Текст книги "Scoring Wilder"

Автор книги: R. S. Grey

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

"Sure," I shrugged, hopping down from the table with his help.

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And so it began– a string of guys that were bold enough to ask a random girl to dance. I didn't let any of them stay past one song. I'd smile and twist out of their grasp, reaching for Becca and pretending to be too drunk to care when they asked for another dance. They weren't actually into me; they just wanted a pretty thing to grind their dicks against. Seriously. I'd rather just dance with a group of girls than have random guys dance with me.

Becca ditched her last partner as well so we were back to dancing by ourselves.

"Can you do the Stanky Leg?" Becca asked, trying to show off the move. I tried to copy her, but I ended up just looking like my leg was cramping up.

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"No! That's so terrible, Kinsley. You should stop before someone calls an ambu-lance," Becca laughed, putting her hands on my shoulder and forcing me to stand still.

We were standing like that when I spotted Liam moving through the crowd. His dark eyes were locked on me as he slid through the dancers. His presence threw my balance out of whack, like I needed to hold onto someone or I might fall into him. Good thing I had Becca.

"Kinsley," Liam murmured when he stepped up to us. He was forcing me to acknowledge the situation and his pull over me. I wet my lips and shifted my gaze toward him. He wasn't alone. His teammate, Penn, stood alongside him. I hadn't seen him at any of the previous parties, but he was 314/890

Liam's best friend. They'd played together on the LA Stars for five years and they were often interviewed together on various talk shows.

If there was anyone on the LA Stars team that could give Liam a run for his money in the looks department, it was Penn.

He was just as tall as Liam, with dark brown hair and a Crest commercial smile. That smile was currently aimed directly at Becca.

I peered from him to her and almost jumped for joy. She was staring at him too, visibly caught in his trap with her mouth slightly open.

Complete goner in 3…2…1.

"This is Penn," Liam said, more so to Becca than to me.

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Penn nodded and took a small step closer to Becca. If I'd ever experienced instant attraction, these two had it in spades.

Becca usually had a funny comment on hand, but in that moment she was completely quiet, just nodding gently and staring up into Penn's brown eyes.

"You guys should dance," I offered, and Penn shot me a confident smile before rais-ing a brow in question.

"Becca?" he asked, stepping toward her.

Becca peered at me for a quick second and I knew she was a melting at the very thought of getting to dance with him. Her hazel eyes were practically clouded over in lust for this guy.

Penn offered his hand to Becca and tugged her through the crowd. I watched 316/890

their bodies disappear behind dancers until I couldn’t see them anymore. That's when I realized how awkward it was that everyone around us was dancing, but we were standing still. Silent, brooding, and with so much hanging in the air between us I could have reached my tongue out and tasted it. What would buried attraction taste like? Rich dark chocolate.

We were both being immature, waiting for the other to speak first. I couldn’t meet his eye; I wasn’t sure I’d keep it together if I did. I wanted to ask him who the girl was. I wanted to ask him what he wanted from me that day.

We were in dangerous territory, in a crowd of people that shouldn’t know Liam and I had any sort of relationship beyond 317/890

coach and player. Both of our reputations depended on it.

"I just came out here so that Penn could meet Becca. He was interested in her," Liam explained, finally breaking the silence between us with a harsh tone.

I glanced up to see his brows were furrowed, and I knew he was in his standard brooding mood.

"Oh good, you can leave then." I narrowed my eyes on him, challenging him to say something.

Instead he took a step toward me and wrapped his hand around my waist, gripping it in his palm. His fingers dug gently into my skin and I bit down hard on my bottom lip.

He pulled me toward him as he bent lower. Our faces inches from one another.

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"You look good dancing with those guys, Kinsley. You should keep letting them touch you," he said with a harsh tone. He was pissed. Beyond pissed.

