Score (Skin in the Game Book 1) (9 page)

She stared at me, her mouth a straight line but her eyes filled with hurt. “I didn’t ask you to pick me up,” she said quietly.

“Maybe not,” I muttered. “But you gave me those doe eyes and that smile and you sure as shit didn’t make me put you down.”

She blinked at me and her cheeks flushed.

I was on a roll now, and there was no stopping the poison spewing out of me.

“I know how you feel about football players. We’re all lower than shit. So that’s probably what you were looking for all along, right? To grab me by the balls and twist me around? So congratulations, Bee. Mission accomplished. I want you. And I want to play ball. And now I can’t have either of those things.”

She sucked in a breath like I’d slapped her, but I didn’t care. I just needed to get away from her…away from this place. I swung my legs off of the bench and nudged her aside.

“I’m done,” I growled, staring hard at the floor. I couldn’t bring myself to look at her. “I’m not really feeling the healing right now. And you know what? I don’t think I ever will. So let’s just call it over right now. You write whatever you have to on your little clipboard and then go. I’m hitting the showers.”

She didn’t say anything for one beat, two. After the third beat, it hit me like a bolt of lightning.

I didn’t want her to leave.

Here I was, doing everything in my power to drive everyone who cared about me away, even though I sure as shit didn’t want to be alone right now. Not when I felt like the whole world was caving in around me. But she was already bending down to pick up her backpack, and I couldn’t blame her one bit.

“All right, Cal,” she said softly, her voice cracking a little. “See ya.”

Then she skipped into a jog, pushed open the door, and disappeared.

I’d hurt her. No doubt about it. Maybe some sick, twisted part of me had thought if I shared the wealth of heartache, I’d feel less miserable.

Instead, watching the door swing behind her, I’d never felt worse.

I
rushed down Panthers Alley
, away from the locker room, the ache in my throat growing with every step.

So much for telling Cal how I felt. I’d spent the past two days going over it in my head a thousand times, what to say, how to say it. And now, he never wanted to see my face again.

Maybe I should have been pissed at him. After all, I think he’d called me a fourth-rate PT clown
or something.
But the insult wasn’t what stuck in my head. After all, I’d seen the condition of his knee. He tweaked it good, setting his recovery back weeks. He’d had a really bad day, and it wasn’t so long ago that I’d been sprawled at the bottom of the stairs in the snow taking my crappy day out on him.

I could forgive that.

What I couldn’t stop thinking about was the
other
thing he’d said. It was one of those blink-and-you-miss-it moments, sandwiched in between the
you-sucks
and the
get-losts
. Those three words grew roots in my mind.

I want you
.

It wasn’t just the words. It was the utterly broken look on his face when he’d said them. Gone was the football player ego, the pomp, the strut, the dazzle. All this time, I’d been trying to make sense of him, trying to gauge what was bluster and what was real. But there was no way this was a lie. For the first time, the façade was gone, and I saw the real Cal.

Before I knew it, I’d slowed to a stop, students swerving around me on the slushy sidewalk as I stood, frozen in place.

He was feeling alone and defeated and vulnerable and he’d pushed me away. But there was no doubt about it. Cal and the despair on his face followed by the
I want you
bomb he’d dropped would invade my sleep if I just walked away now without talking it through and making sure he was okay.

I whirled around and raced back to the locker room, then yanked open the door. I stalked past the coaches’ offices, mind racing through potential bombs of my own that changed as quickly as my emotions:

The angry,
Fuck you, you fourth-rate football player!

The aloof,
So, I just wanted to confirm that we’re ending your PT sessions for good.

The honest,
I want you, too.

The fire inside me fizzled when I came around the bank of lockers and stopped short at the therapy table.

He was gone.

I fidgeted, staring at the locker with his last name taped to the door. His glossy green helmet on the top shelf. His street clothes folded and piled neatly atop his Nikes. His key card lanyard and pristine Samskevitch jersey hanging from a hook. I tilted my head to the side and heard water running.

