Sacked (Gridiron #1) (14 page)

At the door he stops. “I didn’t wait for religious reasons,” he informs me. “I waited because if I wanted a physical release, I had my hand. I waited for the right girl.”

And I’m…the right girl? I’m too scared to ask the question out loud because I’m afraid of the answer. I know what I want it to be but I’m too chicken to reach out for it. But I want to. Holy hell, do I want to.

“So are we done?” I ask in a tiny voice.

“No.” He sighs and then releases a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m not done. Are you?”

“No.”

His eyes close in what looks like relief.

“Okay, then.” He pulls open the door and I still follow him because I’m not prepared for him to go. “I’m not into games between us. I want you. Badly. I know you want me too but it’s more than sex for me. When you work that out, it’ll be amazing. I’m willing to wait. I’m really good at waiting.”

I shiver at the thought of what all he’s good at. He starts walking away and I hate that he’s leaving without me giving him something.

“Wait,” I call. He turns back. “Thank you. It was…incredible.”

The side of his mouth curls up in a half smile. “Yeah?”

I give him a little more encouragement. “The best ever.”

He stalks back and presses me against the wall by to the open apartment door.

“Me, too, baby.” He grips me behind my neck and I’m lost the moment his lips meet mine.

I hear sounds around us, people coming and going, but neither of us pay any attention to that. There’s only him and me and the vortex of feeling he creates between us with the mere press of his mouth. Okay, and his big body muscling me up against the wall. There’s that, too. I sneak a hand between us and grip him tightly. He freezes and groans into my mouth, and the sound makes me vibrate from the inside out.

But he doesn’t fall back into the apartment. He collects himself, inch by inch, and then steps away from me.

“Come inside?” I whisper.

“Not tonight.” He shakes his head and the sting of rejection is slightly offset by his obvious regret.

Because I can’t help myself, I ask, “Why not tonight?”

“You’re not ready.”

“And when do you think I’ll be ready?” I put my hands on my hips in exasperation.

He palms my cheek. I swear I can I still feel his mouth between my legs.

“You can start by calling me Knox.”

“
S
o that’s Knox Masters
.” Riley watches as I slam the door shut.

“Yes.”

“Wow. He was all over you. I thought he would unhinge his jaw and swallow you whole in the hall. Half the floor raced to get their cameras to make amateur porn.”

“I know.” I stomp into my bedroom and throw myself face first on the mattress. I feel like banging my feet and hands against the surface. I keep seeing him and his big hand and his dick. I feel his rough jaw between my legs and the glorious orgasms he drew out of me. I then I hear him say I’m not ready. Where does he get off saying I’m not ready. I’m totally ready. I don’t think I have ever been more ready. My body aches in places I didn’t know could ache.

I feel empty. Like there is a Knox-shaped void inside of me.

“Is Masters really a virgin?” Riley asks curiously.

“He says he is.”

“He looked like he wanted to lose it to you. What happened?”

I press a finger against my temple. “I called him by the wrong name.”

“Like another guy’s name?” she gasps.

“No, his last name.”

“Oh.”

She doesn’t get it. I roll over.

“He thinks it’s my way of saying that sex between us would be meaningless.”

“Is he right? Are you using his last name to create emotional distance?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Yes. He accused me of just wanting sex, as if that’s a bad thing,” I try to joke.

Riley doesn’t laugh. “He obviously thinks you’re special if he wants to sleep with you.”

I swallow. “Yeah.”

“Is all you feel for him physical? Like you want to nail him and be done. Or I guess be nailed by him.”

“No.” My gut clenches at the thought of him taking up any number of the offers available to him. I’m not stupid. I know what it’s like for these players. Even at the junior college, when it became apparent that Jack would move to a bigger, better program, the girls flocked to him. Masters could have anyone on campus by snapping his fingers. I don’t want him with anyone else. “I like him,” I admit. “He’s a terrific person and—” I choke. “I don’t want to get hurt.”

“No one does,” she says softly.

“Riley, I can’t replay this with you right now, because I’m so damned confused. Could we possibly table this discussion until tomorrow when I’m cogent and not completely flustered from what happened outside our apartment door?”

“We can. We absolutely can.”

“Bless you.”

The rest of the night is terrible. I don't spend even one solid minute sleeping. Every time close my eyes I see him, dick in hand. I hear the thud as his knees hit the floor and then the cool air followed by his hot breath when he pulls down my panties. My entire body is one big throbbing ache.

The three guys I've had sex with have been okay, but I have never, ever been so turned on. And what does Masters do? He walks away.

I don’t even care that I’m witnessing some extraordinary discipline and what it could mean in the sack. I’m wired and pissed off.

I rub myself, but the relief I get is fleeting. My only solace—and it’s a small one—is that he has to be in as much pain as I am.

