Ally
I collapse onto the safety of Dallas' bed. Lord, Austin Moon is potent. No, he's dangerous. I nearly burst into flames when those big, powerful hands were running over my foot. My legs. My sex. If we hadn't been interrupted... God, I would have had sex with him. Right there in Dallas' kitchen, where anyone could've walked in on us. That's how deep of a spell he had me under.
I rub my hot cheeks and try to ignore the even hotter feeling between my legs. I was grinding against him like I was trying out for a spot as a cam girl. I've never felt like that about a guy before. Maybe it's because I haven't had sex since last year. A year is a really long time to go without. I'm just experiencing a... sexual re-awakening. It's like when your limb falls asleep and when you wake it up, you're full of intense pain and buzzing until it wears off.
I just need for it to wear off. The next time I encounter Austin, I'll be prepared.
Next time? Oh, God, am I already anticipating a next time? How about never again? And shit, I promised Dallas to stay away from him. But I don't have to sleep with Austin. I could just... what?
Talk! That's what we'll do. We'll talk it out. Eat some food, have a drink, beer for him and a Coke for me, and we'll both laugh and realize that we're better off friends.
I try to force myself to sleep, but my mind whirls in circles. I need to stay away. But I can't help myself. But he's no good. But he's funny! He makes me laugh and, fuck me, the size of the monster in his pants. No! Do you not remember those Instagram photos? Do you really want to be the next member of the panty parade in Austin's bed? But I'd have to be dead not to appreciate what a perfect specimen of masculinity he is. How I was on fire just from him touching my fricking ankle!
And the circle goes around again. I toss and turn until Dallas' door slams open. I bolt up in bed wondering where the fire is only to sag back immediately when I see two shapes wrestle inside, half-laughing, half-trying to discover what the other person had for dinner.
I clear my throat as the two stumble and fall onto the sofa. "Ahem," I say a little louder.
Dallas peers over the blonde's shoulder and his eyes flicker in some dim remembrance.
"Oh, Ally. Forgot you were here." He's drunk so the words are slurred together, but I get the gist.
"I am here," I remind him.
"Can you just..." He spins his finger around in quick circle.
I gape. "For real? You just want me to cover my head and pretend you're not here?"
"No. We're going to pretend you're not here," the girl shoots back. I don't recognize this one. She's not the blonde from earlier, and she's not Tilly.
Dallas looks out at me glassy eyes. "You don't mind, do you?" His hand runs up the back of his companion, and she responds by rubbing her chest all over him.
I stare at the two of them in disbelief. He wants me to pretend he's not having sex on the couch? I take too long to respond because my inability to form words is taken as consent by the girl. She proceeds to noisily kiss Dallas' neck, sounding for all the world like a fish flopping around on a dock.
He must be so drunk he can't hear her or so horny he doesn't care. Maybe it's both.
"I do mind, actually."
"Don't be a cockblocker," the girl says, her mouth partially muffled against Dallas' neck.
"That would be cuntblocker," I correct impatiently. "You don't have a cock."
"Did you just call me a cunt, bitch?"
I turn to Dallas. "You know how to pick them."
"I'm not judging her IQ, just the quality of her snatch," he replies crudely.
And the girl? She doesn't even flinch. If anything I think her expression grows victorious.
"Nice, Dallas. Real nice."
"Ally, give us..." He looks down at the girl and back to me. "Twenty minutes."
"Twenty minutes?" His friend squawks. "I want to spend the night here."
"Right, I really don't do sleepovers," Dallas tells her and starts to rise.
"You have someone in your bed!" She points to me. Yet my presence, no matter what the reason, doesn't drive her off.
"It's just Ally. She doesn't matter."
I know he's drunk, but that was rude. And here I was feeling guilty that I'd kissed his teammate. After this, I should have the right to kiss the whole damn team! I climb out of bed, find my socks, and grab my backpack. Dallas reaches out to grasp my hand as I leave.
"Don't go. Just wait downstairs. I'll be a half hour. Hour tops."
"No, you won't." The girl takes Dallas' face between her hands. "I'm going to rock your world. You don't need her."
Without waiting for any response, she pulls Dallas' hand down between her legs and starts rocking. Oh. My. God. Dallas is really losing it. I hustle out of there before the contents of my dinner decorate their rapidly discarded clothes.