"At least they’re not afraid of what they want, Liam," I murmured, trying to step out of his grip. He tightened it and then twisted me around so that my back was pressed against his chest. His arm wrapped around my waist, and suddenly I was a victim to my body. I wasn't going anywhere, even if I wanted to fight him.

"They don't want you. They think you're sexy, but they don't know you," he clarified, pressing his lips to my ear. I closed my eyes and turned my hips in a slow circle. If someone had glanced over they would have thought we were dancing. Our bodies were 319/890

moving slowly against one another, but in reality we were waging war. When I pressed my hips back against him harder, he groaned angrily in my ear.

"And what about the girl you were talking to earlier? Does she know you or does she just think you're sexy?"

"You don't get to be jealous, Kinsley. We aren't together," he bit back, gripping my waist in his hand and pulling me harder against him. I leaned my head back against his chest and he tilted his head down so that I could see his eyes. Our lips were so close he could have bent down just a few inches and kissed me. It would have been so easy.

"Then same goes for you, Liam. Why don’t you let me go? Besides, you aren’t 320/890

allowed to touch me, or have you forgotten that I’m off-limits?”

That’s the first time I thought about our situation from his perspective. If I was being tortured, he was right there with me, except he had it worse. He was in the position of power. If he took advantage of me– the young, naïve student– he’d take the fall for it.

His expression darkened and his gaze shifted from my eyes down to my lips. We were going to keep throwing digs at one another because that's all that we could do. We weren't allowed to be together. Hell, we shouldn't have even been dancing, but we were both helpless to the moment.

I should have pulled away, he should have left me alone, but then something 321/890

happened that served as the final catalyst for our illicit romance.

The lights cut out.

It was already dim before, but then the room turned pitch black. Someone must have hit the light switch.

Who knew how long it would last, but Liam didn't wait to find out. He twisted me around, pulling me to his chest, and kissed me so hard that I let out a little yelp. I recovered quickly, opening up for him, tilting my head and letting him slide his tongue over mine. It sent lust swirling through my body. I picked my leg up, twisting it around his hip. One of his hands left my waist and he helped pin my long leg around him. He groaned into my mouth and I completely lost myself in him.

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"Leave them off!" someone yelled, and I smiled against his mouth. It was like the world had given us a momentary break from the rules. A hall pass. We were in the dark, in the middle of a crowded dance floor, but no one could see us. One hand drifted higher up my skirt while his other hand pulled me against him so I could feel him against my spanks.

"God," I groaned, dragging our hips together. Would the lights stay out long enough for him to take me right here?

"You're so fucking sexy, Kinsley," he moaned into my ear. "Do you know what I want to do to you? What I imagine doing to you every time I see you?"

His words were fueling the fire between us. I responded by skimming my hands 323/890

under his shirt, feeling his impossibly toned abs. His skin was hot and smooth, and his muscles were coiled, as if he were restraining himself from what he actually wanted to do to me.

We were just on the edge of falling… and then the lights flicked on and we flew apart.

Chapter Twelve

Our breathing was erratic and heavy as we tried to piece together the last few minutes.

We were standing a foot away from each other and the lights kept flickering on and off as someone continued to play with them.

I pressed my palm to my stomach, feeling my diaphragm spasm in response to our secret kiss.

Everything in life was a hazy mess. In the past few days I’d had ten million decisions fall across my lap: Fight Tara or deal with her crap? Do the interview with Brian King or keep my life as private as possible?

But that cloud of uncertainty didn’t reach Liam.

He was the northern star. I had no choice but to become enveloped in his 325/890

brightness and let it coax me toward him.

Wanting him was an unconscious impulse, like taking my next breath.

And now, without a doubt, I knew he wanted me, too.

"You're not in costume," I murmured, glancing over his faded jeans and black shirt that fit him so well I swore they'd been designed with his proportions in mind.

The edge of his mouth curved up. "I'm not a costume type of guy."