“Didn’t sleep well,” Riley notes in the morning. I’m eating her chocolate-covered cereal. It seemed like the right thing to do when I got up frustrated, horny, and upset.

“No. I wish you actually had a high-powered vibrator in your room instead of the sewing machine. I can’t hump that, can I?”

She stares at me wide-eyed and a little fearful. “Um, no. Please don’t do that to my sewing machine.”

I close my eyes and try to gather a little patience. “I’m not, but God, I’d like to punch him in the nuts.”

“I thought you wanted those nuts to do something to you.”

I wave my hand. “I can't even with him.” 

“Or odd?” she jokes. 

“This is how terrible he is,” I huff. “He’s driven me to using Tumblr words in real life.”

“You should seduce him. He's clearly interested. Put on a sexy dress and make sure he can’t say no.”

I set down my fork. “Riley, you are a fucking genius. I’ll do it after the game on Sunday.”

“Why wait?”

“He’ll be more susceptible after the game. They have so much adrenaline from a win and they need to expend it somewhere.” I grin wickedly at her.

She laughs. “And that somewhere is all over you?”

“Exactly.”

Masters wants me. That much I do know. I need to convince him to let go. And remember to call him Knox.

Masters—I mean Knox—texts me during the sociology class.

Knox:
You mad at me?

Me:
Why would I be mad?

Knox:
So, really mad.

Me:
No idea what you’re talking about. Good luck on the game this weekend.

Knox:
Is this your way of saying I’m not seeing you this week?

Me:
You’re so bright.

Knox:
I do have your schedule now…

Me:
I can report you to campus police.

Knox:
I’ll see you next week.

Me:
Or after the game.

Knox:
Keep talking.

Me:
After you win this week. Maybe I’ll see you around.

Knox:
All right.

I
t's standing
room only at The Gas Station by the time Matty, Hammer, and I roll in. Two games down and ten to go. We cheerfully accept the back slaps and high fives as we navigate our way to the bar. This time we deserve the congratulations. The team fired on all cylinders. We played fantastic defense, getting four sacks, generating two fumbles. Campbell caught two touchdown passes. Ace threw the ball like Peyton Manning. 

More importantly, we played with intensity. Today everyone was hungry—and not just Ace and I showed it on the field. After the game, when game balls got handed out to the players, Coach talked about building off this win and making sure that our best games were ahead of us. This second game was just the start. Then he told us that we had no curfew, but he didn’t want to read about our names in the papers tomorrow unless it had something to do with scoring on the field or saving a busload of old ladies on their way to bingo. Then we were excused.

Now we’re here, basking in the praise and adulation of our classmates.

Or some of us are. Hammer heads straight for the bar to do shots. He doesn’t have his name just because of the hits on the field. Matty already has some Alpha Phi hooked to his hip. She has half her body pressed against his arm while he gestures for the bartender for another drink. I think she’s either trying to assimilate into Matty’s body or absorb him. Later tonight I’ll find some half man, half sorority sister passed out on my living room floor.

Someone presses a bottle into my hands. What the hell? But I might need to get lit tonight if Ellie doesn’t show up. I find a place off the edge of the bar where I can see the door.

I’m not certain she’ll be here. According to Jack, she doesn’t go to the games. The starting whistle blew before I had time to question him further. Post-game, I asked again. He gave me a look that said I was being obvious, but what did I care? The punk. If I wasn’t so fucking happy at his play, I might have punched him in the mouth.

But if she didn’t show up to the post game celebration, it wouldn’t be because she hated football. Just one player. Me.

I fucked it up, making too big of a deal about her slip of the tongue. Girl’s got a few barriers. Someone hurt her—someone she cared about—hard, and she’s worried. Not just for herself, but for her brother. I can get behind that, and even better, I understand it. If Ty had gotten the ass end of a stick, I’d be wary, too. And wasn’t that about half the reason I haven’t been laying pipe the whole time I’ve been here?

I blame my asshole attitude on the fact that most of my thinking power went in my pants last week. Jesus, the first taste of her was enough for me to shoot my wad. I already hovered on the razor’s edge just by kissing her thigh. Who knew that particular part of the body felt so soft?

All week I couldn’t get the taste and feel out of my mind. I’d fucked my fist so hard and so often it’s a miracle my dick isn’t so much raw meat right now.

I exchange high fives, receive back slaps, and more than a few invitations, but my gaze doesn’t waver. There’s only one girl for me, and if she doesn’t show up, then I’ll go to her.

So what if her head wasn’t in the same place mine is? Maybe the universe doesn’t move at the same rate for her. In the meantime, I need more of her. I’ve only had a sample, but I wasn’t lying when I told her I could have stayed between her shaking legs all week. Nothing on this fine earth tastes as good as she does.

