SPIKED (A Sports Romance) (30 page)

It had taken me hours to do the same. To calm the racing heartbeat and the urge to push him over and rub my hand along the length of his cock, wake him up in a way that he wouldn’t again refuse me.

For hours that night I’d replayed the heat of his kisses, his hungry hands sliding up my sides, the way he’d pulled my shirt off and kissed my breasts, kneaded them with this rough hands. But even when sleep finally consumed me, I couldn’t figure out why he’d stopped, just as I’d been ready to give him everything.

And now I stood before him, knowing how it felt to be truly and thoroughly fucked by him, first in his bed, and now with my heart. Because I knew, even as I stood there, in his grandiose house, that I could never truly get over him. He was the boy I fell in love with as a girl, and then I fell for him all over again as a woman, the commanding, successful man who never quite lost the chip on his shoulder.

How the hell was I supposed to trust him? He was
married
, and he’d hidden it from me. What skeleton would crawl out of his closet next?

He shook his head. “Once I had you, I didn’t think I could ever let you go. I fucked up not telling you right away, and each day it just made a bigger hole. I can’t lose you.”

“You don’t get it, do you? You already did,” I said, and then spun around and walked away.

I glanced back as I left his room, and regretted it instantly. He was crestfallen, his bare chest rising and falling with ragged breaths.

I tried to stay strong, try to keep the tears from falling, but I knew they glistened in my eyes as I unbolted the door, opened it and pushed my way past Alexa on the stoop.

“He’s really slumming it these days, huh?” Alexa said, a cruel smile playing at her lips.

I whirled around, planning to strike back, but I hesitated. The woman looked like Landon’s equal in every way. Like she too, owned any piece of the world she stood in. But when she moved her hand again, crossing her arms and making sure that giant ring caught the light—and my eye—I couldn’t take it. I lashed out.

“You may be his wife, but he’s loved me since he was eighteen. Nothing you say changes that.”

I wasn’t even sure if that statement was true—if Landon had ever truly loved me.

Maybe Landon wasn’t truly capable of love.

But I knew that I’d loved him that long, and that my words had gotten to her. She narrowed her eyes, one hand on the door, uncertainty written on her face.

“But you know what? He’s not even worth it. He’s all yours,” I said, bounding down the steps and leaving him behind, leaving before she could say something else to make me regret my decision to walk away from the man I loved.

I
ended
up walking halfway home before the cab I’d called found me, halfway down to the valley. I was pretty sure I had a blister on the back of my ankle, but the one on my heart hurt more.

It took ten minutes for the cab to barrel across town and drop me at my house. Ten minutes to stare out the window and wonder how things had gotten so utterly fucked up.

My house looked like it was in slumber; my dad must’ve already left for work. Matt’s car was in the drive, though, and he was the one I really wanted to confront.

I found him on the couch, watching the news with a steaming cup of tea on the table next to him. I grabbed the remote, clicked the TV off, and threw it down.

“Whoa,” he said. “Who pissed in your cheerios?”

“You lied to me,” I said.

His eyes widened and he sat up, and in that instant I knew what he thought I was referring to. Knew he was thinking about his cancer, about what went down yesterday when he was puking and saying he’d had six beers. But that’s for another day. Right then, I was too enraged about him driving Landon out of town.

“Uh, what?”

“You always told me you didn’t know why Landon left town. You lied.”

He sat back, his brow furrowed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Three years ago,” I snapped. “You knew he’d been with me in my room, and you
hit him
. You insulted him. Don’t you think I deserved to know, instead of always wondering why he just took off without a word to me?”

Matt glanced at the front door and then back at me, taking in the clothing I’d been wearing yesterday when I left. “Jesus Christ, Taryn, are you sleeping with him?”

“Tell me the truth about three years ago,” I said. “Tell me what you said to him.”

“I told him he wasn’t good enough for you. He’ still not.”

“He calls you his best friend, Matt. How can you think so little of him?”

“He
is
my best friend. I would trust him with my life,” he said rubbing at his eyes before looking at up at me. “But not with yours.”

“You lied to me, Matt. You made me believe he didn’t care about me.”

“Oh he cared. He thought he was falling in love with you.”

I was temporarily unable to form my next thought, some of the anger fizzing out. “What?”

