All Played Out (Rusk University #3) (20 page)

“Damn. You never stop, do you? It’s one thing after another. Now I get why . . .”

He trails off, and all my worst fears are coming true. We’ve barely been at the table for ten minutes and the differences between us are already abundantly clear. We do fine when we’re just joking or flirting or kissing, but beyond that? What do we have?

“Now you get why I need a list just to have a life?” I finish for him. “I did warn you that I’m usually pretty boring.”

“No, that’s not it at all. And you’re
not
boring. Stop saying that.” He places his fork down on the table forcefully enough to make a thud. After a pause, he continues, “I was going to say that now I get why you’re . . . starving.”

I squint at him and shake my head in confusion. “I’m starving?”

“Yeah. For adventure. For connection. I saw your face when you were sitting up on the Rusk statue. It was such a little thing, but your expression was like you were on top of a mountain, like you were taking a break and opening your eyes for the very first time in your life. I get it now. I understand. That list? I don’t think you’re doing it to have a life. I think you’re doing it as a last resort, like those shock paddles they use at hospitals. I think you’re trying to wake yourself up. Before it’s too late.”

It’s as if he’s just reached into my chest and handed my heart to me, and all I can think is . . . touché. I tore him down when we first met, pinpointed his flaws, so I suppose turnabout is fair play.

“You’re giving me too much credit. You’re right . . . I have missed out on a lot, and it has made me
eager
to make up for what I’ve lost. But that list is just a list. It’s a challenge to myself to explore a different side of life. Not a cry for help.”

“You’re a smart girl, Nell. You don’t think it’s possible that you latched on to that list as a lifeline because a part of you needed it? Otherwise, if it was just about having a little fun before you graduated, why step so far outside of your comfort zone? You could have just made more of an effort to hang out with Dylan and stupid-name Matty. You could have done things you already know you enjoy. There’s a middle ground here, and you jumped right over it into the deep end. No one does that unless they’re already drowning in some other way.”

I think a tiny piece of me falls in love with him then. Because despite how different we are, despite the fact that he’s known me just two weeks (two crazy and overwhelming weeks), he’s managed to put words to the choking feeling that had me crying to my mother not long ago. My life has always been about forward motion. From the first time I walked into a cafeteria alone and realized I didn’t have anywhere to sit. In elementary school, we were seated in alphabetical order, according to our last names. It didn’t even occur to me that middle school would be different until I stood there, tray in hand, and realized that there was no one I wanted to sit with, and no one who wanted to sit with me. So lunch became a time to focus. To study. Then it was that way after school, too, while I waited for the bus. Then it was Saturday nights. As long as I stayed busy, I didn’t have to acknowledge that I had no other options. It was work and study or . . . nothing. That was all I had.

I only function when my mind is focused on a goal, and I’m driving toward it. And yet, for the past few weeks, I keep getting sidetracked. And maybe he’s right. Maybe that list is my way of putting on the brakes. I’d thought as long as my schedule was overflowing with assignments and commitments and projects, it meant that I was full. That there were no holes in me. But all those goals are just temporary distractions. Sand through a sieve. The minute the sand has passed, the holes are visible again.

“I like my major,” I tell him, my tone defensive not because of anything he’s said, but because of the way I can feel my thoughts pulling back to that place I try to avoid. “I like the idea of being on the edge of the future. There are so many possibilities in biomech. One of the summer internships I applied for involves biomedical research with NASA that could completely revolutionize space travel.
NASA
. I think that’s so cool, and it sounds right up my alley. Most of the time, I’m eager to get started.”

“And the rest of the time?”

I take a deep breath, brace myself, and say, “The rest of the time I doubt everything.”

He pushes his plate aside and scoots his chair a little closer to mine. His hands slide halfway across the table toward mine before stopping.

“You know, yesterday my coach said he thinks I stand a chance at going pro. I can’t tell you how long I’ve been waiting to hear someone besides me say that. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. When I figured out I was good at football . . . it gave me an identity. It gave me definition. I have sisters, have I mentioned that? Six of them actually. I was the only guy in this huge family of women.”