I want you.

Who said something like that to a person right before they fired them?

Adrenaline from the conflicting emotions roiling around inside me got my legs moving again and I marched myself toward the showers, determined to confront him and end the misery. I wouldn’t survive another night with all this embedded in my cranium, open-ended.

Primed to unload, I rounded the tiled wall and then skidded to a stop in total shock. Not ten feet away stood Cal, water sluicing off his naked, gorgeous body. I don’t know why, but for some reason, I’d figured the guys’ showers would be like the girls’ showers. There’d be an aisle with ten or twenty separate stalls and I could yell at him through a curtain.

I was dead wrong.

This was just one long, tiled room, with a row of shower heads and, standing in the middle of it, was quite possibly the most gorgeous male form I’d ever seen.

His back was to me, which gave me a prime view of his perfect ass, complete with those two glorious indentations on the sides. I’d heard enough girls talk about how football pants make guys’ backsides look great, but Cal didn’t need the help. His hands were splayed flat against the tile wall, head hung low so that the water fell upon every defined curve and muscle on his shoulders and back.

I should’ve backed myself right out of there.

Instead, inexplicably, I moved closer. A dream-like haze of steam hung between us, and my mind was racing along with my heart.

I want you.

I squeezed my eyes closed and sucked in a shuddering breath.

This Adonis wanted
me
. Well, me and football, and there was no doubt which came first. I was a consolation prize, but in that moment, I was too far gone to care.

“You browsing or buying, Bee?”

The hardness of his voice shattered the quiet, echoing hollowly against the tiled walls, making my eyes snap open. He had turned his head my way, and the stark need on his face, the tight clench of that superhero jaw, made my knees go to jelly.

He kept his gaze locked on mine as he turned around to face me full on, no shame in his game. His chest was all sculpted muscle, his abs were ripped in a way Shaun T would envy. But it was the way he stood there, completely unabashed, his cock jutting out proudly, that made my cheeks turn to fire. My shoulders caved and my backpack slid off, falling on my toes with a
thunk
. It didn’t hurt; in fact, I couldn’t feel anything at all except the enormous pressure building to a dull ache, low in my belly.

“N-neither,” I mumbled, finally.
Both!
my brain protested
.
“I just…”

Just what? What had I come back here for, more abuse?

Cal jammed a hand into his wet hair and let out a mirthless laugh. “Look, Bee. I don’t mean to be an asshole, but I don’t have the strength to fight it today,” he muttered, his eyes piercing mine. “So if you don’t want this, go now.”

Even as lust clouded my brain and blood rushed to my ears, I thought,
Damn him
.

Damn him for blaming his shit knee on me.

Damn him for making me want this thing I could never have, not for real.

And damn him for leaving this last step up to me.

I wanted it so much that every pore in my body ached. Like they were all screaming out to him, urging me to bridge the distance between us before the opportunity vanished like the pipedream it was.

Then he reached his hand out to me.

He didn’t need to. That tortured, needy look in his blue eyes had already hooked me and reeled me in. It was only when I looked down that I realized I was already standing in the stream of water and my feet were getting wet.

I took a deep breath as I toed off my damp boots. I pulled the drawstring on my sweatpants, let them fall to my ankles, and stepped out of them. Despite the moist heat of the air, I shivered as I tugged my sweatshirt over my head.

Somewhere, deep in my subconscious, Sane Bee was there, whispering dire warnings.

Walk away, girl.
You’re standing in the guys’ locker room in your underwear with a naked football player. This can’t end well.

But her voice was so soft and far away, easily drowned out by the cacophony of my throbbing libido and pounding heart.

I was about to close the last of the space between us and take his outstretched hand, but Cal left the stream of water to meet me halfway.

His clean, soapy smell filled my senses as his wet, warm arms slid around me, wrapping me up like a perfect kiss. He trailed one hand up my back to the nape of my neck, taking hold of my ponytail. With a sharp tug on the tie, my hair spilled onto my shoulders. I tilted my face up to him, my body yielding. He lowered his mouth to mine but paused when our eyes were just inches apart.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low and full of grit. “Last chance, Bee.”