Everyone around us was still dancing and the girl behind me kept accidentally knocking into me. I was about to turn around and ask her to get a hold of her flail-ing elbows, but then I’d have to look away from him. I wasn’t ready for that yet.

"That's not fair," I lamented.

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"I don't think I mind costumes so much when you're wearing them," he smirked, letting his gaze fall to my bare stomach. I don't think I minded them either, especially since his hand had been on that bare skin only moments earlier.

"C'mon," he motioned. "I'll go put one on." He tilted his head toward the hallway and I knew we were heading back to his room. I scanned behind me, but didn't see anyone I knew. Becca and Penn were dancing off to the side of the room. His hands were on her hips and her head was tilting up to him. He bent down to say something in her ear and she smiled into his neck.

Half of me wanted to interrupt them and mention Becca's wax or cash in my "one free pantsing" that she'd promised me, but I 327/890

couldn't do that to her. Best to wait until she was more sober, that way she’d remember it.

Hah.

"Coming?" Liam asked, and I realized I'd stopped following him.

He was standing confidently in the hallway, cloaked in darkness. His facial hair was more grown out than usual, like he'd forgotten to shave earlier that morning. But the thing that got me the most, that I couldn't wrap my head around, was his strong hand outstretched and beckoning for me to catch up and grab hold. He was putting himself on the line.

Someone could see us sneaking away from the party, but I told myself the chances were slim. Everyone was too busy concealing 328/890

their own secrets to worry about discovering ours.

Instead of grabbing his hand, I sidled past him, never breaking eye contact until I turned and walked toward the room he’d pushed us into last week. He chuckled under his breath behind me and I hid my smile as he opened the door.

Not much had changed in one week. Our relationship was still forbidden. He still had to lock the door behind him, but there was a slight sense of hope in the air... maybe because he flipped the light on and gave me a glimpse of his world, his room. It made me feel less like a secret and more like a welcome addition to his life.

It was only one room with an attached bath and closet, but it was huge and 329/890

decorated well. His bed had a tall black headboard with a crisp, black trimmed bed-ding set. The room was entirely too clean for a normal 25 year old guy.

There were two framed photographs sitting on his desk. One was of him when he was younger, smiling and smack dab between what looked like very doting parents. I could tell they were his parents because he looked like carbon copies of each of them. The other photo was of him and his team winning silver in the last Olympics. He was smiling up at the crowd, wrapped in an American flag, and holding his silver medal proudly.

"You look so young in this photo," I smiled and stepped closer. I could feel Liam's presence behind me. What was I 330/890

doing in his room looking at old photographs? Five minutes ago we'd been attack-ing each other in the living room surrounded by hundreds of people.

"I was young. Young and wild," he smiled and shook his head clear of thoughts before heading toward his closet. I crossed my arms and moved back against the bed. I sat on the end, in what felt like neutral territory, but I could still see him moving around among his clothing.

He grabbed a light blue shirt off a hanger, and without thinking, started tugging his black shirt over his head. He was facing away from me, so of course I watched his back muscles pull and stretch. I could see the tattoos that wrapped around his left shoulder blade. They extended down the 331/890

back of his arm to his elbow in a half sleeve. I wasn't close enough to make out any of the content, but they were beautifully done. The forms were sketched perfectly and the black ink stood out against his tanned skin. I guess he went shirtless at practice most of the time.

Lucky teammates.

I didn't find the will to speak until he pulled the light blue shirt over his head and his bare skin was out of view. I mourned the loss. It was like getting a glimpse of the David. A tan, tattooed David.

"I saw your tattoos," I joked, pushing off his bed and stepping closer to the closet. He peered over his shoulder at me and smirked.

Then he turned fully and I saw the emblem on the front of his shirt. Superman.

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He’d chosen the shirt on purpose. He was now Superman. SuperSuperHotMan…

and I was Supergirl. We were the freaking cutest thing I’d ever seen. Okay, mostly he brought the cute factor. I was just the sidekick.

