by W. Winters
“You want me to get you a new one?” he asks me.
“Why? So you can rip that one up too?”
“What else am I good for?” he jokes as I shake my head and stare at the ruined fabric in my hands.
“I knew you were bad news,” I say and again it’s meant as a tease, to come out playfully and add to the banter between us.
“You don’t know my story,” he says and his voice comes out hard. No humor, only defensiveness.
I’m caught off guard as I watch him bend down for his shirt. Still completely naked, but he reaches for the shirt first, of all things.
“Really?” I tease him, pretending the tension doesn’t exist. I wait for him to look up at me and that guarded expression still clouds his handsome face. It calls to me differently than before. My fingers itch to touch his jaw. To calm the sadness, but I resist. “Your shirt is what you go for first?” I keep my voice light and he huffs out a breath but lets a smile grow on his face.
“It’s for you,” he tells me as he balls it up and hands it to me. “Since you’re so hell-bent on having me rip another shirt off you.”
The laughter that erupts from me at his response is genuine, as is the warmth that flows through me. He’s bad news for me. He doesn’t get that. It’s all bad news waiting to happen.
“It’s been a while since I’ve smiled this hard,” I confess and then bite back the happiness and honesty in that statement.
“That’s a shame,” Dean says and takes the shirt back before I can accept it. “You’ve got a beautiful smile.” He leaves it hanging there in the air, and I take the bait, reaching out and trying to snatch it from him. A rough chuckle fills the air between us when I miss.
“You want it?” he asks me with a smirk on his face.
Do I want his shirt? I’m in my own damn house. I could go upstairs and put on whatever I want. But do I want his? The one he’s taunting me with? Not to mention the only shirt he has here.
I nod once, feeling my hair tickle my back. The stare between us grows hotter as he takes a half step back, but holds out the shirt. My heart races faster with each passing second and the tips of my fingers glide against one another as he shakes it, as if to say, “Here, it’s all yours.”
I act as fast as I can, reaching for it and tearing it from him, but it’s in vain.
He lets me have it without a fight in the least.
The cotton shirt is bunched in my hands as he drops his to his side and scratches his abs.
“Aw, you’re even prettier when you pout,” he mocks me and I roll my eyes, tossing his shirt carelessly behind him.
“You’re no fun,” I tell him. He takes a large stride toward me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me against his hard chest before I can blink.
“Allie Cat, all you have to do is tell me you want it,” he says as I gasp and reach both my hands up to his bare chest. My blood heats as he lowers his lips to the shell of my ear. “Sometimes it’s fun to take, but we both know how that would end between us,” he whispers, and it sends a chill across my skin.
He nips at my neck and runs the tip of his nose along my jaw. My eyes close slowly as I lift my lips to his. The first kiss is gradual, teasing even; I’m still reeling from his comment. The second is deeper but the moment his tongue slips across the seam of my lips, I have to laugh. His dick is hard again and poking me in my stomach.
I pull away from him, but just with my upper half, seeing as how he still has a firm grip on my waist.
“Already wanting more?” I tease him. He groans deep and presses another kiss to my lips. This time I open my mouth, greeting his hot tongue with swift, deep strokes of my own.
I moan into his mouth as he slowly unbuttons my shorts and yanks them down, shoving his hands between my legs and cupping between my thighs like he owns what’s there. My neck arches and my strangled cry of pleasure is muted when Dean covers my mouth with his. He devours me forcefully and unapologetically.
And I can’t bring myself to regret it.
Not this time or the next. Not even when I wake up early the next morning to find he’s already gone but left his shirt behind with a note telling me it’s mine to keep until he replaces the other.
At least he left a note. I’ll give him that.
14
Dean
My muscles ache, and the burn feels so fucking good. My heart’s racing and I can faintly taste the blood from the cut on my lip.
I live for this shit.
My pops used to watch rugby. I don’t have many fond memories of him since he was sick for so long but as I stand in my position, cracking each knuckle one by one and waiting for the signal, I remember how I used to sit cross-legged only inches from the screen when we’d watch television together. I can still smell the beer Pops always had next to him during a game. I can still hear him cheering them on. And the second I can, I rush forward, crashing my skull into Kev’s shoulder and digging my hands between his chest and the ball.
My teeth are clenched; my heart isn’t fucking moving. Nothing is.
All that matters is that I get possession. My shoulder knocks hard against Kev’s and he’s thrown backward. As I fall forward, I rip the ball out of his hands and quickly throw it to Daniel. Fast possession, fast plays.
I tumble downward and don’t even try to brace myself. My shoulder cracks as it meets the ground and the wind is knocked from me.
Before I can even get up, Kev’s shoving me back down to the ground, nearly trampling me to get to the action. Fucker steps on my hand, grinding it into the dirt. Fuck!
My eyes narrow as my breath comes back to me. I almost grab his ankle and yank it toward me, just to see his scrawny ass bust his mouth on the way down. But I bite back the anger. It’s not what I need. It’s not good for me.
