"Is he cute?" Sydney produces a goofy smirk—one that I've seen on her brother's face dozens of times.
"I might be slightly biased, but he's real handsome," Ellie insists as she scrolls through her phone. She finds what she's looking for and hands it over. "Here. His baseball headshot. Take a look for yourself."
"Handsome?" Sydney's eyes go wide. "Handsome's how I would describe a toddler in tuxedo or an elderly man wearing a top hat. Your brother's not handsome—he's sexy!"
She ogles the picture before shaking her head in regret. "But the chances of me going to school in Georgia are the same as Lexie becoming a professional soccer player." She gives me a teasing wink. "Otherwise, I'd absolutely take you up on the offer."
She starts returning Ellie's phone, but quickly jerks it back and gasps. "Ah, shit. Is it seriously 10:45? I gotta run!"
"Where are you going?" Rayne asks.
"I have a meeting on campus at 11."
And with that vague answer, she pulls her hair into a ponytail, grabs her bag, and jogs down the bleachers two at a time.
"See ya!"
The game comes to an end just as we drain the last of the mixed drink. I follow Rayne and Ellie down the steps and onto the artificial turf field. The pair veer off to congratulate their significant others while I look for Weston.
After searching amongst the players shaking hands and removing cleats, I finally spot him near his team's bench. He's twisting open a sports drink as he talks to a stocky man in a tailored business suit.
Upon further inspection, I realize they aren't exactly talking.
More like arguing.
I hesitate at the fifty yard line, pretending to be fascinated with my nails as I snoop on the altercation.
Weston makes one final comment to the man before shoving past him, a scowl curling his upper lip. It immediately disappears when he sees me.
"Hey, baby." He tugs his jersey off, chest and abs glistening with a thin layer of perspiration. With a grin, he opens his arms wide. "C'mere and get some of this man sweat."
"Eww. You make me sick." I jokingly make a retching noise as he pulls me into a tight embrace. His damp skin doesn't gross me out—quite the opposite, actually. That natural scent mixed with his deodorant and body wash is like kryptonite to me.
"Good game." I place a quick kiss under his jaw before tilting my head up in concern. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah. Fine." His curt tone and tense body language suggest otherwise. But before I can ask if he wants to talk about it, he lifts a brow. "You wanna get away?"
"What do you mean?"
"Are you free this weekend?"
"I could clear my schedule. Where are we going?"
After gulping down half of the yellow Gatorade, he tells me it's a surprise.
I smile and roll my eyes. "Okay, well, when are we going? Kinda need to know that one."
He hikes his soccer bag on one shoulder as we head towards the parking lot. "How fast can you pack an overnight bag?"
"Fifteen minutes?"
"Damn. You're faster than me." He laughs and unlocks his Jeep. "How about this. I drop you off, I'll head home and get my shit, then I'll pick you up around noon?"
"Works for me," I confirm with a nod. "Surprise weekend getaway...Should I be excited? Or should I be scared? I'm leaning towards choice number two with you at the helm."
"Little bit of both. And don't forget to pack a swimsuit." He reaches behind me, smacking my ass with a wicked grin. "Preferably one of those cheeky ones."
29
My dad's a man who knows what he wants and pursues it full throttle. No corners cut, no stones left unturned type of persistence.
So I didn't even bat an eye when his pudgy personal assistant, Mr. Edwards, showed up at my scrimmage this morning ready to talk business.
Did it annoy me? Fuck yes.
But did it surprise me? Not at all.
It's totally in character for my dad to send the man on a 9 hour flight across the pond just to bitch at me about Arsenal.
I managed to shrug Mr. Edwards off at Warrior Stadium, but he's tenacious. I knew the remainder of the weekend would be a game of cat and mouse—him chasing me around campus, hellbent on dragging me off to London to please the dude in charge.
And that's when it popped into my mind.
The perfect place to avoid anything soccer related, a place my dad and his bootlicker P.A.'s don't know about.