“That explains why you’re so comfortable around them.”

He reaches one hand out then and snags mine, pressing my knuckles on the table and drawing his fingers over my palm.

“It’s hard to live in a house with that many people. I was smack-dab in the middle. Not the oldest. Not the youngest. And for a long time, I felt like just one in a crowd. I had my sister Victoria’s eyes, and Sofia’s nose, and my personality was mixed and matched and patched together from other people in my family. And I just kind of . . .
was
. Until I found football. It was something that was mine. I didn’t have to share it with any of my siblings. And Fridays were the one night a week when my big family got to revolve around me. It gave me confidence. Pride. Purpose. Football gave me everything.”

He hesitates, drawing his fingers from my palm, closing them over my own, and then folding my hand into a fist. “But that was then. I was just a kid, and now I’m not. And over the years, I’ve given up so much for football. Things that I can never get back, things that have changed me as a person. And I can’t help but wonder what else I’ll have to give up before all is said and done. And as amazing as it was to hear someone else bring up going pro, a part of me wishes Coach hadn’t said anything. Because it’s a lot easier to be certain from afar, but when things get real, when they’re within your grasp . . . it’s a totally different story.”

“That’s it exactly. I’ve always been so sure. I’ve never wavered. I decided what I wanted to do, and I put my head down, and I got to work. But now . . .”

“It’s real.”

I nod. “It’s real.”

And so I went searching for something that wasn’t. Something that was so completely different from my life that it might balance the scales and stave off reality.

I look at Mateo then, his big body folded onto our measly kitchen chairs. His eyes are so warm and open and understanding. And it occurs to me that I went searching for something artificial with my list and found far more truth than I know what to do with.

I don’t know what I’m doing when I stand up from the table and hold out my hand to him. Our plates are still sitting there, and normally I would go straight to washing them and cleaning up after dinner, but I’ve already waited days for him.

And I’m tired of waiting. Time to really jump in the deep end.

Chapter 20

Mateo

I
can’t read Nell’s expression when she stands up next to me. It’s not a look she’s ever given me, but just like everything else where she’s concerned, it makes me want her. I take the hand she offers and am shocked when she begins pulling me down the hallway in the direction of her bedroom.

I try to control my reaction, to stop all my blood from rushing south. She could just want to show me something. She could . . .
fuck
. I’m sure there are any number of reasons she could be taking me back to her room, but I can only think of one. And her bed, and her skin, and her taste on my tongue, and the cries I’m determined to wring out of her.

She nudges the door open, but instead of turning on the overhead light, she moves toward the bedside lamp. She flicks it on, and the amber glow shines up on her, bathing half her face in light. I stay by the door. One last-ditch effort to control myself in case this isn’t what I think it is.

She doesn’t say anything. And the seconds of waiting, the anticipation, only make me harder. I watch her struggle to decide on what to say, and when she sighs, I think maybe she’s changed her mind. That she can’t bring herself to ask for what I think we both want.

But I should know by now that Nell will always find a way to shock me. She reaches for the bottom of her sweater, and in one quick move pulls it up and over her head. My gorgeous shy girl has done more than bloom. She’s fucking brilliant. Brighter than the sun, strong enough to pull me right out of orbit. She’s wearing the same black lacy bra that she’d flashed me the last time I saw her. But this time I get more than a glimpse—oh no, I look my fill. Her long neck gives way to dainty shoulders. The bra has her tits pushed up and together, and praise Jesus for Victoria and her secrets. My eyes drop to the narrowing of her torso, the flare of her hips, the soft indentation of her belly button. Her skin looks smooth there and paler than her arms and her face, and I have the strongest urge to leave my mark there, to tease that uncharted skin with my tongue and teeth. Her jeans rest at her hips, stopping my further exploration, but I can remember the vague outline of her legs in the dark of my truck. I certainly remember the feel of them, squeezing at my hips as she came.

