done."

  He called the girls over. "We're playing flag football, right?"

  The girls nodded.

  "That's all fine and good. Until we come up against a team we need to intimidate. If we 'accidently' tackle them once or twice…" He shrugged as a devilish smile spread across his face. "We'll take a penalty. But we'll also scare the shit out of them and get them to back off. The game will be ours to lose." He gave some brief instructions. And demonstrated some moves on me in slow motion. "On my count, Alexis, take off at breakneck speed. I'll demonstrate how to tackle you." He took a deep breath. "One, two, three!"

  I sprinted out. Dakota took off after me. He was fast on his feet. He took me down hard, tackling me from behind, landing on top of me. He was breathing hard in my ear and pressing up against me with a bulge in his pants. He lingered longer than necessary. "You made me work for that. Good job, Alexis."

  He smacked me on the butt as he got up. When he gave me a hand up, he pulled me too hard, directly into his chest.

  When I looked toward the hill, Zach and Seth were gone.

  By the time practice was over, I was bruised, grass-stained, and needed a shower. As Dakota dismissed us, he grabbed my arm. "Not you, captain. We need to talk strategy. Come to the SUB with me. I'll buy you something to drink."

  Chapter Twelve

  Alexis

  "I'm a mess," I said to Dakota.

  "So am I." He slung his athletic bag over his shoulder and winked at me. "It's okay. I like messes." Then he ran his gaze over me with a look on his face that said he wasn't lying.

  We made small talk as we walked to the SUB. In the food court, he ordered a large fries and a couple of pops. We found a table that overlooked the practice field where another frat/sorority team was practicing.

  "Never hurts to keep an eye on the competition." He shoved the fries to the center of the table to share.

  He was dead serious about the game and winning the tournament and the homecoming trophy. We discussed the team and practice.

  "You were impressive out there today," he said. "I mean it."

  "Thanks." I rubbed my shoulder. "You could have gone a little easier on me."

  He shrugged. "Why? The other girls won't. I thought you knew how to take a hit?"

  I sighed. "Not from a wall of solid muscle."

  He grinned like I was flirting with him.

  "And don't keep drawing a bull's-eye on me. You name me captain without seeing me in action in a single practice? What's that about? You made my big furious."

  "Morgan? Don't worry about her." He laughed. "You know football and love the game. As far as taking a hit, I meant the other teams. The Zeta Nus' girls will eat you for lunch. They're going to use the accidental tackle play, too. Bet on it."

  "None of them will be as big as you are." I took a fry and dipped it in ketchup.

  "Don't count on it." He winked. "Zach came out to watch the practice. What's the deal with you and him?"

  I stared at him and tried to hide what I felt behind nonchalance. "Nothing. He's one of the houseboys. They don't date the girls. And we don't mess with them."

  "Sounds good in theory." He took a drink, looking like he didn't believe me. "Hearts and hormones don't always follow the rules."

  I ignored his statement, more interested in what he could tell me about Zach. "I could ask you the same thing—what's the deal between you two? Archenemies? Nemeses? I hear you two used to be inseparable."

  "Where did you hear that? Sarah?" He held my gaze.

  I shrugged. "It's common knowledge."

  "Nice dodge. You're not a journalist. You don't have to protect your sources."

  I laughed. Dakota was as smooth as a politician. He wasn't going to tell me anything else unless I startled it out of him. "I heard something else—I heard you said he'd kill to get attention. Has he?"

  As he stared at me, I watched him struggling for an answer. "That was shitty of me. I was hammered. I lost my temper. I never should have said what I did."

  I leaned forward. "Is it true? He's an attention whore?"

  He paused. "He always has to be number one. When the spotlight trails off him for even a second, he'll do something outrageous to get it back. That's just the way he is."

  I led him on, playing sympathetic because I wanted to know more. "As his friend, that must have been hard to deal with."

  He looked at me like he'd found an ally. "You're right. I put up with that shit for years. That night he was out for all the glory again and I'd had enough. I called him out."