I sucked in a breath and slid my arms around him to keep from shivering. Even so, my lips quivered when I answered, “I’m staying.”

He let out a loan groan that could’ve been a curse and then crushed his open mouth to mine. It was like a battle from the start. Urgent, frantic, deliciously painful. His fingers, gripping my hips like he’d never let go, the scrape of his stubble against my chin. There was no such thing as too close
,
right then. I raked my fingers through his wet hair and pulled him impossibly closer, reveling in the feel of his hard chest against my soft one.

I’d never been kissed like that before. To the edge of oblivion. Like the world was ending. I felt him everywhere. Even the smallest, most neglected nerves in my body came crackling and buzzing to life.

He pulled back, tugging gently on my lower lip with his teeth. Somehow I’d been lifted. Transported. He’d managed to maneuver me smoothly under the pulsing shower-head. Water dotted his shoulders, sliding in rivulets along his chiseled collarbones before sliding over his pecs. Steam rose from his skin. My bra and panties were soaked, and my nipples poked through the thin fabric.

Breathing hard, foreheads pressed against each other, still tangled in each other’s arms in a desperate way, he asked, “Are you doing this because you feel sorry for me?”

I felt him, thick and hard against my hipbone. His cock. He, the great Cal Samskevitch, was hard for
me
. All my senses whirled. I couldn’t think of an answer. What was the question, again?

“Does it matter?” I breathed.

He pushed aside my hair and ran his open mouth down my neck. “Do you always answer a question with a question?” he said into my skin, his fingers flirting with my bra straps before slipping them from my shoulders.

I couldn’t speak. My mind spiraled with a million combating sensations. I couldn’t think of anything but that stupid piece of fabric as his tongue drew lazy circles on my collarbone. I wanted it off.

No, I
needed
it off.

I wanted nothing between us, not even steam.

I
probably should’ve told
her to go. Reminded her of the reasons we shouldn’t be together. But all of it—her hatred of football players, my potentially career-ending injury that was only getting worse—melted away under the heat we were giving off. And, now more than ever, I didn’t want to think or talk or debate.

All I wanted to do was get inside Bee. I was lost in the desert and she was my oasis.

I sucked in a breath, a rush of her sweet scent coming along with it, and she pulled back. For a second, I thought she’d changed her mind and my stomach lurched. But when she took a step back it was to reach behind her back and unfasten her bra. Then she pulled off the wet piece of fabric and tossed it to the shower floor. From that body-hugging dress she’d worn, I knew she had a nice rack, but talk about mind-blowing.

They were perfect, pink and round and more than my hands knew what to do with. I covered each one with my palms, feeling their weight, then rubbed the pad of my thumb lightly over her peaked nipples.

Bee drew in a breath. I couldn’t wait to taste her, and I could tell she wanted to be tasted. I lowered my head to her one breast and pulled the nipple into my mouth, sucking lightly, flicking my tongue over the tip. She tasted sweet, her skin smooth as silk.

“Oh,” she murmured. She tensed, every muscle clenching. I moved my hands around to the small of her back, right over the curve of her ass, and held her there. Her body trembled as she let out a long, almost animal-like moan. She pressed closer to me, fisting handfuls of my hair.

I kissed across her breastbone, licking hungrily at the dip between her breasts as the water slid down over them. My hands slid up and down her sides, over the full, hot curves of her hips, coming to rest on her ass. I cupped it, tempting her lower body closer to mine.

She lifted a leg and wrapped it around my waist, pressing her heat against my eager cock. At that moment, I didn’t know which of my knees was the bum one because they both buckled under the sensation. I slid my fingers under the narrow band of her underwear and shoved them to the floor.

She stepped out of them. I nudged her back against the shower wall, and this time, she lifted her leg and hooked it around my hip, rocking her pussy back and forth against my cock. The rest of the blood left my head and rushed south, filling my cock to the point of bursting.

