SPIKED (A Sports Romance) (28 page)

Maybe I wouldn’t have slept with Landon and wanted desperately to stay in town to stay close to him.

“That’s a shit excuse.”

I picked up my head and glared at him. “I was offered another internship. A better one that doesn’t require me spending six weeks in Dallas.”

He snorted, like the idea of me having
two
opportunities was ridiculous. His reaction crawled under my skin, because I knew if I were in his shoes, I’d have reacted the same way. It had already been a year of working at that dumb kiosk. A year of forgetting my dreams.

Matt was relentless, as if he needed to rid himself of the toxins that were ripping him apart inside by spewing it all out at me. “Twenty-four hours ago you worked at the mall and now you have two internship offers? Where did the second one come from?”

“You don’t need to be a jerk,” I said, glaring. He was pale, with grey-green bags under his eyes. I knew he felt like crap, but he didn’t need to try and make me feel that way too.

“Who offered you the second internship, Taryn?” he pressed.

He knew. The edge to his voice, the accusation… he knew.

“Landon.”

His lip curled up in disdain. “Is he trying to make you his personal assistant or something?”

“Matt! That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” He asked, staring me down.

“Yes!” I said, sitting up on the couch. “For one, I wouldn’t even take that kind of a job. You know I want to work in a lab.”

“So what kind of job did you take?”

“It’s in the labs. I’m not sure what exactly it will entail- “

He laughed, his skepticism obvious. “And yet you said yes.”

“What is up with you?” I asked. “He’s your best friend, and you think he’d make me his secretary? Why does the idea of me working for him infuriate you?”

He stood up, the recliner rocking behind him. “Yes. He’s my best friend. But he doesn’t do
friends
with women. He needs to stay away from you.”

I rolled my eyes. His big brother shtick was ridiculous. This wasn’t high school any more. “I have a mind of my own, you know. I’m not just going to fall in love with him.”

“Everyone falls in love with him,” My brother said. “But he doesn’t reciprocate. He doesn’t do love. I saw it in high school, when a dozen girls came to me asking for advice. And he hasn’t changed. Trust me in that.”

The back door creaked open then, and I wanted to groan and bury my head under the couch cushions.
This
would certainly make things better.

“Matt,” Dad called out. “I got us some frozen dinners.”

He stepped inside the living room, and it took a moment for his eyes to shift from Matt to me.

“Oh,” he said, his voice falling as he set the grocery bags down. “I thought you were supposed to be in another time zone.”

I glanced at the bags as a Salisbury steak dinner slid out onto the ground.

“Is this the crap you guys eat when I’m not around?”

“Don’t deflect,
Taryn,
” my brother said. “Tell him why you’re not in Texas.”

I shot a glare in my brother’s direction, but my dad just stood there, waiting. The man had the patience of a saint and would stand there all day if he needed to.

“I accepted a different internship,” I said, my voice level. “At Prestige Sports Medicine.”

Dad darted a glance at my brother, who was still scowling. “Isn’t that- “

“Landon Hill’s company,” I said. “Yes. He offered me an internship I couldn’t refuse. Cutting edge medicine. I’ll re-enroll at UW and work at the center.”

Dad didn’t know what to make of it, just stood in the hall, the grocery bags beside him. He chewed hard on a piece of pink gum, buying himself thinking time. “What was wrong with the internship you already had?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I said. “It was a good internship. But it was so last minute, and this way I don’t have to travel.”

My dad leaned down, picking up the spilled groceries and setting them on the kitchen table. “But you like traveling.”

I stood, tossing the pillow in my lap down on the sofa. “I never said I
liked
traveling. I’d probably have to travel to know if I liked it. Also, Matt’s not feeling well today. Make sure he drinks plenty of fluids.”

I knew it was a shitty way to deflect attention, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.

And then, like a coward, I fled the room.

I
t took
me two hours to decide on a denim mini and a blouse comprised of a pink silt tank top with a sheer outer layer. It was casual but sexy without trying too hard, just a peek of flesh to catch his eye. With a pair of black strappy sandals, he’d be staring at my legs all night.