Outside Dallas' room, I slip on my socks and then glance back into the room. The two are going at it on the very sofa he screwed some other girl on just a few hours previously.
I run a hand through my hair. I don't know what's going on with Dallas. He's usually not like this. Yes, I know he has sex, and I know he has plenty of girls on campus after him, but I could have sworn he had real interest in Tilly last semester. Now he's acting like a manwhore without a conscience, and that's just not him.
Something is wrong with Dallas, but short of stalking in there and pulling the girl off of him, I can't really address it with him tonight. Or, I guess, it's morning. I pull out my phone to check the time. It's nearing two in the morning. I have a ten o'clock class. I'll deal with him tomorrow but for now? I just want a damn place to sleep.
If my apartment wasn't being fumigated and if breathing pesticides wouldn't kill me, I'd go home. But I'm stuck here. Somewhere in this place has to be a place for me to crash.
I trot downstairs and find the living room empty. It's not my first choice, and half the house is still out partying, which means I could fall asleep only to be woken up several times as Dallas' roommates straggle home, but I don't have many more options.
A couple of raised voices coming from the porch catch my attention. I quietly approach the front door to see who's arguing, only to jerk back like a character from a bad spy movie when I see Austin and Gavin.
Shit. I'm totally not prepared to deal with Austin so soon. The imprint of his body is fresh in my mind. I might still be a little drunk from his kiss. I need some time and distance to build up an immunity to him so I can see him and not want to tear off my clothes and his.
I peek through the sidelight. Whatever Austin is trying to sell, Gavin isn't buying. His arms are crossed and his jaw is set in a hard, unhappy line.
What did Dallas say this morning? Better than former National Championship player demoted in favor of true freshman recruit.
Surely he wasn't referring to himself? Surely... I yank open the door and the two shut up the moment they see me.
"What are you doing here?" I accuse.
"I live here," Gavin says with a grin. It's a fake grin. There are worry lines around his eyes. The suspicious kernel that formed when I first saw the two arguing starts to take shape.
"This is about Dallas, isn't it?" When the two don't answer, I reach out and jab my finger into Gavin's chest. "Your quarterback is losing it. He's drunk, screwing random girls, and acting like a teenager with her first bout of PMS."
Gavin raises his hands. "I'm too drunk to deal with this right now." What a fricking lame-assed excuse. Gavin's as sober as a judge on Monday mornings. "Good night, Ally." He leans down and gives me a kiss on my temple. "Nice jammies."
I look down at my Harry Potter pajama top and matching shorts. "They are nice," I yell at his departing back. I turn my irritation on Austin. "What's wrong with my jammies?"
"Nothing's wrong with your pajamas, Alls, but I'm definitely not a fan of your socks. Where'd you get those?"
"What is your obsession with my socks?" I lift one foot up. "These are my dad's."
"Then your socks are fine." There's a banked heat in his eyes that makes it hard for me to meet them without blushing.
"Speaking of Dallas-"
"I wasn't actually speaking of Dallas," Austin interrupts. "I was speaking of us. You and I and how you're really heartbroken that we were interrupted before we could take a few more risks. Me, too." His voice thickens seductively. He steps forward, and I step backward, and he keeps coming until the door is closed behind him. "But we can patch our bruised hearts by seeing each other tomorrow night."
"I'm busy." I cross my arms, in part to ward off his charm and in part to keep from grabbing his shirt and whipping it over his head.
"Yes, studying, but you can't study all the time, and you aren't studying now." He pulls gently on my crossed arms, dragging me across the wood floor until there's hardly a breath between us. "How was the reward, Ally? And don't tell me it didn't exist because you'd be lying. I was there. I felt you. I swallowed your sexy little gasps, and I felt you grind-"
"Okay!" I throw my hand across his mouth. "I felt something. Something good." His eyes gleam in the night. He's like this big cat just waiting to devour me, and worse? I want to be devoured. "But it's late, and my head is muddled. I can't think or sleep."
I know I've just admitted to him that I can't stop thinking about him, that he's actually keeping me up at night, but the words tumble out of me. And once they're out, I have a certain sense of relief. The tension had been building and building, and it had to come out.
