Tackled Read online

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Why isn't she here tonight?"

  I groan in exasperation. "She's... this isn't the place for her."

  Sable raises her eyebrows. "How noble of you to protect her honor," she says sarcastically. "I'm sure she appreciates the gesture. What you really mean is that you didn't invite her."

  "I wasn't being a dick," I protest. "Why the hell are you even here?"

  "Tank," Sable says.

  "I didn't know he invited you."

  "Yeah, well he did. So now you look like a real ass because you didn't invite Cassie," Sable points out. "So I came up here to tell you to stop being an ass. I don't know why the two of you have this hot-and-cold bullshit going on, but you really just need to get over it and start fucking already because you're both on my last nerve."

  "You're nosy and interfering," I say, shaking my head. "You and my mother would get along well."

  "That's probably why I like her so much." Sable grins triumphantly. "So I've said my piece. Now I'm going to go hump your roommate."

  "Too much information," I call to her retreating figure. "I don't need that image in your head."

  "Go get my roommate naked so you have a replacement image in your head."

  Well, shit. I wasn't thrilled about this party in the first place. And now Cassie... God, she must think I'm the biggest prick ever.

  I take out my phone, and start to text an apology. Fuck. That'll be a lame ass text message.

  Grabbing my car keys, I head downstairs instead.

  I push my way through the growing crowd, annoyed about all of the people already inside my fucking house. I want some goddamn peace and quiet, not sloppy drunk chicks trying to hang on my arm as I pass. Three of my teammates are standing around in the front room drinking beer and being obnoxious. Someone I don't know is upside-down doing a keg stand.

  Dillon yells my name and I keep going. I never liked him to begin with, but since he said that shit about Cassie at the athletic center, he really rubbed me the wrong fucking way.

  "Yo, where's the hot tutor?" Dillon yells when he catches up to me.

  "There is no hot tutor," I say, ignoring him and heading for the door.

  "The chick in the locker room before wasn't your hot little piece of ass?"

  I clench my hands into fists. Let it go, I tell myself. I step outside into the humid Texas evening air.

  "I think I'll take a turn with her." His slurring voice cuts through the noise behind me, and I turn around, a mixture of anger and adrenaline surging through me.

  "I think you'll leave her the fuck alone."

  Dillon grins, obviously enjoying pissing me the hell off. "Come on," he eggs me on. "I know you've been hitting that. That girl's lips were made to suck cock."

  "She's not like that," I growl. I should walk away. He's trying to rile me up and that's it.

  "She looks like she'd know what to do with that tight little pussy —"

  I don't let him finish. "She's a virgin, you stupid fuck."

  I punch him, square across the jaw. He reels backward, stumbling for a second before he runs at me. The impact knocks me to the ground and he hits me once, but I'm too angry to give a fuck. The only thing I can think about is how much I want to beat his ass into the ground. So I do. I'm on top of him, hitting him, but I only get a couple of punches in before Tank is pulling me off of him.

  "Fight's over!" Tank yells. Someone else drags Dillon away from me. When I try to go after him again, Tank blocks me. "You know he's just running his mouth. It's not worth it."

  I gulp deep breaths of air, too hopped up on adrenaline to give a fuck about reason. I want to beat his ass, and I want to do it right this second, but people are pulling Dillon back into the house.

  "It's over," one of the guys yells.

  "It's over," Tank repeats to me. "Go, cool off... Somewhere that's not here."

  "Fuck," I yell. I'm amped up and I want to go hit something. Normally that would be the weight room.

  Except I don’t go to the weight room. I go to Cassie’s.

  22

  Cassie

  I snuggle up on the sofa, not working on my thesis like I should be. Instead, I give myself a manicure and pedicure and slap Sable's mud mask all over my face. I eat ice cream out of the carton and watch bad reality television. It's cookie dough, my favorite, and it's nice and quiet here. Here there's no loud music, no obnoxious football players, and no topless girls throwing themselves at said obnoxious football players.

  I'm not bitter about the non-invite.

  Colton is right. What happened was no big deal. Sure, he's hot, but that's it. I hooked up with him and nothing more. In fact, I should hook up with him like crazy. Get him to do the deed, take my virginity. It’s time I got it over with. It'll be like ripping off a bandage, right? No messy feelings and no messy relationship necessary.

  Yep, that's a plan.

  Totally.

  I take another bite of cookie dough.

  When I hear the knock on the door, I sigh and get up, ice cream in hand. "Why are you back so early? Bored with Tank already?"

  But it's not Sable.

  It's Colton.

  And I'm standing here in my shitty pajamas. With mud all over my face.

  "You," I say, pushing the door halfheartedly closed in his face before heading to the kitchen to get rid of the ice cream. When I turn around, Colton is standing there.

  With a purple-blue bruise under his eye.

  My eyes fall to his hands, clenched into fists at his side, and I momentarily forget why I'm annoyed with him, taking his hands into mine and turning them around. His knuckles are bloody, his skin torn.

  "Did you get in a fight? Or is this from dragging your knuckles on the ground?" I'm only half-joking about the knuckle-dragging caveman quip.

  He doesn't answer.

  He pulls me against him, his hand on the small of my back, and presses his lips roughly against mine. My body does what it always does when he touches me. Arousal rushes through me and I don’t think. When his tongue finds mine, I surrender to his kiss, forgetting about everything else.

  He grips my ass, pulling me firmly against him, and I’m only half-aware of him picking me up and sitting me on top of the kitchen counter. His hands are all over me, his calloused palms rough against my skin as he cups my breasts. I slide my hands underneath his shirt, my hands roaming his chest as he kisses his way down my neck.

  Every cell in my body is screaming for more. More of his hands on me. More of his lips on me. More of him.

  When he pulls away from me, his voice is rough. Ragged. “It wasn’t not a big deal,” he insists. “What happened. I mean, it was a big deal.”

  “You’re a dick,” I say, matter-of-fact.

  “Say that again. But only the last word.”

  “Dick,” I whisper.

  He covers my mouth with his and I melt into him. “I’d listen to dirty words come out of that pretty little mouth all day,” he murmurs, his voice low. “Say cock.”

  “How about cocksucker?” I suggest.

  He growls. “That’ll do.”

  His lips graze the side of my neck underneath my ear. I hear myself whimper, but not in pain, and he pulls back, looking at me for a minute.

  “I just…" he begins. "I’ve… never hung around a girl after hooking up with her. I came here to – oh fuck, I don't know why I came here. I needed to cool off and I – I just thought of you. I didn't come here to do this, but then you were standing there in the doorway, looking like that… and I couldn't keep my hands off you.”

  Looking like…Oh, God. My hand goes to the facemask, the mud crackled all over my skin. “Why are you making out with me?? I look like a train wreck right now.”

  “Maybe I like train wrecks.”

  I slide off the counter, ignoring what he just said. “You need something for your hands,” I urge him, scooting away. “I’ll get you peroxide.”

  I don’t wait for him to answer. I run down