Kicked (7 page)

“Fuck.” My hips rocked to the ceiling as I stroked myself.

I would climb on top of her, kiss her swollen mouth, and push inside. My hand tightened, and I imagined it was her tight pussy squeezing me. Her moans played in my mind, and her eyes were focused on nothing but me. I would fuck her hard, too hard, but I wouldn’t be able to stop myself. I wanted to mark her, to claim her, to make her realize there was no other man who could fuck her like me.

She would scream and scratch. I’d make her come until she couldn’t think straight. And then, once she was spent and panting, I’d coat her pussy with me.

I came with a grunt, hot come squirting onto my stomach as I smoothed my hand up and down my shaft. “Cordy, fuck.”

When my cock stopped kicking, I relaxed and let out a breath.

The orgasm fog slowly lifted, but she was still in the forefront of my mind. The way she’d looked up at me after our kiss—I’d affected her. I could feel it in how she wanted me, how her body warmed under my touch. But then she’d gone cold. I couldn’t blame her after what happened the last time we’d kissed. Even so, I wanted her to stay warm and yielding for me. If only I could erase the past and start over. But things didn’t work that way.

She’d told me I couldn’t touch her. Couldn’t kiss her. I’d apologized to her, but I hadn’t meant it. I’d never be sorry for tasting her lips or holding her close. Despite my need for her, I’d try and respect her wishes. That left me with one question. How in the hell was I supposed to spend three afternoons one-on-one with her, but not touch her? There was one perfect solution to the problem—convince her to trust me again so there could be touching, kissing, and much much more.

“Mark off your position.” I crossed my arms over my chest as she backed away from the ball and took her steps to the left.

Once she was set, I walked up behind her and lined up her trajectory toward the ball. I stood too close for coaching, but I had to be near her. The light scent of her shampoo floated around me, and the fine sheen of sweat on her skin glimmered in the fading light.

Keeping my hands at my sides, I asked, “Why only two steps to the side?”

“A fifteen-yarder from the right hash doesn’t need any more angle than this.”

I smiled as goose bumps broke out along her neck and down her shoulder to her tank top. She clutched her hands in front of her, fingers wrestling with each other whenever I came too close. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail, and I had an excellent view of her tan skin and the tantalizing line of her tits. “Good.”

Backing away, I kept in line with her to watch her movements. “Kick.”

She dropped her hands to her sides and took a breath, let it out, then took her set up steps. She planted perfectly, her left heel in line with the ball as her right foot made contact. The ball soared through the uprights and slapped into the net.

“You were a yard off center.” I snagged another ball from my gear bag and set it up for her.

“I split the uprights.” She put her hands on her hips.

I forced myself to meet her eyes instead of staring at her hardening nipples. “You can do better.”

“Better than three points?”

“Accuracy matters. It’s only going to get harder the farther you get from the goal.” I rose and towered over her.

She glared back at me with a defiant tilt of her chin. “Do I get more points if it’s down the middle? No, I don’t. So I don’t see why—”

“Take a lap.” I wanted to stop her mouth with a kiss and bend her backwards until she gave in to everything I wanted. One look at her told me that would end with me getting my eyes scratched out. Instead, I opted for run-of-the-mill sports discipline.

“What?” Her mouth dropped open in an ‘O’ that had my cock trying to rise to the occasion.

“Go on. One lap. Keep talking back and it’ll be two.”

She clamped her mouth shut, gave me a murderous stare, then turned and started jogging. I watched as her fine ass with the perfect amount of jiggle headed toward the visitors’ side. Her long legs ate up the distance with ease. She turned and crossed the end zone, her ponytail swinging with her steady gait. My cock stirred even more, and I had to stop looking at her before things got out of control.

“Hey, douchebag. What are you doing out here?”

I turned to find Ethan walking up to me, a smug look on his face. As if I needed another reason to hate the asshole. He took every chance he could to nail me during practice, even when the coaches made it clear that for scrimmages, I wasn’t to be touched. My arm was what kept the team moving forward, but Ethan didn’t give a shit. He still went for me despite the coaches’ threats to bench him. He knew, just like the coaches knew, that he was one of the best defensive players in school history. The chances of him sitting the bench were about the same as mine.

He scratched his balls through his athletic shorts. Any cliché about dumb or disgusting jocks fit Ethan perfectly. His dark hair was cut short against his shiny scalp, and his long chest hair was on full display in his v-neck tee.

“I’m busy. Fuck off, Ethan.”

He glanced down to the holder and the sack of footballs. “Looking to try a new position?” He grinned and kicked the holder out of place.

I shook my head. “Wow. You really got me there, man.” I faked a loud laugh. “Really stuck it to me with that move. What are you going to do next? Throw my footballs over there?” I pointed a few yards away. “So I can’t get them?”

His grin turned to a scowl, and he stepped toward me. “I’m tired of your rich boy shit. Someone needs to knock you down a peg, and I’m just the guy to do it.” He glanced up, and the stupid grin returned to his face. “Cordelia.”

She jogged up behind me, her breaths coming faster from the run. “What does the brain damaged wildebeest want?”

Ethan focused on her like a dog staring at a T-bone steak. He tried to sidestep me.

I followed his movement and did my damnedest not to swing at him. The need to knock his teeth out was already insistent.

He ignored me. “It’s not what I want, princess, it’s what I can give you.”

“I’m allergic to idiots, so whatever you want to give me would just make me break out in hives and vomit. So, no thanks.” The sneer in her voice cheered my heart.

He grabbed his crotch. “You’ll gag, for sure.” He stopped trying to get at her. Instead, he let his gaze travel the length of her body.

She laughed. “We finally agree on something. Hurray.”

