Keep Me Still (23 page)

“C
orin’s
celibate. You know that right?” I ask Skylar as the girls head to the restroom. I know I’m an ass for repeating something Layla told me in confidence, but if I can help Skylar avoid a painfully awkward situation, then I probably should. He definitely had my back when I needed to skip curfew last night. On top of that, he figured out a way to give Layla and me some privacy, so I kind of owe him.

Though I haven’t forgotten the jab to the ribs before the game.

“Yeah, man. I know she’s
trying
to be at least,” he says, glancing at the check he took off the table with the waitress’s number on it.

“Layla says she is, like actually is. As in, not
trying
shit.”

“I realize this,” he tells me, folding the check and pocketing the ticket.

“So what the hell are you doing?”

“Chill, O’Brien. Look, if you want to give me advice about defending the goal, knock yourself out man. For real—you’re a striker and a pretty decent one, so I’m all ears. But as far as girls are concerned? You were here five minutes, hooked up with your high school sweetheart, and now you might as well be handcuffed to her ass. So you can keep all that lovey advice and shit to yourself. Let me worry about my off-field game.”

“Please tell me you at least see the irony of the situation?” Grinning, I watch as Layla and Corin come out of the bathroom, both smiling. Layla’s smile, the one she’s been using since last night, is kryptonite to my knees.

“No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me, you pussy-whipped bast—”

I cut him off before the girls reach us. “You’re the
goalie,
dude, and yet the first girl you try to score with is totally blocking
you
.”

“You’re a dick.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“You guys ready?” Layla asks as she comes closer.

Her eyes widen, and I know she senses the tension between Skylar and me. I smile and wink, letting her know everything’s fine. Just dumb guy bullshit. Nothing to see here.

“You guys go ahead. I’ll be out in a sec,” I tell them.

Layla tilts her head, but I just nod for her to go on out with the other two. She shoots me a questioning look as she follows them out.

L
ayla’s
quiet after Skylar and Corin leave us alone, heading toward the library. The campus is peaceful as we walk to her dorm and it’s kind of nice, so I don’t make pointless small talk. I’m too in my head to really form any coherent sentences anyhow. Part of me wants to be a gentleman, kiss her goodnight at her door, and go on back to my own room.

My dick is not a fan of that particular part of me.

As her building comes into view, I decide I’ll leave it up to her. I’ll kiss her goodnight, and if she invites me in, I’ll go—obviously. But I won’t keep forcing my way into her life. One day, I will have to tell her about the situation with her Aunt Kate and what she did to get me here.

But today is not that day. New plan is to get her to the point where she knows one hundred percent that she wants me in her life before I drop that nuclear missile on our relationship. Then if she pushes me away, at least I know I gave it my best shot.

Layla turns to face me, and I’m such a goner. Who the fuck am I kidding? If she pushes me away, I will come back. As many times as it takes. Because there’s no way in hell I’m letting this girl slip through my fingers—again. Ever.

“You paid that man’s bill, didn’t you?” she asks, turning abruptly on me.

“Huh?” I’m playing dumb because I don’t want her to think I’m putting on a Good Samaritan act to get into her pants…though I would probably be willing to try that if I got desperate.

She pins me down with her stare. “The homeless man across from us at the diner. I know you noticed him. You stayed behind to pay for his meal, didn’t you?”

I clear my throat, deciding I might as well be honest about everything I can. “I might have.” And I might’ve given him an extra twenty as well. “Or maybe I stayed behind to save the waitress’s number in my phone. She wrote it on the check, you know.”

For a split second, the wounded look that crosses Layla’s face has me hating myself. But then her lips curve up just a little and her eyes go soft. “Like on our first date, when you paid for Ol’ Clyde’s pie, and he told you that you’d have to do a lot better than that to impress me.”

God, I’d nearly forgotten that part of our date.

Ol’ Clyde was Hope Springs’ resident homeless guy. A Vietnam vet with a hell of a temper who frequented Our Place, Layla’s favorite diner. My dad was a son of a bitch and all, but he made it clear that anyone who’d served his country deserved respect, no matter how he’d ended up. It had scored me some major points with my date, though I hadn’t even realized she was paying attention.

“Are you coming up?” she asks so low I barely hear her. She pulls her ID card from her purse as I come back from the memory. The questions in her eyes are a lot more complex than the one on her lips. Her mouth says,
Come upstairs and be with me if you want
. Her eyes are asking questions I’m a little nervous about answering out loud.
Do you want me? Do you love me? Is this going to be a regular thing?

