The Guy on the Left (The Underdogs Book 2)

by Kate Stewart

  “No shit?”

  “He’s going pro. Did you see his highlight reel? Sick.”

  I cross my arms. “Okay, Mr. Jenner. Let’s hear it.”

  “While anarchy was the basis of the book, they still formed a set of rules which, in essence, is government. I think he was trying more or less to highlight the corruption of those governing. Oh, yeah, and it’s a really bad idea to leave a bunch of sadistic kids unsupervised on an island.”

  I nod. “I don’t disagree.”

  “There’s a first.”

  “To a point.” I scowl at him, where he sits dwarfing a desk that’s far too incompetent for his frame. He raises his hand again, and I have to bite back my smile.

  “More to add?”

  “Yes, I’d very much like to take you to dinner.”

  “I don’t date students. That’s highly inappropriate, Mr. Jenner.”

  “One can only hope.” The bell rings, and the laughter fades as my students gather their books.

  “I would do more than read the Cliffs Notes,” I call after them as they pass my desk. “You will not pass this test without reading the novel, I assure you.”

  “Happy Birthday, Ms. A,” a few of them say on their way out.

  “Thank you.”

  The students scatter quickly due to the weekend itch while Troy remains at the back of the class, his smile appearing between the warm bodies crossing his path. When we’re alone, I sit on the edge of my desk.

  “When did you get back?” It’s taking all my strength not to fly down the aisle and launch myself in his arms.

  “An hour ago, and I had to come straight to you. You make tweed slacks fucking sexy. I knew I wouldn’t be the only teenage boy who fantasized about you.”

  “Thanks for encouraging inappropriate behavior in my classroom, Mr. Jenner. Way to set an example.”

  “Sorry, couldn’t help myself, Ms. A.” He stands and begins sauntering down the aisle toward me. “You know he’s got a thing for you. I’m willing to bet most of them do. Half of them were probably half-mast looking at you in those pants.”

  I look down at my outfit. “I dress like a nun here.”

  His eyes rake me in, and I do the same. He’s absolutely perfect, and every day I pinch myself that he’s mine. And not just because of the way he looks, but because of what lies beneath. While he was away and when our schedules permitted, we fell asleep together after hours of talking on FaceTime, no subject off-limits. But nothing beats having him here, seeing him in the flesh, being able to touch him. He’s definitely the rainbow after more than forty days and nights without land. His presence a promise of something new.

  And the fact that I’m comparing him to a biblical story only proves how deep I’m in.

  “No, not at all a nun,” he murmurs as he finally reaches me. “You’re every man’s dream. This man’s dream.”

  Fingers itching to touch him, I hear myself whimper. He smells so damned good. “I would give anything to kiss you right now, Clarissa.”

  “Same.”

  “Then get your things, sexy, I have the rest of the day planned.”

  “What about Dante?”

  “Parker’s doing us a solid.”

  “You two finally call a truce?”

  He shrugs. “She hasn’t poisoned my food lately.”

  “Don’t get cocky, you’ve been absent.”

  “I’m here now, and you’ve got seconds before I snap. Hurry up, baby, I’m fucking dying.”

  I gather my books as he darts his eyes toward the door and then leans in.

  “No, Troy, we can’t. Not here.”

  “Then hurry up,” he grits out, his voice molten. “Fuck, what I wouldn’t give for ten minutes alone with you in this room.”

  I gather my bag and toss it over my shoulder, not giving a damn about what I might’ve missed. “How did you even get in here?” I ask, unable to hide my elation as we both walk down the hall at a manic pace.

  “Sweet talk.”

  “Poor girl.”

  He sighs. “Wasn’t a girl.”

  “Damn,” I laugh, “you went there, huh?”

  He pushes the door open and ushers me out. “There’s very little I wouldn’t do for you, Ms. A.”

  In Troy’s truck, I study him as he drives. He’s so fucking handsome, so masculine, and yet I find myself completely floored with how different his personality is in comparison to all his perfection. He’s the first to admit when he’s wrong. The first one to take others into consideration. Sure, he’s cocky but only to a point. He’s never played indifferent to the feelings of others, especially his son’s. Troy isn’t the reason women stereotype, he’s the exception. You don’t have to dig deep to see his layers. He’ll gladly lift his armor to show you what lays beneath, you need only ask.