That memory snaps me back into action, and I step fully inside the room and close the door. I hear her exhale, and look back to her gaze.

“I thought maybe you . . .” She trails off.

“Would say no?”

She nods. I cross to her and use one finger to tip her chin up so that she faces me. “I told you before . . . nothing you could do can make me not want you.” I take her hand and draw it to my cock, straining at the confines of my jeans. She smoothes her hand over it once, and then again, no hesitation.

“You’re already . . .”

“Hard? Yeah, sweetheart. I pretty much always am with you.”

“But we haven’t even kissed.”

“I’ve been thinking about kissing you again since the moment our last kiss stopped.”

I’m trying to think of a less crude way to tell her that her tits always do the trick, too, when she unfastens the button at the top of my jeans. I suck in a breath at the slight ease in pressure and hold it as she slides my zipper down. Her knuckles accidentally bump against my erection, and I groan. She pauses and looks up at me, and her eyes are calculating. This time her touch is not accidental. She drags a finger over the bulge in my boxer briefs, and the jolt of need I feel is so similar to hunger that I barely resist the urge to pin her to the bed and taste her.

She moves her fingers to the waistband of my jeans and pushes them down. While she does that, I reach back to grab my shirt and pull it over my head. I kick off my shoes and step out my jeans, and it’s my turn to stand still while her eyes study me. Slowly, as her gaze moves over my chest, she lets her fingers trail in its wake. Tentatively, she circles her finger over my nipple in the way that I’ve done to her, and I fight a groan.

She smiles. “None of that, now. If I’m not allowed to hold back, you aren’t either.”

I can’t wait another second to kiss that smart mouth. I wrap my hand around her neck and drag her closer. Her lips instinctively part under mine, her tongue eager and seeking, and there’s such a fucking change in her from the other night. She throws everything into the kiss, running her hands up my abdomen and over my chest and down my arms. I have no doubt that she’s absolutely in this moment. She’s not thinking about anything else, and my cock pulses in response. She breaks away with a gasp, and looks down between us.

There’s such wonder in her voice when she says, “It moved,” that I can’t stop my laugh.

“It does that.”

She reaches out to touch me again, but it’s not enough to feel her fingers over the fabric. I want her warm skin, those small fingers. But first, I want us on an even playing field.

“Take off your jeans,” I tell her.

While she’s shimmying them off her hips, I lose my underwear, gripping the base of my dick tight when her legs come into view. She bends to push her jeans off the rest of the way, and her chest nearly spills out of her bra.

I shift my eyes toward the ceiling because now I’m picturing her on all fours, the way her breasts would fall, waiting for my hands to cup them as I slide into her from behind.
Damn.

I have to fight not to let my thoughts run ahead of my actions. But it’s hard. There are too many things I want to do to her, too many ways I want to have her.

But she’s a virgin. And I’ve never been someone’s first before. Not even with Lina. And the thought of it now feels too big to comprehend.

While I’m still looking up, her hand wraps around my cock, pulling me back to the present, and I shudder out a breath. Her eyes are trained on her hand where it touches just above mine, and I release my hold to give her control. I flex, and I move in her hand this time, and she makes this small noise of satisfaction.

“If I wanted to use my mouth on you,” she says, “would you teach me?”

Holy fuck, I’ll never get tired of how direct and honest she is.

“I will teach you absolutely anything you want to know.” She starts to drop to her knees, but I catch her around the waist, pulling her in tight against me. “But not right now. Tonight is about you. I’m the one who gets to learn now.”

She looks disappointed at first, but when I caress her thigh, sliding up the curve of her ass, she doesn’t complain. I shift her backward until her knees hit the bed, and then I guide her to sit. Her bed is low enough that she’s in the perfect position to take me into her mouth, and even though I want it—
God,
I want it so bad—I force myself to step back.

I kneel in front of her and pull her in for a kiss. Some of my need bleeds through, and our movements are fast and hard instead of the slow seduction I’d been aiming for. But as much as I long for control, it’s not something I know how to keep around her. I want her too badly.