His whole face softens beneath my hand. He presses a small kiss into the palm and then pulls it gently away from his mouth.
Still holding my hand, he asks "Why aren't you in bed, Alls?"
"You know why." It's embarrassing. "Because Dallas brought a girl home."
His eyes search my face, looking for hurt, I suppose. I'm not hurt. I'm pissed off and tired.
"I think he forgot he said I could stay."
Austin's lips thin out in disapproval. "You can't sleep down here. Half the offense is still at the Gas Station."
"I know. I wasn't planning on getting much sleep."
His eyes dart to the sofa where I left my backpack. "You're coming with me." He releases me to go over and shoulder my backpack. He stops near the front door and eyes all the random coats hanging on hooks. "Where's your coat?"
"Upstairs. Why?" I ask with growing suspicion.
"I guess you don't need it." He throws out a hand. "Come on. Let's go."
"No." Oh no. I'm not going home with him and sleeping in his bed. I wasn't born yesterday.
"Now, Ally, despite all evidence to the contrary, I believe you're a standup woman. If you pinky swear to keep your hands to yourself and not take advantage of me, I'll believe you." He wiggles his pinky in my direction.
I can't even do the pinky swear because I don't know if I can keep my hands off him. After what happened in the kitchen, he'll be lucky to make it to his house unmolested. Spending a whole night with him by my side? He's going to need a chastity belt.
At my hesitation, he points upstairs. "Or you can go upstairs and enjoy Dallas' floor show."
I tell myself that I'm agreeing to go with him because it's the only good choice I have left.
"Fine." I grab one of the coats from the hall and shrug into it. But there's no way we're sharing a bed. Absolutely no way. "You'll be sleeping on the floor."
"Are you really making me sleep on the floor?" Austin lies on four yoga mats taped together while I'm ensconced in his cozy bed. His room is about the same size as Dallas' with a small refrigerator, a desk, and a chair situated by the window overlooking the back of the house and into the common area all the houses share. It's why they call this particular set of student housing the Playground. The guys party out there during the warmer weather and throw snowballs during the colder weather, or so Dallas tells me.
There's a door situated slightly behind the chair that leads to the bathroom. All the bedrooms have their own bathrooms. How nice for them.
Austin also has a nice large bed, larger than my twin, but instead of the sofa running across the far wall like in Dallas' bedroom, there are the yoga mats.
His bed smells nice, like citrus and... well, him. Of course, I like it, as I seem to like everything about him, and surreptitiously take another deep sniff. I'm going to have to buy an orange and rub it on Elle so that the smell starts having a negative connotation. Otherwise, I'm going to get excited at breakfast every morning.
Want any orange juice?
No, ma'am. It makes me orgasm. Can't drink OJ in public now.
"Yes, I'm making you sleep on the floor. Why do you have the mats there anyway? If you had a sofa, you'd be able to sleep on that instead of the mats."
"Because I like to stretch. Good stretching equals fewer injuries. But these mats are meant for stretching, not sleeping."
"I know you don't have practice tomorrow and that you don't have practice for like three weeks, so I don't care." I stare at the ceiling so I can avoid looking toward Austin. He got undressed in his bathroom but came out wearing flannel sleep pants and no shirt. And those sleep pants are somewhere on the floor between us. He'd taken them off under the thin blanket covering him.
I almost swallowed my tongue at the sight of shirtless Austin, so I huddled under the covers, hands clenched together, exerting as much control as I can so I don't launch myself at him. "You're the reason I have to sleep here anyway. If you and the rest of the team hadn't made Dallas miserable, he wouldn't have come home with a woman and essentially kicked me out of my room."
"Why were you there again?" he asks.
I can hear the skepticism in his voice. It's so typically male of him to think the opposite sex can't be friends. Dallas and I've tried to explain it. Most of my female friends get it. Dallas' friends assume we slept together and when Dallas moved me into the friend zone, I continued to hang around hoping he'd realize what a prize I truly was.
"Because Dallas is my best friend. Has been since third grade. We met in the nurse's office. Dallas had childhood asthma, you know."
"No, I didn't know," he admits. "What were you in there for?"
"Got hit with a ball."