“He told me he thought he loved you.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. Landon certainly hadn’t mentioned that tidbit. “And?”

“And I took a swing at him.”

“What the hell, Matt?”

Matt sighed, as if explaining simple addition to a child. “If he told you he was falling in love, I knew it would be game over. You’d believe every promise he made. But that’s the thing about Landon. He makes a lot of promises he can’t keep.” He glanced over at me again. “Don’t you remember? You’d gotten your UW acceptance letter that week. You were going places and he would’ve derailed all of that. I couldn’t let him do that to you.”

“You are such an asshole,” I said. “You had no right.”

“Oh really?” He said, standing up and walking over to me. “Tell me, Taryn, why are you home at 7AM, looking like you’ve been crying?”

Some of the anger I wanted to direct at my brother fizzled out, and I looked down at the floor. My eyes were probably red-rimmed and bloodshot. There was no denying it. “It’s none of your business.”

“Tell me, since we’re being so honest with one another suddenly,” he said.

I swallowed. Did my brother know that Landon had gotten married? “Something happened and I’m a little upset,” I said. “But it’s not your business.”

“Something
always
happens between Landon and women. That’s what I’ve spent years trying to spare you from.”

I hated that he was right, and I hated that I trusted Landon, and I hated this whole fucking day. Anger spiraled into fury.

“Stay out of my life, Matt,” I said, and then turned away, bounding up the steps to my room. Like a petulant child, I slammed my door, and then went to my closet and yanked out my suitcase. I threw it down on my bed, and then pulled my cell phone out of my pocket.

He answered in one ring.

“Professor Valdez?” I asked, my voice strong with certainty. “You’re right. About everything. I want to take the internship.”

D
allas was muggy
. I’d expected to feel dry, desert-like heat, but the moisture in the air stuck to my skin, weighing me down.

I rolled my suitcase down the sidewalk, wondering if I’d packed the right clothes. The furthest I’d ever traveled was Southern Oregon, but Summer in Texas was so much hotter. Hopefully the lab was air conditioned.

I grabbed the first cab in line, and the driver helped me shove my oversized suit case into the trunk. Moments later we were barreling down the road, the car’s pathetic air-conditioning vent doing all it could to keep my thighs from sticking to the seat. I expected him to go all the way downtown, to where the skyscrapers and the glossy buildings beckoned. That’s where the lab was, nestled between two skyscrapers.

Instead, he slowed on the outskirts of the city, taking an exit and turning right. I wanted to tell him he must have it wrong, that this didn’t look right, but the sign we passed said
Rose street
, matching the address I gave him. The one Professor Valdez had emailed me to me when I was on my way to the airport.

And then he pulled up at a squat grey apartment building and dread pressed down on my shoulders. I searched the structure for an address, and when I found
624
, disappointment settled in.

This wasn’t what I’d pictured. Professor Valdez said his assistant had had to scramble for accommodations, since the original intern had already canceled his apartment rental, then leaving it for his replacement. He’d told me it would be modest, that finding a six week, furnished rental that could be covered by the internship stipend had been unexpectedly difficult.

But modest didn’t quite cover this.

“Here we are,” the cabbie said, putting his car in park. I wanted to tell him there’d been a mistake; he should take me back to the airport, or drop me at a hotel.

But I didn’t have money for a hotel. I could cover a few days, but six weeks?

I forced myself to think of the materials I’d read on the plane. Of the trials we’d be working on in the labs.

It will be worth it,
I told myself, gathering my courage to step out of the car.

The driver was already standing there with my suitcase in hand, beaming like he’d just dropped me off at a Disneyland resort. “Thanks,” I said, handing him a tip and accepting my luggage. It took everything I had not to run after his cab as it pulled away.

And then there was just silence and the oppressive heat.

I dragged my bag across the cracked asphalt drive, trudging toward the sign marked
Office.
It took only a few moments to explain who I was and be given a worn brass key, 309 barely legible on the head. My apartment was on an upper floor, but there was no elevator, so I had to drag my suitcase up two flights of creaking stairs, ignoring the way the paint was flaking off.

My hair was plastered to my head and I could barely breathe by the time I got to the top. I looked for a door marked 309, but I couldn’t find it. I stopped dragging my bag and walked back to 305. Following the hall, I passed 306, 307, 308, 306.

