Behind the Pitch, a novella: Seeking Serenity 1.5 (4 page)

I wanted to kiss it, lick it, make this gorgeous girl see I wasn’t fussed by the mark. It was part of her, wasn’t it? And even though I had wanted to throttle her just an hour before, I couldn’t lie and say I hadn’t wanted her from that first chat in her classroom. She was smart. Funny. And blimey was she fecking gorgeous.

I touched her, my thumbnail running along that pink, angry gash and her stomach muscles twitched and the faint, nearly translucent hairs on her stomach stood on end.

She liked that. She liked me touching her.

Well, shite, mate, that was excellent, wasn’t it now?

But I couldn’t let her see that I liked it too, the touching her bit. I pulled back, straightened, and my first thought was to show her just how marked up I was as well.

I showed her my shoulder, where I’d had a particularly nasty scar since I was a kid, the one Rory McDonald gave me when he pushed me onto some broken equipment. Her face went nearly blank, those beautiful gray eyes skimming all over my skin.

Dismissing the way she stared at me, I showed her another one just below my belly button. “Mickey Douglas forgot to ditch his watch during a practice match when I was eighteen. Fecking thing nearly ripped me in half when he lined me up and smashed me as I went for a try-scoring pass.”

Then it was my stomach tightening, working the muscles hard as she stared. Autumn swallowed and her full, pink lips moved as though they wouldn’t let whatever was trying to come out her mouth, leave.

“That’s um, yeah.”

I took a step toward her, liking the way she stared, liking that her eyes weren’t on my scar, but stared down at the lines in my stomach, at the thin hair above my belt. I hoped she didn’t notice how hard I was getting. I hoped she wouldn’t see that my body liked her eyes on my skin.

She went rigid when I dropped my shirt. I had stopped smiling. Sudden thoughts of that expression, of others I thought she could make, came to me. Thoughts of her staring at me with that same look as she rubbed her tight body against mine, as the smooth feel of her nakedness worked over me. She was soft everywhere with dips and curves that waited for my hands, for my lips. And freckles? Fuck me, I betted there were freckles over every inch of her body. I wanted to kiss each one.

Her eyes flicked to my face. All sudden like, I had this fecking compulsion to touch her, feel just how soft that skin was, touch her face and those high cheekbones, that plump mouth. I moved my thumbnail across her bottom lip, smoothing it there just like she did mine the other night on the sidewalk. She had no clue what that did to me. We’d been barking at each other and I had been so hacked off by her sneaking off to have a chat with the president. I had figured that she’d backed out on her promise to keep my attack to herself. But all my anger had disappeared when she touched me, when her eyes went all soft like and her long fingernail moved across my bottom lip.

I wanted her. Right then, on the street that night. I wanted to take her against the brick building behind us and kiss her soundly. I wanted to press her tiny, hard body against me, to grip her round arse, to show her what one bitty touch from her clever fingers had done to me.

But then, she had fucked with me, was having me on and I had to hurry home, ignoring my da’s curious frown and dive into my shower with thoughts of those nimble fingers and full lips attacking my mind.

All of that came back to me and I wondered if she was as affected by how much I wanted her as I was, wanting her, then and now. By the wide, gaping stretch of her eyes and how she ogled, I thought she was.

She smelled like fecking heaven when I inched closer and I couldn’t help but inhale deeply, took in that flowery girl smell. I could feel her shaking, her hair moving when I reached the curve of her ear. “Like what you see, love?”

She didn’t speak at first, seemed in fact, quite incapable of doing much more than biting her bottom lip and wetting it with her tongue. I had to hold back the moan that vibrated in my throat. The air was thick, heavy with the weight of what lingered between us. Desire, the promise of passion, the fecking desperate need to touch, to claim. It hung in the air, covered us like a cloud.

“
Yes
….um, no…it’s not like that.”

I smiled to myself, knew what she wanted, knew that she was likely the sort to deny herself to the last. Fecking stubborn arse.

“Liar.”

“McShane, please calm down.”

The woman was absolutely barmy. We were locked in the basement of the library, a lightning strike having fried the electric locks, and she was going crazy. We had been so close to something, but then.... this.

Her friend Sayo had warned me over the phone: watch out for panic attacks. Doctors thought they were a result of being trapped in a wrecked car for hours in the dark, during a storm, while her mother lay dead next to her. Just before, when the lights above flickered and the generators crashed, McShane’s bitty attack turned this calm, collected girl raving bonkers.

She wouldn’t be still and there was little I could do. What the feck was I supposed to do with her? Sayo said that she’d try to escape. Asked that I keep her calm. Fat lot chance of me doing that.

She made for the window just above a row of shelves, like a bee closing in on a succulent flower. “No, McShane, don’t you dare.” Books fell everywhere as this mad woman climbed the shelves, spilling them onto the already untidy floor. I was right behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist, fighting against her as she struggled. “Calm yourself,” I said. I tried to keep my voice level, to shush her and not let her see how helpless I felt.

She fought me, wiggled against my body as I struggled with her and it did nothing but muddle my mind, fill it with ridiculous images of her naked against me, of my mouth on her pale, creamy skin. Jaysus, this wasn’t good. I breathed out through my nose and thought of unpleasant things—Morrison mouthing off, toddlers with snotty noses…American football. It helped, somewhat, I was at least less anxious, but she was still shaking, still moving against me, turning around and slapping my chest.

