Page 60 of The Midseason Fakeout

“I taste good?” I ask, breathing heavily.

“Angel, you couldn’t taste bad if you tried. I’m going to make you come on my tongue. I’m going to drink your juices like you did mine. And I’m going to savor every fucking second of it.”

Aidan gets in a rhythm, a flow that has my hips working into his face of their own accord. Miraculously, I think I’m going to orgasm again. “Oh God.”

He watches me, his gaze intent, studying me like a scholar of the game until I think he can fully play me whenever he wants. When I’m hovering over the edge to the point where it’s starting to hurt, he works me and works me.

I watch in bewilderment as he works my body like he’s fine-tuned it before. Like he made it, honestly. He knows every nuance. Every movement that drives me higher and higher.

“Aidan!”

He hums over my clit, spurring me on. White light blinds me for a split second while I come so hard I scream.

Aidan’s relentless. I try to push him away, but he holds me there. Just like he promised, he licks and sucks and drinks me in. My climax keeps coming, my whole body vibrating until he mercifully slows his movements and I fall back onto the bed.

“I think…” I breathe out, not entirely sure I am thinking correctly in my sexual daze, “you did that better than me.”

He tweaks my nipple, and I swear my pussy reacts, squeezing again. I moan.

“Did I break you?” he whispers in my ear.

“Is that possible?”

Expecting a snarky response, I wait for it, smiling. Instead, I get, “I think you broke me.”

17

AIDAN

“Hey,”a soft voice whispers. For a moment, I think it’s my mom. Mymommom. The one who put me up for adoption at five. I struggle to hold on to the voice, but then my brain does that thing it does, reminding me she gave me up.

It’s the push I need to shake out of the feeling.

“Hey.”

My eyes open at once, searching out Bails. This wake up is much more welcome. I stretch out in her bed, which has a lot more room than mine. “Hey.”

“Sleepy head.” She leans over, her lips brushing my ear when she says, “You’re so lucky your fake girlfriend wants all the good things for you. She made you breakfast.”

I blink, my body locking up. “You made me breakfast?”

“Pretty sure the most important player of a celebrated college team needs a good, healthy breakfast before a game.”

She tries to stand, but I close my hand around hers. “Seriously?”

She nods, patting my hand with her free one. Slowly, my grasp releases, and she gets up, picking my clothes up off the floor and draping them over the edge of the bed. She’s already dressed in a pair of royal-blue leggings and an oversized shirt falling off her shoulders.

“Figured I’d feed you before you do the walk of shame.” She chuckles to herself. “No complaining either. I had to do the same.”

Fuck that. There’s no walk of shame here. It’s the walk of someone who knows what he wants. There was no way I was leaving this room last night. We watched game film on my phone until she fell asleep next to me. She’d listened as I studied the defensive line out loud. She’d even pointed out that the right tackle wiggles his hands when he’s going to blitz.

I sit up in bed, looking around her sparsely decorated room. Every time I come in here, there’s a little something more, as if she’s piecing her life together slowly, making sure it’s right. Like she doesn’t want to add anything unless she really likes it. Unless it means something to her.

“I think we should talk,” I tell her, watching as she tosses some clothes into the hamper in her closet.

Her back straightens. Turning, she looks anywhere but my face. “After the game, ’kay? Everything can wait until after the game. This is your big moment. Your mom and dad are here. They want to see you at your best.”

She forces a smile to her face while looking just past me. “You know, if you don’t hurry, Darrin’s going to eat everything.” She turns to walk away but stops. “And please throw some pants on. I’ve already been teased relentlessly. If you show up practically naked, he might have a heart attack.”

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