Two apartments labeled 306?

I reached out, touching the six and turning it. That seemed like a bad sign. I went back and grabbed my bag, then returned to door 309 and unlocked it, bracing myself for what I’d find.

It was clean, at least. But modest and outdated were putting it kindly. Linoleum stretched across the space, a flowery pattern that went out of style back in the 80s. A laminate counter was chipped around the edges, and one white cabinet door hung slightly askew.

I found the bedroom, tossing my bag down on the comforter. It was probably orange, once, but now it was more like a melted creamsicle.

I sunk onto the mattress, my chest growing tight. I’d given up everything to come here, and I couldn’t help the disappointment that creeping through me. This wasn’t what I’d imagined on the plane.

But I could stick it out. Things would look better in the morning. Right now, I was tired, and stressed out.

And I missed Landon. It had been twenty-four hours since I walked away from his house, and all I could think about was the idea that he and Alexa had held a little reunion for old times’ sakes. That he’d taken her to his bed, gotten tangled in the same sheets.

What if my brother was right about him? I didn’t believe Landon to be malicious. He wouldn’t set out to break my heart.

But it might become collateral damage.

I reached for my bag, unzipping the top and flipping it open. I needed something to keep me busy. Dusk was falling, and if I sat here staring at the ceiling too long, I’d probably want to call him.

I flipped on the TV and found a channel with as little static as possible. Noise to fill the room, to keep the loneliness from creeping in. Then I filled the battered dresser with my clothing, until the suit case was empty and stashed in the closet.

My toiletries were in my carry-on, so I grabbed the bag and lined them all up on the counter next to a dripping faucet.

At the bottom of my bag was a long box, wrapped in silver paper.

I’d called Annie after I decided to take the internship, and she’d reinforced my decision. She came over and helped me pack, talking about everything, and then insisted on returning to take me to the airport. She’d shoved the present at me before driving away.

I returned to the bedroom, flopping down and sliding the little folded piece of paper open.

So you don’t miss Landon. You’re welcome.

I ripped into the wrapping paper, and when I saw what was underneath, I was so startled I dropped the box entirely. I glanced up at the window, my cheeks warming as I crossed the room and closed the drapes.

I went back to the bed and scooped the gift off the floor, turning the box over. A clear plastic window allowed me to view the contents.

It was a glass dildo. Clear. Holy shit. I should’ve expected this from her, should’ve known something was up when she smirked as she handed me the gift and suggested I open it on the plane.

I’d never owned a sex toy before. Annie probably had seven of them, one for each day of the week, because she was bold like that. I mean, I knew how to take care of myself. I wasn’t a saint or something, I’d just never gotten the guts up to walk into a store like that and just buy something like this.

I stared at the box, trying to ignore the intrigue rising like a tide. Wondering what it would feel like against my skin, smooth and cold, when all I’d ever felt was the hot flesh of the real thing.

I glanced at the door again, confirming it was locked. Confirming the drapes were still shut. I was flushed already, anticipation growing as I slid the covers of the bed back, as I slipped my shorts down my legs and climbed into bed, the box in my hand.

I ripped the box open, the toy sliding onto the bed. My hand gripped it, the glass as cool and unforgiving as I’d imagined.

The image of it in Landon’s hand struck, hard. He would push me back on the bed, a devilish grin on his face as he teased this back and forth against me. I felt myself growing wet at the thought of him forcing this inside me, stretching me.

But Landon was thousands of miles away, so I’d have to make do without his
assistance.

I laid back against the pillows. For some odd reason I wanted to pull the blankets up, cover myself as it to be modest. But that was silly, because the room was empty.

I let my legs fall open, one knee bent up, and reached down, my fingers sliding across my clit. The dildo sat beside me, the cold glass touching my hip as I prepared myself.

I was wet already, anticipating the way it would feel. Thinking, again, of the way Landon would ram it into me, as unrelenting as the glass, if only he were there.

I plunged a finger inside myself, drawing out the slick heat, alternating between my clitoris and my slit. Back and forth, until I was hot and panting and ready for something a little more…
solid.

I picked up the dildo again, my heart hammering faster. In this moment, I wasn’t sure why I’d never bothered to walk into a sex shop.