I had a good, firm hold on her, but I hated how scared she looked. I hated how her eyes were squinted in anger, or was that fear? I couldn’t really tell which. My mind buzzed trying to figure out what I could do to keep her from hurting herself, but then those plump, pink lips quivered, and I saw no other option. I told myself it was for her benefit, that desperate times needed desperate measures, so I pulled her hard against me and slammed my mouth over hers.

Dear God.

Sweet Lord.

She tasted fecking glorious.

She made little noises against my mouth, small sounds that hummed through my body. I kept my tongue behind my closed lips, but only just managed. I wanted so badly to pin her to the floor. I wanted to devour her mouth, lick her neck, nibble on the small, soft parts of her tender skin.

I felt like a complete wanker. I had kissed this girl to calm her but now my body was betraying me, had me acting like I was just hitting puberty. But just then, miraculously, McShane did something that completely unhinged me: she grabbed my collar, gripped it tight and I loved how aggressive she became. I couldn’t help the pathetic moan that lifted from my throat or the jackhammer rhythm that overtook my heart. Jaysus, she was lovely; all curves and soft,
soft
skin, smelling like pure heaven, and all I wanted to do at that moment was to deepen the kiss, to taste more of her.

I couldn’t help my hands smoothing over her back, her neck, when I felt her body calming, the frantic shudders leaving her completely, as she melted into me. I nearly whined when she opened her mouth, when she flicked her tongue past my lips. How my heart didn’t fly from my chest, I’ll never know. I reacted, gave back to her what she offered, slowly, but tenderly, forcing myself to take it easy, to not get caught up and maybe have her get frantic again.

I broke away from her, eager for a breath, for just a second to clear my mind. I wanted to speak, but words became twisted in my throat. I could only stare at her, marvel at the freckles over her cheeks, watch the drop of her eyelids as though she was high, as though I’d somehow rendered her incapable of clear thought. She was fecking gorgeous and she tasted
so
damn good.

“Not exactly the first kiss I was expecting,” I finally managed. I knew what hid behind my small confession, but just then, I didn’t bleeding care. She could think me weak, that I was fecking putty in her hands. I bleeding well was.

“That…that was the second.”

“Me molesting you while pie-eyed doesn’t count.” I tried not to wince thinking about that night on the pitch. God, if I’d only held off, acted like I had any sense a’tall, maybe I could have had this sooner, and more of it. I released a breath, sure that another apology was weighted in my throat. “Just now, that was really the first.” I paused, watched her face to see if she would push me away, if there was any resistance at all to how close I held her. If she had any clue of just how fecking much I wanted to kiss her again. When she didn’t pull away, I went for it. “And here’s another.”

McShane became pliant, and it was so bleeding brilliant. I liked the soft curves of her body, how she molded to me, how I felt every inch of her skin working over me, against me.

I was rock fecking hard.

Unless you’re a bloke, you’ve no clue what it’s like when you’re kissing a gorgeous girl and your body betrays you, wants you to forego common logic and respond to the primal, base instincts fueling your body. It’s difficult. It’s frustrating, but there is something that happens when a man is aroused. We forget our good sense. We forget that we should do anything but grab, pull, thrust, want. It took all my control to not revert to Primal Declan when I kissed McShane.

Really, I wanted her naked beneath me. Or on top of me. I wasn’t fussed and didn’t have a preference. I wanted to feel the weight of her glorious tits in my hands, my thumbs running over her (I’m guessin’) perfect, pink nipples.

Primal Declan won.

I slipped my tongue into her waiting mouth, loving the small, barely noticeable sounds she made. My hands moved over her again and, with the last shreds of rational thought, was able to gently touch and not grope and tug like I so wanted to do.

My mind warred between taking things further, kissing her more deeply, grabbing her arse and grinding myself against her, but before I could make any decisions, her cell phone chirped from my pocket and she jerked her body away from me, the moment broken.

She felt over me, dug into my pocket to retrieve her phone which I’d kept on me during her melt down, her fingers coming perilously close to my throbbing knob. She smirked as I watched her speaking to Sayo with those plump pink lips moving in her speech; the quick smile, the soft features as she spoke. The smooth sound of her chuckle moved in my ear like a song. I never wanted to stop hearing it. In fact, I wanted to hear it more often, to feel more of her, to smell her sweet scent on my pillow; to feel her warm, fit body against mine. Every morning.

This girl made me think impossible things. Wish for something I never knew I wanted.

Bugger me. I was in trouble.

It has been days now and Autumn still refuses to speak to me.

I have sent flowers—white roses, because they are her favorite.

I have sent chocolate—dark, because she finds it sweeter.

I have called. Left messages, texted her…that one annoyed me most.

“Please let me see you,”
I sent her only to get a
“you hit an old man. Assface”
text in reply.

What the buggering shite is an assface anyway?

Yesterday I waited outside of her building for her to leave work. She’d had me barded by the skinny, pimpled-face kid with the ugly green campus police uniform and flashlight on his hip who sat in front of the lobby doors glaring at me for a half hour straight. When she finally left, I chased after her like the sad, pathetic amadan I am.

“Autumn, wait, please. Can I at least talk to you for one bleeding second?”

When she turned toward me, eyes going soft for just the smallest second, I thought I’d get a hug, a kiss, something that told me I hadn’t lost her completely. But then our gazes met, held, and then her anger flared swift.