I fisted my hands. I was ready to pummel him until he was unconscious. I didn’t give a shit if it got me kicked off the team—or out of school, for that matter.

I felt a slight weight on my shoulder and saw movement from the corner of my eye.

Cordy was flipping him off, her wrist resting on me. “Now get out of here. I’m busy.”

“Going to make first-string, huh?” He glanced back at the goalpost. “Good luck.” He sneered. “You keep on splitting those uprights just like I’m going to split your legs.”

That was it. He was going down. I started to raise my fists, but Cordy ran her hand down my right arm and held onto my wrist with a tight grip.

I could have pulled away from her, could have launched myself at him. But she didn’t want me to, so I didn’t. All the same, she couldn’t stop my mouth. “I’m going to beat the ever-living shit out of—”

“Thanks for the well wishes.” She talked over me. “Bye now. See ya. Go on. Get out of here and take your Axe body spray funk with you. Tell the other demented wildebeests I said hi.”

Ethan stopped staring over my shoulder and glared at me instead. I burned to swing at him, to watch him go limp when I shattered his jaw. Cordy’s fingers kept me from doing any damage.

He smirked at the rage in my eyes. “Later, princesses.” He turned and walked back toward campus with an unearned swagger.

Once he was out of earshot, I pivoted around to Cordy. “What the hell was that? Has he touched you? And why did you stop me?”

She raised her hand to her forehead and shielded her eyes from the sun. “He’s just an asshole. There’s no point fighting him. He’ll still be a douchebag when you’re done.”

My blood stayed at a simmer. “You didn’t answer my question. Has he touched you?”

“One time he… Look, it doesn’t matter—”

I ate up the distance between us, my shadow falling across her to the point that she lowered her hand. “Tell me.”

She nibbled her lip, but didn’t drop her eyes. “Before kickoff on Saturday, when we were in the tunnel, he…grabbed my ass.”

“I’m going to rip him apart.” I turned and started in the direction he’d gone.

“Trent!” Cordy ran beside me.

“He can’t touch you like that.” I gained on his retreating figure.

She wrapped her hands around my forearm and yanked. “Stop! Please. I need your help. Kicking help. Please?”

I kept barreling forward. “He needs to respect you.”

“You beating him to a pulp won’t earn me any respect!” She pulled again. “Please, Trent.”

Fuck.
Her begging did me in. I couldn’t say no to her. The one time I’d said no had gutted me for the past two years. I slowed my pace and stopped. She walked around to my front and raised a hand to my chest. She hovered it over my shirt, not touching me for a long moment. Then she rested her palm over my heart. I wanted to cover her hand with mine, but I didn’t move.

She’d touched me, which was more than I’d hoped for so soon in our time together. I wouldn’t spook her.

“I’m not worried about him, okay?” She studied my eyes with her amber stunners. “I’m worried about getting that scholarship.” She sighed and started to drop her hand.

I couldn’t help it. I grabbed her and pressed her small palm to my chest.

She glanced to our hands and then back to my eyes. “Remember before? When I told you about my family. And my dad?”

Before I ran away and broke both of our hearts?
Yes, I remembered. I nodded.

“It isn’t any better. I still have to pay my way. I still send half my Pell grant home to my dad so he can live. If I walk away from this chance, it would be the second dumbest thing I’ve ever done. So, help me. I’m asking you to help me. I don’t want to just be the Mav anymore.”

I would have given her anything she’d asked for. Anything I had was hers. She wanted my help, and I would give it without reservation. The heat from her hand seeped into my heart, warming me all the way down to my toes.

I cocked my head to the side. “What’s a Mav?”

“Oh, that. It’s kind of what I call myself.” She dropped her eyes. “Mascot with a vagina.” Her mumble was almost inaudible.

I laughed as she blushed. “What about the W?”

“It’s silent.” She shook her head. “Forget about that. Will you help?”

“Of course. Whatever you need. But promise to tell me if he speaks to you again or touches you or does
anything
. Promise me.”

She sighed. “I promise.”

“So, what was the first dumbest thing you’ve ever done?”

“What?” She dropped her gaze again, and I knew she’d heard me.

“You said walking away from the scholarship would be the second dumbest thing you’d ever done.” I put my fingertips under her chin and pulled her face up to mine. Though I dreaded the answer, I asked the question all the same. “So what was the first?”

She looked away, then stared me down and straightened her spine. “Two years ago. I kissed you.”

CHAPTER NINE

C
ORDY

Two years earlier

“
A
FTER
I
THREW EVERY
sizeable oyster I could find into my net, I washed them off in the cold water running along the shore.” Trent stood at the front of the classroom, his hands clasped in front of him and his eyes scanning the students as he spoke. He’d been talking for ten minutes, giving a detailed story about his time at the beach last summer.

“Then I took them home and gave them to our cook. That night, my family and I ate the oysters I’d found along the small reef near our beach house, and I’ve never had a better one since.” Trent finished his speech and gave me a smile as the entire class clapped for him.

We’d practiced for weeks, and he’d gotten through the whole thing without so much as a missed word or a stutter. He smiled, but now he focused only on me. The butterflies went to war in my stomach, fluttering and fighting as Trent walked toward me and the professor called the next student.

Trent sat down beside me, his presence familiar but also exciting.

I leaned over, aware of my breast pressing into his arm and the way he moved even closer to me. “You did it.”

He turned to me, his green eyes sparkling, and smiled. “
We
did it.”

After the final presenter told the class about his summer as a construction worker, our time was up. Class was over for the semester, and the last day of school was bittersweet. I wouldn’t have another class with Trent. He would focus on business and math while I stayed in the humanities.