  It might have been my imagination, but Dakota seemed uncomfortable talking about it. I couldn't help feeling he was holding out on me. That there was more to the story, something that he either didn't want to tell or refused to admit.

  "I said some shitty things. Aired our crap in public. I'm sorry about that. If I could take it back, I would." He shook his head and took a deep breath. "I apologized. Repeatedly."

  Dakota paused, looking lost in thought. "If he wouldn't have made such a big fucking deal out of it, no one would even remember. He could have laughed it off, but he didn't. He didn't like the reflection he saw when I shined the mirror on him."

  Dakota paused again and reached across the table to grab my hands in his. "I don't know what Zach has told you about me. I'm not such a bad guy, Alexis. He and I are a lot alike, which is why we were buds for so long."

  He squeezed my hands and stared at them. "I like you, captain. There's something between us. I know you feel it, too." He sounded sincere as he lifted his gaze to mine.

  I stared back at him, unable to answer. No, I didn't feel it. I felt like I was watching a romantic movie where the two main characters are trying to pretend they have chemistry and the audience doesn't buy it. Maybe Dakota was just trying too hard to impress me.

  He gave me a half-smile. "This is going to sound like self-serving bullshit. But it's my duty to warn you—Zach doesn't let girls get close. Don't expect him to let you in, either. Just when you think he's all yours and the two of you are soul mates, he'll cut you loose and break your heart. I've seen him do it too many times before."

  I hadn't noticed it before, but away from the frat, Dakota was much more real. I liked this Dakota better. He reminded me of Zach. Dating him would be so much less complicated. But my heart wanted Zach.

  Dakota looked me straight in the eye. "Do I have a chance with you?"

  "Impress me," I said, trying to buy time while I sorted my feelings out. "Then maybe."

  Zach

  I had Saturday night duty again. I volunteered to take Seth's shift. The house was quiet. I was finishing the last of the dishes when Alexis walked in and lingered in the doorway, watching me work. I saw her from the corner of my eye. She didn't say a thing. Just watched like she was trying to figure me out.

  I broke the silence first, refusing to look directly at her for fear of giving my feelings away. Of letting her see how stupidly happy she made me just by showing up. "Don't you ever go out on Saturday night?"

  "I might if the right guy asked me." There was enough flirtation in her voice that I would have had to be dead to miss it.

  I glanced at her. Shit. She wasn't wearing any makeup. Her face was freshly scrubbed. Her hair was pulled back in a French braid down her back and she was wearing sweats and a crop top. The fresh reality beauty of her made my pulse pound.

  "That's no excuse," I said. "You can't find a party on Greek Row? Step out the front door and you'll run into one."

  She gave a simple shrug of her shoulders. "Maybe I don't feel like partying. Maybe I'm tired. It was a rough practice today." She rolled her shoulders and win
ced, making her point.

  I believed she was sore, but not the part about being too tired to party. The only time the girls were too tired to party was if they were down-and-out sick or in the middle of menstrual cramps. She was too perky for either.

  "It's not surprising," I said. "Dakota banged the hell out of you out there." The words slipped out and had a dual meaning that I hadn't intended and came straight from my subconscious. I cursed my stupidity for letting my jealousy and fear slip through.

  Her eyes lit up and I thought, Crap, she sees right through me. It was part of what thrilled me about her. And part of what scared me shitless.

  "He hits hard and likes to do a full-body slam," she said.

  And linger way too long, I thought. "Why the hell was he teaching the girls to tackle?"

  "To scare the other team into thinking we're badass rule breakers who will crush their bones." She cocked her head. "You watched part of our practice."

  It was like she was calling me out and looking for some kind of reaction from me.

  "What do you think of our team's chances in the tournament?" she asked.

  "QB2 has his work cut out for him." I turned back to the sink, rinsed the pan I'd been holding in my hand almost forgotten, and set it in the dish drainer.

