Tackled: A Sports Romance Read online

  So I finish it. I pull open her shirt like a goddamn caveman, buttons scattering.

  "Always," I answer, my hand cupping her breast. I slide a finger inside her bra, and she grinds her hips against me like a reflex, something she can't control. A whimper escapes her lips as her nipple hardens to my touch.

  I want to see her nipples. I don't think I've ever wanted to see anything so bad in my life.

  "Colton, this totally against the rules," she whispers as I unhook her bra.

  "You sure?" I ask, palming her breast with one hand as I hold her against me with the other. My cock is throbbing its approval.

  "No," she confesses, her voice breathy.

  I bend down and flick my tongue lightly over her nipple. Her hands come to my head, and she grips me tightly against her breast. I cover her with my mouth, my tongue swirling around in circles as her breath gets shorter and shorter.

  Hell, I think she might come just from this.

  "No?" I ask, when I come up for breath.

  She shakes her head and looks at me, her chest rising and falling quickly. "I could lose everything," she whispers. "I... don't want to lose everything."

  I'm not sure whether she's talking about the tutoring position or her virginity. My cock presses against my zipper, so hard that I think it's going to explode, but then I look at her, standing here with her breath short and her shirt torn open, and I think about the fact that she's a virgin. In that split second, guilt washes over me.

  I don't fuck virgins. I fuck girls who have lots of experience, girls who are just up for a good time. Casual sex is my game. I've craved Cassie since I first saw her. I already know that if I taste her once, I'm going to want more.

  I only hesitate for a second, but she clears her throat, pulling the strap of her bra up onto her shoulder. "I…" she starts, her voice faltering. "This… um. I can't do this."

  She hooks her bra and slides back into her shirt, holding the front closed with one hand.

  "Your shirt," I say. "Shit. Hang on." I dig through my bag and grab a spare t-shirt. "I keep a change of clothes just in case."

  "Just in case you rip off a girl's shirt?" she asks, taking it from me.

  "Funny," I say. "That's the first time I've torn the buttons off a girl's shirt."

  "Somehow, I doubt that," she mutters softly. "I'm going to look like I'm doing the walk of shame out of here. This t-shirt is huge."

  The t-shirt hangs on her, far too large to fit her. Shit, I like the way she looks wearing it. I can see her lying on my bed in it.

  “It fits perfectly,” I say.

  She gives me a weird look as she ties the corner of the shirt into a knot, bunching up the material tightly around her waist. "I… should go. I… um, I'll see you later. Or next time. Maybe. I don't know."

  Shit. Now she's talking like she doesn't want to tutor me anymore. Way to royally fuck things up, Colton.

  She pauses with her hand on the doorknob, then turns to look at me. "You didn't tell me what you got on your test," she says.

  "I got an A."

  Cassie nods, an expression of something I can't place flitting across her face. She opens the door. "I see,” she says. “So you came to collect.”

  "No, that's not it at all – " I start, but she holds her hand up.

  "I should go."

  14

  Cassie

  "Shut the fuck up," Sable says before I even speak, looking up from the sofa. "That's his shirt!"

  "Don't say anything," I warn her. "I already had to sneak out of the athletic center wearing it. I'm not at all in the mood."

  "Did you do it?" she asks anyway. "Did you lose it? Was it good? You have to tell me, you know."

  "I don't want to talk about it." I blow through the living room and down the hallway to my room. I close the door to my room behind me with force, then lock it and sink against it.

  A small knock makes the door makes the door vibrate at my back. "Cass," comes Sable soft voice. "Nothing…bad happened, did it?"

  Bad? Only the fact that Colton King kissed me. And ripped off my shirt.

  And made me so horny that I'm still throbbing, even now.

  "No," I tell her

  "Because if he… you know… forced you, or something…"

  I sigh loudly. "Oh my God, Colton didn't rape me, Sable," I say firmly.

  "Well, that's good."

  "But I don't want to talk about it."

  "Okay," she adds. "Because if he hurt you in any way, I'll kill him."

  I stifle a laugh. I actually kind of believe her.

  "I have a concealed carry license," she points out.

  "You have a gun? In our apartment?" I ask, my voice rising.

  "I said I had a license, not a gun," she calls. "I'll be in front of the television watching a bunch of crazy girls fight over one moderately-attractive man, if you want to join me."

  But I don't. I stand there, leaning against the bedroom door, my hand on my chest, feeling my heart beating almost as furiously as it did when I was with Colton in the student center.

  What the hell just happened?

  One minute I was sitting there across from him, totally normal and about to start the session. The next minute, I was making out with him and shedding my clothes, consequences be damned. Well, technically he was ripping off my clothes.

  And there would be serious consequences.

  I have to remind myself of that, because the throbbing between my legs is so insistent that it threatens to eclipse every rational part of me. Colton King is off-limits for so many reasons, the least of which is the fraternization thing.

  He had to have been coming into the session with the expectation that I'd put out because he got an A. Total pig. He's a player. Sable's right; he's probably slept with half of the girls on campus. Hooking up with him would be a disaster.

  The way he kissed me, though...

  It wasn't like anyone else who's ever kissed me. It’s not like I have lots of experience in that department for comparison, but still. Colton kissed me fully, passionately, the kind of kiss where you lose your sense of reason and give in to whatever happens. In that moment, I wasn't thinking about consequences. Which is probably why what happened, happened.

  Who rips a girl's shirt right off her body, though? No normal guy does that. That kind of thing only happens in the movies or in romance novels.

  The way his lips felt against my skin, the way his tongue felt as he ran it over my nipple again and again... Even now it sends a shiver through me.

  But this is the same guy who brought over a dick bouquet to my apartment. He's not an appropriate choice. I shouldn't continue tutoring him. I obviously can't trust myself not to cross that line with him.

  I should tell the coach it didn't work out. Or trade players with one of the other tutors at the center.

  I should stay away from him.

  The thoughts ping-pong back and forth in my head, one right after the other, a war between the rational and irrational parts of my brain.

  When I'm lying in bed later, it's impossible to get thoughts of him out of my head. It's impossible to forget the way his hands felt on me, the way his lips felt against mine, his tongue practically warring with mine as he kissed me.

  And it's impossible to forget how much I wanted him to do what he promised, to bury his face between my legs and lick me until I could only cry out his name.

  * * *

  I skip the next session with Colton. I tell myself it's a completely reasonable decision, considering what happened. Except I feel like trash for skipping it. Colton shouldn't be punished for my inability to control myself around him. Especially not when he's been doing so well.

  To make matters worse, I work on my thesis during our session time. That just makes me feel doubly guilty, like I’m somehow using Colton as a research subject without his knowledge. I’m not writing about Colton, though – I’m just reviewing the literature on sports and masculinity. I tell myself that it has absolutely nothing to do wi