A whistle goes off and Brant, the third player on our side, pats my back as I stand up, brushing the soil from a scratch on my arm. His hand thumps my back as he says something I can’t make out over the ringing in my ears. I focus on counting in my head.
Counting all the times I’ve lost control. All the times I’ve let my anger get the better of me.
All the shit it’s brought me. Several broken noses, although I’ve only had one myself. It’s one thing to pop off and pick fights because I’m bored, or because I’m angry, or even because I’m fucking lost. It’s another thing entirely to let it control me. To fall back on it. I know this, I’ve been over this shit with Dr. Robinson, but I’ll be damned if it helps me as much as getting locked up did.
I can hear the guys rallying up again as the white noise and ringing slowly fades.
All I’m concentrating on is my rage, taming it. Keeping it in. After all, it’s Kev’s uncle who helped me out. He’s friends with the judge who agreed to the terms of my probation and beating the shit out of his nephew isn’t the best way to pay him back.
“Fuck yeah, man!” I hear Daniel yell in a deep voice before throwing the ball down on the ground in front of me and jumping on my side, wrapping his arms around my neck and thrusting his hips once before jumping off.
“Whoo!” he calls out, clearly pleased with himself and the team. The smile stretches slowly across my face as I watch as him celebrate with Brant.
“Go, team!” I hear her soft feminine voice shouting and cheering before I see her.
Hard to believe that sweet voice could come from such a sinful mouth. I can’t help but to look over at her; Allie’s in the back of the bleachers this time, clapping her hands and blending in with the small crowd. Well she’s trying to, but a woman like that wasn’t meant to blend in. It’s not even so much a crowd as it is a group of kids killing time before class. It doesn’t look like any of them are paying attention.
She smiles brightly when I catch her gaze. I wasn’t sure if I’d see her today or not. Everything I did yesterday morning was deliberate.
Leaving my shirt—it was an excuse to seek her out in case she doesn’t come back to me.
Not leavin
g my number—so she can’t snub me and leave me hanging. I got her number from her phone before leaving, though. I didn’t say I play fair.
And taking off before she woke up—to make her want the chase this time.
Yesterday came and went easily enough. I thought about her ass and almost texted her. I’d feel pathetic about how she’s got me wrapped around her little finger if she wasn’t sitting in the bleachers right now.
She came because she wants to see me. Plain and simple.
And I fucking love that.
My little Allie Cat may think that was a one-time thing, but I’m not even close to having my fill yet. She’s a girl I can play with and I can already feel the excitement in my blood at what I’m going to do to her.
“Lookee, lookee,” I hear Kevin say as we huddle up. When I look to my left at him, his eyes are on her. “You got yourself a fan, bro,” he tells me and wraps his arm around me. Today we’re on opposite sides, mixing it up for fun.
“Let’s run some more fast plays,” James starts saying, hands on his knees and far too into practice. As if anyone really cares about this game.
“You tap that?” Kev asks and it irritates James, but only for a second, until he looks behind my shoulder and catches sight of her.
Daniel peeks up at her too.
“What the fuck?” I snap at them.
“I was just looking,” Daniel says defensively and tilts up his chin and adds, “Didn’t take long, huh?”
“Longer than I wanted,” I tell them and it makes Kev’s brows knit together. “She likes to be chased,” I explain and then feel uncomfortable talking about her to these guys. I barely fucking know them and it’s none of their business.
They don’t need to know that she’s a challenge. Because she’s for me. Not them.
“Let’s just call it,” Brant says. “Sun’s going down and I’m fucking beat.”
“Nah, one more,” James argues. “We’re getting lazy as fuck.”
I crack my neck to one side and then the other.
“So, what’s she like?” Kev asks, nudging me and yet again pulling the topic back to Allie.
“Fucking worth it,” I tell him without hesitation. I knew she’d feel like that. Tight in all the right places, gripping my dick and working it like it belonged to her. There’s more to come. I can already taste it. There’s something in her that’s just like me. Something easy to recognize. I can feel it. And I know it’s going to make it that much better when I have her next.
“She likes it rough, doesn’t she?” Kev asks and James elbows him as he adds, “Rough and dirty.”
I catch Daniel glancing between the two of us. He doesn’t say anything, but I don’t like the look on his face or the shit they’re saying.
“We going in again or not?” Kev asks. I couldn’t give two shits.
“Once more,” Daniel finally speaks up. Then he asks, “You want the goal this time? Chicks fucking love it when you score.” I snort at his suggestion.
“Yeah they do,” Brant agrees with him and again he looks back to check her out.
I shrug like I don’t give a damn but then say, “Yeah, I want it this time.”
“Yeah you want it,” James says like a jackass. He humps the air like a jackass too. I rub the back of my head, feeling my ears burn.
“Fucking embarrassing,” Daniel says, pushing James over so he falls on his ass. As the other guys laugh, I look behind me, just a quick glance to see if she saw.
But I don’t know if she did or not, because she’s already gone.
15
Allison
He keeps looking over at the bleachers like I’m going to magically appear, and I can’t help that it makes me smile. But the tug upward on my lips falters as quickly as it forms.
