Ten first dates, p.21
Ten First Dates, page 21
I decide to stop in at the café before I head to the library. I have a little extra time. Lately I’ve been showing up before our study session is due to start, like some eager beaver.
I’m about to order when I spot Shayna outside the doors of the café, talking to a guy. I don’t recognize him—not that I would. Our school is pretty big. Still, I can’t help but stiffen when she laughs at something he says.
I never noticed her before she started tutoring me, but now it feels as though everywhere I look, there she is. As if I’m programmed to hone in on her location if she’s nearby. The other day, I spotted her walking across campus. I knew it was her just from the gait of her walk before she was even close enough for me to see her face.
By the time I exit the café, she’s gone. I frown and make my way to the library, finding her inside our usual room, waiting.
“I saw you at the café. Who was that guy you were talking to?” The question drops like vomit after twenty tequila shots. What the hell? I sound like a jealous stalker.
She stills from setting up her things on the table. “What? Raymond? He’s a classmate of mine. Why?”
Feeling like an idiot, I shrug and close the door. “Just wondering.” I unpack everything I need from my backpack and settle in. “Ready to do this?”
She bites her bottom lip and nods, pulling her textbook forward. About a half hour later, she’s showing me something on her laptop when a notification pops up that she has a new email message. I hear her quick intake of breath.
“What?” I look at her, confused.
“Our biology test results are in.”
My stomach flips. We had our test last week. Though I know I did a hell of a lot better than I would have if she weren’t tutoring me, I’m not sure I did well enough to earn a decent grade.
She eyes my bag. “Get your computer and see what your grade is.”
I slide my backpack across the table, my arms feeling like lead as dread spreads through me. What if I didn’t pass? What if I can’t do well in this class even with Shayna helping me? Which means, I don’t play this Saturday.
I open my laptop and pull up the university’s portal, logging in. My finger hovers over the return key once my cursor is blinking on the biology class button.
“What are you waiting for?” She’s positioned at the edge of her seat as though she can’t wait to see my results. As though she’s somehow confident that she’s an expert tutor and I did well. I wish I had the same confidence. Not as her skills of a tutor—she’s killer—but my brain had to process all that information correctly for me to do well.
“What if I flunked? I’ll be riding the bench the rest of the season.” My jaw tightens.
“There’s no way you failed, Lee. You were in a good position heading into the test.”
It’s the surety in her voice that spurs me to press the return key. It’s probably only seconds, but it feels like minutes while the screen changes. And when it reveals the course page listing my marks, I see eighty-two percent marked on the last test.
Holy shit, I did it.
“Woohoo!” I stand with my fists in the air and turn to face Shayna. I pull her up, wrapping my arms around her. “We did it!”
“I knew you could,” she says against my shoulder and squeezes me tightly.
We’re both so elated that it takes a minute for us to come to our senses and realize we’re pressed against each other with our arms wrapped around one another. I can tell the instant she registers our position because she stiffens in my arms, and a whine runs up my throat, willing her to go soft and pliant again. She pulls back, but instead of dropping my arms completely, I don’t.
She glances up and our eyes meet. Shayna’s breathing so hard her breasts push against my chest with each inhale.
We breathe each other in. She feels so good in my arms, and no moment has felt more right than this one. As though I’m being pulled in like a fish on a hook, I lean down until I’m millimeters from her lips and close my eyes.
A knock on the door startles us both and we spring apart. The librarian opens the door and assesses us with a stern glare. “Everything okay in here? Thought I heard some yelling.”
“Everything is fine,” Shayna says in a shaky voice. She’s so transparent. Her face is red with embarrassment.
The librarian gives us a thorough look, nods, and closes the door.
I open my mouth to address what almost happened with Shayna, but she beats me to it. “We should finish up. We only have the room for another hour.”
I clear my throat and adjust my stance because I’m bearing a half-chub. Shayna pretends not to notice. “Yeah… sure.”
She nods, a short assertive movement, and I return the gesture and sit.
Probably for the best anyway. Hurting this girl is not on the list of achievements I’m aiming for when it comes to records in college. There’s a reason I’m transparent with every girl. I never want a woman to bear heartbreak at my hands.
Saturday comes—game day. We’re playing Ohio State, our biggest rivals, so tensions are high and the pressure bears down on me like a car crusher.
Coach gave us his best pep talk and I’ve watched so much game tape this week my eyes are crossed, but I feel ready, like we’re going to win.
We score the only touchdown in the first half of the game, and after half time, we come out more determined to win. About halfway through the third quarter, Ohio’s coach calls a time-out, so we rush to the sideline.
Coach Buxby is going over the next play we’re going to run, and as I listen, I glance up at the screen. The cameras are panning from one fan to another, showing off some of their crazy outfits and face paint since this is the game of the year for us. Even when we play Ohio at their home field, most of our school makes the trip.
It’s a sea of blue and yellow, shirtless guys with painted chests and heads, but the camera pauses on a familiar face.
At first, I second-guess myself. No way it’s her. It’s not Shayna.