Early on, after I’d decided I would wait, I’d marked below the waist as a no go zone. I pride myself on my personal self-control and self-discipline, but even I knew that a hand below the waist meant clothes would come off and the virginity thing would be in the past. It’s also why I didn’t move to the bed even though Ellie panted that word like it was the only one in her vocabulary.

A bed and Ellie made too much temptation for a poor boy like me to resist. But I’m done resisting. I’m done making demands. I’ll lay myself at her pretty little toes and smile if she decides to walk all over me. Because eventually, eventually, I’ll wear her down. Eventually I’ll get her. Like I’ve read every offense. The first time it might take me by surprise, but after a little film, a helluva lot of practice, there’s no O-line that can stop me. No barrier I can’t overcome. No defense I can’t wear down. Eventually.

I glance at my phone. Its blank screen mocks me, as does the door that opens, but never seems to spit out the one person I want to see. Time to take the mountain to Mohammed then. I look around the room to check on my guys. Matty, Hammer, and Jesse take up one side of the bar. Matty nods at me. He’s in charge and will make sure our side of the field gets home. Ace sits in the corner staring hungrily across the room at Stella, who’s talking to some basketball player. Ace looks like he’s about to throw the beer bottle into the guy’s head, and the way he tossed the ball around today like a dart and not some awkward oblong piece of leather meant he’d make good contact.

I stride over. “You’re not fooling anyone. Keep your head in the game. Play like that next week, and we’ll wear the crown.”

Ace rolls the bottle in his hand and then glances over my shoulder. “We’re not all made like you, Masters. Some of us have a life outside the game. Some of us want a life outside the game.” He tips his head back and drains his bottle.

I set the drink someone shoved into my hand in front of him. “Then go get that game. Don’t sit on your ass waiting for it to come to you.”

“Is that what you’re doing?” Ace mocks. “Pursuing your objective? Because I haven’t seen Campbell’s sister tonight anywhere.”

It stings a little, but not so much that I can’t provide an even response. “That’s why I’m leaving.”

“Or maybe she doesn’t want to be with you.” He tips his head toward the front of the bar, where Ellie stands wearing a shirt that must be too big for her, because the shoulder keeps slipping down to expose a golden circle of skin. A circle of skin that some dickhead is staring at.

Ace grabs me as I start to stalk toward them. “Be gentle. We need that dickhead.”

I must’ve said something out loud. I shrug him off. “We never reach that far into the wideout depth chart anyway.”

Hopefully he only needs one hand to catch the ball, because the one he laid on Ellie's shoulder is getting ripped off.

“Mother o’ God, who’s the smokeshow?” Matty whistles near my ear.

“Ellie Campbell,” I say abruptly.

“No shit?” he asks, following close behind as I cut a swath through the bar patrons. “I don’t remember her being so, ah, fit. The whole makeup thing and big hair really looks good on her.”

“Go away, Matty.”

“Gone.”

The freshman leans close to her, his eyes bright with excitement as he uses his height to leer down the front of Ellie's shirt.

“Hey, Emma, right?”

“Close…I’m Eliot.” She dips her shoulder down until the dillweed’s hand falls away. But that motion only serves to drop her shirt farther down her arm. The fabric of the top clings to the tops of her breasts and the big hoop earrings she wears flash in the light. She’s wearing a lot of smoky eye makeup and red lipstick and all it says to me is fuck me, fuck me hard. “This is my roommate, Riley.”

She tugs her tiny roommate’s arm forward.

“Riley? Eliot? Are you two...guys?” Asshole frowns.

“That’s right. We’re two guys.” She looks at Riley, who smothers a laugh behind her hand.

“Hey, Knox.” Riley waves. “Enjoy your book?”

“I did, thanks for asking. Need something to drink?”

“Sure. I’ll have whatever is light on tap.”

I tip my chin toward the bartender to get his attention and then turn toward Ellie, but before I can take her order, the dipshit starts talking again.

“Ah, right. We met at Hammer’s party. The Coke drinker.”

I can almost hear her eyes roll in her head but she gives him a courtesy smile.

“You planning to have some fun tonight or drink your Coke?”

Somehow, despite being a few inches shorter than the idiot, she manages to look down her nose at him. “I plan to have zero fun tonight and you’re doing a good job of making that happen for me.”

He scratches his nose in confusion because he apparently can’t make out whether she insulted him or complimented him. “Did you watch the game today? I play the slot receiver. Number 87. Maybe you saw me on the field?”

If you looked at the sidelines
.

“I don’t go to the games,” Ellie tells him.

He doesn’t give up because she’s the hottest, brightest thing in this room. “So you wanna dance?”

“Not with you.”

Because she’s with me, you chode.
I keep that to myself.

“Ellie, you want something?” I step in between them, tired of watching the exchange like a bystander.

