Friend Zoned (Barnett Bulldogs #2) (13 page)

My body instantly stiffens as he grinds his thick cock against the thin cotton barrier of my panties.  Biting down on my lower lip to stifle the whimper of pleasure that wants so badly to escape, it takes everything within me not to wiggle my ass against him in response.

Exactly
how
am I going to extract myself from this situation without waking him?

That’s the million dollar question at the moment.

Everything already feels weird and tense between us.  This incident will only send us careening over the cliff into awkward-ville and I don’t really want to make a pit stop there today.  Nope.  What I need is to get us back to the land of normal.  All this strange sexual tension flaring to life between us is really starting to drive me insane.

I almost wince when his hand gently squeezes my breast as if he’s testing the weight of it in his splayed open palm.  A deep growly noise rumbles up from his throat as his cock slides slowly against me again.  And damn it…
damn it
… my nipples are now stiff little points that are begging to be played with.

What I need to do is hightail it out of here ASAP. 

Thank goodness it’s Sunday.  Carter will be heading back home today. Then I can escape back to my dorm and put some much needed distance between us until I can firmly wrangle these thoughts and feelings back under control again.

Which I will definitely do, because I don’t have much of a choice in the matter.

For just a few moments, I lay stiff as a board listening to the sound of Sam’s deep, even breathes.  Just as I’m about to carefully extricate myself from him, Sam’s hand slowly starts meandering its way from my breast down my ribcage before trying to trail south of the border…

No.

No.  No.  No.  No.

Just as his fingers are on the verge of breaching the elastic band of my panties, I rocket out of bed before practically hitting the door that leads into the hall.

“Vi?”  His voice is all groggy, like he’s trying to shake off the thick cobwebs of sleep.

“Yeah?”  I’m panting.  Like I’ve just run a freaking marathon.  My heartbeat jackhammers painfully against the wall of my chest.  I need to get the freak out of here.

Pronto.  Before I self-combust.

“Where you going?”

“I’m, ah,” I jerk my thumb towards the hallway as my heart continues to beat in double time, “just heading back to my room.”

I can’t help but glance over my shoulder as he rolls onto his back, stretching out that great big body of his on the queen sized mattress.  Gulping, I notice just how those thick slabs of muscle bunch and play across his hard chest and arms.  Unconsciously my eyes slide down over the tight ridges of his abs until they get to…

Oh.

My
.

The breath catches at the back of my throat as my mouth tumbles open into a shocked little O of surprise when I see how the sheet is tented below his waist.  Holy crap. His boner is enough to send me scurrying from the room like a virgin on prom night.

***

Two hours later, we’re sitting in a diner about a block away from Sam’s apartment. They serve the best breakfasts here all day long.  Naturally this place is packed after the bars close.  Can’t say I haven’t been here a few dozen times myself.

Looking completely unruffled by what happened this morning, Sam takes a huge gulp of orange juice before setting the glass back down in front of him.

I’m not going to lie, I’m having a really hard time meeting his blue eyed gaze from across the table.  My face feels all hot and as much as I don’t want to be…
I’m completely turned on
.  No matter how hard I try, I can’t stop thinking about the rock hard erection that had been pressed up rather deliciously against my rear this morning.

Shit.

Not deliciously.

It was definitely not delicious.

Or big.

Or… gulp…
thick
.

As much as I hate admitting this, I’m kind of a girth girl.  I’ll take thick over long any day of the week.

Damnit… these thoughts aren’t helping matters one damn bit.  In fact, they’re only making it worse.

Much worse.

As those memories continue swirling unwantedly through my head, I find myself shifting uncomfortably on the red vinyl covered booth because of the ache that is just starting to throb rather insistently between my-

“Vi?”

My eyes swing up from the paper straw wrapper I’m wadding up into a tight little ball before unwinding, flattening, and doing it all over again.  Sitting across from him, I feel nervous and twitchy.  And I hate it.  Because this isn’t the kind of relationship we have.

He sighs as I reluctantly stare at him from across the Formica table separating us.  “We never really finished talking last night.”

My entire body tenses as I think about picking up the threads of our previous conversation.

Nope.  We certainly hadn’t gotten around to that.  I’d been so comfortable in his warm embrace that I’d fallen asleep almost immediately.

And then I’d woken up refreshed and…

Turned on since there was a lovely boner snuggled up against me and a warm palm cupping my breast.

I seriously can’t believe those words just flitted through my head.

In the eight years we’ve been friends, I have
never
imagined what sex with Sam might be like.  Not ever.  We’ve always been
just friends
.  He’s had girlfriends.  I’ve had a long string of ill-fated boyfriends that were doomed for failure from the get go.  And we’ve both hooked up with other people in the interim.

It has never been weird between us.

No crackling sexual tension.

No thoughts of
what if
clinging to my subconscious…

The cold light of day has me wondering if it’s nothing more than a disastrous idea to open this Pandora’s box.  Everything already feels strange and awkward.  Unstable.  As if our entire relationship is suddenly careening out of control and there’s not a damn thing we can do to stop it.  Openly expressing those ideas will only make it worse.

Because there’ll be no turning back.

But right now…
right now
we can ignore what’s happening between us.  We can simply pretend it’s not there.  And maybe, if we pretend hard enough, long enough, it’ll all just go away on its own without us having to actually deal with it.