Her face is painted blue with twin yellow Ms on her cheeks and she has a crazy yellow wig on, but I’d recognize those glasses anywhere. Not to mention the smile as she waves around yellow pom-poms.
But her smile drops the moment she realizes her image is being broadcast to the whole stadium. In true Shayna fashion, she sits in apparent embarrassment and shields her face. The camera moves on to the next person, but I can’t help the slow grin that spreads across my face.
Not a football fan, my ass.
“Burrows, you listening?” Coach yells.
I blink and give my head a shake for a second. “Give it to me again, Coach?”
“Jesus. How the hell do you expect to win? No wonder you threw that interception in the second.”
My teeth grind together. His words and Shayna’s presence are enough to narrow my focus back on the game. I’m supposed to be a leader and I hate the rare occasion when Coach has to call me out on something. And now that I know Shayna’s watching, I’m more determined than ever to win this game.
And win we do. It’s by a narrower margin than I would have liked, but a win is a win.
Now I can’t wait to see Shayna tomorrow.
CHAPTER SIX
Shayna
I texted Lee first thing this morning to let him know that the library had a flood overnight and we won’t be able to use the usual room for our study session today. He suggested that we meet at his place off campus. Apparently, his roommate, Miles, stayed at some girl’s place last night and Lee isn’t expecting him home until late afternoon.
I reluctantly agreed. Not because I don’t trust Lee. Not at all. I just think it’ll feel weird not being in public with him. Especially after what I’m pretty sure was an almost kiss the other day.
I’m still riding high from our win over Ohio, so I can’t imagine how he’s feeling. I wonder if he was up all night partying. I was mortified when I saw myself on the screen, but he was busy in the huddle, so there’s no way he saw me. I just hope he doesn’t record the games and watch them.
It doesn’t take me too long to walk over to his place, and thankfully, it’s a mild day. This is my favorite time of year on campus. I love when the leaves change color and the air is crisp. Halloween is next weekend, and so far, the days have been pretty sunny and mild this month. It’s only at night that the temperature drops enough that you can see your breath.
I locate the small apartment building, walk up the stairs to the third floor of the triplex, and knock on the door. It only takes Lee a minute to answer the door. His hair is wet and he’s shirtless with athletic pants on. My gaze snags on the muscles in his chest and the trail of hair leading down past his waistband.
Wow.
I mean, I knew he was fit, obviously. But seeing it live and in person is something else.
“Hey, sorry,” he says casually, as though nothing is amiss. “I just got out of the shower when you knocked. Let me go grab a shirt. Why don’t you head into the living room?” He gestures down the hall behind him to the right.
“Okay. Sure.”
When he turns, I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to get the image of him shirtless out of my head, but I’m fairly sure it’s been tattooed to the insides of my eyelids.
When he returns, I have my computer and notes out and I’m ready to go. Today I plan to do a review of everything we’ve covered so far and take a look at what he’s already worked on for the assignment that’s due next week.
We get to work right away, but about a half hour in, he interrupts to ask if I want anything to drink. “Sorry, I should’ve offered when you first got here.”
“Some water would be great.”
“Sure.” He pushes up off the couch.
I watch him walk barefoot across the room into the open kitchen. Since when do I think that bare feet are sexy? Since I saw Lee Burrows.
I really need to date more. I think all work and no play has taken a toll on me.
“Here you go.” He hands me a cold bottle of water and cracks open his own, slugs some back, then sits beside me again. “Actually, I’ll be right back. I forgot something.”
He jets down the hall again and returns with something behind his back and a mischievous grin on his face. “So…”
When he doesn’t continue, I look up at him. “So?”
“All Michigan football fans should have a flag to wave.” He pulls a Michigan flag from behind his back and waves it.
Shit.
I stiffen. “I’m not a fan,” I respond casually, trying to keep my voice even.
“Huh.” He sits on the couch. “Could have sworn I saw you yesterday.”
I groan and let my chin drop to my chest as Lee laughs. He’s got a great laugh. Deep, contagious, and genuine.
“Aw, don’t be embarrassed, shy pie. I thought you looked cute with the yellow wig.”
I bury my head in my hands. “Shy pie?”
“Yeah.” He shrugs. “I think it suits you.”
Oh my God. Lee Burrows just gave me a nickname. Freshman me would die, but twenty-year-old me manages to keep it together.
“So why wouldn’t you just tell me you’re a college football fan?” he asks, laying the flag down by my bag.
I slump back into the couch, tossing my pen on the coffee table. “I don’t know. I didn’t want to feed your ego, I guess? Probably everyone you come into contact with practically worships you. I didn’t want you to think you’d get away with things from me.” I shrug because I don’t really have a clear answer.
“Shayna.” The way he says my name has me twisting my neck to look at him. His gaze is hot and solid on mine. “You’re not like any girl I’ve ever known.”
My breath stutters to a stop in my throat. Lee cups my cheek, and I can’t help but melt into the moment, my eyes drifting closed.
“Shayna, I really want to kiss you right now. Would that be all right?”
I know I should say no. I definitely should. But I can’t let an opportunity like this pass me by, so I give him a small nod. But it’s enough for Lee to understand, because when I open my eyes, he’s bringing his lips to mine.
