Kicked: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (58 page)

I had
lived
for this moment.

And then the fucking doorbell rang.

Flor jerked back suddenly, but not like I was dangerous, just like he was pissed off. He turned on his heel and moved to the door before I could stop him, wrenching it open and digging a pack of cigarettes out at the same moment.

Max stood on the doorstop, a bouquet of yellow flowers clutched in his hand. He looked surprised – and admittedly a little terrified – to see Florian standing there.

“Oh, hey,” he said, looking past my stepbrother and over at me. I knew my lips were swollen and my face flushed, but I hoped Max couldn't see it from there. “What are you guys up to?”

Flor leaned against the doorjamb without inviting his friend in, lighting up a cigarette and looking so beautiful that I wanted to scream.
What had just happened? What had he just admitted to me in there?

And what the heck was I going to do about it?

“Just waiting for my parents. They should be here any minute. We're having family dinner tonight.”

“Oh,” Max said, looking confused, waiting for me to come to the door. I couldn't seem to move, couldn't seem to force myself forward to take those flowers from his hand. If Max was a cheater then so was I. I felt ashamed of myself. “I brought these by for you, Abi, but I guess you don't need any company tonight.” The smile he gave me was downright lascivious, and I could see Flor's back muscles tensing from here.

“No, she doesn't.” Flor reached out and took the bouquet from my boyfriend's fingers. “I'd invite you in, but you know how my mom gets sometimes. She's in one of her moods. Family only, bro.” Flor started to close the door, but Max reached out and stopped it with his palm, moving inside and jogging over to me. He scooped me up in his arms, kissed me hard and fast and drew back with a grin on his face.

“I had a great time last night,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “If I'd known how much fun you were, I wouldn't have spent all those nights in
Flor's
room.” Max winked at me, kissed me again, and moved back towards the door.

“Feed the fucking kittens,” Flor snapped at him as Max stepped out, and the door slammed shut behind him. Florian stood there for a moment before turning around and heading back into the kitchen, avoiding me and opening the trash can as soon as he reached it, dunking the flowers into the black depths of the plastic liner. “Last night?” he asked, and my face flushed even hotter than before. “You slept with Max here? In our parents' house?”

“So what, Flor? Like you didn't screw several dozen girls in this house.” I felt my jealousy taking over, consuming me from the inside out. My brother slammed the lid of the trash can and began to rummage around in the cabinets again, obviously looking for something in particular. When he found it, he turned to me and held up a bottle of champagne.

His face was unreadable for a moment, but then he smiled. The expression had a wicked edge to it that I didn't know how to interpret, but his words were clear enough.

“Rooftop?” he asked, and my entire body went cold and then hot.

I knew what I was agreeing to if I went up there. If this happened, if this went sour, then we really would learn what a break in our relationship would feel like.

“Yes,” I whispered, the word sounding like it was coming from someone else's lips. “Yes.”

Flor and I sat side by side on the sloping curve of the roof, facing towards the mountains and the setting sun. A cool breeze swept over us, making me shiver a little beneath the blanket I'd dragged outside along with us. Flor noticed and scooted closer to me, handing over the champagne bottle and staring down at our bare feet, silhouetted against the fingers of orange and yellow that streaked the darkening sky.

“How many girls did you bring up here?” I asked, only half joking. Flor was silent for a while, and I found myself dreading the answer.

“None,” he said, and I believed him. At least Florian had never lied about the fact that he was dating – and sleeping with – other girls. He'd always been honest whenever I'd asked him about one or the other.

“I don't know what we're doing up here,” I said, even though that wasn't true. Flor called me out on it.

“That's a lie,” he said, turning to me, his green eyes blazing, pupils dilating. When he reached out and took hold of me, I nearly dropped the champagne. One of Flor's hands came up and fingered the locket hanging around my neck, his skin brushing my bare chest above my tank top as he opened it and stared at the picture inside. “Did you bring Max up here?”

“No,” I said, trying to draw away from his touch. He wouldn't let me. “I never brought any boys up here because you wouldn't let me even look their way.”

“Didn't stop you from losing your virginity to Max,” he spat and I rolled my eyes.

“Why? Wish you were the one who'd gotten to take it?” I joked, but then immediately regretted it. Flor said nothing and silence descended on us once again, making me question everything. The blanket slid from my shoulders, leaving them bare.

I looked up, into Flor's eyes and found my heart was pounding so loud that I couldn't hear anything anymore, not even the sound of my labored breathing as he tugged on the locket, using the chain to pull my face closer to his. Our mouths met again, tangling together as he pulled me into his lap, brushed his fingers on the skin below my shirt and then expertly, skillfully, lifted it up and over my head, cutting our kiss off for the briefest of seconds.

It was like being cut off from the very air I needed to breathe.

I sighed as he tossed the fabric away, the champagne bottle still clutched in the fingers of my right hand. We looked at each other again, staring at one another, examining faces we'd already memorized a million times over. I wondered what this was like for Flor, to look into the face of a girl who wasn't a stranger and then kiss her. His most serious relationships hadn't lasted a fraction of the time that we'd known each other.

I said nothing and he did the same. I think we both knew that if we talked too much, one or the other of us would ruin this. At this point, I didn't know or care if this was just a taste of him, if he planned to teach me a lesson by having sex with me and tossing me aside. I needed to know, needed to feel him inside of me, feel his bare body against mine. This was the way it needed to be.

Flor leaned back and removed his own shirt, revealing the beautiful planes of his muscles and a body that I had admired from afar for too long. In the back of my mind, I knew I was being a hypocritical bitch, that I was betraying too many people with one single breath and a handful of kisses that burned brighter than the sun. My dad, Flor's mom, Max, Rhonda, even Addi. But I couldn't stop. If I really closed my eyes and thought hard, this meant more to me than any of that.