My grandpa's lakehouse.
"We're going to visit your grandpa?" Lexie asks after she tricks me into spilling the beans on the location. She flips the passenger mirror down, running a tube of chapstick across her lips as her mouth goes into overdrive. "I love grandpas! Is he a sweet old guy who smokes cigars and sucks on those hard candies? Or one of those 'Back in my day, we didn't have yada yada yada' kinds? Both of my grandpas tell me war stories, the same tales over and over again. I never get tired of hearing them, though. Does your grandpa do that?"
"Je-sus, motor-mouth. Slow it down a few notches. How much freaking caffeine did you have this morning?"
"I had a mocha latte before the game," she reveals before a guilty grin pops on her face. "And then I might've had some alcohol during. It's all hitting me now. Stimulant overload!"
"And you're already hyper as shit to begin with. You're such a fucking handful," I tease as I squeeze her thigh.
In my peripheral, I see her tug out the front of her shirt, glance down, and shrug. "Slightly more than a handful, wouldn't you say?"
"Damn. She's got jokes." I produce a wide smile. "I like it. And def more than a handful."
"Good God, I don't know where that came from." A laugh bubbles out of her throat and she shakes her head. "You are so rubbing off on me."
We instantly make eye contact at the innuendo, both of us fighting a grin. I arch a brow and open my mouth, but she quickly cuts me off.
"Don't even freaking say it! Anyway..." Her hands slap down on her quads, fingers tapping her tan skin restlessly. "Back to the original subject. Your grandpa. Do I get to meet him?"
"Sorry to disappoint your grandpa-loving ass, but my gramps has been kicking it in Florida for the past five years. Dude's living the good life, sipping Hurricanes and taking a new blue-haired lady to the early bird specials every night."
As we cruise down the two-lane road, I fill her in on the badass lakehouse.
It's spacious as hell—4,000+ square feet with five bedrooms and a bomb home theater. Gramps took his speed boat to Sarasota, but he left us all his water toys: jet skis, wake boards, and tubes aplenty.
Because it's located just a few hours away from both Windhaven and my hometown, my mom and I take full advantage of the house, each of us using it for equally important things.
She loads canvases and paint supplies in her car, driving out for creative inspiration and a quiet place to get some work done.
I load kegs and my rowdy teammates in my Jeep, driving out every weekend in the summer to get fucked up and blow off steam from two-a-days.
Yup.
Equally important.
I spend the entire drive talking up the joint, and I'm worried the reveal might be a bit anti-climatic after my descriptions. But when we pull into the half-circle driveway, Lexie's eyes are round with awe.
And when I unlock the double doors and motion her inside, she's even more impressed.
"Wow." Her duffle bag falls to the hardwood, her head spinning in a million different directions. She skips over to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the water and squishes her face against the glass. "Killer views."
"Like a freakin' postcard, huh?" I grab her bag off the ground and hoist it over a shoulder. "Alright. What first? We could watch a movie, take a dip in the lake, test out the Jacuzzi bathtub...You're the guest, so I'll be a good host and let you pick." I grin. "The Jacuzzi is pretty fucking sweet, just gonna throw that out there. Not trying to influence your decision or anything."
"All those sound great, but I'm about to burst your bu
bble here," she says with an apologetic smile. She walks over to me, unzips the duffle, and pulls out her laptop and a sheet of paper I instantly recognize.
"Lexie, no." I groan as my head falls back in displeasure. "Hell no."
"Hell yes." Her tone is firm as she waves the lab analysis in my face. "I don't wanna do it anymore than you do, but it's non-negotiable."
"We really should've finished this shit earlier in the week."
"Let's make it interesting." Her sly smirk grabs my attention. "Every question we complete, I'll take off an article of clothing. Is that incentive enough for you?"
"Depends on how good of a stripper you are," I say with a wink.
"Oh, I'm good," she teases. "I'm four-figures per night, make that pole my bitch good."