“Ah, Bee, we gotta slow it down,” I begged through gritted teeth.

Her voice was sweet as sugar. “Why, am I hurting your knee?”

“Hell, no. It’s never felt better.” I leaned forward and pressed my damp forehead to hers. “But we’re about to go past the point of no return.” And I didn’t have a condom.

The very thought made me want to howl in frustration.

“I don’t care. I just want to feel more of you,” she said, biting that lip of hers in concentration as she moved against me.

Fucking adorable Bee Mitchell could’ve done anything she liked, right then, I would’ve been up for it. She kept humping me, sliding her warm wet heat back and forth over my shaft, moving faster and faster, her motions growing more frenzied by the second. The feeling was outstanding, enough to make the past couple of hours feel like a distant memory. But if I didn’t come to my senses, I was going to take her right there, against the shower wall.

“I don’t have a condom,” I muttered, forcing the words out as she picked up the rhythm.

“I’m on the Pill,” she whispered, her fevered gaze searching mine desperately. “You’ve been tested this season, right, for football?”

The relief was so all-consuming, I could barely speak. It would’ve been excruciating to turn back at this point, and that we didn’t have to felt like Christmas, Easter and my birthday all rolled into one.

“We get tested every year, yeah.”

I
slid
my free hand down her ass over the back of her silky thigh and hoisted her up so that both legs were wrapped around my hips. Then I stepped forward, pressing her back against the shower wall. She complied willingly, hungrily, urging me closer. I paused with my cock at her entrance and slipped my tongue into her mouth as I slid the tip between her folds, finding the right place.

Fuck, she was warm, and soft, and tight. So tight. Her body suddenly tensed.

I eased in slower, taking it inch by excruciatingly sublime inch, and she suddenly cried out. Not from pleasure, but from pain.

“Bee?” I asked softly, trying to control the adrenaline pumping through me so that I could hear her reply over the blood rushing in my ears.

Her heart beat like a drum against mine and she froze like a trapped animal.

“Yeah?”

“You’re a virgin.” It wasn’t a question.

She squeezed her eyes closed nodded almost imperceptibly.

Fuck. My dick wanted to keep going, but everything else inside me rebelled. It wasn’t hard to see Bee Mitchell was a girl who wouldn’t take sex lightly, but the type who’d never had sex at all?

Unbelievable.

Emotions warred in me as more questions swirled. Why me? Why now?

“You said you were on the pill.”

“Since I was fifteen.” Her voice was so quiet that I had to strain to hear her even though we were inches apart. “To regulate my periods.”

Fuckity fuck. I wasn’t in a good mental place to handle this news and I groaned and started to pull out of her, but she clawed desperately at my back, clinging to me. I never knew she was that strong.

“No. Don’t. Please,” she begged.

I stopped moving, saying a silent prayer for strength. I was at heaven’s gate and they’d hung up a closed sign. I don’t know why I was surprised. That was the way my luck had been going lately. My knee suddenly ached and my voice was a growl.

“I have to.”

“No you don’t,” she whispered in my ear. “I want to do this, Cal. I need to do it. Please.”

Torn between her words and my own conscience, I pulled back so I could look at her face. Bee had two modes; tough and sarcastic, and this one…open, honest, and completely vulnerable.

When she looked at me like that, she owned me.

I kissed her hairline, right at her temple. “I don’t deserve this,” I said into her wet hair. “I want it, but I don’t deserve it. Are you sure this is what you want?”

She reached up and cupped my face, rubbing the pad of her thumb over my cheek. “Yes. More than you know.”

I let out a ragged breath. My purpose shifted in an instant. Before now, I’d wanted to sink into oblivion. Let Bee make me forget for a while. But this wasn’t about making myself feel better.

Not anymore.

“Listen to me. You have to tell me if I hurt you, or if you want me to stop,” I told her, settling my cock between her legs again. I watched her face as I eased inside, looking for any clue that she was in pain. She had her eyes closed, her features relaxed. “Okay?”

