Memories of our past flood me. The first time I touched him. The first time I put my mouth around his firm length. The first time he entered me.
My breath shortens.
Zebb straightens his back. He moves his hand up the inside of my leg, bringing the outside of my knee against the back of my hand over his stiff cock.
“Behave,” he mutters through clenched teeth while hardly moving his lips.
“Me?” I choke. He’s the one working me up beneath a thick blanket with his sister beside me and a stadium full of football fans.
I glance at the score clock to see we only have a few minutes left in the half.
The players line up for another kickoff. They pat their padded legs, and the student section matches the beat by thumping their feet up and down on the metal bleachers.
And the rumble matches the growing pulse in my lower lips.
Zebb only pauses his attention on my leg for a second before his hand skims down my inner thigh again as the kicker races for the ball. He kicks and the crowd cheers. Zebb doesn’t stop his momentum. Direct and firm, he cups me and my hips rock before I register what I’m doing. What he’s doing. Where this is going to lead.
“Who needs the bathroom?” I quickly stand and toss my portion of the sleeping bag over Zebb’s lap. My question is breathless like I’m the one chasing after the receiver who caught the ball.
“There’s only a few more minutes before half-time,” Lisa says.
“I’m going to beat the rush.” I slide past Zebb’s knees, and he grabs my hips as I work around him.
“I’ll go with you,” he says, standing quickly behind me and lifting the sleeping bag, holding it before his waist.
“That might not be the only thing she beats,” Brock mutters.
“Dude,” Zebb hisses, but I’m already skipping down the steps, willing my body to calm down. The sudden wash of cold night air helps. My eyes prickle with frustration. I’d been on the verge of an orgasm. One I shouldn’t be having in such a public way with a man I hardly know now.
I weave my way toward the bathroom as my name is called from somewhere behind me. Once inside the restroom, I lean against the wall, waiting out my turn and wishing away the disappointment.
Why was Zebb touching me that way?
Once I do my business, wash my hands and take a quick glance at myself in the mirror, I exit the bathroom to find Zebb waiting.
“I’m sorry,” he mutters, chagrin on his face. He rolls his lips inward and then twists them side to side. “Let’s take a break.”
He cups my nape and leads me as he did that night in O’Malley’s.
“Where are we going?”
“To the truck. We can warm up during half-time.”
Doesn’t he mean cool down?My insides are on fire while my skin registers the cold.
“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” I question as he guides me to the gate where we have our hands stamped for re-entry.
He’s quiet a second, before saying, “I promiseI’llbehave.”
Once we near his truck, he opens the driver’s door and helps me up. His truck is parked in one of those dark spaces between overhead lights, and due to the crowd, we’re quite a distance from the stadium. I slide over allowing him space to enter. He presses the ignition button and fiddles with the temperature gauges. A blast of cold air hits us before he turns the fan down and presses the seat warmers on.
“I fucked up, didn’t I?” He tugs his knit cap off his head and tosses it beside him.
“No,” I whisper. “I just . . .”Was on the edge of an orgasm.
He turns his head to face me. “Fuck. I just want to kiss you.”
I swallow against the eagerness of a response and choke out, “Okay.”