Sugar Rush (Offensive Line #1) (23 page)

He reaches for me, his palm sliding along the side of my face into my hair. “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he mumbles.

I turn my face to kiss his wrist softly. My hand touches his healthy leg, gliding up inside the hem of his shorts. His breath hitches, his grip on my head, my hair, tightening. I look into his eyes as I reach higher, as I climb higher with my hand and my body until he can take one of my breasts in his free hand. His eyes half close as he kneads it in his palm. As my lips part and a breath escapes me.

I graze my fingers over the hot length of his dick, making him jolt. Making him moan. I grip him harder, sliding up and down his shaft slowly. His hips buck. His breath catches and releases, curses spilling from his lips, but I know what he wants to say. What he’s keeping locked up tight.

“You can say it,” I whisper, the same way I whispered it to him in the shower. “I know you’re dying to say it.”

He grins and grimaces, his eyes finding mine so full of desire. Of want. So fucking hungry it hurts.

“Eat me.”

I smile as I pull the top of his shorts down, releasing him. He watches me, his breath held. I take him in my hand, slowly lower my head, and lick a line from his base to his tip.

“Jesus Christ,” he groans, his head falling back.

I close my mouth over his head, sucking lightly. Colt’s body trembles under my hands. When I tighten my hold and glide my lips down his length, he groans painfully. I set a slow pace, going easy on him and torturing him at the same time. He moans and curses with every thrust inside my mouth.

“You have to stop,” he warns me tightly. “I can’t hold out, baby, you have to stop.”

He takes hold of my shoulders and pulls me off of him. Then he’s in his nightstand drawer, searching for something. He finds it quickly, the silver square small in his hands. When he has the condom on he reaches for me, taking my hips and guiding me over him. He stops me just as I’m lowering myself down.

Colt’s eyes are locked on mine as his fingers drift along my hip, down to the apex of my thighs. I’m straddling him, open to him when he touches me. Caresses me. Fondles my clit until I fall forward against his chest, my mouth searching for his. He kisses me deeply as his fingers strum faster and faster, and I can’t take it. I drop myself onto him, taking him in to the hilt, crying out against his lips.

His fingers don’t stop. He doesn’t hesitate as I rise and fall slowly, gently, trying not to hurt him while my body begs me to go faster. Colt takes over, thrusting his hips up to meet me. I worry he’ll hurt his leg but his grunts aren’t from pain. They’re from a divine pleasure that’s pouring into me, into my blood, and I can feel myself pulling together too tightly. I’m on the brink of falling apart.

“Go on,” he urges me.

I bite my lip hard. “I’m waiting for you.”

“Don’t wait for me. I’ll follow you.” He kisses me breathlessly. “I’ll follow you anywhere.”

Two more thrusts of his hips and I’m there. I’m gone. I’m falling in the dark and he’s holding me and pushing me, sending me to the edge of pain where pleasure blurs and goes gray around the edges. I feel it when he follows me. When he finishes and we begin. When he loves me and I love him, and this whole surreal, impossible sea rises up around us, spinning and swirling in a mad, laughing, rushing dance that makes me feel whole and happy.

Colt holds my face in his hands, his forehead pressed hot and sweat soaked against mine. “Lilly,” he breathes.

When he says my name I feel solid. Less like a ghost and more like a girl. Like I’m alive.

Like I’m in love for the first time.

COLT

December 21st

Culver City, CA

Lilly is nervous. She’s jostling her leg, bouncing her foot up and down. She does that when she’s agitated. When she’s torn. I’m not going to pretend that I don’t know what it is that’s bothering her, but I’m not going to ask her about it either. I’ve done that several times today. She said she wants to do this, so we’re doing it.

I’m not nearly as nervous as she is, but it’s because my whole heart isn’t on the line. Only half of it. The half I gave her the day I told her I love her.

Lilly stands to lose the most out of everyone. She always does during these visits. She was with her family yesterday and she said everything went great. She watched the Kodiaks’ game with her dad and he was engaged. He was listening and remembering. They watched as we beat the Chargers sixteen to fifteen, and when she told him I was coming over with her today he was excited. He’s a fan, sure, but he loves his daughter, and when she told him how serious things were between us, he was thrilled. Not because of me, but because of her. Because he wants her to be happy and I make that happen. I hope I always will.

“It’s this one here,” she tells me quietly, almost like she doesn’t want me to hear her. “The one with the stucco.”

I glance around the street, frowning. “This is southern California, honey. They’re all stucco.”

“On the left. With the all green Christmas lights.”

I pull up to the curb of a boxy house with a beautiful maple growing in the front yard and kill the engine. Then I wait. I wait for her to be ready because despite what she told me in Minnesota, I will not rush her.

“Are they there?” she asks, her voice full volume and full of disdain.

