Silk and Shadows (The Virgin Diaries Book 3) Read online

  “Don’t fucking stab your own teammate in the back. That just shows why you shouldn’t be out there,” I growl.

  I should say a lot more. Hell, I’m this close to beating the shit out of him. But I have no proof he’s done it on purpose. It’s obvious now that he did, but he’ll weasel his fucking way out of it with Coach and I’ll be the one talking shit like a crybaby. But with the whole team watching, this isn’t about the coaches. Every man in this room knows in his gut that Jake just tried to have me sacked on the line so that he could get some grass time.

  And that shit doesn’t fly. Not with any team, but especially not with the Ravens. The circle of guys gathers closer and I think Jake can see the sea of fury encroaching.

  He pushes past one of the smaller guys and makes a break for the locker room door. “Whatever. Glory hound,” Jake says, turning away.

  I look around at the guys, who are waiting for my signal on how we want to handle Jake’s breech of the football code. “Fuck that asshole. We have a game to win.” Will takes over the pep talk from there, and we run back out, ready to rock.

  The second half is a total turnaround. With Coach Buckley running the signals directly to me, our offense clicks on all cylinders, and we unleash hell on the Bulldogs. We’re so far ahead, the Bulldogs don’t have a chance at recovering, so Coach pulls me out and lets Jake get some field time . . . and to ensure I don’t end up with some stupid injury that didn’t have to happen.

  I’m pretty satisfied when the whole defensive line seems to instantly falter and a lineman gets through to Jake, sacking him to the grass. The same thing happens on the next play. Jake’s time on the field is basically useless as he keeps eating the turf. We keep the Bulldogs from making any headway, but the team sacrifices gaining any ourselves.

  It’s still a shootout, though, and as the guys pile off the field, they all give me high-fives. Will stops, pressing his helmet to my forehead and talking low. “Ravens don’t put up with that shit. But you need to let it go now. We fought your battle for you so that you wouldn’t fuck up your future. You got me?”

  I nod back, the significance of what he’s saying sinking in. “Thanks, man. You didn’t have to do that. But thanks.”

  He grins and gives me a big wink before letting out a big whooping yell. “We were gonna win, no matter what! Ravens forever! Let’s hear it for my man, Zach!”

  And like the bottle’s been uncorked, the excitement bubbles over. Everyone’s congratulating me, and Coach Jefferson doesn’t even wait until we’re back in the locker room to toss me the game ball in front of the stands. “You earned it, Son. Damn fine job today!”

  I smile and nod, telling him thanks. The team lines up near the student section for the Alma Mater, but before we’re even started, I see Jake turn and storm off the field. Whatever. I bet Coach will chew his ass for it, and in the future, I’m going to insist he doesn’t relay the calls. He’s got a knife, and it’s pointed right at my back. Luckily, the rest of the guys have me and I have them.

  The music plays on, and it’s a great feeling to stand here with my team, knowing we’re playing our best season ever. But regardless of how much everyone might be pounding my shoulders and congratulating me, I should be enjoying this whole thing with my girl.

  Yes, my girl.

  I look out into the crowd, and at that moment, I see her in the stands. I wave to her, feeling slightly stupid, but when she waves back, it feels good to know I’ve been playing a great game in front of her.

  Suddenly, the guys all crowd around and in one big mosh pit of craziness, I’m shuffled to the locker room amid the celebration. I manage to poke my head up above the mass and yell, “Norma, meet me by the locker room!” I think I see her nod before I’m carried away.

  Chapter 13

  Norma

  The game is amazing! I’m kind of ashamed to admit it, but I’ve never been to one of our college games. Not until Zach. Sure, I’ve seen them on television, and I went to a few of the important games in high school, but it’s nothing like the rush of a college Homecoming game. The stands are a sea of black and gold for the Ravens and red and white for the Bulldogs. There’s an undulating energy to the crowd, everyone cheering and booing in unison as the teams battle it out on the field. And watching Zach play the game that he loves, I’m suddenly struck with understanding why he loves it so much.

  Somewhere after half-time, I hear my name being shouted from the stands below me. I scan the crowd and see Erica waving at me. I smile and wave back and she starts to work her way up to me. Luckily, the couple sitting next to me seem to be on a bathroom break and Erica sneaks into one of their seats for a minute.