I teased it along my slit, rubbing it up and down, so that the friction rubbed my clit and the end of it rubbed at my opening. I made myself wait, tried to be as patient as Landon had been our last night together. But I didn’t have his restraint, and the glass was growing slick, making my pulse thrum harder.

Remembering him, the way he’d touched me, slid into me, only made me hotter.

I spread my legs father, my knees falling open, and adjusted the angle of the dildo, pushing the tip inside me.

I thought of Landon’s tip.

I gasped at the pleasure, at the unexpected feel of the unforgiving glass. It stretched me wide, yet slid in with so little resistance. I pushed it further and further, until my hand, wrapped around the base, hit the base of my thighs.

And then I stilled. Relishing the full feeling of the dildo buried deep. Forcing my breathing to stay calm, even as my body quivered with the mounting pressure.

I pulled it out, then plunged it back in, my pulse spiking again. My pussy clenching around the glass. I began pumping it in and out, moaning at the thickness, and that unrelenting size.

I closed my eyes, picturing Landon on top of me, his arms braced on either side of my head, his skin damp with sweat as he grunted, thrusting into me, burying himself to the hilt. I moaned at the image, reaching up with my free hand and twisting my nipple. Imagining it was him biting it, sucking hard enough to leave a bruise.

Part of me ached with the need of him—another part ached at the loss of him.

My pace quickened, the glass growing wetter, the dildo plunging so deep it almost hurt. My hand moved to my other breast, and I twisted that nipple hard. I wanted Landon more than ever, wanted his hot skin pressed into mine, wanted him to suck on the side of my neck as he forced my legs up higher, as he fucked me harder and harder.

My breathing grew labored, my body got hotter. I plunged the glass in and out, in and out, still twisting my nipple as pleasure hit me, harder and fierce. My pussy clenched around the glass, then again and again, until I felt as if my whole body was shaking.

Only when it stopped did I slip the dildo out of my body, pulling the covers up to my shoulders as my breathing slowed.

And as I drifted off to sleep, I wondered what Landon would think if he’d seen me, if he’d watched me take my own pleasure. Because the thought of watching
him
take himself in his hand, watching
him
bring himself to climax, was enough to make me want to find the dildo again, buried somewhere in the sheets.

* * *

B
y the time
I hung up my white lab coat the following day, I was worn out—yet somehow energized. It had been months since I’d worked in a lab, and while I was more than a little lost, it also felt like coming home.
This
was where I was meant to be.
This
was the version of myself I was happiest being.

The other students had hit the ground running that morning, scattering to various stations and setting to work. Even though I’d read all of the materials on the plane, it didn’t replace the
actual
orientation the others had taken. It took me most of the day to get to know where all of the supplies were, and figure out how to work the locks on some of the cabinets.

I drifted out of the lab, digging out the bus schedule I’d snagged this morning on my way off the bus. There was a stop two blocks away, but I wasn’t sure how long it would take for the next one to arrive.

I walked down the sidewalk, my bag slung over my shoulder and the schedule unfolded—as big as a map—when someone fell into step beside me.

“Hey. It’s Taryn, right?” he said. I glanced up, taking in the bright blue eyes of one of the other interns. He had floppy, boyish blonde hair, but his height and broad shoulders marked him as being at least my age.

“Yeah. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch--“

“Ben,” he supplied.

“Ben. Right. Hi.” I said, grinning. “Thanks for your help getting that cabinet open today.”

“Sure. You’ll get it down in no time.”

“Thanks,” I said, hoping he was right.

“Some of us are going out tonight. Blow off some steam. Want to join us?”

I blinked, not expecting this, Part of me wanted to just go back to the apartment, take a long hot bath. “Oh, I don’t know--“

“Come on. It’s Friday. Surely you don’t have something better to do?”

I thought of the tiny little apartment I’m supposed to return to. Of the half-strength signal I’d managed to tap into that, if I loaded a Netflix show and then paused it for an hour, I could manage to watch one show before it crapped out.

No, I had nothing better to do.

“Um, I guess not. But I don’t have transportation,” I said, waggling the bus schedule. “How are you guys getting there?”

He held up his key ring. “I can drive you.”

“You rented a car?”

“No, I’m from Arizona. I drove here from home.”

“Oh, okay. Cool.” I folded the schedule back up, shoving it into my bag. “Which way?”