I knew I was flirting with fire, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I wanted him to want me. If all I ever got from Landon was the hottest sex of my life, I’d have to be satisfied with that. Even though I was still sore from earlier today, I wanted him again. And again and again and again.

I heard his car in the drive, and snagged my purse off the window seat in my room. Then I took the steps two by two.

Matt was still in the recliner, more than half asleep. His blanket had slid off his body, so I walked over and pull it up to his chest.

He looked more at peace like this, sleeping soundly. Like today’s incident had never occurred.

Like his diagnosis wasn’t even real.

I slipped out the front door just as Landon was walking up the front steps. He looked deadly handsome in a dark blue button-down, left open at the collar, along with dark indigo blue jeans and leather loafers. He belonged in New York or Paris, not our silly little town. There was no way they even sold his brands of clothing here.

“Hey,” I said, smiling up at him. I knew I should look at this as a casual date. As two people simply
seeing
each other. But I wanted it to be the first of many. The first of
something.

“Ready?”

“Always,” I said, and then tried not to cringe. It sounded like I was
always
ready for him, like he could ravish me in the car on the way to our date and I’d be okay with it.

Not exactly untrue. I’d probably be okay with that.

Who the hell was I kidding? If he wanted to park at the end of a back road and pull me into his lap, I’d
definitely
be okay with that.

He walked to the car, holding the door open for me.

My eyes skimmed over the sleek lines of his car, and I froze. “Wait, is this the Nova?”

He grinned. “Maybe.”

“It looks amazing.”

“Yeah. A new paint job did wonders. That and a new fender.”

I snickered, trying to keep the heat from my cheeks and I dropped down into the car. The leather bucket seat curled around me, as if enveloping me. I waited as he walked around the car, dropping in beside me.

I slid my hand across the dash, surprised at the sleek, immaculate interior. The Nova I knew in high school had been beat up. “I know you said you kept it, but somehow I can’t believe I’m actually sitting in it. It’s been years.”

“Like I said, no one lets go of good American muscle. It’s like a fine wine; it only gets better with age.”

“And a paint job,” I quipped. Maybe it was the prospect of a real date, or of sitting in this car again, like I was seventeen and didn’t know how it would all end. But I was feeling lighter somehow, like we were at the beginning of something. Something more than a hook up.

I shoved away all my brother’s warnings, refusing to believe that I was just another girl to Landon.

He pulled out of the drive, hitting the valley highway. The engine was loud and throaty, the opposite of the quiet purr of his Audi. It rumbled beneath my feet, vibrating the floorboards.

“I told my brother and dad about the internship.”

Landon glanced over at me for only a moment before turning his attention back to the road. “Which one?”

Ha. A fair question. “Both of them.”

“And?”

I leaned back against the buttery-cream leather seat. “They weren’t happy.”

“Why?”

“Pretty sure they think you have ulterior motives.”

He glanced over at me, his gaze lingering, but unreadable. His eyes were hooded in shadow. “Would it matter if I did?”

His answer threw me off kilter. “Of course it would. This is my career, Landon. Not some passing fancy. The internship has to mean something.”

He shook his head, turning back to the road again as we rounded a hairpin turn. “Of course it means something for your career. I wouldn’t offer it to you if I didn’t think it would help you.”

“Then why are you acting like you
do
have ulterior motives?”

He was silent as he flicked the blinker on, turning down Orville road. “I offered this to you for a reason. I want to help you. You’re not the same girl I grew up with. The same girl I left behind.”

I couldn’t decide if I was flattered or hurt by his response. “What’s that mean?”

“You lost your mom. That changes people. I get that, I really do. But I miss the way your eyes used to light up. The way you used to crack those stupid popsicle stick jokes. The way your brother would bitch and moan the way he does, and you’d make faces at him behind his back.”

I found my lips curling upward, as I was warmed by the memories. Warmed by the thought of all those hot summer nights as I tagged along with Landon and Matt, pining for Landon without a word. Desperate for him to turn and look at me, even though he never did. Even though sometimes other girls would sit beside me in this car, and he’d drop me off at home and drive away with them, breaking my heart over and over.

We shared so many memories, even though I knew he viewed them through an entirely different lens.