  “Hey, girl! Never thought I’d see you at a game! What do you think?” she asks excitedly. I grin, enjoying seeing my usually serious and hard-pressing boss a bit crazy. Her hair is pulled up in a big cheerleader bow that’s almost as big as my palm and she has logoed eye black on her cheeks, her right proclaiming Ravens and her left #1. She’s also wearing a team shirt and has a pompom on a stick. She’s a fangirl, which surprises me somehow.

  “I love it! Look at you . . . you’re totally a football groupie!” I say with a laugh.

  She laughs and shakes her head. “No, more like a super fan. I’m not a dick-hopping groupie when I’ve got a good one of my own.” She leans close and points back down where she was sitting, where as if he sensed she was talking about him, a good-looking guy turns around and smiles at Erica. She gives him a little finger waggle and he laughs before going back to watching the game. “So, you here for Zach?”

  I nod. “Yeah, I’m meeting him after the game for some HoCo team party. Supposed to be fun, but I’m nervous.” The admission is truer than I’d like to admit. What we have together is awesome, but introducing me to his team feels like it’s on par with me introducing him to Liam. Major.

  “Ooh, have fun! That’s probably a big deal to take someone as your girl, not your flavor of the week. Seems like maybe I was wrong about Zach and you. Maybe you do have a magic pussy that can tame the wildest of manwhores? You’ll have to tell me all your secrets.” She says it jokingly, and I realize she’s probably mildly drunk and not filtering, but it’s still a bit of a sting.

  “Oh, yeah, pussy whipped him right into shape,” I joke, playing off the pseudo-compliment.

  But she doesn’t stop, “Girl, I would’ve bet money that you would’ve barely been able to tutor him successfully, much less turn his eye. Not because you’re not gorgeous, because I mean, have you seen you?” She grins loopily. “But he’s just . . . Zach Knight, Quarterback Extraordinaire. He could have pussy twenty-four, seven if he wanted.”

  She’s not wrong. Hell, I basically said as much to Zach. But he reassured me that he wants only me and I believed him. I do believe him. But it’s hard to remember that when Erica is verbalizing the same insecurities that I already have.

  “Yeah, good thing he’s got mine then, I suppose,” I say with a bit of a bite. Luckily, the couple returns from the bathroom right then and saves me from any more of Erica’s drunken disbelief at my relationship with Zach.

  She waves and heads back to her guy, magically not stumbling on a single step. So maybe not that drunk. Just enough to insult me, apparently. I give a moment’s thought that maybe she’s more sour-grapes-jealous than surprised. Her whole outfit and enthusiasm could be school spirit, but right now, if someone told me she was a bit more toward the groupie end of the spectrum, I wouldn’t be surprised.

  I try to let that temper the effect of her words, to let them go and enjoy the game.

  And as the third quarter turns to the fourth, I’m pretty ensnared in the game again, even when Zach gets pulled to the sidelines for a bit. From listening to the fans around me, I figure out that the Coach is letting Jake get some time, but once Zach is off the field, I quit watching the game and instead watch him on the sideline.

  And when we win, pandemonium breaks out and the hugely wide grin on Zach’s face is beautiful. When he lo
oks up to find me in the stands and we wave back and forth, it feels like he invited me in to this special moment, shared his joy with me across the distance separating us. I see his head pop up as the crowd pushes toward the end zone and see him pointing and mouthing, “Meet me outside the locker room.” I nod back, but he’s gone in the mob.

  I wait for the stands to clear a bit before working my way down and out, following the throng of people before turning off to head toward the locker room hallway. Down here, the mass clears a bit, giving me a clear sightline to Zach leaning up against the wall. I smile at the sight of him, freshly-showered damp hair mussed, a black T-shirt stretched tight across the muscles of his chest, and what are quickly becoming my favorite grey sweatpants. I’m so busy checking him out that it takes me a minute to realize that he’s smiling while talking to someone.

  I follow his gaze to see a blonde Barbie-looking girl standing in front of him. She’s looking up at him with a flirty smile, twirling a lock of hair around a manicured finger as she chats back. I don’t need to hear the words to know that she’s basically propositioning him because her every intention is being broadcast absolutely one hundred percent loud and clear.