He moves again on the mats. It can't be comfortable down there. I can feel myself weakening.
"What if we sleep with the pillows between us like the Puritans did?" he suggests.
I can't help but laugh. He's got a one-track mind. "Did you take that class, too?"
"You bet your ass I did. Who knew the Puritans were so horny?"
"I don't think it was the Puritans who were horny. I think it was Professor Collinsworth." Professor Collinsworth is a tiny woman who looks like a raisin with white hair. Her class, Early American History, is all about sex and violence during the colonial period.
"When did you take that class? Were we in that class together?" There's more rustling, and I can't help myself from glancing in Austin's direction. I find him lying on his side, propped up by an elbow, his golden, perfectly formed chest highlighted by the moon.
"Yes, but not until last semester. I didn't know about it until my roommate Piper told me that it's a great filler class." A class to pad your GPA.
"Ahh, my student advisor signed me up for it second semester sophomore year."
"You have Public Safety with her."
"Describe her for me." His head falls onto his hand as if he's settling in for a nice, long chat. There's something irresistible about a man who wants to listen about nothing and everything. I mentally add that to the reward column, which keeps getting longer each moment I spend with him.
"She's about a foot shorter than you with blonde hair. Kind of has a '50s pinup style to her. Wears a lot of silver bracelets on both arms. Jingles like a Christmas tree. Very attractive."
Austin squints as if trying to picture her. "Not seeing it."
Neither of us seems interested in sleep. It's like the first night we were together, when all we wanted to do was talk. "If you slept with her, would you remember her?"
"Yeah, why wouldn't I?" He shrugs. His shoulder roll actually highlights his muscles, lifting the pecs up into the light and then down into the shadows. "I haven't slept with that many women."
"So you could name them all?" The seemingly unending list of winners that popped up in the hashtag scroll by in my mind's eye. That bit weighs heavily in the risk column.
He sighs deeply. "Probably not. Does it matter, though? The women I've slept with have wanted the same thing. Simple, easy release. There's no shame in the hookup. Not for the girl or the guy as long as everyone's on the same page." He rolls onto his back, taking the peep show with him.
He has me there, and frankly, I don't want to know his list of past conquests. I don't know why I brought it up in the first place other than I need a reason to dislike him. I need to remind myself that he's a risk with a capital "R" because my defenses toward him are so weak right now.
I play my last defense card. "You're really not going to tell me what's going on with Dallas? What made you and Gavin argue earlier?"
"No."
He shifts again on the mats but doesn't invite himself into the bed, even though I'm pretty sure he wants to. He's not the only one.
Finally, I give in, because I'm weak and he's so damned attractive. "You can sleep on the bed with me, but I swear to you if you try to feel me up tonight, I will cut off your hand."
He's up and at the bed before I finish.
Grinning down at me, he says, "I kind of need my hands. Would you consider cutting off a finger? Or three? Because apparently you can still be a damned good linebacker with only a few fingers."
"Depends on the infraction." I move over to the far side of the bed. Austin climbs in beside me.
"I like you, Ally. And your insistence on labeling me as risky does not make me like you any less," he says cheerfully and tucks his hands under his pillow. His elbow lands close enough to my head that if I simply turned my cheek, I could kiss it.
I force myself to lie still.
"I don't know what that means," I tell him.
"It means I'm not done with you."
I frown. "You don't get to decide that."
"Nope. You can't stop me from liking you. It's just a thing. Like the sun rising and the tides coming in."
"You're bored, aren't you? You're an obsessive sort of guy, and without the object of your obsession, aka football, to distract you, you've latched on to me for some reason. Is that it?"
"If that argument makes you feel safer, go with it." The smile is still on his face. I can hear it in his voice. "The thing is, Alls, if you don't sleep with me now, it'll be this niggling regret you'll have all your life. You'll be thirty-five and on your wedding day-"
"I'm not getting married until thirty-five?"
"Hush. This is my story. Anyway, you're on your wedding day. The wedding march begins. The double doors open. At the end of the aisle stands some pasty-faced groom you settled on. In the back of your mind, you think, I wonder what Austin Moon was like in bed. And then you won't be able to walk down that aisle. You're haunted by this lack of knowledge. You turn on your heel and run. Ultimately you ruin this poor sap's life, make enemies out of his entire family, and spend a shitload of money you'll never get back because you didn't take up this opportunity when you had it."
