Page 133 of Only in Your Dreams

The fucking bus ride back to our hotel was agony.

I’m the first one off the bus the second we pull up to the hotel doors, but things aren’t working in my favor today because my bag is nowhere to be seen in the undercarriage. It takes a dozen of the coaches and players filing past me to clear enough bags to spot mine toward the back of the pile, and I dive for it like a man out at sea reaching for a life-saving buoy. I motor around the guys filing into the hotel, loud and still riding a high from our narrow win.

She should have landed half an hour ago. Maybe just getting here, too—

I spot Melody up ahead by the elevators. Golden hair tied up on top of her head, the ends tickling the letters of my last name on the back of my high school jersey, and I’ve never known relief like this.

“Zac!”

My heart.

My heart, my lungs, my entire fucking body melts at the sound of those three letters put together, voiced by the only person who matters. Before I can make up my mind about whether to charge her right here in front of my team, Mel takes off across the lobby and throws herself at me, letting me catch her mid-jump and winding herself around me so tight it’s like she’s afraid I’ve somehow lost my mind enough to insist she gets off.

“Clo—”

It’s all I manage to get out before she crushes her mouth on mine, kissing me unabashedly wild and desperate, giggling against my lips when the guys around us erupt in a smattering of suggestive whistles.

In the past twenty-four hours, these people have seen me pummeled by a parent, and are now watching me devour a woman on a road trip, kiss her like it’s a matter of life or death. Never mind that she’s supposedly dating Brooks. But I don’t care what this looks like. I don’t care about the example I’m supposed to be setting. I walk us across the lobby, smashing at the elevator button until it opens. The second the doors close, I turn Mel into the wall, setting her ass down on the railing lining the elevator as she drags her mouth along my neck.

“Twenty-fourth floor. Room twenty-four-fifteen,” she mumbles against my skin, and I split away only long enough to hit the button before I’m on her again.

“You’re really okay?” I say, already breathing hard as she nibbles at my lip. My hands are everywhere. Through her hair, along her jaw, shoulder, palming her tits through my motherfucking jersey.

“I’m really okay,” she says, licking a path up my neck, then scraping the skin with her teeth. “So much better now.”

I grip the hem of her jersey and it seems we’re on the same page because her arms go up, letting me whip it off her body, leaving her in an insane green lacey bra that wrenches a hungry groan from my chest.

“Do you think there are cameras in here?” she pants, hands crawling under my shirt, feeling her way up my stomach as I drop my face to her body, kissing, biting the perfect swell of her tits, desperate to leave my mark on them.

“Probably. You wanna stop?”

“God, no,” she breathes. “We’re almost on our floor.”

She pushes her tits together, letting me bury my face in them before she slides the straps off her shoulders and tugs down her bra, freeing her nipples for me.

“Clover,” I groan. “God, you’re fucking killing me.”

Mel breathes out a laugh. “Why? They’re yours to play with, aren’t they?”

Her words send something base and feral clawing through me.

“That’s fucking right. They’re mine.” I palm her tits, squeeze, bend to capture a nipple between my lips, reveling in the way she squirms against the elevator railing. “You’re mine.” My hands roam, grip her ass, lift her off the railing and grind her into my dick. “This is all fucking mine. And, Clover? I don’t do takebacks.”

The elevator doors ping open and I sweep her stuff off the ground before powering us down the hall to our room, smashing the door open, throwing her onto the bed and ripping the bag off my body.

Mel loses her bra, lifts her hips to strip off her leggings as I rip open my pants. It’s a wild flurry of clothes raining down around us. Harsh, hungry breaths. Wild eyes devouring each other as we strip down. Her lips part when she watches me throw off my shirt, and I catch the way the spark of anticipation in her eyes fades to confusion, and then to lust.

I’ve been careful to keep a shirt on since I’ve seen her again until I get the chance to explain. But right now, I plan on keeping her good and busy, too distracted to get a good look at anything.

I crawl onto the bed, coaxing her onto her back. “I want you,” I tell her, running a hand down her body. “Everything. Right now.”

Fuck it. Fuck everything. To hell with waiting for her love, her commitment. I fuckingneedher.

“Really?” Her nails scrape down my back when I bite down on her nipple. “This is the magical moment you’ve been waiting for? Who knew all it would take is a run-in with my crazy ex.”

“I wasn’t waiting for some magic moment. I wanted to win you over.”

She threads her fingers through my hair. “Oh? And you don’t want to win me over anymore?”

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