“Kind of the same thing, don’t you think?”
Parker snickers, but I ignore him and unpack my bag. I toss a few notebooks on the table and find a slightly bruised apple buried at the bottom of my bag. Thank Christ. I’m starving. I take my seat and devour the apple in a half-dozen bites as I flip through my notes for this week’s sports marketing midterm.
I last a whole thirty minutes before I give up. What’s the point of midterms anyway? We’re going to see all the same material on the final in six weeks. Talk about redundant. It doesn’t help that I can’t stop thinking about the other night with Kennedy. She’s totally messing with my head. It’s a distraction I can’t afford. On the field or in the classroom.
I slap my notebook closed and roll my shoulders.
I’ll take a break and try again. Maybe I just need to stretch my legs. Or maybe I just need to talk to Kennedy, who’s racing out the door like her hair’s on fire, bag slung over her shoulder.
“Be right back.” I climb to my feet and head for the door, forcing myself to keep a leisurely pace, eyes pinned to her back. I follow her down the steps and finally catch up with her on the first floor.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” I say, matching her stride and falling in step with her.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She adjusts her bag and looks around, guilt plain as day on her face. “I’m just busy with practice and midterms and…stuff.”
“Stuff? Is that a technical term?” I grab her elbow and steer her toward an empty stack. She looks like she wants to protest, but she just presses her lips into a thin line.
“Football players.” She huffs an exasperated sigh. “Should’ve known you’d go all caveman if I ignored you.”
“So you admit you’ve been ignoring me?” I ask, grinning because I know I’ve got her now.
“What do you want, Austin?”
She says my name like it’s a blessing and a curse and I gotta admit it’s a huge fucking turn-on. “I just want to talk.”
“What is there to talk about?” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “We had sex. It was nice. It can never happen again.”
“Nice?” Not gonna lie. I don’t hear anything she says after the wordnice. “Flowers are nice. The weather is nice.” I take a step closer. We’re toe to toe now. It wouldn’t take much to sweep her into my arms, those perky tits pressed against me as I erase the wordnicefrom her vocabulary with my mouth. My heart thunders in my chest, but I can’t tell if it’s from her dismissive attitude or the closeness of our bodies. “What we had? There was nothing nice about it. It was hot and dirty and explosive.”
She swallows and I can tell it takes some effort, her throat bobbing delicately. “I think you’re missing the point here.” She does one of those sexy little eye rolls and her lips tilt down at the corners. Damn if I don’t want to kiss them. “Coach forbade it. And you know how I feel about football players. Besides, we’re teammates. It’s a bad freaking idea all around. Just no.”
She’s not wrong.
There are a lot of people counting on us. If it goes to shit, it could impact the team, and there’s no way in hell I’d do anything that could damage the team’s playoff hopes or my own career. I’ve worked too hard for too long. Hell, Coach would have my ass if he knew I was sleeping with Kennedy. But here’s the thing. I’ve dedicated my whole life to football. I play by the rules. I’m a good role model. A good teammate. I bust my ass day in and day out. So why can’t I have this one thing?
“Just hear me out,” I say, stuffing my hands into my pockets. One, because I don’t know what to do with them. Two, to hide the chub that’s growing in my pants. “I know you aren’t into ball players, and let’s be honest, we’d be a terrible match.” The words feel like ash on my tongue, but I can’t take them back now. Besides, the insinuation that she’s not my type seems to have captured her attention. There’s fire sparking in her eyes, and I’m not above using it to my advantage. Even if the real truth is that the only relationship I have the time and energy for is football. “But we have blistering chemistry, so why shouldn’t we take what we need from each other?”
She wrinkles her brow. “I don’t—” She pauses. “What are you suggesting?”
“I’m suggesting neither of us has the time or interest in a real relationship, but we both have needs. Think about it,” I say, pitching my voice low and stepping farther into her personal space. Her breath hitches in her throat. “No strings. Lots of chemistry. Matching schedules. Totally convenient.”
She tilts her head to the side, her expression giving nothing away. I can’t tell if she’s considering my proposal or if she’s thinking about kicking me in the balls for suggesting such a crazy idea. Doesn’t matter. Now that I’ve had a taste of her—of the fiery passion behind all the snark and sarcasm—there’s no going back. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” Sometimes less is more, even though I’d grovel at her feet right now if it meant getting back into her bed.
She chews her bottom lip, thinking it over. Her lids become heavy and my cock does a victory dance. Ten to one she’s thinking about Saturday night and the four orgasms I gave her. Probably a first. Most guys don’t have that kind of stamina.
Just one more perk of being a hard-bodied athletic specimen.
“And this will stay between you and me? Coach can’t find out.”
“Naturally. No one can know.”
“And nothing else changes between us? I’m just one of the guys, and we call it quits at the end of the season or when one of us gets tired of the arrangement?”
Like that’s gonna happen. “Exactly.”
She twists a strand of hair around her finger. “If we do this, there can’t be anyone else. If you want to hook up with some jersey chaser—”
