Page 51 of Undeniable
He grunted and groaned as we dove into a rhythm, rolling around, me on top, him on top. We fucked, kissed. Our hands were everywhere yet nowhere.
I couldn’t get enough of him, and as afraid as I was of the morning after, I wanted to stay like this forever.
As our breaths became heavier and his thrusts faster, sweat poured off us, and I cried out. “Oh, Lucas.” He flexed his hips at the right angle, at the right spot, and my vision sparked. “I’m about to?—”
“Come for me,” he said through a grunt. “I’m right there.”
Suddenly, as if his command was all I needed, I tensed against him. I opened my mouth to release that euphoria when he swallowed my scream with his mouth.
His body jerked as he pulsed inside me. We stayed locked together, breathing heavily as we came down from a high like I’d never felt before.
Then he rolled off me. “Amazing.”
I rested my head on his chest. “Aren’t you supposed to refrain from sex the night before a game?”
He rubbed my back. “Some guys are superstitious like that. But not me.”
“Do you really believe in the tradition of the Wolf Howl?”
“All of us on the team believe in the Wolf Howl. It’s worked so far since I’ve been at Lakemont.”
“Even the ‘wolf has found his mate’ thing?” I traced the outline of his lips.
“You know, wolves mate forever. They’re bonded.”
I pinched his nipple, playfully of course. “Is that so? I just gave into your charms. So don’t think I’m marrying you.”
He rolled me over and tickled me. “But we’re fated, Midnight.”
I wiggled and laughed as he continued to tickle me. I didn’t care what he called whatever this was, as long as I could do this every night with him.
17
Lucas
The roar of the stadium faded to white noise as I crouched in the huddle, straining to hear Ryker’s voice. We had three minutes left in the game, and the score was 21-14 in favor of our opponent, Hill Country College. So far, they had played a near-perfect game like us. My teammates and I were fired up, catching passes and making plays. No fumbles, and our offensive linemen had protected Ryker so far in the game. But with very little time left, we needed a Hail Mary, and I was praying like an altar boy that the two NFL scouts in the stands liked what they’ve seen so far.
“It’s third down, and we need this play to convert.” Ryker’s voice was loud and commanding, his nerves controlled. “We’ll run the Pack Hunt 244. I’ll hand off to Ajax. Lucas, on the slant. As soon as the defense bites on the fake, you break into a deep route. By that time, Ajax will have thrown the ball back to me.” He pinned a hard look on each of us. “I need the offensive linemen protecting me at all costs. You guys have been outstanding today.”
My rush of adrenaline coupled with the knowledge that Mazzie was in the stadium was keeping me razor-sharp. In fact, I had been walking on air since the kiss of the century at the Wolf Howl last night. Good things were coming my way. I could feel it in my bones.
“Now, let’s give these fans a game to remember by winning,” Ryker shouted.
All of us clapped and grunted “Wolf Howl” before we got into formation.
The game was coming down to the wire, and we needed this win like we needed a bucket of ice water right now.
I bit down on my mouth guard, tuning out the voices, howls, whistles, and shouts. The world shrank to shadows and glaring patches of sunlight thrown by the afternoon sun, which was sliding lower in the sky. My pulse thudded along with the heartbeat of the packed house. Across from me, number 42—a Hill Country safety with murder in his eyes—smiled as if he knew something I didn’t.
The snap was clean. I fought past the safety, cutting left then right, breaking free. As I slanted across the field toward the sideline, that safety was right on my ass, hands pawing at my jersey. I growled, pumping my legs harder.
Your name is Hellion on the field for a reason. So step up and show the fans and the scouts what you can do, what you’ve done in many other games without breaking a sweat.
Two more strides, and I broke down the field, hard and deep, looking over my shoulder. Ryker had the ball in his hands, so I sprinted harder, legs burning, adrenaline pumping.
But Hill’s safety was still on my ass. So I broke my route, angling inward then pivoting toward the sideline in another fake move just as Ryker let go of the ball. It seemed to hang in the air, wobbling as if in slow motion as I continued down the sideline and toward the end zone. A few more yards.
Come on, man. You can taste that touchdown. Run like the fucking wind.