"Then it's only fair that you show me yours. Unless you were bluffing?" He raised his brow. He was referring to my tattoo.

I couldn’t believe he remembered my line I’d used on him the other week. The night we’d officially met.

"I wasn't bluffing," I smiled gently, taking another step closer to him. "Do you actually want to see it?"

The right side of his mouth quirked up in confidence. "If you can show me without taking that skirt off.”

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I’m sorry, did my uterus just call out to him or am I hearing things?

I cocked a brow and bit back my smirk as I twisted to the side. My fingers found the hem of my SuperGirl shirt and I pulled it up along with the bottom of my bra. My small tattoo was hidden beneath it in small black calligraphy. I'd had my mom write it in her perfect scrolly handwriting, and they'd tran-scribed her words onto my skin. The whole thing was barely two inches, running horizontally along my ribcage a few inches below my breast.

Liam stepped forward and bent down to get a closer look. His warm breath hit my skin and I realized he could see the very bottom of my breast from his angle.

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He reached out and dragged the pad of his finger gently beneath the tattoo. " She believed she could, so she did." Goose bumps bloomed beneath his touch and I shivered as his dark voice read my tattoo.

He nodded, lingering on the text for a moment longer before standing up.

“I’ve heard that phrase before, but it really fits you.”

I bit my lip and nodded.

"I think I like that more than all of my tattoos," he noted with a small smirk.

I disagreed, along with all of the U.S. female population, but I held my tongue.

"You don't seem like a tattoo type of girl."

I tilted my head to the side. "Why?"

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He pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and then a second later shook his head.

"You're young." Bullshit. That wasn't the reason, but he wasn't going to give me the real one.

"It's my mom's handwriting."

He nodded thoughtfully, glancing down at where my shirt now covered up the ink.

"You have to show me at least one of yours. I didn’t get a good look while you were changing."

His dark eyes pierced me for a moment before he reached around and pulled the back of his shirt up. Without thinking, I reached to help, pushing the soft fabric over his skin. I had to fight the urge to push it all the way off the top of his head.

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At the center of his left shoulder blade, depicted in black ink, were the words "Veni Vidi Vici" entwined within the Olympic rings.

"Ah, of course you had to get an Olympics tattoo. I like it," I said, tracing my finger over the words. Before I finished, he stepped forward, out of my grasp, and pulled his shirt down.

"C'mon. Let's go get something to eat."

"I'm not hungry," I protested, not ready to leave the privacy and simplicity of his quiet room. In here we were just two people talking. Out there we were two people the world wanted to condemn.

"I am," he winked, and then walked past me. "And you should be. You're working out 337/890

too hard and it's starting to show. Have you upped your diet?"

Oh god, what was it with guys and proper food intake? We had a nutritionist on the team and I ate healthy enough.

I didn't answer his question. Instead, I flexed my arm and grinned. It was toned but still pretty skinny. Liam laughed, stepped forward, and wrapped his fingers around my arm, pretending to feel my muscle.

“Does this look like the arm of a girl who doesn’t eat enough?” I winked like Popeye.

"Good thing you aren't a defender," he laughed.

"What!" I argued, dropping my arm.

"Becca is a defender and she's my size!"

He nodded and moved toward his door.

"True. But I'm not making out with Becca in 338/890

dark living rooms, so I don’t have to worry about her well-being," he challenged, flicking the light off in his room and leaving me standing in the dark. I had no choice but to follow him out. The bastard.

"She'd never have you!" I yelled, running to follow him. Then I blushed when I saw him already standing at the end of the hall with Penn and Becca.

"Kinsley!" Becca exclaimed, jumping forward onto me. I wasn't prepared to catch her weight, so I toppled backward, landing with a thud on my ass and jamming my elbow in-to the ground.

"Ouch! Get off me, you mongrel." I couldn't decide if I should cry or laugh, so I just yelled with a smile on my face like a weirdo.