Yes, hell yes, and dear God I hope so.

“If you want me to, then I am.”

“I want you to,” she says easily, sending my heart hammering into my throat.

My mind travels back over the past few hours. Layla coming down the bleachers, cheering my name for everyone to hear, yelling at me about giving up my chance to play pro, drinking that damn milkshake slow enough to kill me.

I follow her up the stairs and my knees bitch at me about not icing them after the game. But the rest of me is practically sprinting past Layla in anticipation of spreading her naked body out on the bed and burying myself so deep inside of her I can’t fucking see straight.

I’ve barely closed the door behind me when she reaches for me. My heart rate ramps up several notches as I inhale her sweet peach and now sweet whipped cream scent. It’s a dangerous combo, and over her blond head I’m eyeing that futon to determine if it’s big enough for me to make love to her on it how I want to.

“I love watching you play, Landen,” she breathes against my lips.

Grinning like a maniac, I lower my head so she can get some leverage on my mouth without standing on her tiptoes. “I love you watching me play, Layla. Though I bet Taite wishes you wouldn’t come since I just nearly outscored his ass.”

“Do you wish I wouldn’t come?” she pouts at me. My head swims at how fast she can turn me on.

“If it’s up to me, you’ll always come. Come to every game. Then I promise to make you come
after
every game.” I should be exhausted, but adrenaline is flooding through me, and my dick stands at attention. I lean down and kiss her softly. Something about brushing my lips against hers, that sweet promise of something much more intense to come, it just…does it for me.

Layla’s small hands reach up and grasp my neck. I pull her to me, allowing her to back me up against the door. Her lips are wet and soft and taste like her milkshake. Fuck yeah, there’s a to-go cup around here somewhere.

“Babe?” I murmur into her mouth.

Her shoulders tense and she pulls back. “Yeah?” Her eyes are wide and still burning from our kiss.

“Can I have a drink of your shake?”

Her forehead creases, and I barely manage to keep the smirk off my face. As she leans over to grab the Styrofoam cup from the edge of the desk, her shirt rides up and my mouth goes dry at the sight of her bare waist. I’ve got big plans for the rest of that milkshake.

When she hands me the cup, I lift the plastic lid from the edge and peer down at the three cherries resting in the dissolving cream. Thank the good Lord for extra cherries. Though thanking God for them considering how I’m about to use them, is probably sacrilegious.

Without a word, I take Layla’s hand and pull her into the bedroom. She giggles at my urgency, but when we get to the bed and she looks up at my face, she falls silent. “Landen,” she whispers.

And I know she’s nervous even though we’ve been here before. She’s still afraid, afraid I’ll bail out again, or worse, just stop wanting her. I can see the uncertainty on her face, and it’s ridiculous. I’ve never wanted anything more than this, more than her. Not even the Colonel’s goddamn approval. Smoothing a hand down her cheek, I sink my gaze into hers.

“I love you, Layla Flaherty,” I tell her because I can feel how badly she needs to hear it. “But you already know that, don’t you?”

I watch as her pupils dilate and she licks her lips. “I do.”

“So what are you going to do about it?” I lean back, despite my body’s protest to throw her down and tear her clothes to shreds.

“I’m going to love you right back.” And before I have time to respond, she thrusts her body into my arms, crushing her sweet mouth to mine. Firmly enough to let her know what I want, but gently enough to keep from hurting her feelings, I pull back, step closer to Corin’s bed, and shake my head.

“Strip.” The command comes out harsher than I mean for it to, but my brave girl grins up at me. Her slender arms cross in front of her body as she lifts the hem of her shirt up and over her head. Her black lacy bra suggests to me that she wants this, planned for it even before coming to my game. For a second, I’m back in the stadium, looking up at her as the field lights shine all around my glowing angel. And she gives me that look, the secret one that says I’m the only one who knows what she feels like from the inside, in my mouth, and tight around my dick.

I want to
always
be the only one.

“Slower,” I command, hoping the damn milkshake doesn’t melt too much.

Layla unbuttons her jeans and raises a brow at me. I nod, because yes, now she’s going slowly enough. Once her jeans are down, she kicks them to the side, and I take in her matching lace panties. Every cell in my body screams at me to hit my knees, pull that tiny scrap of fabric aside, and plunge my tongue into her wetness.

“All of it, baby. I want to see all of you.”