Her hips sway back and forth seductively. She's just messin' around, but it's actually sexy as hell.
"Okay. I'm convinced." My teeth drag across my bottom lip in appreciation. "Promise me there's more moves like that and I'll do whatever the fuck you say."
I lead her to the upstairs balcony, the roomy area and warm weather the perfect setting to plow through this report.
The first smattering of questions are fairly simple. Lexie's quickly robbed of her shoes, socks, and the stupid hair tie around her wrist which shouldn't freaking count, but whatever.
When we begin the harder problems, the rewards become increasingly sweeter.
Question Six: She strips off the shirt.
Question Seven: Off come the tiny white shorts.
God damn.
And when the eighth question comes around and she starts to unhook her bra, I'm thinking this plan might be counter productive. With each item of clothing removed, my already-compromised concentration falters further.
The sexiest girl on this freakin' planet is standing in front of me, rocking body on full display, and I'm supposed to science?
Nah, man.
Physically impossible.
I hear the snap of the clasp and let out a low growl in anticipation.
But just as her bra starts to make its descent, my evil girlfriend pulls her hair over both shoulders, shielding her breasts with the thick tresses.
"Not fucking fair," I argue as the black undergarment cascades to her feet. "Free the nips, babe."
She wags a finger. "Answer another question and you get nipple access."
I make a noise of frustration in the back of my throat. "Baby, I can't. All the blood's left my brain and gone straight to my cock." I nudge my head towards the erection straining against my shorts. "Seriously. 'Blob-like' is gonna look like a high-quality answer if you make me keep working right now. I'm too damn distracted."
My eyes glide over her, drinking in the glorious sight.
Long bronzed legs.
Black lacy thong.
A gust of wind whips through the air, blowing aside just enough hair to reveal a tight, pink bud and shit.
That's it.
I'm fucking done.
The paper and my notebook are tossed to the deck with disregard. I thrust my hand below my waistband, the relief instantaneous.
"What are you doing?"
Pretty sure her words are meant to be scolding, but the shaky, breathless voice in which she utters them sounds more aroused than angry.
"There's only two more questions. We can finish it later tonight, maybe tomorrow—doesn't matter to me. But right now, you have a choice. Either you can watch me jerk myself off. Oh fuck," I groan as I stroke my throbbing dick up and down. Her thighs twitch in response. "Or you can come over here and help me out."
"Weston..."
I tug down my shorts and briefs, giving her an unobstructed view of what I'm doing.
That gets her quiet real quick.
Her chest starts to rise and fall with heavy breaths, cheeks flushing with color as I continue pleasuring myself.
As I watch her spark of arousal bloom into a raging fire, my movements become faster, more desperate. When I feel electricity tingling at the base of my spine, I curse.
"Shit. I'm already about to bust just looking at you," I say through clenched teeth. "You want some of this? Now's your chance."
"Wait," she rasps.
It takes a shit load of willpower to force my hand to stop moving, but somehow I put the breaks on my release.
In the blink of an eye, she's on the lounge chair, straddling both legs over my center. She flips the curtain of hair back over her shoulders, baring her chest as she hovers above me.
"Fucking perfect," I murmur as I cup both breasts with my hands. When I graze my palms against the erect buds, she releases a sweet moan that makes my dick twitch.
"Oh shit," Lexie mumbles as she starts to grind on me, her hips rolling back and forth with unabashed need.
She's so wet I can feel it through the thin lace.
After only a minute of frenzied dry-humping, she can't take it anymore. Reaching down, she yanks the fabric aside and positions herself above me.
When she sinks down, her warm, wet heat surrounding every inch of me, my self-control is hanging by a thread.
The thinnest thread known to man.
She starts to move up and down, but I grab her waist and keep her still.
"Hold on a sec," I say hoarsely. "Or this is gonna be over before it even starts."
"I thought you weren't a minute-man," she remarks with a playful wink.