Flor moved his mouth down, across the hollow of my throat and then along the line of my bra, teasing the purple lace with his tongue. His right hand stayed wrapped around my waist while his left lifted my wrist and with it, the bottle of champagne. He took a drink with it still clutched in my fingers and then pressed his mouth to mine. The bubbles shifted between us as he kissed me, and I swallowed a mouthful of champagne, letting Flor pull me tighter against him. Our bare bodies met and when I looked down, I could see my tattoo gleaming in the last rays of sunlight. He'd said the stag represented the transgressing of the taboo. Was that what we were doing? Was his touch on my skin wrong? I didn't even know the answer to that.

Flor's hand slid up and deftly unhooked the clasp of my bra, the lace falling forward suddenly. I had a moment of sheer panic, dropping the bottle as I struggled to clasp the fabric to my chest.
Flor's going to see my bare chest!
It was almost surreal. I stared into Florian's face, mesmerized by his half-hooded eyes and hungry expression, as the champagne hit the roof and splashed all over our pants before rolling down the shingles, drenching my discarded shirt as it went. It plummeted into the backyard and crashed into my father's perfectly kempt lawn. Flor and I ignored it while he worked to unhook my arms from around my chest, reveal the fullness of my breasts to him. I'd seen him nude dozens of times, but to my knowledge, he'd never once seen me.

I flushed from head to toe as he examined me with those bright green eyes of his and then leaned forward, putting his mouth around my nipple. My fingers grappled with his dark hair, twisting it around and pulling it, tugging on those silky strands that I'd wanted to get my hands on for so long. I crushed his face to my chest as he increased the pressure of his mouth, sucking and biting and moving his way from one side to the other. One thing could be said for all of Flor's years of practice: he was good. Better than Max even, and I knew he was no amateur either.

I sighed, my breath carried away on the breeze as the evening grew colder but I only grew hotter. Sweat beaded on my lower back and chest as Flor continued to kiss his way across my skin, moving back towards my neck, my jawline, my lips. We kissed again and the fervor between us seemed to amplify, a low growl escaping his throat as a moan escaped mine. I played with his lip rings, tasting the metal, tugging on them with my teeth, just as I'd always wanted to. It was strange, surreal even, to have a dream I'd wanted so hard for so long come true, but I didn't have the capacity to examine it in that moment.

If this didn't last, I
needed
this memory fresh and clear and perfect.

“Flor,” I whispered as he leaned back and ran his hand along the waistband of my leggings, touching my skin, examining my tattoo. He curled his fingers under the fabric and tugged it down, lower than he needed to to see the entire piece. I felt my heart skip a beat, my breath come ragged and broken. I closed my eyes and remembered the sensation of his needle piercing my skin, his eyes on my body, his fingers brushing my flesh. And then the memories became real and I opened my eyes, finding Flor's gaze locked on mine again.

He reached up a gentle hand and brushed some of my hair back.

“Abigail.” That was it, all he said, just a word. I leaned into him and we kissed again, heat suffusing my chest, the ache between my legs growing to an impossible crescendo. Before I even knew what was happening, Flor was flipping us over, pushing me into the shingles of the roof. My head was pillowed on the rumpled fabric of his shirt as he looked down at me and then grabbed the waistband of my leggings once again. Only this time, he wasn't just looking at his artwork on my skin. This time, he was pulling the fabric over my hips, down my thighs, my knees, and finally sliding it over my bare feet. The only thing left between my complete nakedness and him was a pair of purple panties. He stared at them for a moment, his jaw working like he was angry about something and then he just shook his head.

I watched the muscle in his jaw work as he forced himself to relax.

Flor's mouth found mine again and then trailed down my belly, to the pink and purple jewel pierced through my flesh, and he tugged on it with his teeth, lighting up yet another erogenous zone I hadn't even known I'd had. My belly, my hips, my thighs. Flor worked his magic up and down my body, avoiding the one area I so desperately wanted him to touch.

When I finally sat up on my elbows and reached out to unbutton his jeans, he took both my hands in his and looked me straight in the face. It was that look that made me realize that no matter what had happened before or what might happen after, that he loved me, just as much if not more than I loved him. I thought of his paintings suddenly, of his tattoos, of how familiar those girls looked, and I came to the realization that what I'd seen in all of their faces, in their poses and smiles, each of them had just a little bit of me. Flor had been painting me, whether he meant to or not.

He released me, sliding his fingers up my arms, and sat back, letting me unbutton his jeans and push them down his hips.
Oh my God, Florian Harper Riley. When did
this
happen?
I opened my mouth to say something, to tell him how shocked I was or ask if it would hurt, when he leaned over and breathed warm breath across my cheek.

“You always wondered,” he told me with that arrogant smirk growing on his face. “And now you know.”

“I knew you didn't wear underwear,” I told him, referencing a specific incident when I'd walked in on him in the bathroom and found him pushing his pants down his hips. I'd only gotten a shot of bare ass, but that'd been enough to make me squirm for weeks. “But I … ”

“Had no idea exactly what my complete catalogue of body art contained?” I flushed and nodded, too embarrassed to say anything else. Yes, witty exchanges were our thing, bickering was our thing, but this was a whole new animal for me.

Flor had pierced junk.

Holy crap.

I took a deep breath and tried to still my hammering heart. Flor didn't just have one ring, but a few. I didn't know what to call any of them, but there they were, metal gleaming on the tip of his cock and even on his balls. I swallowed hard, my gaze drawn to the long length of him, the gentle curve of his dick. I wasn't an expert on length or anything, but I knew he was bigger than Max. Seven inches maybe?