Regarding me steadily with those gorgeous eyes of his (goddamn it!), he waits for an answer to tumble off my lips.  My shoulders lower because already I can see that he’s not going to be letting this go.  Maybe he feels it too… the weirdness surrounding us, suffocating the easiness we’ve always taken for granted.

Just as I open my mouth to say something, what- I have absolutely no idea, a big male body slides into the booth next to me.  His hip hits mine, nudging me over a little further.  Blinking my eyes in confusion, I realize that Liam has suddenly joined us.

His dark hair is styled perfectly into its trademark fauxhawk and he’s wearing a black leather jacket with a soft looking gray Henley beneath it.  His dark wash jeans hang low on his taut hips and he has on a pair of black leather boots.

“Hey.”  Oblivious to the simmering tension, his eyes bounce from mine to Sam’s before once again refocusing on me.  “You two don’t mind if I join you, do you?”

My gaze slices to Sam for just a second before sliding back to Liam.  “No, of course not.”

Liam settles back against the vinyl booth before spreading out his long legs beneath the table.  Grabbing a menu, he silently peruses it.

Sam says absolutely nothing. I get the distinct feeling that he’s not happy about Liam crashing our breakfast.  Even though this now feels even more strained, I’m glad the conversation Sam and I were just about to delve head first into has been aborted for the time being.  Yet another bullet that has been dodged this morning.

Sheesh.  Since when has my relationship with Sam felt like a minefield that has to be carefully navigated?

Never.

That’s when.

But I can’t deny that I’m absurdly relieved.

What I really need is to take some time and think about everything that has been going on between us before Sam and I actually sit down and hash things out.  Clearing out of Sam’s apartment and getting back to my own place will definitely help with that.  I think a little distance will be good for both of us.  Maybe it’s just what we need to get us back on track again.  At this point, that’s all I can really hope for.

The waitress comes over and Liam orders a coffee along with eggs, bacon, hash browns, and pancakes.

Before tacking on a side of fruit.

And two slices of lightly buttered wheat toast.

When we just stare at him with raised brows, he says by way of explanation, “I’m starving.  Haven’t eaten a thing all morning.”

“Clearly,” I can’t help but laugh.

Liam, who seems unaware of the strange energy pulsing between Sam and I, starts talking about the game yesterday and what plays need to be tightened up before the next one.  As their conversation continues, the tension slowly begins to ebb.  And so I simply sit back, sipping my orange juice as I listen to the pair of them discuss the away game next weekend and the first string offensive tackle who sprained his ankle yesterday and his chances of getting back onto the field by Saturday.

Which apparently aren’t good.

By the time our breakfast is served, everything feels almost normal again.  Maybe I can just chalk all this up to a strange few weeks and everything between Sam and I will simply slide back to the way it’s always been.

Because that’s what I want… isn’t it?

Chapter Eleven

Sam

“You ready to go?”

I just want to hustle Violet back to the apartment so we can sit down and actually talk about what the hell is going on between us.  This conversation has been a long time in coming and it finally seems like she just might be ready to have it.

I also want to get her the hell away from Garrison.

Goddamn mother fu-

“I’m going to run to the bathroom before we leave, okay?”  Liam has to slide from the booth so she can shimmy her way out.  I’m all too aware of the way his hand trails slowly over her arm, all in the guise of helping her up.

Yeah… nice try, pal.

I know
exactly
what you’re up to.

The fact that Garrison nods his head at her like she’s talking specifically to him has me gnashing my teeth together in aggravation.

The dude is completely oblivious to the fact that he just hijacked my breakfast.

Then he just stands there watching the rounded swell of her hips sway back and forth as she disappears towards the back of the restaurant.  By the time Liam sits his ass back down again, I feel like I could literally leap across the table and wring his damn neck.

His eyes arrow innocently back to mine.  There’s just a hint of a smirk sliding its way across his lips.

I’m going to be completely candid about this- I like Liam.  I really do.  He’s a phenomenal QB and in the two plus years I’ve known him, he’s always been a decent guy.  He’s not some freaking prima donna out on the field like some QB’s I’ve worked with.  Nor is he a head case.  I’ve unfortunately run into that as well.  Hell, it looks like he might even be moving into Dylan’s old room because of his current housing situation.

And I’m totally cool with that. 

But right now… yeah,
right now
I’d like to knock the goddamn piss out of him for the way he’s eyeing up Violet.  What the fuck is that about anyway?  Up until last night, he’s never shown one damn bit of interest in her.

Unperturbed by the hard edged glint shining in my eyes, he nods his head towards the direction Violet just took off in.  “She’s a great girl.”

His offhanded comment leaves my hands tightening into clenched fists beneath the table.  When I can’t hold it in a moment longer, I finally snap.  “Dude, what the hell are you doing?”

One dark brow lazily slants its way upward as the smirk on his face becomes a little more self-satisfied.  “What are you talking about?”

Grrr.

I’m starting to think this whole thing is deliberate, just to piss me off.  Which would be pretty fucking stupid on his part considering it’s my job out on the field to protect his damn ass, to keep him from taking a hit.

Eyes narrowing, my temper ignites.

During a game, I have absolutely no problem taking someone down.  But rarely have I been moved to the point of throwing a punch.  That’s just not my style.  I’m not a hot head.  I’m always cool, calm, and in control of my feelings. Plus, it’s been all but pounded into me that I need to continually rise above the fray.  I can’t do anything that will reflect poorly on my father or his political career.  Which is probably why I enjoy football as much as I do.  It’s an outlet.  I can knock people around and it’s perfectly acceptable.