  A stab of jealousy, hot and bitter, punches me in the gut. I’m torn. There’s the one side of me that wants to haul ass over there and basically mark my damn territory, push Blonde Barbie the fuck away from what’s mine. But I’m pissed at myself to admit there’s a tiny wiggle deep in my brain that says I should’ve known. Like Erica said, Zach has always been a bit of a manwhore, and while he’s been nothing but gentlemanly with me, at the least, maybe he’d prefer someone easier, less prickly and snarky?

  And just like always, when I get a bit out of sorts, I react by going full-throttle. I basically stomp my way over to Zach, but about halfway there, he turns and sees my incoming fury. His smile just pisses me off more.

  My voice is stone-cold as I get to his side. “Zach.”

  He puts an arm around my shoulder, pulling me to his side. “Hey, Brat! Been looking for you.”

  My eyes shoot daggers and his grin grows. I swear he even chuckles a bit. “Norma, this is Beth. Beth, this is Norma. Beth is ‘like my biggest fan ever!” he says, obviously mimicking Beth’s voice. “Norma is my girlfriend.”

  I watch Beth’s eyes widen and then narrow as she very obviously looks me up and down, judging my worthiness. My inner bitch is yelling you can fuck right off, Beth. And though every instinct is telling me to verbally slice and dice her, I know that’s not the best move here and would only make me seem bitchy and insecure. And while that’s probably true, at least to some degree, I force myself to calm down and take the high road.

  I channel the cool demeanor I’ve seen my dad give to opposing business forces, the one my mom has given to waitresses the world over when they flirt with my dad in front of her, and give Beth the smile that says I consider her less than a worthy opponent. That I consider her inconsequential, less than a footnote to the highlights of my day. “Nice to meet you, Beth.”

  She smiles back, just as fake as the boobs pressed up damn near to her chin, but she doesn’t address me, instead keeping her lasers locked on Zach. “Oh, your girlfriend. Right. Well, I guess I’d better be going for now then. See you later, Zach.” Every word is designed to sound like she’s covering some big secret between the two of them. She blows a smacking kiss at the air, aimed right for his mouth, then pivots and sashays away, her hips exaggeratedly swinging right and left.

  To his credit, Zach doesn’t even watch her go. Instead, he steps in front of me, caging me in his arms and pressing me back against the wall. “You surprise the hell out of me, Brat.”

  I look away, refusing to meet his eyes, but he tilts my chin, forcing me to.

  “You are so fucking jealous. You were strutting over here like some sexy Valkyrie about to demolish that girl. I’ll admit, I was a little excited to see you trash talk her, reduce her to a crying puddle on the ground, because I know that sharp tongue of yours could do it in a heartbeat. But instead, you went all responsible and mature on me, like you knew that I was yours and wasn’t going anywhere, not when I have something as special as you in the palm of my hand.”

  To emphasize his words, he lets one hand cup my ass, squeezing hard enough to make me gasp. “I had a moment where I almost made some vulgar joke about her fake tits or bottle blonde, but when they make it that easy, it’s almost a pity to use it. Lowest common denominator shit,” I admit. “And it hit me that I was jealous because of the possibility, not that you were actually doing anything or even considering it. And that opportunity is always out there. I don’t want to be that girl. You don’t deserve for me to be that way because you’ve given me no reason to mistrust you. It’s just my own fears and doubts.”

  “So don’t be scared. Don’t doubt me, and sure as fuck don’t doubt us. Because it’s me and you, Brat.” His words are serious, solemn like a promise. “You need to do some territory marking to get it out of your system? Because I could be down for that.” He grins, like it’s a joke, but leans close to whisper in my left ear, “You need to leave a mark on my neck before we go to this party?” He tilts his head, almost like he’s deferring to me, and the expanse of his neck is right there, so warm. I can see his heartbeat racing, so I lean forward to lick it and then lay a soft kiss, letting the beat pulse against my lips.

  I move to his ear, whispering back. “I don’t need to mark your neck like I’ve got something to prove to everyone else. They can fuck off. All I care is that you’re marked here . . .” I lay my palm against his heart, and my other against my own. “And so am I.”