“Do you remember when the three of us went to the ocean?” I asked, rolling down the window.

“Yeah. We barley had enough money for the hotel room, but you wanted an ocean view.” He grinned, thinking about it.

“After we checked in you went to the front desk and told them you were under the impression that our room would have a view. They moved us to one with a balcony overlooking the water. No extra charge.”

He chuckled under his breath. “I can be persuasive when I want to be.”

“I guess I should’ve seen then that nobody ever says no to you.”

“I’ve missed you,” he said, sliding a hand over my bare thigh. His hands were callused, like even though he was white collar, he’d never let go of his blue-collar beginnings.

“I missed you too,” I replied. “I thought of you so much while you were gone.” Just saying it made my eyes get a little glossy and I tried to remind myself not to cry. Crying was not what I wanted to be doing right then.

“We should just keep driving,” he said, his fingers curling back and forth, stroking along my skin. “Go find that hotel.”

“That place was a crap hole,” I said, laughing. “They probably have the same sheets.”

His grin was toothy this time, a glimpse of the Landon I knew before he went away, when his smiles came more easily. I wasn’t the only one who’d grown more serious in the years since we last saw each other.

We took a turn and wound upwards, onto the ridge overlooking Orting. We must’ve been in Puyallup, but it wasn’t until we took two more turns that I realized where were going.

“The theater?” I asked, hoping he couldn’t hear the surprised delight in my voice.

“It reopened a year ago,” he said, flicking a glance over at me, as if to register my reaction.

“I know,” I said. “I just didn’t think
you
knew.” The truth was, I hadn’t been back. Tried not to look at it each time I drove past, because it reminded me too much of him.

We pulled into the parking lot, and I tried to process how it looked the last time I was sitting in this car beside Landon. Tried not to think of how my heart had hammered out of control as he placed his hand over mine on the stick shift, trying to explain how to find first gear. How he’d kept urging me to
ease into it
and I couldn’t stop thinking of other things I wanted to ease into. Or onto.

“They only have two screens so it’s a romance or a drama.”

“Romance, obviously.” I grinned.

“So maybe you haven’t
totally
changed.”

My grin widened as I remembered forcing Landon and Matt through The Notebook. They’d groaned and whined but by the end they were totally on team Noah and Allie.

We walked to the door hand in hand, and at the window, Landon paid for both tickets. He bought popcorn and candy and sodas, and then we strolled through the double doors of the theater.

The place was empty, so we settled into a back seat. Landon wrapped his arm around me, pushing the armrest up from between us, so I could settle against his chest.

The opening credits rolled across the screen, as if the movie had waited for us to start.

“You didn’t tell me it was in French,” I whispered.

“It’s an independent theater,” he said, and without looking I could tell he was smiling. “Just be happy you picked the romance. The drama was in Dutch.”

I snickered. He let his hand fall down my arm, skimming along my skin so that I turned to look up at him. He tipped my chin back further, leaning down and brushing his lips against mine.

It was soft, tender, slow. It was more like a first kiss, as if we hadn’t done so much more over the last few days.

And yet it made my heart explode, made me think of a future with him where we did this more than once. Where he called me his girlfriend and took me on dates, showing me in public, rather than the two of us slinking around in the shadows.

We pulled apart, and then I leaned back against him, his arms holding me up against him.

I wanted to live in this moment forever.

L
ater that night
, Landon led me into his house, one finger hooked around mine. Like we were halfway between holding hands and letting go.

Or maybe like it was a comfortable thing. Like he didn’t have to lay claim to me, but instead we’d fallen into a comfortable rhythm. Which was… terrifying. Because at the end of the day, there was nothing holding us together. I’d decided to get comfortable with him, to stop second-guessing how this would all go.

I wasn’t sure why I wanted so badly to trust this man. My brother had warned me away. My
instincts
had warned me away. I turned in the entry, following as we headed up the stairs to the master bedroom.

To
his
bedroom. The word
master
fit him too well. He was master of his world… master of me.

There was something different tonight, compared to the way he’d been in his office only hours before. He wasn’t in a rush, dragging me up the stairs.