"Didn't used to be. This is all your fault, babe. I'm so fucking attracted to you, I can't help it." I squeeze my eyes shut and try to regain some composure. "You ever put a Mento in a bottle of Coke? That reaction is what I'm trying to hold back."
"I did a science-fair experiment on that in middle school," she reveals. "I tried ten different soda brands. It had some interesting results."
Snooze-fest science talk.
That could work.
"Tell me about it."
After she's spouted enough nerd-terms to bore me off the edge, I relax my grip and let her go to town.
And this girl is a fucking dream on top.
She rides on my cock with brisk, desperate movements that match her breathing. I dig my nails into her hips, thrusting up at the same pace, fucking her hard and fast.
It's raw.
Primal.
Hot as fuck.
I watch as she starts to lose control, biting down on her lip, eyes taking on a glassy haze.
When she leans forward, whimpering as she grinds her clit against my lower abdomen, I know I'm a goner.
Can't talk it down this time.
"Lex, shit. I'm gonna come."
It isn't much of a warning. I'm blowing my load inside of her before the sentence even ends.
Thankfully she's not far behind, her walls clamping down on me just seconds later. I groan as a million stars dot my vision. Ecstacy surges through my bloodstream, Lexie's sensual sounds the perfect soundtrack to my mind-blowing orgasm.
She collapses on top of me, both of us trying to catch our breath. My hands splay across her back, her skin hot to the touch from the sun beating down on us.
We lay there for a few minutes as we recuperate. My eyelids are just starting to lower when she suddenly pops back up.
"Can we go swimming?"
Didn't take long for her energy levels to skyrocket back to normal.
"Jesus, woman." I stretch my arms over my head and yawn. "Don't you know a dude needs a nap after that?"
"Come on. We can sleep when we're dead!" She pouts and clasps her hands together in a begging motion. "Please?"
Like I could ever say no to this girl.
"Alright, alright. You win." I relent as I gently press my lips to her collarbone. "Let's get your ass in the lake."
After we clean up, we throw on our swimsuits and dive head first into the murky blue water.
The next few hours consist of jumping off the pier, floating in tubes, and swaying from the ancient rope swing that's been tied around the same tree branch since I was a teen.
When th
e sun starts to dip, we lose our only source of heat. Only a few slivers of sunlight slice through the dense trees and Lexie shivers.
"It's freezing," she says with chattering teeth.
I nudge my head forward. "C'mon."
We swim until we're out of the foliage-heavy enclave and in the center of the lake.
"Better?"
She rubs her goosebump covered arms. "Slightly."
I laugh. "It's not even cold, Lex. I'd call it chilly at best."
"Duck your head under and try and tell me it's not ice-cold," she demands with a frown.
"Nah. I'm good."
She leaps up, crossing both arms over the crown of my head as she tries to force me under.
I grunt in amusement as she pushes down to no avail. "Too weak, babe."
"Ugh." Her futile attempt comes to a halt. "I'm not weak. Try to dunk me and I'll bet I can stay above the water just like you."
"You're hilarious," I say with a shake of my head.
And then I easily dunk her under the surface with one hand.
She emerges a few seconds later, laughing and sputtering as she smooths her wet hair back.
"You jerk!"
She sends a playful splash my way before quickly swimming behind me.
I turn around, ready to retaliate, but the sight stops me in my tracks.
In fact, it leaves me fucking speechless.
Golden hour is in full effect, illuminating Lexie like a beacon. The light hits her at the perfect angle, creating a luminescent halo around her head. Her bronzed shoulders glimmer under the rays as she floats in front of me, oblivious to how freaking angelic she looks right now.
Her head slants. "What?"
"You're just...fuck. I don't know. You're—"
Perfect?
Beautiful?
Amazing?
I'm flipping through a damn thesaurus in my mind, but each adjective's not strong enough to describe the girl in front of me.
Because she's not just one of these words.
And she's not just some of them, either.
She's all of them.
"You're everything," I murmur softly. "You're my everything."
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