Page 7 of Play It Off

I’m an idiot.

“Wrong way,” I mumble as I push past him, and he chuckles, like I’m just so amusing in my drunken state.

He follows after me but keeps his distance like he knows that’s what I want. I stop in front of my door and pull the key out of my pocket, unlocking the door quickly before I open it and turn on the overhead light. “Okay, thanks, Gavin. I appreciate your help.”

I’m about to shut the door in his face like a total bitch when he slaps his hand against it, forcing me to keep it open. “You alone in there?”

I frown, glancing over my shoulder to find I am, indeed, alone in here. Good. I can cry by myself, and Destiny won’t be a witness to my drunk sadness. “I am.”

Without a word he pushes his way inside my room, filling the tiny space with his dominating presence immediately. I shut the door and lean against it, watching as he stands in the middle of the room between the two single beds, his head turning left, then right, checking everything out.

“Looks like your standard dorm room,” he observes. “Though your side is cuter than your roommate’s.”

Pleasure suffuses me at his compliment. “Thank you. My mom helped me set it up.”

“How is she?” His gaze meets mine, and I can see the fondness there.

Everyone loves my mother. She’s the quintessential football mom, meaning she’s always volunteering to help out the team. Bring themsnacks and water and meals. Was team mom all through the younger grades and on the board in various positions, including president of the booster club, the entirety of Coop’s high school–football life. She shows up at every game with Dad, whether it’s at home or away, and she cheers for everyone, not just her son.

All that love for Coop can sometimes feel like I get the leftovers, but I try not to let it bother me. I get it. Coop is the more successful sibling, while I’m just ... me.

“She’s good,” I tell him, resting my hands on my hips. Desperate to ignore the way my head is spinning. I’m in full control of my body and thoughts. A little alcohol won’t push me over the edge.

But then like a fool I trip over my own foot—how, I’m not sure—and I can feel myself tipping over. A little shriek escapes me, and next thing I know, Gavin is lunging toward me and we’re tangled up together on top of my bed.

My stupid little twin bed that we definitely can’t fit on side by side, but that doesn’t seem to matter because currently I’m sprawled on top of him and he’s beneath me. He’s a hot, solid wall of muscle, his arms banded around me, those big hands and long fingers splayed across my back, and I lift my head, staring into his beautiful eyes, our mouths perfectly aligned.

“Sorry,” I murmur, but he doesn’t say anything. His gaze roves all over my face, those blue eyes darkening until they’re as turbulent as a winter storm. I stare back, mute. Unable to breathe.

He lifts his head. Angles it. His lips brush over mine, and I close my eyes, shock coursing through my veins. Gavin Maddox is kissing me.

Say what?

Chapter ThreeSienna

Gavin keeps the kiss simple at first. Almost as if he’s testing me, and then I feel his tongue swipe at the seam of my lips, and that’s all it takes.

My lips part. Our tongues meet. The kiss turns hot in an instant, his hands sliding down until they’re covering my ass and he’s pulling me in closer. Letting me feel him as he devours me. He’s hard. And like the shameless drunk girl I am, I waste no time, grinding against him.

Making him groan.

The sound settles into the deepest part of my body, making me throb between my thighs. His hungry mouth never strays from mine, our tongues tangling, his hands squeezing my flesh. I mentally curse at myself for wearing denim shorts because if I had a dress on, I’d feel those hands on my bare flesh, and a shiver moves through me at the thought.

But then he makes all my wishes come true when his hands slide down, his fingers tracing over the curve of my ass cheeks, and a whimper sounds low in my throat.

“Jesus,” he mutters against my lips as I basically hump him. That’s all he says before he deepens the kiss, which I didn’t think was possible, but oh my God, the man is good with his mouth. Oh, and his hands, which isn’t a surprise, considering how well he plays football.

I straddle him, my thighs on either side of his hips, my pussy directly against that thick bulge beneath his jeans. He is as hard as a rock, and a tiny thrill buzzes through my veins. That’s because of me. I did that to him.

Little ol’ me.

He pulls away from my still-seeking lips to kiss a burning trail down my neck. “You smell fucking incredible.”

My entire body aches. God, I want him. I want to take his clothes off and feel his skin on mine. I want to touch him everywhere I can reach, and I would give anything, everything I’ve got, to see this man naked. Have him naked beneath me.

He removes one of his hands from my butt, and I’m sad. But then he cups the side of my face, his fingers sliding into my hair as he angles my head just so, his mouth back on mine, and I am melting. Oh, I love it when a man touches my face, not that any ever have before. Not even my high school boyfriend. I’ve seen it in movies, though, and it’s the most romantic gesture ever.

We kiss and kiss, and I try to touch him everywhere I can, but my reach is limited. I can’t get enough of him. And it’s like he can’t get enough of me, either, those fingers of his slipping beneath my denim shorts to skim across my flesh, dipping lower until they’re dangerously close to where I want them.

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