“Hey.” I stroke her cheek. “It doesn’t matter if it’s been a few weeks or a few months. None of that matters. We’ve been on a collision course since you told me you’d rather streak across campus than play ball with me.”
She laughs at this, the tension melting from her shoulders. Her face softens, and I lower my mouth to hers, claiming it the way I’ve wanted to since the first day she tempted me with those sassy lips. The kiss starts slow and gentle, but when she opens her mouth and body to me, a silent invitation, it’s all I can do not to sink into her with one hard thrust. But I’ve waited weeks for this; I can wait a few more seconds. She spreads her thighs and hooks her ankles around my back. I ease in slowly until I’m seated to the hilt.
“Ooooh,” she says, the sound more a purr than a coherent word.
She’s so fucking tight it’s torture not to move, but I hold steady, giving her a chance to adjust to my size. When she starts rotating her hips, I drop my forehead to hers and match the pace she’s set. She skims her hands over my shoulders and rakes her nails down my back, digging them in and pulling me closer, like she can’t get enough. The feeling’s mutual. Sex with Carter is so much better than the fantasy. I roll my hips and she moans. I do it again and seal my lips to hers, muffling the sexy noises she’s making.
“You feel so fucking good, Kennedy.”
She freezes, and I get another glimpse of the vulnerability she hides behind her quick wit and cool exterior. I pause and sweep a strand of hair from her damp forehead.
“What is it?” I ask.
“That’s the first time you’ve called me Kennedy.” She bites her lower lip, the flesh plumping under her teeth. “I kind of like the sound of my name on your lips…Austin.”
When she says my name, the tension at the base of my spine becomes almost unbearable and I know I won’t be able to hold out much longer. I take her mouth in mine, pouring weeks of pent-up frustration and raw desire into the kiss, and push us both toward oblivion. My hips crash against hers, and I sink into her warmth with renewed fervor. When Carter’s back bows off the bed, my name on her lips, I come, spiraling right over the edge with her.
28
KENNEDY
The early morningsun cascades over the bed, but I squeeze my eyes tight and snuggle down under the covers. I’m warm and cozy and content, and honestly, who needs sunshine when there’s sleep to be had? Not me.
It’s my day off and nothing is getting me out of this bed.
I roll onto my side, which takes some effort because there’s a heavy weight across my midsection. It takes my groggy, caffeine-deprived brain a few seconds to catch up with my body, but when it does? I kind of want to slink back into blissful ignorance.
Austin. Sex. Multiple orgasms. Everything comes rushing back to me in the harsh light of day, panic rising in my chest.
Okay, no need to freak out. It was probably just a dream.
One that needs repeating every freaking night.
I slowly open my right eye and find myself face-to-face with Waverly’s golden boy. I squeeze my eye shut again, lowering the lid in swift denial. Big mistake. Shutting out the world only brings my night with Austin into sharper focus, my brain replaying our time together like a highlight reel.
I had sex with Austin Reid. A football player. And it was the best sex of my life.
Maybe there was something to be said for experience after all. But no, that wasn’t it. Austin was a generous lover, practically a unicorn on this campus. He paid attention to what curled my toes and wrung those embarrassing moans from deep in my throat. Hell, he’d dedicated himself to my orgasms with the same vigor he gave the game. It was something I hadn’t expected, hadn’t known I craved, but now that I’ve had a taste—
No. Just no. This was a one-time lapse in judgment. It can’t happen again. I promised my mom and that means something.
God knows she hasn’t asked much of me over the years.
Besides, Coach would have our asses.
There’s a muffled thump from down the hall, followed by a low yip from Baxter.
Shit.Becca. Why is it the one time I try to have a secret hookup, she comes home early? She wasn’t even supposed to be here last night. Not that it matters now. She’s here and she’s up at… I turn and squint at the bedside clock, unable to make out the numbers without my contacts. I stifle a yawn. Whatever. It has to be early because I’m tired as hell.
Of course, that could be the result of last night’s sex marathon.
I sneak another peek at Austin. His chest rises slow and steady, confirming he’s sound asleep with his muscular arm draped possessively across my hips. There’s something intimate about seeing him this way, his handsome features more relaxed and innocent than I’ve ever seen them. Gone is the swaggering BMOC with the cocky grin. In his place is the man who made me laugh during sex, taking the time to ease my nerves before he worshipped my body. All. Night. Long. With the world’s best orgasms.
Hell, he should probably trademark those moves because just the memory has my lady bits desperate for an encore.
“Austin,” I whisper, giving his shoulder a not-so-gentle shake. Please don’t let him be one of those crazy deep sleepers. We so don’t have time for that right now. “Wake up. You have to go.”
His lips curve into a smile, and when he opens his eyes, there’s a wicked gleam that almost makes me reconsider my position on morning sex. Because, world’s best orgasms. But, no. I have to stay strong. One night with the guy isn’t going to turn me into some sex-addled nympho. I do have some self-control.
