Page 16 of Fumble

Chapter Five

FAITH

My heart is thunderingin my chest as I stand alone with the smell of Hunter’s cologne still hanging in the air around me. My lips are tingling with the imprint of his lips on mine. Firm but soft, full, and oh so delicious. How could he pull away so easily? I wanted him to kiss me with wild abandon, to take me to bed and ruin me for any other man.

I play it out in my mind over and over as I flip through the channels searching for a distraction. How will I face him tomorrow? He knew how much I wanted him, how could he not? He’s the one who pushed me away and left me wanting more.

My overwhelming emotion when I saw him at the restaurant was anger. He made it clear I was a no-fly zone for him, and then he turns up all territorial to kill my chances with James. After the stunt he pulled in the locker room, I thought it rather cruel of him. However, my lady jay has other ideas when it comes to Hunter Vaughn. I thought I was above all the macho, alpha male tactics, but I was wet for him while on a date with another man. That’s how much he affects me.

In the brief moments he lets his guard down, Hunter’s funny and sarcastic. He displays genuine interest and listens intently when I talk. If it weren’t for my actual date, it would’ve been the perfect first date. I feel terrible for James. My behavior was so wrong, but the moment Hunter’s hand covered mine, I was lost in a sea of sensation, every nerve ending in my body alive with possibility and anticipation.

As I lie in bed contemplating my summer career, a plan begins to formulate.

I’m not going to worry about the what ifs. I came here with the V-Plan, and it has become crystal clear how it needs to play out.

It’s no longer the Virginity Plan.

It’s the Vaughn Plan.

He came after me tonight. He kissed me, but he’s fighting our chemistry out of respect for my dad. Now I know the thrill of his touch, my mind is made up—I want Hunter Vaughn to be the man who pops my cherry, deflowers me, and who thrusts the innocence right out of me. This is one fight he isn’t going to win.

Hunter is going to fuck me before the summer is over.

* * *

I wasup before my alarm this morning with an extra pep in my step made better by the package left outside my door—a brand new pair of my favorite shoes. How did he track these down so quickly? And how many men pay enough attention to know the brand and size of a woman’s shoe? Creepers? To be fair, I doubt most men have had to wrestle a woman’s shoe from the snapping jaws of an elevator before.

Thinking back to how mortifying last night was, I’m stunned he kissed me after. Maybe he’s attracted to the hot mess—that’s the dream—a guy who isn’t scared off by my insane ability to court disaster.

We’re going to a football summer camp today. Everyone loves pictures of athletes helping the next generation of stars. Kids, I can handle. I thought the college jocks would be fun, but a room of half-naked men is too much for this virgin.

I ride with the rest of the staff, which is how it’s supposed to be, but I’d be lying if I didn’t wonder about Hunter’s change of heart. My co-workers seem nice enough, and it’s good to relax on the journey. Being alone with Hunter is intense. I like it, but I’m not ready to see him yet.

Right now, my new plan is flawless, but the moment I see him, it becomes inherently flawed.

By the time we get to our location for the day, a crowd of kids is bouncing in unison, eagerly awaiting the arrival of a legend. When I think about it, it’s arrogant of me to expect someone like Hunter to be my first lover. Fifty-six percent of women regret their first sexual experience. At my age, I’ll be lucky to avoid a quickie in a club or a quiet twelve-second rut in my paramour’s basement apartment of his parents’ house. In four years of college, I never met a guy who was still a virgin, or at least, not one who’d admit it.

For me to think an experienced, bonafide god would want to spend the night with me is ludicrous, and yet my gut, and my vagina, are telling me he’s the one. Maybe not my one true love or soulmate, but most definitely the man I need for the maiden voyage.

In a movie, the wind would be blowing in slow motion, and ‘Sexual Healing’ by Marvin Gaye would be playing in the background as Hunter emerges from his car, his hair tousled perfection with a hint of silver fox at his temples, and he’s wearing his Titan’s jersey.

“Hey, everyone! I’m so excited to be here with you today. Are you ready to play some ball?” Kids and adults alike erupt with a resounding, Yes! I’m not sure who’s more worked up—the kids or the moms? He jogs out onto the field, grabbing a ball from a swooning teenage girl. The kids run after him—the rats to his pied piper.

I’m put to work organizing food for the staff and our entourage of reporters. Then, I stuff at least a hundred gift bags with Hunter Vaughn paraphernalia. They are jam-packed. What I wouldn’t give to be jam-packed by Hunter Vaughn!

“Penny for your thoughts?” He startles me with a soft whisper in my ear.

“You scared the crap out of me. Why aren’t you out there playing?”

“I’m taking a breather. You cracking the whip?” With a wicked grin, he stares off into the distance. “Don’t answer that. I’m enjoying the visual I just created.” He quickly adjusts his shorts.

“If that gets you hot and bothered, I don’t think you could handle where my mind was just now.”

“Feeling feisty today?”

“Substitute feisty for horny, and you’re in the ballpark.” His almost imperceptible groan only fuels my boldness.

“There are children present, Miss Fairchild.”

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