Chapter 16: Van

VAN

Chapter

Sixteen

"Nice shirt." I wink. Red's nervous. She thinks I'm going to jump her the minute the lights turn out. In truth, I'd jump her with the lights fully on so I can see every gorgeous part of her body, but the girl's hands are fisted by her side, and she's rocking lightly on the balls of her feet as if she's trying to decide whether she should fight or flee.

"It's yours."

"I know. Looks good on you. Better on you than me." I tilt my head toward the bed. "Hop under the covers."

"Under?"

"Yeah, I'll lay on top of them."

She arches an eyebrow. "Won't you be cold?"

"Nope."

She ambles over to the bed and slowly climbs in, pulling the blue comforter up to her neck so that all I can see is her face and a halo of red hair, making it seem like the pillow is on fire. I know I am. You could drop me in the Antarctic next to penguins and seals and I'd still burn up if all I had was something that smelled like her. To some, maybe being this far gone over a girl would be embarrassing, but I like it. All my life, I've been passionate about things—football, mostly. Girls never interested me, to the point that my dad, who is gay, wondered if I was, too. But no one moved me, not like football, not like my family. It made sense to me to be focused on Fleur. She has a hard time believing it, but time will change her. She's got a lot of scars built up, and it takes a while to chip away at barricades she spent years erecting.

"You comfy?" I cradle my head on top of my interlaced fingers and stare at the ceiling. It's the only way I can be patient right now with her lying beside me wearing my T-shirt and boxers. If I look at her, I'm probably going to rip all the covers off, strip her down to her birthday suit, and do a million dirty things to her body that she's not ready for. I clench my fingers tighter.

"Your bed is surprisingly soft."

"Did you think I slept on a board? My body is all bruised from the game."

"Is it really?" She pops up on one elbow, and the covers fall away. I can make out the swell of her breasts beneath the cotton of the shirt. "I actually wondered if it hurt when that one guy jammed his helmet into your thigh."

I bite back a moan and toss a corner of the comforter over my hard-on. "It hurt. Do you want to kiss it and make it better?"

"Your thigh?"

"I'm in pain other places too if the thigh is out." My dick could use a fondle and a kiss.

"Why do I have a feeling this is a sex thing?"

"Because you're smart." I roll over my side so my back is to her. "I've got others, though."

She gasps. "Oh my God. When did this happen?"

There's a whisper-light touch against my back. I shiver from the contact. "Third quarter. In the end zone."

"When that one guy tackled you from behind."

"That's the one." I grit my teeth. Inviting her to touch me might have been a mistake.

"Is it this bad all over?" The tip of her finger is tracing the outline of my bruise. It's the sweetest torture ever.

"Not all over." Although my cock feels like it got hit by a two-ton truck. That's how much it aches.

"Why do you play if it hurts you?"

"You can't feel it during the game. It's just adrenaline and the need to win. Everything else is incidental. It hurts when you lie down, when your mind isn't on the game anymore."

Her touches are growing stronger, bolder. Her fingers run over my shoulder blade, skipping along the ridge of my spine. There's a soft touch at my waist and a press against the dimples in my low back. I lock my knees so I don't start grinding against the mattress.

"If I kiss it, will it make it better?"

"Don't know," I answer honestly. "I've never been kissed there before."

"Never?"

"Nope."

Her hand stops. "Why not? Or maybe better question, why me?"

"Why not you?"

"Look at me."

I crane my neck over my shoulder. I can only see her lush red hair and her pretty face. "I am and I have and will do more looking in the future. I'm also willing to look at you when you're not wearing any clothes if you want me to really inspect you."

"You know that's not what I mean." She wrinkles her nose.

"You're hot and smart and funny. Why not you?"

"Seems like you could have so many others."

"The others aren't you." I flip over on my back and pull her on top of me. Her hands flutter in the air, as if she's not sure what she's allowed to touch. I capture her wrists and place her hands against my pecs. I wrap my hands around the length of her hair and tug her head down until her mouth is a scant inch away from mine.

"Do your lips hurt?"

"You should check and see."

"Doctors don't use their mouths to diagnose things."

"They should. It would lead to better outcomes."

"So if I become a doctor, I should go around kissing all my patients."

"Your workload will have only one patient: me."

"This seems to be a ploy to get me to kiss you."

"Can't pull one over on you. Too smart for me."

"I think anyone could deduce that given that we are in bed, I'm straddling you, and you have a giant hard-on pressing against my ass."

"If you moved a tad lower, the giant hard-on would be against your pussy, and we'd both feel better."

"Should we slow down?"

"Any slower and I might die."

"Well, I wouldn't want that."