I glance in the rearview. There’s a familiar motorcycle pulled up to the curb behind me. He hasn’t gotten off the bike yet because he’s learning. We’ve done this dance before. We don’t always get out where we stop. Sometimes I’ll pull up somewhere only to wait for traffic to fill in so I can slip into it and ditch his ass far behind us. I can’t do that here, though. This is a quiet residential with nothing on the road but shadows dancing in the wind from the swaying trees overhead. It’s quiet. Peaceful.

“He’s there,” I tell her. “But only him.”

Lilly’s leg stops twitching. “Are you ready?”

“Whenever you are.”

She nods once, her lips a line of determination. “I’m ready.”

The second I open my door the guy behind us jumps off his bike. He leaves his helmet on as he swings his camera around to start taking pictures. He gets me opening Lilly’s door for her. He gets her taking my hand to step out onto the street. He gets a shot of my hand on her lower back as I follow her up the driveway. He’s smart, though. He stays on the curb. He never gets too close.

That’s something Lilly is learning about the paparazzi. Yeah, they can get up in your shit when you’re out at the clubs and they want the story about what’s going on, who you’re with, where you’re going. They found you and they want you to lead them to something sexy. Something salacious they can capture and sell the next day. Having lunch with her parents on a Monday after we’ve been an openly declared couple for two weeks? That’s old news. Boring, like I told her. It will end up in a ‘The Stars Are Just Like Us!’ section next to Selena Gomez pumping gas while eating a Slim Jim. No one really cares.

Lilly knocks on the door, something that seems weirdly formal at her own parents’ house. In Galena I just walk right in and make myself at home. My mom would yell at me for knocking. But then I remind myself why Lilly does it. Her dad. She can’t just walk in because if this is a bad day just the sight of her could send the whole family into a tailspin.

I put my hand on her shoulder, massaging it gently.

She casts me a warm, grateful smile over her shoulder.

The door swings open and I look across the threshold, across thirty years, right into the future. The woman waiting on the other side is Lilly. Same height, same eyes, same hair. Their faces are identical in shape, their features almost a mirror of each other. Lilly’s lips are different, though. They’re fuller. Rosier by nature. Her cheeks are a little higher as well, more defined. She must get that from her dad. But as I look at her mom smiling at me from inside the door, I can forgive the guy for his confusion. They look alarmingly alike.

“Mom, this is Colt,” Lilly introduces us. “Colt, this is my mom.”

“Mrs. Hendricks,” I greet her, offering her my hand. 

She shakes it with one of hers while batting down the formal address with the other. “Call me Linda.”

“I will.”

Linda looks at me for a second longer before shaking her head, chuckling at herself. “I’m sorry, it’s just so strange seeing you in person. We see you on the TV and now here you are on our porch—oh no, you’re still on the porch! I’m so sorry. Come in. Come in.”

I laugh as I follow Lilly and Linda inside. I slip off my shoes next to Lilly’s, noting the other men’s shoes already parked by the door. Both are larger than mine.

I’ve seen pictures of Lilly’s brother on her online profile before. I know he’s a tall guy, taller than me, but I didn’t realize her dad was too. Lilly hasn’t shown me any pictures of him or her mom.

As they take me down a short hallway to the dining room I glance at the pictures on the walls, looking for a glimpse of him. Maybe an embarrassing shot of Lilly as a little girl with braids and braces. There’s nothing personal, though. They’re all art prints you can easily order online. It reminds me a little of the hotels I stay in; not the style, but the feel of it. Neutral. Impersonal.

“Blake! Michael!” Linda calls through the house. “They’re here!”

I hear the jostle of metal on concrete, patio furniture being scraped back from a table. A moment later the screen door to the backyard slides open and Michael steps into the dining room, a brown longneck in his hand. His dad follows close behind him. They’re the same height, the same build, but Michael looks almost as similar to his mom as Lilly does.

I nod to him, offering my hand as he crosses the room toward me. “Hey, man. Colt. Nice to meet you.”

Michael nods as well, shaking my hand. “Michael. Good to meet you too.”

“Colt Avery,” Mr. Hendricks greets me warmly. He takes my hand after Michael. “Welcome to our house.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“No, not sir. Blake. Call me Blake.” He lets me go, immediately crossing his arms over his barrel chest. “How are you feeling, son? How’s the knee?”

“Better than ever,” I lie, feeling a sting in the back of my throat as I do. “I’m cleared to be on the field for the Chiefs on Saturday.”

“It had to be hard to sit out the last couple games,” he replies sympathetically.

“It was brutal, yeah. Especially with the Chargers game being so tight.”

“It was a nail biter. We were all on the edge of our seats.”

I grin at Lilly. “All of you?”

Blake chuckles, draping his arm over Lilly’s shoulder and shaking her gently. “Even Lilly, if you can believe it. I’ve spent years trying to make a football fan out of her and you manage it in a month.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m a fan,” she cautions us.

“I wouldn’t either,” Michael agrees. “Last week you asked me what an onside kick is.”

“And I still don’t get it.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Do you want to get it?”

“Do you want
to get what the proofing drawer is for, or are you happy just to know that it exists and leave it at that?”