  The most dangerous people are the ones you let get close, only to reveal their Gemini side once you’ve confessed or given them a lot more of yourself than you should’ve. Troy’s the opposite of that type, giving you only enough to draw your conclusions before subtly blowing you away with his depth, the beauty of his strength, the inner workings of his heart. I’ve seen his anger, his temper, I’ve seen his lows, the good and the bad, and none of it has changed my opinion of him.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “That I’m lucky,” I say without hesitation. “That I’m so lucky you’re mine.” He turns to me, his eyes filling with emotion as I tell him my truth. “You’ve surprised me, Troy. In the best way.” He stares at me for long seconds and then pulls his truck over at a bustling car wash. “What’s going on here?”

  “Quick stop. I want to give you something.”

  He plucks his phone from the console before jumping out of his truck, cornering his hood, opening my door, and hauling me into his arms. We hold each other for long seconds while he strokes my back, running his fingers through my hair before pulling away to smile down at me.

  “Welcome home.”

  “Home looks so beautiful.”

  I look up at him through my lashes. “What are we doing?”

  He leans past me, turning up the volume in his truck.

  “Putting our dance lessons to good use.”

  “Here? Are you crazy?”

  “Shhh…” he says, tapping play on his phone before pulling me back in his hold, just as Ray LaMontagne starts to croon “Hold You in My Arms.”

  “This isn’t embarrassing at all,” I nervously giggle as a few people tirelessly scrubbing their cars glance over at us like the love-crazed weirdos we’ve become.

  “I’m up here,” he says softly while tilting my chin up with his finger.

  “So, the car wash, huh? Does this often work with the ladies?”

  “You’re my first.”

  “Your first what?”

  “You’re all my firsts. Relax,” he whispers, kissing my cheek before nuzzling my neck.

  “Who knew you would be such a romantic.”

  His eyes fill with pride. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

  “It’s a great thing. By the way, my sweater is almost out of cologne.”

  He chuckles. “On it.” As we dance, I sink into his hold, the words hitting hard, resonating deep. The wind kicks up, but I stay comfortable in the warmth emanating from him.

  When the next song starts to play, Troy grips my ass, pulling me close, thighs nestled between mine, our dancing bordering indecent as he moves us to the beat of the bass. I shake my head, still feeling the eyes on our backs but give into him, dancing along.

  It’s when the man begins to sing that all my bells go off and my heart does a somersault. “Oh, my God!”

  Troy continues to rock with me in his arms as I bang on his biceps.

  “Troy! Oh, my God! It’s the SONG! TROY! It’s the song!”

  Tears flood my eyes, and as I begin to move back and forth with him, emotions running rampant, I’m a hysterical mix of laughter and tears as we sway to the music.

  “This is it!” I shout
happily through my tears as he cups the back of my head and peers down at me with a blinding smile.

  “I hoped it was…listen,” he lifts a finger, “right…here…Ahhhhh, baby!” He sings to me as I burst into laughter due to his animation.

  “You found it,” I say, shaking my head. And then we’re dancing, in the freezing cold, in a car wash off the side of a Texas highway. I couldn’t care less who’s watching as I cling to him, swaying my hips, a mess of emotion. Troy pulls me closer, kissing the cold tears from my face. When the song ends, I shake my head repeatedly, more tears spilling over. I’m sure I’m a spectacle, but I can’t stop the shake in my voice.

  “How, how did you figure it out?” I ask, my heart beating a mile a minute.

  “The picture.”

  “The picture?”

  “The one of you and your mom you showed me. On the back, it said: My baby & me, AG 5.”

  “I always thought it meant age five.”

  “No,” he says, pushing the hair off my shoulders, “It’s called “Tired of Being Alone,” by Al Green.”

  “Wow. I’m just…Troy, this is everything.”