But he wasn’t hesitant, either. He knew I’d follow him, and he walked with purpose, steadily leading me toward his room.

And yet even though I’ve had him, just hours earlier—even though I should’ve been satisfied--the need and want battled in my veins as we walk into his room. My mouth grew dry even as I could feel my panties grow damp. He was still only keeping his finger hooked around mine, and yet I was
dying
for him.

He turned to me, his hands sliding over my elbows so that he could back me up against his bed. My calves brushed the soft, luxurious textures of his bedding.

“Today, in my office,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “I fucked you hard and fast. Tonight, I’m going to take my time with you.”

I could do nothing more than nod, mute.

My breath disappeared from my lungs. He pushed me back, so that I fell against the bed. The blankets swelled up around me, so that I felt as if I’d fallen into a snow bank, but instead of cold, it was nothing but soft, burning heat.

His body pressed down against mine, as one hand slid up my body, his fingers curling around the back of my neck. “God you’re beautiful.”

Heat swelled inside, and I tried to steady my jagged breaths. Tried to slow down, the way he seemed to be, to enjoy the silk of his hands traveling my body, his softer kisses. It took so little to make me want him, to leave me begging for him to settle himself between my legs.

Yet I knew, tonight he would not rush this.

Tonight would be different.

“Did you think of me during the years I was gone?” His breath was hot and heavy, possessive. He wanted to hear how much I thought of him, of the two of us between the sheets, skin on skin.

I wanted to shove him away. Or deny it. But I was hot, panting, desperate for him.

“Yes,” I breathed. “All the time.”

And it wasn’t a lie. I’d thought of him. Every time I’d touched myself, I’d pictured him, perched over me, fucking me harder with each grown. Every time I lay beneath someone else, I’d wanted it to be him. There’d been only a couple of men in time since he left. The first, because I thought someone else would get him out of my system, make me realize that all I really wanted was sex. It didn’t matter who it was on top of me.

But that had been a lie, because it only left me feeling empty and sad. Used. Because that man had gotten what he wanted, and I’d gotten nothing. I’d woken up that morning thinking of Landon and wishing it had been him beside me in the bed.

The second was hardly better. A drunken, messy hook up after a year of taking care of my own needs. The guy had tried hard—
really
hard—but it had been sweaty and awkward and unfulfilling.

Yet things with Landon were so different from those other men that it was like they’d been aliens. Aliens pretending to be men.

Landon was a real man. The only man, it seemed, who did anything for me.

He slid my skirt off with practiced ease, letting his fingertips trail over my hips and thighs, down to my toes. Instead of yanking my clothing off, he let his touch linger, let his heat build. The way his hands trailed my body was tender, intimate in a way our sex earlier today hadn’t been. Like he wanted to savor each touch. Like he wanted to memorize the curve of my body. His fingers touched the soft underside of my thighs as I parted for him, letting him settle against me.

He kissed me, his lips hot and wet, slow and sensual against mine. Our tongues slid across one another, wet with the heat of what was to come. I bit his lower lip, teasing it between my teeth, barely holding back from the desire to bite down hard.

He didn’t want tonight to be wild fucking.

Tonight, he was making love to me, worshiping my body in a way that required my restraint.

But God, it was hard to take it slow. To not bite his lip and yank his pants off, beg him to fuck me hard and fast.

I pulled him against me, my palms against his lower back, urging him to stop with the teasing and plunge inside me. But it was like he knew what I was after and enjoyed making me wait.

He pulled my shirt over my head, then lowered himself against me, so that our bodies were pressed together, so that I could feel the hard length of his cock grinding against my panties.

“You’re driving me insane,” I said, bucking my hips against him. Desperate for more contact.

In response, he pulled back, kneeling above me, propped up on his hands, too much space between our bodies. And then he just… stayed there, the picture of restraint, as I panted. Begging for him. “You’re beautiful,” he said, his gaze raking over me.

I reached out, my fingers raking across the elastic edge of his boxers. His lips curled upward. He loved that I wanted him so badly, that his patience was driving me to the brink.

And yet, he pushed my hand away, shaking his head.
Denying
me.