  His breath hitches. I’m holding mine. The moment stretches, and I can almost taste the three little words in the pregnant pause between us, neither of us willing to say them yet but both acknowledging that they’re true. That this is real. So fucking real.

  “Goddammit, Brat. That’s the sexiest thing anyone’s ever said to me. Come on.” He grabs my hand, dragging me down the hallway and around under the bleachers until we find a deserted corner in Section 67.

  He pulls me close and crushes my lips in a fierce kiss. I melt against him as we descend deeper into the shadows, out of view, though I can still hear people moving through the stadium a little bit away.

  He nibbles on my ear, making my thoughts and our previous conversation scatter like the wind. “You were a god out there today.”

  He cups my breast, teasing the stiff nipple and pinching me lightly. “Did you like watching me play?”

  I slip my hand inside his sweatpants, grasping his thick cock and stroking it to rock hardness while he tugs at the button of my jeans, undoing them and rubbing at my drenched panties. “What do you think? I wanted to—”

  “Hey, Louie, you gettin’ the brooms?”

  We freeze as a voice calls out, seemingly just outside the alcove we’re hiding in. It’s one of the stadium workers, probably getting everything together for cleanup.

  “Don’t move,” Zach whispers, but he spins me, shoving my jeans and panties down. Suddenly, his cock is right at my entrance, and without notice, he thrusts inside me. He clamps his hand over my mouth to stifle the moan he knows is coming when he fills me.

  The stadium worker is oblivious as Zach starts stroking in and out of my pussy, my body clenching, already on the edge from the feel of him inside me and the thrill of what we’re doing. It’s impossible to be totally quiet, the soft wet sounds of my pussy taking his every plunge seeming to echo around us, but no one peeks around the corner to catch us.

  I turn my head, my eyes swimming with lust . . . and something more, needing to see it reflected in Zach’s eyes. His blue eyes lock onto mine and he nods. There wasn’t a question, but I know he’s telling me that he feels this too. My body ramps up, tighter and higher, my lips pressed together behind his palm.

  We hear the stadium worker talking, his voice getting quieter and quieter as he walks away from our hiding spot. Zach growls in my ear, “That was so hot, w
asn’t it, Brat? You wanted to come all over my cock knowing someone else might hear you, might see you getting fucked under the bleachers by your football god.”

  I nod as he hammers into me, whimpering as I try to hold back my cries.

  But he’s not done. He rumbles, “You might be evolved . . . not need to mark me up, but I’m just a cocky bastard caveman. I know I have you here,” he says, taking the risk of removing his hand from my mouth to place it against my chest. His thumb flicks at my nipple, but I know he means my heart. “But I need to mark you inside and out because you’re fucking mine, Brat.”

  His other hand grips my hip tightly, dimpling in the skin, and I know it’ll leave bruises. I welcome them, want his mark if that’s what he wants. Hell, I’m rethinking my previous stance on leaving a hickie on his neck because being in his rough grasp is heaven.

  I hear footsteps, but it’s too late. There’s no stopping us now.

  Zach pounds into me, hips slapping my ass with every thrust like he’s given up on being quiet. I tighten my pussy around him, and it’s enough to send us both over. I clench my teeth, and a glance over my shoulder shows Zach’s jaw clamped tight too, both of us trying to contain our cries as our orgasms rock our bodies. I feel him fill my pussy with his cum, and I milk him, wanting every last drop.

  We sag as Zach pulls out, breaths panting and happy smiles on both of our faces. We got away with it. Again.

  “God, you make me so fucking crazy. That was hot,” I whisper, tugging my panties up. “I couldn’t believe you kept going.”

  Zach steps closer, stopping me from pulling my jeans up though his sweatpants are already back in place. He cups my pussy through my wet panties. “I couldn’t stop. Didn’t care if we got caught as long as I got this sweet pussy. And now you’re marked . . . inside.” He touches my chest like he did before and then grinds his palm against my lips. He smirks. “And out.” He smacks my ass over the sensitive area he’d been gripping, the sound echoing around us as it bounces off the metal bleachers.