  She came up behind me and went on her toes to whisper in my ear. "Any tips for me?"

  I felt her heat behind me and the brush of her breasts against my back, tempting me to do things I shouldn't. "Do you want to avoid Dakota?"

  I was testing her, speaking in code because there was no way in hell I was coming directly out with my feelings.

  "Naturally." Her words brushed my ears like a breath of a breeze.

  They shouldn't have made me so damned happy. But the way she sounded, she knew what we were really talking about. "Dakota always hits with his right side to the player's left. Stay to the left of him and he won't be able to take you down."

  She put her hands on my shoulders. "Anything else?"

  "Dak is a player." And I meant that in every sense. "Not a coach." I stared into the window over the sink, watching her reflection as she peeked over my shoulder. "Coaches don't get down and dirty and tackle players."

  When I looked over my shoulder at her, she grinned and gave me a seductive look that made my pulse beat even faster. "Not ever?"

  "Why are you here?" I grabbed a dishtowel to dry my hands, turned to face her, and leaned back against the counter.

  She looked up at me, completely guileless. "I'm parched."

  I bet she was. I was, too.

  "I need water." She reached around me and grabbed a glass from the cupboard next to the sink, brushing against me as she did. "And I was hoping to run into you. I could use your help getting ready for the tournament."

  "You already have QB2's special attention. Why do you need me?"

  "You just said he isn't a coach. I need real coaching."

  I stared at her.

  "Please, Zach. I'm team captain. I can't let the others down. You're one of us. You have to help me."

  I dried my hands. I should have told her no flat out. But I couldn't. "You're cute when you beg."

  "So you'll help?"

  "Yeah. Sure. Anything for the house." And her. When it came to Alexis, I was a stupid fool.

  "Thanks! You won't regret it. I'll work hard." She grabbed my damp hands, went up on her toes, and kissed my cheek. Her perfume filled my nose, and the heat of her nearness made me force myself to hold myself in check. Before I did something stupid, like kiss her back for real, the way I dreamed of doing.

  She laughed and ran her hand down the inside of my forearm. "You missed some suds!" She wiped a blob of suds off my arm and trailed her fingers down it in a feather-light touch that made me shiver in the heat of her nearness. Then she blew the suds at me, sending tiny bubbles into the air as she laughed like a combination between a siren and a delighted child.

  She caught my arm again as I blew the bubbles in the air back at her. She traced my tattoo with her thumb. "July fourteenth—"

  I pulled my arm away. "It's just a date."

  She frowned, looking almost hurt by my curtness. "And an angel?" She looked up at me with sympathy. "A cutesy, girlie angel, like for a little girl. That doesn't go with your image." She paused and whispered. "It’s more than just a date. Who died?"

  I never talked about it. But something about Alexis made me want to share it with her. "My baby sister."

  "Oh." Her eyes went wide. She grabbed my hand and squeezed it reassuringly. "I'm sorry."

  I nodded. "Me too. Her death blew our family apart. My parents couldn't handle it." I took a deep breath, trying not to sound as ragged as I felt. "I don't know why I'm telling you this."

  "Because I asked. And sometimes it helps to talk."

  The look of sympathy on her face was beautiful and genuine. "Yeah, I guess you're right." I grinned. "You did." I paused. "They divorced less than a year after she died." I had to swallow my grief. All these years later, survivor's guilt still gutted me.

  "Oh," she said again.

  This was where people always faltered. They never knew what to say. What else could she say? What could anyone say? Nothing took the pain away or changed what happened.

  "I don't remember her," I said, surprising myself. I never admitted that to anyone, either. "Except from pictures. My only sister and I can't remember the sound of her voice or picture her face."

  Alexis pulled me into a hug and pressed her head against my chest, not saying anything. I wrapped my arms around her and rested my chin on her head. Her hair was still damp in the braid and smelled fresh, like shampoo.

  "What you're feeling is too complex for words," she said. "You need music. And its healing power." She paused. "Want to listen to some together? If you want to, only if you want to, you could share a song that makes you feel better. Or we could do our homework together?"