Instead, he waited at the edge of the bed, staring at me in such an intense way it nearly made me self-conscious. Like he wanted to drink his fill. He kept staring as he pushed his boxers down his hips, his cock springing to life. Kept staring as he took himself in his hand, slowly pumping up and down, his bottom lip sucked in as he teased it between his teeth.

I stayed that way, my knees open, my body exposed. And then he crawled over top of me, propping himself up on his elbows on either side of my shoulders. “I could come just looking at you,” he said, nudging my knees further apart with this.

He kissed me, slow and tender, his breathing jagged, the first clue that his restraint was not as easy as it looked. I slid my arms around his back, and his skin was hot to the touch, setting me on fire.

His lips were still on mine, his tongue sliding across my own as he plunged inside, painstakingly slow and easy. I was wet, ready for him, accepting his thickness.

Landon kept kissing me, slowly, deeply, his body picking up a rhythm my own body matched. My arms tightened around him, my fingers raking across his back.

And as he picked up an agonizingly slow, but steady pace, gritted my teeth to keep from crying out, my fingers twisting in the sheets.

“You feel so good,” he said, his voice more like a hot, tender whisper, the words hissing out between clenched teeth. It was like a fire was spreading in my veins, starting at the place he was pumping into me. In and out, in and out, the friction kept building, making stars dance in my vision, like white-hot pulses of light.

I’d wanted him to fuck me hard, to drive me to climax, but this was something else entirely. All I could feel was the place he was plunging in and out, the way my pulse kept building, higher and higher with each thrust, dancing closer and closer to climax.

He pressed me down into the mattress, bringing up one of his knees, forcing my legs to part further. Allowing him deeper access.

And then finally, when I couldn’t stand it anymore, he fucked me harder, his balls slapping against me, his grunts growing guttural, louder and louder.

His fingers wove into my hair, entwining with the strands as he leaned down against me, his mouth hot against my neck. He kissed and nipped on my throat, setting me aflame.

And I couldn’t get enough. But then suddenly he was there, pounding into me with all the force of a Mack truck. Each moment he pulled back and I grew desperate for him, he slammed back into me. The bed screeched under us, as if the force of our movement was too much.

With his left hand—the one not twisted into my hair—He reached around my hip, until he was cupping my ass, his fingers gripping me so tightly I thought he might leave a bruise. What I thought was fireworks exploded into something more as he kissed me again, his tender lips so at odds with how fast, how hard he was thrusting into me.

I groaned, bucking against him. I was spiraling upward, my pulse roaring ever louder in my ear.

“Do you like that?” he asked, his tongue tracing my lips as his dick plunged in and out, harder and harder with each passing moment. Now he was giving me everything I had thought I wanted and even more, driving me over the edge of what I could take.

The pleasure had become so intense as to be almost unbearable.

“Yes,” I said, on a whisper, barley able to breathe.

“What do you want?” he said, but it’s more of a command.

“Harder,” I replied, breathless. “Harder.”

He obliged, picking up the pace and slamming back into me, our skin slapping together. Faster and faster and faster, his dick plunging in and out, heat spiraling through me.

I reached up and grabbed my own breast, twisting it in my fingers, desperate for more. I played with my nipple, pinching it too hard between my fingers but unable to care. I was building, careening toward a cliff that I so desperately craved.

“You’re so tight,” he murmured. He let his right hand slide out of my hair so that he could push my hand off my breast, so that he could replace my fingers with this tongue, circling my nipple, teasing me. Biting at the place I’d been pinching.

He didn’t stop thrusting, and with this other hand, he let his own fingers play over my other nipple, twisting and pulling at it.

My breathing grew raspy. His body was hot and hard against me, and I reached down, cupping his firm ass in each hand, yanking him up against me. Wanting more… more… more.

The rhythm of his cock slamming into me made my breath come in short, ragged gasps, driving me closer and closer to the cliff I was heading towards.

“You’re going to make me cum,” I said, arching my back, straining for the right angle as he brought me to climax.

“Come for me,” he growled, his dick plunging deeper and deeper with each thrust.

I started to cry out as everything released and I went over the edge, falling, falling.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned, as he fell with me.