"That's quite a line."
"It's the truth."
I roll over and try to forget I'm lying next to the first guy I've been attracted to in a long time. Austin has no such problem. His gentle snores fill the air minutes later. It's a long, frustrating night for me.
I dream the dirtiest dream that night. It consists of Austin's very large hands throwing the covers aside and then running themselves all over my body. I moan so loudly when his fingers delve between my legs, I wake myself up. Only to find him sleeping next to me like a baby.
I place my hand over my galloping heart and breathe a huge sigh of relief that I haven't woken him up and that I haven't done what I warned him against-middle-of-the-night creeping.
Austin's still sleeping and hasn't moved an inch since last night.
I give myself a few moments to gawk at him. He has a hard, hot body that apparently does not need any covers because the sheet and blanket are kicked down around his thighs, revealing an expanse of golden skin stretched over muscled shoulders, chest, and abs. He's an athlete, I remind myself. They're all hardbodies. But as much as I tell myself he's not my type, I can't keep the lie in my head long enough to be convincing.
In my dreams, he was exactly my type. Probably my only type. I shudder and try to shake free of the vision of him touching me, kissing me.
His right arm is thrown across his forehead and his left rests across his abdomen. His fingertips are touching the waistband of his underwear and I'm helpless to stop my eyes from drifting downward where an impressive morning erection is barely held inside the stretchy fabric. My fingers itch to reach over and palm that bulge.
Holy hell, I feel lightheaded this morning.
I allow myself ten more seconds of ogling before I push myself upright, only to immediately fall down again.
The thump serves to rouse Austin from his sleep. He blinks, slowly, gradually gaining consciousness. I avert my eyes when his hand drifts lower to cup himself. He halts halfway there, as if suddenly remembering my presence in his bed.
He turns his head lazily toward me. "Hey."
"Good morning." I try to smile.
"Sorry about that." He gestures with his head toward his crotch. "Habit."
"No worries," I reply as if seeing a guy fondle himself is a regular occurrence in my life. "So I have to ask you a favor."
"Sure. What do you need?" He rolls over and props himself on one elbow.
"I need a glass of orange juice or milk."
"We have OJ for sure. Probably not milk though." He pats his firm stomach. "Growing boys and all."
My eyes linger there far too long to be polite. When I finally pull my gaze away from his ripped torso, I find him grinning at me. There's something devilish on the tip of his tongue.
He doesn't disappoint. "I'm pretty to look at, aren't I?"
"Yes, yes you are," I laugh with relief that he doesn't mind I was totally perving on him.
"You lie here and think about how awesome I am while I go and get your juice." He walks out, uncaring that he's still sporting a bit of wood in his shorts. I guess that's what it's really like to live in a house full of guys.
He returns in no time, bringing a plate of eggs, toast, a huge mound of bacon, a glass of orange juice, and a Gatorade.
"If the football thing doesn't pan out for you, you can go into cooking. Be a chef."
"What do you mean if this doesn't pan out? I'm a football god." He winks at me. "Small 'g.'"
I believe it. Despite the tiny number of college players moving on to the pros, UF has sent more players to the NFL than any other college in the country. It's why Dallas came here even though he knew he wasn't guaranteed a starting position.
"What about after football?"
"Well after my fifteen years of dominating at the inside linebacker position, I'll retire from the pros and focus my time on terrorizing my kid's friends."
"Two boys to follow in your football god-small 'g'-footsteps?"
"Nah. I want to have tea parties and a reason to dress up silly and post pictures on Instagram that will go viral and have everyone saying how awesome a dad I am."
"You were only gone a couple minutes," I say suspiciously. He drops the plate on the side of the bed and hauls me upward, slipping a pillow behind my back before taking a seat by my side. He hands me a glass.
"I stole it from Dez." He sweeps my hair out of my face as I sip on the orange juice.
"I'll be out of your hair in fifteen minutes, I know you're probably not used to breakfast in bed."
"There's no hurry." He drapes himself like a giant cat across the lower half of my body, reaches over for the plate and sets it between us. He watches me with studied casualness as I eat my eggs, occasionally stealing a slice of bacon while I gobble up the breakfast he stole from his roommate.