He cups the side of my face again and brushes his lips over mine tentatively. I arch my back so I can get closer, and he does it again. The third time he kisses me, his tongue coasts over the seam of my lips. A soft moan leaves my mouth and I open for him.
His tongue explores my mouth. Slowly at first, then with increased vigor. Our tongues tangle and soon I’m lying on the couch with the weight of his body over mine. His arousal presses into me between my thighs and my legs spread so that he’s wedged between them. We jut our hips back and forth, dry humping in our search for friction.
Every part of me feels extra sensitive where we touch, and when he brings one of his hands down on my chest and grips my breast in his large palm, I almost cry out. His touch feels so good. Shocks of sensation travel from my breast to my core, where I clench.
Lee’s hand slides up under the hem of my sweatshirt and tugs down the cup of my bra. His finger and thumb immediately find my nipple, and he tweaks the puckered bud, causing pleasure to ripple throughout my body.
I can’t get enough. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know I should stop, but all I can think is more, more, more. Never in a million years did I think we’d end up like this.
We kiss until the sexual tension filling the room is suffocating. When he pulls back and looks down at me, his lids are heavy and his lips are swollen. He looks every bit the sexual man I’m sure he is and being the one who created that look feels powerful.
“I want you so bad, shy pie.” He punctuates his words with a press of his hips that pushes the end of his hard length into the perfect spot.
Silly man. The use of the nickname he’s given me is aphrodisiac enough. But I force myself to really think about this before I rip off his clothes.
My hands run down his shoulders to his biceps. “Lee, I’m just not someone who can sleep with someone and not have it mean anything.” My voice is strangled and I don’t sound confident in my decision. Because I am unsure.
Truth is, I want to sleep with him, but I don’t want to be just another notch on his headboard. Even if he is Lee Burrows, Michigan State’s starting quarterback.
His hands continue to run across my body. “I wasn’t lying when I said I don’t have time to be a decent boyfriend to someone.”
I nod, understanding and appreciating his honesty, though I’d be lying if I said I’m not disappointed we’re not on the same page. When I start to slide out from under him, he gently presses my shoulder back to the couch cushion.
“But I’ll try for you. I won’t be around twenty-four seven, but I like you, Shayna. I meant it when I said I think you’re pretty and smart, and I like spending time with you. I want to do more of it, but I don’t have that much time to give. But I’ll give you what I can if that’s okay with you.”
I want to look under me or over me or to the side of me. Surely, he’s talking to someone else in the room. Lee Burrows wants to try to have a relationship with me? Elation courses through my veins, and I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him toward me, kissing him.
Things get heated again in no time, and within minutes, he’s carrying me to his bedroom, my legs wrapped around his waist. He closes the door with his foot and reaches behind him while we keep kissing to lock the door. Then he deposits me on the bed.
The nerves hit when he stands, his erection tenting his pants, and rakes his gaze down my body. I’m not a virgin, but I’ve only been with two other guys and those times were “meh” at best. Lee is experienced and I’m sure he knows what he’s doing, much more than I do.
“Relax. I can see you getting all up in your head. We’re not going to do anything you don’t want to, okay?”
I nod. That’s the thing. I want to.
I mean, I really want to.
I just want him to enjoy it also.
“Can I take off your shirt and bra?” he asks.
“Only if you take off yours,” I say, remembering his bare chest from earlier.
Without breaking eye contact, he reaches behind his neck and pulls off his shirt with one fluid motion. The shirt floats to the floor.
Oh, yeah. We are so doing this. The man is built like a god.
Lee gives me a chaste kiss, then gently lifts my sweatshirt up over my head. My bra is next to go, and I sit on the edge of the bed, biting my bottom lip and hoping he likes what he sees.
“I can’t wait to feel you come around my cock.” He grins and drops to his knees in front of me.
Based on the look on his face when he licks his lips, I know—it’s on.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Lee
God, she is so fucking perfect.
I knew as soon as my lips touched hers that I was fucked.
Why she hides this body of hers under baggy shirts and sweaters, I’ll never know. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t pleased to be one of what I think is probably only a handful of guys to unwrap her.
A moment of hesitation hits me where I wonder if I should stop what I’m doing and tell her about the bet. But the damn bet has no place here. It’s not why I’m doing this. Not at all. We can talk about it later. Or never.
I lean in and draw her nipple into my mouth. Her hand goes into my hair, and she moans. The sound makes my cock push against the inside of my pants even more than it already is. I want to hear her make that sound when I’m deep inside her.
Once I have her thoroughly worked up and practically keening, I stand. “Shimmy up the bed.”
She does what I ask without question. It feels sort of like a gift, the way she trusts me. I don’t get the feeling she trusts many people easily.
I walk over to my nightstand and open the top drawer, pull out a condom, and toss it on the bed, then I get to work removing my pants and boxer briefs. Normally I’d be into a bit of foreplay, but I cannot wait any longer. I’ve wanted between this girl’s legs for weeks now. Besides, if we’re dating, there will be lots of opportunities to explore each other’s bodies thoroughly down the road.