I know this story. And the sweet bubbly feelings in my chest, well, they don’t mean shit compared to the growing sense of dread in the pit in my stomach.
I’m smarter than this.
But I want him.
The smile widens, and I kick up my foot to hit the brick wall behind me when the guys walk this way. Straight to the locker room I just happen to be standing in front of.
It gives me a sick sense of pleasure when Dean nearly trips as he catches sight of me.
He notices my smile too, which makes him narrow his eyes. I love this game. More than anything else, I love the way it makes me feel.
Even if it is temporary.
“Stay right there,” Dean tells me, not slowing his pace as he walks right past me to go through the doors. “Just need to grab something.”
He doesn’t even wait for me to nod. Doesn’t wait for any sign at all I heard him.
My jaw hangs open. Fucking dick.
I grin slightly as I realize he won that round. I can hear a bell ding in my head and see him getting a point on a scoreboard. “Touché,” I mutter as the rest of the guys file in. He knows I came for him.
Why do I love that he’s such an asshole?
I’m left pondering that very question and kicking the dirt when I hear another voice.
“Well, hello again. Did you enjoy the game?” Kevin Henderson asks me as the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. He stops only a foot in front of me, watching as some of the other guys walk past him. I have to remind myself we’re not alone. Not really. The field is right behind us. The study group that was on the bleachers is still there. Still within earshot.
My shoulders move involuntarily into a shrug as I try to act casual and keep it light, but flirtatious. It takes me a moment to look Kevin in the eyes and when I do, I make sure to flash him a dazzling smile.
“Looked like a practice to me,” I tell him while my heart thuds once, then twice. It’s not a game.
He manages a half smirk and moves his thumb to the corner of his mouth before replying, “I thought you said it’s always a game?”
The pounding of my heart gets louder and my blood turns to ice in my veins. I can picture how it would happen right now, how he’d pin me here against the brick wall, how it would scrape against my back. But it would have to be late. The skies would be black and my scream, when I finally did scream, would echo for miles.
“Didn’t you?” he asks me, his voice bringing me back to the present and I have to manage my composure, making sure I add a touch of shyness as I take the strand of hair in front of my face and tuck it behind my ear.
My eyelashes flutter as I tell him, “You have a good memory.”
“You dye your hair?” he asks and my stomach clenches. As if he knows who I used to be. “Why? Blondes have more fun, don’t they?” he says in jest before flashing me a smile and I struggle to respond. He’s just making random conversation. It doesn’t mean anything.
“Yo,” Kevin says as he rips his eyes off me and the sound of footsteps slowly coming to a stop greet me.
“Everything good?” I hear Dean ask, but I still don’t look in his direction. I can’t right now. Not after this little encounter.
It’s odd to feel as if I’ve betrayed him. As if I should feel guilty, and maybe that’s what this twisting in my gut is.
“Yeah, yeah,” Kevin says and tells me, “Catch you later,” before half jogging into the locker room.
“He giving you a hard time?” Dean asks me and when I hear Kevin’s sneakers skid across the cement pad in front of the doorway, I finally look up at Dean. Right into a possessive stare.
One that sees right through me.
His hard gaze makes me feel like my hand has been played. Like I can’t trust the words in my mouth.
“You want to tell me something?” he asks me and my bottom lip wobbles slightly. I want to tell him everything. I’m desperate to tell someone.
“Did you see him score?” Daniel’s voice interjects. When I look at him, Dean takes a step back, narrowing his eyes and focusing them on Daniel. “He said it was for you,” Daniel adds as he slips his arm around Dean’s shoulders and flashes me a charming smile, but I see right through it.
“I saw a bit of the action,” I finally answer Daniel and then meet Dean’s stare to add, “I like watching him score.”
A flicker of humor touches his eyes but he doesn’t smile until I say, “I’m glad you guys are done, though. I don’t like waiting for what I want.”
I shouldn’t have said it really. But I wanted to see him smile. I wanted it so bad that I lost control again. He makes me reckless.
“You heard her,” Dean says with a lopsided grin and slaps Daniel’s arm away.
“You made her wait long enough I guess,” Daniel says before walking off and nodding a farewell.
A short moment passes and I don’t know what Dean’s next move will be. It makes me nervous.
“So, you ready to go?” Dean asks me, and I gawk at him.
“Go where?”
The muscles on his broad shoulders ripple as he moves the strap of his duffle bag over his shoulder and across his body.
“I just came to give you your shirt back.”
“That’s nice of you,” he says then looks at my purse and my cheeks burn. I don’t actually have it with me. I just said that to make it difficult for him.
“So?” he asks and another breeze goes by, sending goosebumps up my arm. It’s colder in the evening and especially in the shadows.
“So what?”
“The shirt?” he asks then adds, “Really, it’s for you to hold on to until I can get you a new one.”
I shrug off the chill. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to, though. You all right with that?” he asks like it’s a dare and my heart skips a beat as I’m caught in his heated gaze. He traps me so easily.