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Penn shook his head and reached down to grab Becca, who had obviously had another cup of punch after we'd finished ours a while ago.

"You're supposed to be SuperGirl! You were supposed to catch me!" Becca stomped.

I pretended to spin kick her. She laughed and spun around and soon we were kicking and punching down the hallway away from the boys. Becca brought out the weird in me.

"My elbow seriously hurts," I laughed as we paused to catch our breaths.

Penn and Liam were standing a little ways down the hallway, laughing and nodding their heads in agreement. They were probably agreeing that they should ditch our asses for sexy, worldy, models that didn't 340/890

pretend to be tipsy super heroes. Pfft, no.

That sounded boring, who would want that?

"Is Peen cool? He's super hot," I joked, unable to stop the laughter from spilling from my lips.

Becca actually karate chopped my arm after that. We needed to get out of these costumes stat.

"His name’s Penn," she corrected, loud enough for the boys to hear, which made me laugh harder.

"That's what I'm saying: Peen."

Becca shook her head but couldn’t conceal her smile. "You suck, but yes, he's awesome and super funny. Cute and funny! Can you believe it?"

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I high-fived her. "I'm going to go get something to eat with Liam, I think. How weird is that? Do you guys want to come?"

We started heading back to the boys.

"Nah, I think Penn is going to take me home." By the tail end of her sentence we were in range for the boys to hear our conversation.

"Yup," he confirmed, rocking back on his heels.

"Can I trust you with my friend, Penn?" I asked, putting my hands on my hips and pretending to puff my chest like a superhero would. I imagined my cape floating in the AC

draft behind me for added dramatic effect.

"I got her," he winked. "Have no fear."

Liam laughed and stepped forward to grab my hand. "Let's go, SuperGirl."

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I let him drag me through the front door toward his car but not before yelling goodbyes to Becca. All the while, I smiled about the fact that I actually got away with being Liam’s date at a party. Sort of. Okay, hardly.

We weren’t together around anyone, and when we kissed it’d been pitch black. He also didn’t ever refer to me as his date.

But we were in matching Superhero costumes.

Sooo, it seemed pretty official to me.

"My elbow really does hurt," I said, finally sobering enough to realize that it was throbbing.

Liam reached inside his jean pockets and unlocked his SUV. He came around the passenger's side and opened to the door to let me in.

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"Let me see," he said after I'd hopped up onto the seat.

I showed him the back of my right elbow.

"You're always injured at my parties."

He shot me a playful frown.

"Because of Becca! She bruised my face with her gyrating hips last time." Damn Becca. She’s worse than Shakira.

He laughed and stepped back. "If it still hurts after we eat, I'll take you to get it looked at. And I think I should hear more about the gyrating hips story."

I laughed and buckled up. "All right, I'll explain it on the way."

…

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I was expecting to go inside the restaurant like most normal people, but Liam ordered from the car and then a waiter ran out with our order a few minutes later. Liam tipped him handsomely before handing me the bag of food.

"Sorry that we can't go in, but the press would have a field day, especially now that you're 'The Rising Star in Soccer'."

"What? Is that printed somewhere?"

"It was the title of an ESPN article the other day. Did no one mention it?"

I shook my head. Who would have mentioned it? My friends didn't check ESPN, my dad was busy working, and my mom was busy sending me care packages.

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I didn't really mind not knowing about articles like that though. I didn’t need anything else going to my head.

"I don't want to read it, but you should save it for me so I can read it when I'm like sixty," I laughed. “When I need to cling onto my glory days.”

"Will do… but you’re okay with eating in here?" he asked, eyeing me cautiously.

His question almost shattered our happy moment. When we were at the party things started to feel normal, but that was because we were secluded in our own tiny world.