“Let’s leave it at that.”

She smiles. “My thoughts exactly.”

“It was good to see Tyus Anthony back in last week’s game,” Blake comments.

Inside I feel my smile faltering but I maintain it on the surface. It feels like I’m telling another lie. “It was. The team needed him and he was more restless than I was on the sidelines.”

The truth is he was mad. He was also getting headaches, so they benched him. Concussions aren’t something the athletic trainers play with, and this was Tyus’ second one this year. He could be mad all he wanted, there was no way he was getting out on the field again one game after taking that hit.

“Lilly, can you help me in the kitchen with the last of lunch?” Linda asks her. “Your dad and brother can take Colt into the living room to watch the game.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll be right in.” Lilly looks to me as her family leaves us alone in the dining room. “Do you want a beer?”

“Definitely. Thanks. Are they in the kitchen?”

“I’ll get it for you. Get to the living room. Didn’t you hear? The game is on.”

I smirk at her. “Who’s playing?”

She laughs shortly. “Not the Kodiaks. That’s all I know.”

“And here I thought you were actually starting to follow football.”

“I was shining you on. It was all part of the seduction.”

I grin down at her, stepping closer. “It worked.”

Lilly steps up on her toes to kiss me once quickly. When she drops back down she’s smiling. I’m glad to see how easy she is all of the sudden. Like the world didn’t blow up in our faces when we knocked on the door and she’s breathing again. Smiling again. “I’ll get you that beer, then you get your ass into the living room.”

“Deal.”

When I get to the living room Blake turns to smile at me. He’s parked in an armchair. A nice one. My mom would hate it.

“Is it entertaining or boring for you to watch other teams play like this?” he asks.

I sink down onto the couch opposite Michael, throwing my arm over the back. “Hard to know who to root for, that’s for sure. After that loss on Thanksgiving the Jets are pretty dead to me, but if the Chargers win they could knock us out of the running for the Wild Card.”

“So who are you going to root for?” Michael asks curiously.

I grin crookedly. “I want that ring more than I want revenge. I’m going Jets.”

“Good man,” Blake agrees with an appreciative nod. “Victory over vengeance. That’s the way to play.”

He likes me. They always do. If I’m not competition, men warm up to me fast. I’m a good hang, what can I say?

This feels good, though. Better than it usually would. His words, his attitude toward me; it matters to me in a way that it never has before. I haven’t met a girl’s dad since high school when I took Leslie Carter to the prom, and that was only because my mom told me I had to.

“I’m not raising a punk,” she informed me, waving to me as I hurried out the door with a corsage in one hand and her car keys in the other. “Now try not to get arrested and don’t you dare get anyone pregnant.”

Lilly’s hand comes down softly on my shoulder, a cold beer pressing into the palm of my hand resting on the back of the couch. I lean my head back to look up at her but she’s not looking at me. She’s looking at her dad. A small, sad smile on her lips.

I reach up to squeeze her hand on my shoulder. She sweeps her eyes to mine. “Today is a good day, Lilly,” I tell her quietly.

She leans down to kiss my forehead, her eyes holding onto her melancholy. “I think you’re right.”

***

The Jets win. In my heart I’m pissed, but in my mind I’m satisfied. The Chargers are out of the way. Now, as long as we can stay out of our own way, we can beat the Chiefs and clinch the Wild Card. We’ll be in the playoffs. We’ll be on our way to the Super Bowl.

I’m flying high, but Lilly is riding low. She has been all day. I thought that when we got to the house and she saw that her dad was good, that he was lucid, she would relax, but it never happened. She was under a cloud all afternoon and it’s only now that we’re in the car on the way back to my place that I have a chance to ask her why.

“It’s stupid,” she mutters, shaking her head at herself.

“Tell me anyway.”

“It was a good day. That’s the problem.”

I frown. “I don’t get it.”

“Part of me kind of wanted it to be a bad day,” she admits reluctantly. “I wanted you to see it when it’s ugly. I wanted it out of the way, but today was good. It was fun, but it wasn’t normal. That’s not our normal anymore. My normal is my dad doesn’t know me and that day is still out there. Eventually you’re going to see it and it’s going to be awful, and I never know when it’s going to happen. I can’t be ready for it.”

“Then you shouldn’t worry about it. And so what if I see it? I’m not judging anything, Lilly. I’ll be there for you when it happens. That’s my only stake in it.”

“I know. I just… I just want a resolution.” Her voice cracks. Her foot stops. “I want him here or I want him gone. It’s so fucking terrible to say, but this half-in, half-out way that it’s happening it’s… it’s too hard. My dad is gone but sometimes he’s not. How am I supposed to handle that?”

I reach for her hand, taking it in mine. “Exactly the way you’re handling it right now. The best you can. And talking about it. You can tell me anything about any of it and I’ll listen. You never have to pretend to be okay for me, okay?”

She sniffs sharply, but I can see her smile. I can feel her relief in the air. “Okay.”