  “I can’t take all the credit. Theo is a maestro, and he helped me figure it out. It was a long shot, but I listened to his greatest hits and could only find one song that would make me crack a smile in the middle. You said there was that one part that always made you laugh.”

  “I can’t believe you remembered that.”

  He stops his movements, cupping my face. “I’ve memorized you, Clarissa, the shape of your lips, the lilt of your voice, your every smile, every mood, your everything. I used to think it was because I’ve grown so used to watching because of Dante,” he wipes another tear from my cheek, “but it’s not just our son, baby, it’s you. He wasn’t the only one I was falling for.”

  I shake my head incredulous, my heart exploding with his sentiment. “This is…I can’t believe it. It’s the best gift I’ve ever gotten. You, you gave me a piece of my childhood back. Thank you,” I kiss his jaw, his nose, his neck over and over as he holds me close. “You have no idea what this means to me.” I kiss him again and again, my heart soaring. “I’m so thankful. You have no idea how much.”

  “I think I’m getting a good idea,” he manages through the rain of affection as I run my kisses along his jaw.

  I look up to him, and he searches my eyes, his alight with raw happiness at my reaction. I can feel the shake in his limbs as my heart speeds up. Troy’s lips seal over my mouth before he deepens our kiss. Clinging to each other, his tongue strokes mine, seeking, exploring, while I melt in his embrace. This kiss just as powerful as our last and the kiss before, but behind it, I feel more than I imagined possible. My body sinks into him, and he grips the back of my head, plunging his tongue over and over until we’re breathless.

  “Take me home and ravage me, superstar.”

  “No can do, baby, I’ve got a promise to keep.”

  “I don’t think I can take much more of this adult dating.”

  “All in good time. Happy Birthday, pretty woman.”

  “I love thirty.”

  “You should. It looks fucking amazing on you.”

  “No, no, that’s you.”

  I reach up and tug at the back of his neck, bringing him closer until I’m kissing him with all I feel, and he kisses me back just as fevered. Horns of passersby sound around us, and I couldn’t care less, because for the first time since we met, we’re no longer a secret, and I don’t care who sees that I’ve fallen for Troy Jenner.

  Clarissa

  Troy nestles himself between my parted legs, where I sit on the dryer sweeping his tongue across my lips. Opening for him, he deepens our kiss while tugging the neck of my T-shirt beneath my breasts. It’s a trick he does often, cradling them together before he feasts. My nipples draw tight in anticipation, the pulse between my thighs beats heavy from the hunger in his eyes. The stroke of his thumbs over the lace covering my pebbled flesh has me on the verge as he grinds his rock-hard length just where I need him. He silences my whimper with his tongue just as Dante calls to him from the living room.

  “Troy, can we play football?”

  Reluctantly he pulls his lips away, eyes full of lust while he caresses the swell of my cleavage with his palm. “Sure, bud, but only for a few minutes. We have to head to the airport soon.”

  Slowly, he lifts my aching flesh from the lace of my bra before sucking my nipple into his mouth.

  Yes, we’re horrible parents.

  It’s been ten days of utter bliss. Since Troy’s been home, we’ve been doing a hell of a lot of ‘laundry.’ Ever the hustler, he’s been working odd jobs with Kevin in construction to try and catch up on his bills. When he’s not working out for endless hours to keep up his time and stamina, we spend every spare adult second exploring each other’s bodies. He’s given me exactly what I asked for, what I hoped for, a real courting, and I’m loving every minute of it.

  “I can’t find it. Where is it?” Dante asks.

  “In my truck,” Troy calls, before placing a tongue-filled kiss on my shoulder. “Keys are on the table.”

  “K!”

  Warm hands cover me while his lips travel, and I entertain getting down on my knees for a second time.

  “Fuck, baby, I’m about to explode,” he rasps out against my skin as I clutch him to me.

  “Me too,” I murmur, ripping at his hair. “If you would stop being so stingy with the penis, maybe we wouldn’t be so sexually frustrated.”

  “That’s ‘Grand Commander,’” he says pointedly through the worship of his lips, “and I have a point to prove,” he murmurs, running his knuckles down my cheek.