  Right then, I knew I loved her. Crazy as that sounded. She was the first girl I'd met that really got it and me. She didn't try to get me to talk about it. She knew exactly what I needed.

  "Sounds great to me." I took her hand. "My room? Seth's out until dawn or later. We won't be disturbed."

  We held hands as we sneaked into the basement. I felt lighter just being with her. In my room, I pulled two beers out of our mini-fridge and tossed one to her.

  She grinned as she caught it. "I thought this was an alcohol-free house."

  I arched an eyebrow. "You're kidding, right? What kind of a stash do you have?"

  She laughed.

  "Seventies rock cries out for beer." I screwed the top off my bottle, brought up the playlist for class on my laptop, and ran it through my speakers.

  Neither of us spoke as we sat on my bed, leaning against the wall, drinking and listening to seventies rock. I had two more beers to her one. Led Zeppelin's "Fool in the Rain" came up.

  "We heard that the first day in class," she said.

  We sat on my twin bed, hip to hip, thigh to thigh. Somehow moving closer with each song.

  Her eyes sparkled. "My dad says this is late-seventies party music." She rested her chin on my shoulder.

  "Too bad it's not make-out music," I said, teasing her, watching for some kind of green light from her as the buzz of alcohol tore down my defenses.

  "Isn't that what they did at parties? The whole goal?" she whispered, smiling.

  I set my beer on the nightstand, tipped her face up, and kissed her the way I'd been dreaming of since I'd met her—with the full force of my passion.

  She slid into my lap. I lowered her onto the bed, kissing her neck and sliding my hands beneath her crop top. "You are so beautiful," I whispered as I kissed her neck and she ran her hands through my hair.

  She didn't stop me when I caressed her breast. Or when I pulled her top off. Or unfastened her front-hook bra and it fell away, revealing perfect breasts, hard and excited for me.

  I was in awe as I bent and sucked one. In awe that she let me touch her,
that she wanted it. That a girl this perfect wanted me the way I wanted her. She gasped and pressed my head against her breast like she was afraid I would back off. I didn't have that much willpower.

  No, I was the only fool around here, risking everything because I couldn't stay away from this girl.

  I ran my hands down the flat planes of her stomach and the gentle curve of her hips. I slid them beneath the waistband of her sweatpants, beneath the thin, soft material of her panties into the heat between her legs.

  I kissed her, ferociously, with the intensity of everything I felt as I rubbed the nub between her legs in a way that made her moan into my kiss.

  I lost myself in her as she stroked my chest and unzipped my jeans. I was asking for trouble. Somewhere that voice in my head was warning me this could all be my undoing. But I didn't listen. I was too buzzed. Too horny. Too desperate for Alexis.

  I was too selfish. I wanted once, at least once. When she grabbed my dick, I was afraid I wouldn't be able to hold on long enough.

  She slid my jeans down. They got stuck at my feet. We laughed as I helped her slide them off. While I tossed them aside, she slid her sweatpants and panties off. "Let's do this, Zach. I want this."

  We were both buzzed and high on music. It was such a bad idea.

  She must have sensed my momentary hesitation. "It's okay. I'm on the pill."

  I pulled a condom from my nightstand drawer, slid it on my dick, and perched over her as she leaned up and looked me in the eye.

  "Stop teasing. I'm ready." She positioned me near her opening and wrapped her legs around me, ready to drive me in.

  I saved her the trouble and drove into her, deeper and deeper with each soft moan that escaped her lips. Again and again as the pleasure built. Trying to hold on as long as I could. Waiting for her to join me at the moment of climax. It was important that I satisfied her.

  It also was inevitable I would meet a girl like her—one whose mind and body defeated my defenses and tore down the wall I'd built to keep people away from who I really was. It wasn't fair to her to go this far without telling her the truth about me. How messed up and unlovable I was. But I didn't have enough willpower to stop.