There were no seniors, no press, and no adoring fans. Now it was a completely different story, and the reality of our situation was starting to sink in. We couldn’t leave his car 346/890

for fear that someone would recognize us and leak the story to the press But we still had a little while to live in lala land. When I got home I'd worry about the consequences of my actions, but for now I'd just appreciate being with him.

"What'd you order?" I smiled, tucking my thoughts away for later.

"Chicken and waffles. You'll love them,"

he answered with confidence.

"Oh, I don't like chicken or waffles," I joked.

"Humor me," he winked, preparing a bite and handing it over to me.

"You don't mind if we eat in your fancy car?" I asked, eyeing the nice leather upholstery.

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"It can be cleaned and this meal is more than worth it."

Because it was with me or because he really liked chicken and waffles?

After I tasted the bite I feared it was the latter.

"Holy shit, that's good!" I exclaimed, stealing the next two bites after that as well.

"Well, I guess I know where to take you to fatten you up," he laughed before finally taking a bite of his own.

We ate in silence for a bit. Well, he was silent. I moaned and groaned in bliss about the maple honey butter they'd used to coat the waffles.

"You know it's probably not a good idea for us to be seen together at those house 348/890

parties anymore," Liam announced, catching me off guard.

I chewed the rest of my bite. "You're probably right." I agreed with him even though his announcement made me feel sick.

Was he regretting everything, again? No. He was being smart.

"I don't really enjoy them much anyway," he continued, staring out his front windshield.

"Why do you live in that house then? I don't get it, not to be rude, but it seems like you have enough money to move out of the Animal House."

Liam smiled. "I own that house and let some of the guys from the team pay rent. My other place is being renovated, so I’m staying 349/890

there for now. It's usually a lot of fun, but they've been throwing a ton of parties lately."

He owned the house? It was massive.

"Do you mind that they throw parties in your house?"

"It's not so bad, and that's kind of the point: Party hard now before settling down."

Of course. They were all young, attract-ive athletes. Liam was still in the partying hard phase.

I dropped my fork back into the bag and cleared my throat. "I’m kind of tired," I said, sitting back against my seat.

He concentrated out through the front window as his eyes narrowed. Finally he spoke. "Yeah, it's getting late anyway."

I thought I could push my negative thoughts away until I got home. I’d been 350/890

wrong. The feeling had sank in as soon as he brought up the fact that we shouldn't be seen together. And it only hurt worse because he was absolutely right. We'd been careless, trying to push the bounds without weighing the consequences.

When we got to my house, Liam put the car in park a few houses down so that no one could see us. We sat facing out through the front windshield, completely silent as the night crept on around us.

When he turned his head toward me, I could feel it. I could feel his eyes rake over my skin. I swallowed and stared at the black dashboard, trying to get my head on straight.

This was all so confusing. I knew Liam wasn’t good for me, so why couldn’t I get out of his car? It was no use; feeling his eyes on 351/890

me was like feeling his fingers glide over my skin. I bit down on my lower lip, trying to quell the desire flowing through me.

One second I was in my own world, and the next Liam had unbuckled my seatbelt and pulled me onto his lap. Every consequence that had been flitting through my mind only seconds ago no longer seemed rel-evant as our lips melted together. His mouth tasted sweet from the syrup as I wound my fingers through his tousled hair.

With us it was always 0 to 60 in three seconds flat.

His hands dragged up under my skirt to the edge of my spanks.

Everything has a consequence.

I bit down on his lip, spurring him on.

Everything has a consequence.

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His finger skirted the material, making my spine curl.

He pulled back, separating us by an inch, just enough to stop the chemical reaction ricocheting between us.

“You need to get some sleep,” he murmured so that his breath fell across my lips.

“No.”

The edge of his mouth curled up.

“Yes.”

I swallowed, trying to regain my composure.

“I’m sorry this isn’t easier,” he murmured, lessening my worries enough that I could answer his apology with an edge of playfulness.

“Nothing to apologize for… that was the best goodbye kiss I've ever had."

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When I was with him, there were no consequences.