  “Fine, fine, you’ve proved it, you’re now the poster boy of courting and commitment, happy?”

  “Hell yes, I am,” he says softly, his eyes lifting to mine, the sentiment blanketing me in warmth, resonating deep.

  I beam up at him, sliding my fingers through his thick mane. “Me too.”

  “How many sleeps?” he groans. After the Combine, he’s set to meet up and sign with an agent. They’ve been talking for the past three weeks, and he’s kept me in the loop. The closer the draft gets, the more he’s scrutinized by different camps. His performance in the next few days is key, and I can’t believe how relaxed he is with the pressure he’s under.

  “Six sleeps. You’ll make it.”

  “No, I won’t,” he groans, rubbing his erection against me.

  “You’ve got this. I’m so excited for you. You’re going to kill it. And we’ll be cheering you on from here.”

  “Troy! I got the football and your medicine!”

  “Okay, bud,” Troy nuzzles my neck and steals another kiss before pulling away, drawing his brows. “Wait. My what?”

  “What’s he talking about?”

  “Medicine? No clue,” he says, his eyes dropping to my love tassels to which he gives separate parting kisses. “See you in six days,” he murmurs to them as I giggle.

  “Come on.” Righting my shirt, I push at his chest, and he unlocks the door, sauntering down the hall. Our fingers separate just before he reaches the living room and comes to a jarring halt.

  Stopped short, I peek around Troy to see what’s got him tensing and see Dante standing in the middle of the living room, holding up a needle. My heart seizes, the whoosh of blood pulsing in my ears, all life and breath knocked out of me by the sight.

  “Is this your shots?” Dante asks Troy, wrinkling his nose. “I hate shots.”

  Immobilized by fear, Dante and I jump with the boom of Troy’s voice. “Dante, NO! DROP IT!”

  Troy’s within reach in seconds, ripping the syringe away from his hand. Dante’s so stunned by Troy’s reaction that he begins to cry. I’m still standing in the hallway in shock while Troy inspects the needle before turning to Dante.

  “Where did you find this?!” Troy roars. Hysterical, Dante screams out his reply.

  “I didn’t open it! Troy, I promise!
” Dante’s terrified voice lifts in defense as his eyes shoot to mine in appeal. “Mommy, I didn’t open it!”

  Fear like I’ve never known thrums through me as I race to where Dante stands and jerk him into my arms. I don’t recognize the sound of my own voice as I sit with Dante on my lap and begin to search him.

  “What is it?!” I shriek frantically, inspecting Dante. “Troy,” I look up to where he stands, “what is it?!”

  He looks over to me, his face ashen. “Steroids. It’s empty, and the cap is still on. He didn’t open it.”

  I run my palms over Dante’s arms before turning his hands over and over.

  “Dante, please tell Mommy, did you open it? Did you stick yourself on accident?”

  “No, no, I promise. I didn’t! Troy tooked it! I wasn’t playing with it!” His chest pumps with his cries, his voice, and lips quivering.

  “You won’t be in trouble, I promise. Please, baby, tell me the truth!”

  From above me, Troy speaks, but he might as well be on another planet. “Clarissa, he didn’t open it.”

  I examine Dante from head to foot. “Accidents happen. I won’t be mad at all,” I’m trying to stay calm, but I’m getting hysterical myself. “I don’t know what to do!” I cry as I grip Dante to me, and he sobs in my neck. “I have to take him to the hospital! Troy, we have to take him in!” Dante clings to me, my cries further fueling his. Troy stops me when I stand, pulling us both into his arms.

  “He didn’t open it. I watched him,” Troy says hoarsely. “He’s okay. It didn’t touch him, Clarissa. I snatched it as soon as he pulled it from the bag.”

  I’m shaking so hard I feel like I’m going to implode.

  “He’s okay,” Troy assures before I jerk us out of his hold as rage rolls through me.

  I lift my murderous gaze to his. “Why was that in your truck, Troy?”

  He swallows, shaking his head.

  “Why was that in your truck?!”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know where it came from. It’s not mine.”

  “Then, who does it belong to?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “I swear to God, I don’t know. It could’ve bee—”