If this is the kind of treatment women get after a night with Austin, I can see why he's so popular.
"I can see by the sad face you're thinking of something not good, and I have to say that the rule of this bed includes no bad thoughts," he declares as he grabs his Gatorade and proceeds to drink a quarter of it.
"You have rules in bed?" I find myself fascinated with the movement of his Adam's apple. Even the act of him drinking is somehow sexy and strong. I give myself a mental slap. Get it together, Alls. Oh Christ. Now I'm referring to myself with his nickname.
"Only one: everyone has a good time."
My mind gallops toward all the interesting pictures that a good time entails. His head between my legs. His hands cupping my breasts. His mouth moving everywhere.
"Those eggs must be really good," Austin observes.
"Why do you say that?" I ask as innocently as possible. Surely he couldn't tell what I was thinking about.
He grins. "You just moaned a little."
"I did not." Did I? If I did, I want to die. Really just want to crawl under the blankets and hope the earth swallows me up.
"Okay, maybe you didn't."
I assess him suspiciously but decide the best way forward is denial all the way. I have a feeling that if I reveal I'm in any way receptive to him, he'd have me on my back, clothes off, faster that I can say hut hut.
As if that's a bad thing, the evil creature in the back of my mind whines. I push her aside and finish eating my breakfast.
"You thinking about Dallas or whatever big thing you were sighing about the other night?" he asks.
Neither. I was thinking about you and your sexy body. Do you mind putting on a shirt? "Both topics violate your rules of the bed."
He heaves a big sigh. "See, I'm trying to ignore that you're nearly nude and that I would love to explore all that creamy skin, but I'm guessing that's off the table, so I'm trying to change the subject."
I try to remember why we aren't actually doing the things he's suggested, but then I remember my stupid risk assessment. "Oh."
"Yeah, oh."
Changing the subject is a superb idea. I clear my throat. "So do you have class today?"
He takes a deep breath and looks past my head out the window. "Yeah, I have Public Safety with your hot friend."
His reference to Piper as hot annoys the heck out of me. Mostly because there's no impediment to the two of them getting it on. And the thought of Austin feeding Piper breakfast in bed, despite Piper being one of my closest friends, makes me want to Hulk Smash this breakfast plate. "You think Piper is hot? I thought you didn't know her."
"You said she was hot. I'm just repeating your description. Although..." He pauses to take another sip of his Gatorade. "A girl's definition of hot is different than a guy's definition."
"Well, by all means, educate me." I fold my arms.
"Okay, but I'm going to be crude. Since we're besties now, though, I figure that's okay."
"How are we besties?"
"What? You have sleepovers with people who aren't your besties?" He slaps a theatrical hand over his bare chest, and my eyes unwillingly fall, again, on that beautiful piece of art.
"Austin..." I say warningly.
He grins into his bottle, not at all chastened. It would likely take a gaggle of nuns to get him to behave and maybe not even then.
"Hot is a word used to describe anything that gets our dicks hard. It could be red lips or a sliver of skin between the waistband of a girl's jeans and the top of her shirt. It could be, hell, smell. Hot's not the same as pretty or attractive or interesting or nice. It's just, fuck that makes me hard. Girls use it to describe guys they want to bang." He snaps his mouth shut as a thought occurs to him. By the naughty gleam in his eyes, I know exactly where his dirty mind went. "Does that mean you want to bang Piper? Because, Alls, I would be so down for that."
I roll my eyes. "That's a negative in the risk assessment."
"Ah, I was just kidding." At my raised eyebrow of disbelief, he clarifies, "Okay, I'll admit that seeing you with another girl would be hot. But the truth is seeing you in any kind of sexual situation would turn me on. I was at the Gas Station over the weekend. There are willing women every two inches, but I didn't find any of them hot even though, objectively, I'm sure other people would. It's not the other girl in that threesome fantasy. It's you."
And crap. That's a positive in the risk assessment. The way he says you -as if he really means it, as if I'm currently the only thing he finds hot right now- is so damn tempting.
I flail like a drowning victim for another lifeline.
"Dallas says you're a player and would break my heart."