She nodded.

“Look at me, Bee, all right?” I said. I needed her to look at me, needed her eyes to tell me she was all right.

Her eyes blinked open, focusing on me, heavy-lidded and sexy as hell. “Yes, okay. And you have to promise if your knee hurts, you’ll stop.”

The ache in my knee faded the second I sank in deeper, so slow, doing my best to control the urge to take too much at once. Tremors ripped through my body under the strain.

I paused there, my eyes boring into hers. Weight pressed down on my shoulders. I needed to make this good for her. Special. Or at least as special as a first time could be in a guys’ locker room. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Her breath hitched. “You’re not.”

Little by little, I pushed in the last few inches, burying myself to the hilt. She sucked in a breath and a wrinkle appeared on her forehead, but she didn’t cry out. Her eyes never left mine. She tightened her hands around the back of my neck. I paused again, holding her against the wall, feeling my cock stretching her, feeling sweet little Bee Mitchell fitting around me like a glove.

“I’m in. Are you okay?”

She nodded. “Are you?”

I had to laugh, but the sound came out like a broken groan. “Better than that. You’re so tight.”

“I feel you. It’s like I feel you
everywhere.
Oh, my gosh, Cal.” She looked down, between us, and a shiver went through her body. “Now what?”

She didn’t wait for an answer. Her body already knew. She lifted her hips up toward me, urging me along. A groan ripped from my chest as I pulled out slowly and sank in deeper. With the pressure of making sure I didn’t hurt her falling away, I realized how close I was to coming.

I fought back the urge and let out a strangled, “Still good?”

“Oh. Yes. Keep going!”

I covered her mouth with mine, thrusting my tongue between her plump lips, fucking her mouth slowly and thoroughly as I fucked her pussy. Her breathing became more and more ragged as I moved against her, and soon she was tilting her pelvis each time to meet my thrusts, wanting more.

She moaned, loud, getting into it. Hell, I didn’t remember being that into it my first time. First times were supposed to be anything but good, awkward for the guy and painful for the girl. So having driven prim, proper Bee to get carried away like that, with her legs hooked tight at my hips and her tits rubbing against my chest, it made fireworks go off like Fourth of July.

“Oh, god, Cal. Oh, god.”

I felt her insides tense and shudder around me. I knew she was close, and that just drove me closer.

She unleashed a powerful feeling in me. Now, I was no longer determined to give her a sweet, acceptable first time. I wanted to give her a
phenomenal
one, and I vowed then and there that I wouldn’t come until she did.

It would take every last bit of my concentration if I hoped to deliver on that promise. I slid a hand between us to press two fingers against her clit. She tensed instantly, and as I began to rub in slow, light circles, her hips bucked wildly against mine.

“Jesus, Cal,” she gasped against my mouth, her voice making my already hard cock swell to the point of pain. My balls drew up tight, hot liquid filling them, locked, loaded and ready to launch. I tried to think about anything but Bee as I drew back and worked her in long, deep strokes. Anything but how good she smelled. Anything but how fucking hot and tight and wet--

Just when I thought I was going to lose the battle, she froze. Then, she arched against me, coming apart, screaming my name as I pounded into her, crashing headfirst into my own climax. Her tight channel gripped me, milking my cock like an unseen hand. My body went rigid as I pumped into her again and again, spurting hot liquid into her core, every nerve ending alive with ecstasy.

It felt like it went on forever but, at the same time, it was over far too soon. My heart was still hammering in my chest when she slumped against me, trembling.

I held her there under the stream of the shower, listening as her breathing returned to normal.

Who would’ve thought it?

There I was, on one of the worst days of my life, grinning from ear to ear, feeling like I’d just hit the lottery.

Now I just had to try to be chill so that maybe Bee wouldn’t get spooked and go running out of here like her ass was on fire. Which was going to be easier said than done.

Because she’d rocked my fucking world.