Layla’s cheeks darken, and I keep my eyes on hers as she reaches back to unhook her bra. It falls to the floor, and my eyes fall to her perfectly supple breasts and the tight pink nipples protruding in my direction. Again, my tongue presses behind my teeth, aching to taste her.

“Panties,” I practically growl at her.

My chest heaves hard because I’m running out of willpower here. Her skin begs to be touched, licked, bitten. I have the strangest urge to mark her. Claim her. Eying me with her wary gaze, as if she can read my crazed thoughts, Layla bends at the waist and slides her panties down her thighs, past her knees, and lets them drop to her ankles.

“Lie down. On your back.” She blinks rapidly but does as I say.

My cock punches against the zipper of my jeans, and I’m done waiting. Setting the milkshake down on the night table, I undress quickly, leaving my boxer briefs on so I don’t rush things. Climbing on top of Layla, I take a moment to stare down at her perfect body. Perfect face.

I’m dirtying up my angel and I know it, but dammit, how can I not?

The memory of her petite features scrunching in pain and ecstasy has pre-cum dripping from my head, and I know I’m not going to make it as long as I planned. She drives me too insane with need. If she whimpers or moans my name like she did before, my intentions will be shot to hell. And I won’t be able to wait two seconds before ramming myself inside of her and hitting that sweet, delicious center.

“Want some milkshake, baby?” I ask, lifting the cup from the table.

Layla’s eyes widen. “Yes.”

I grin. She’s with me. Her chin dips to her chest. She nods and I allow myself a few seconds to imagine cupping those full breasts and sucking her into my mouth. “Say please.”

“Please, Landen,” she whimpers. My cock twitches against her thighs.

Filling the straw and closing the top with my finger, I pull it from the cup and place the tip against her lips. She opens without me having to ask, like the good girl she is. I watch her throat swallow and she shivers from the cold.

“More?”

“Yes. Yes, please.” Her breath is coming harder and the swells of her breasts are pumping faster.

“Pretty please, with a cherry on top?” I prompt. She nods rapidly and repeats the plea obediently.

I fill the straw again, but this time, when she opens her mouth, I don’t release. Instead I run it down her skin until those full swells rise to meet it. “For so long I couldn’t even look at a goddamn milkshake. Couldn’t even stand to hear one mentioned without picturing you drinking that first one on our first date. The way your eyes closed when you swallowed, and that little moan of pleasure you let out. Did you even know what you were doing to me?”

Layla shakes her head slowly, her eyes melting into mine. I release the cool liquid between her breasts and she twitches. “Cold,” she whispers.

Smiling, I nod and lean down to remove the cold dessert with my warm tongue. When I swipe across her nipples, her back arches and she moans. “But you knew what you were doing tonight, didn’t you?”

Layla licks her lips and nods her confirmation.

“Was my sweet girl teasing me?”

Her eyes darken and she shakes her head. “Not a tease, Landen. A promise.”

“Well, I can promise you something,” I say, leaning down and pressing my lips gently to the side of her neck just below her ear. “Next time you make me hard in public, I will fuck you in the nearest bathroom. Understood?” The thrill of panic that shoots through Layla’s eyes says she understands perfectly. And that I give orders quite well. The Colonel would be so proud. “Hmm…or maybe I’ll let my fingers fuck your sweet pussy under the table and we can see how well you can hide it when you come.
My
sweet pussy, I mean.” I let my teeth graze her flesh just hard enough to let her know I’m serious. “You don’t know it’s mine, don’t you?”

“Yes, yours.
Oh, God
.” Layla’s breathing so hard and fast I’m almost worried for her.

“You okay, baby?”

She nods again, but I feel her twitching beneath me in an attempt to rub her thighs together. She must be aching, that deep ache that only I can soothe. “You need me to fuck you now, don’t you?” I ask, releasing more shake across her stomach before lapping it up.

“Yes,
please.
” Her voice is so tight, as tight as I know her pussy is going to be. But I need her closer to the edge. Need her to come before I do.

“Pretty please…” I prompt, and because she knows what I want, she gives me the response I’m looking for.

“Pretty please with a cherry on top,” she begs, still writhing.

“That can be arranged. Spread your legs for me,” I command as I take the lid off the cup and sit it on the nightstand. Only one cherry still has its stem attached, so it’s the lucky one I pull from the cup. Holding it between my fingers by the thin stem, I dip it into Layla’s mouth. “Clean it off but don’t bite.” I watch as she licks the cream off. Now I’m the one groaning involuntarily.