“Sure,
Knox.
I’ll take what Riley’s having.”

I don’t miss the emphasis she puts on my first name. I hold up two fingers and the bartender gets to work.

“I didn’t know if you would come.”

She shrugs. “Riley wanted to see what a postgame celebration looked like. I tried to tell her she’d have as much fun as getting magic marker drawn on your face at a slumber party, but she didn’t believe me.”

“I haven’t had this experience at Western before.” Riley grins widely at me. I find myself smiling back.

The bartender delivers two beers and a water. I hand them out.

“Then you need to have a full Western experience.” I look around for Matty, who would be more than happy to introduce Ellie’s roommate to all the benefits of being with a Warrior player—at least for tonight.

Before I can hail anyone, Riley gasps. “Oh, there’s my Facebook crush! I’ll be back.” And she slips through the crowd before Ellie or I can say anything.

A cough at my back reminds me that the dick koozie must still be here. “Hey, Knox. Great game, huh? I was telling Emma here about how she should come watch the Warriors.”

“Yeah…” I pause as if I can't remember the name of the wideout. I know he runs fast, but runs a sloppy route and catches the ball too close to his body despite having baseball-sized mitts. He scowls as I leave him hanging but since he can’t even bother to get her name right, I don’t care. “Greer giving you a bad time?” I say to Ellie.

She does a subtle eye roll that Greer misses. “Took you long enough.”

I’m not sure if she’s talking about how long it took me to get to her side or how long it took me to pretend to remember Greer’s name.

“I’m saving my energy for later.”

Her mouth drops open into a perfect circle that gives me plenty of filthy ideas. And then, because I don’t want to deal with anymore Greers in the world not understanding how the teams are currently set up, with Ellie and me on the one side and the rest of the peckerheads on the other, I grab her around the nape of the neck and plant a deep, wet kiss on her perfect lips. Her mouth opens and I take full advantage of this by sliding my tongue inside. I lick her hot tongue, the roof of her mouth and then the sensitive spot behind her teeth. She trembles beneath my hand and blood rushes to my dick.

Greer gets shoved aside but I’m not sure if me or Ellie did the pushing. She backs away, lips swollen and red as cherries.

I turn to Greer. “Go away.”

He shows his remarkable speed and disappears into the crowd.

“Want to sit down somewhere?” I ask her. Every time the door opens, more people come in, and while I’m grateful to be pressed close to Ellie's hot-ass body, I’d like to be able to apologize to her without screaming.

She arches an eyebrow because there isn’t any seating evident in the room.

“I forget this is your first time.” I plaster her to my side and make my way toward the back. Down at the end of the bar I see Jack watching us with narrowed eyes.
Brother, I’m sorry you had to watch me maul your sister
, I apologize silently,
but it was either kiss her in front of everyone or piss on her leg.

I lead her down a short dark hallway and out into the back that opens onto a tiny patio the size of a postage stamp. There’s a couple of people out here. Telly Green sits with his longtime girlfriend, along with Clifton Knowles, another offensive lineman. Their girlfriends are sorority sisters. I give them a nod of acknowledgement and go to the opposite side of the patio, where there’s a cropping of uncomfortable looking rocks.

“Just think, Ellie, once you graduate you’ll never go to a place this classy again,” I joke and brush my hand over one rock until it’s as clean as I can get it.

She sits. “Rocks are hard to find in other establishments.”

“Right?” I crouch down in front of her. She looks shy, which is not how she’s appeared before. I clear my throat. “I’m glad you’re here. Thought you might not come.”

“I debated. Not really my scene.” We both turn to stare at the back door. The music is loud, but the din of the crowd inside is even louder. It’s a party scene, but I get what she’s talking about. She prefers to stay away from the football players and the baggage they bring. For the hundredth time since last weekend, I curse myself for not being more sensitive about her past. 

Picking up her hand, I turn it over and trace one of the creases from one side of the palm to the other. She trembles at the simple touch.

“I’m sorry about last week. I put some pressure on you that you didn’t deserve,” I say slowly. “I guess when I said that you weren’t ready I really meant that I wasn’t.”

She curls her fingers up around my finger and tugs. “I know you’re not the guy I dated in high school. I wanted to believe I didn’t have any baggage from dating, but I guess I do.” She gives a rueful laugh.

“You’re not. We all have stuff going on in our heads. Abstaining hasn’t been easy for me. When I first got here, I didn’t announce my status, but to some of the guys my going home every night alone, not taking the offers handed to me, marked me as strange. Some thought I was in the closet. Others didn’t know what to make of me. They got it out of me after homecoming. The booze flowed pretty heavily. It started a joke. Then it became a contest. Who would get Masters to break? I wasn’t kidding before about the number of girls available at any time—from the recruiting trip forward.”