“That’s my girl. Christ, you’re beautiful. And you feel so good. Do you know how many times I’ve thought about you like this the last few weeks? Do you know how often I’ve stroked myself raw thinking about your mouth, your nipples, this pussy? That’s it. You’re close, aren’t you? You’re shaking.”

I am, I realize. I’m trembling so hard, I’m afraid I won’t be able to hold myself up, that any second my fingers are going to slip from around his neck and I’ll fall into the floorboard.

“I’m going to fall,” I say. “I can’t hold on.”

“So don’t. Come, sweetheart.”

I smile. “No, I’m actually going to fall. My hands are slipping.”

He tugs me up and against him, and I bury my face in his neck. The movement changes the angle of his fingers inside me, and all it takes is one more stroke, and I’m gasping out his name, squeezing him with my hands and my arms and my legs and all of me. And the explosion I’ve been flirting with goes off in my brain, somehow silent and loud all at once, and the aftermath tears through my limbs.

My body jerks and arches, and I have absolutely no control over it. I’m all reflexes, all reactions, and through it all Mateo is whispering in my ear, calling me beautiful, perfect, hot. And somehow just the sound of him prolongs it. The knowledge that it’s his lips against my ear, his fingers inside me . . . it keeps my body clenching and clenching until it hurts so beautifully.

Then slowly, the maelstrom recedes like the tide, drawing me with it until I collapse exhausted and unable to move against Mateo’s chest. His mouth stays pressed to my temple as I try to catch my breath, but I’m not sure I’ll ever breathe the same way again.

He was right. Undeniably the best orgasm of my life.

Chapter 18

Mateo

Damn, Speedy.” Ryan claps me on the back as I wipe at my face and neck with a towel. I’m in such a good mood that I don’t even mind the nickname that he’s been calling me since last year. It hasn’t caught on, but that hasn’t stopped him from using it day in and day out. Persistent, that one. Not that it’s a bad nickname, per se, certainly better than “Blocks,” which is what he calls Brookes. But between “Torres” and “Teo,” I’ve got enough different names. Anything else would have to be really good to be worth the hassle. “Hell of a game,” Ryan says. “Keep playing like that, and we’ll be in for a bowl game for sure.”

I grin as I pull off my pads. It was a pretty awesome game. My best since starting at Rusk. Everything had just clicked. McClain and I were practically of one mind, we were so on fire. And no matter who the defense put on me, I kept managing to break away. Everything that could go our way did, and we won by forty, and on the other team’s turf, too. And considering this game put us at seven wins for the season, officially past last year’s record, our locker room is louder than I’ve ever heard it.

Coach keeps his speech short and sweet, as he tends to do when we win. After a quick round of showers, we load up on the bus to head back to the hotel. It was an evening game, and too long of a flight for us to head back tonight, and I can tell by the knowing glances the coaches keep giving one another that they know it will be hard to keep a handle on us tonight. I should be as eager to party as everyone else, but at the moment I just wish we were taking a red-eye flight home. I can think of much better ways to celebrate this win.

The Rusk crowd at the game was small, but a ton of them stuck around, and they’re chanting “Bleed Rusk Red!” as the bus pulls away. We yell with them for a while, banging on the ceiling and the seats. We even keep it up when we’re long out of the parking lot and on the highway heading for the airport hotel where we’re spending the night.

The overhead lights come on, and Coach stands next to his seat at the front of the bus. We yell for him, too, and he laughs, raising his hands to try to get us to quiet down.

“All right. All right. Settle down. A few housekeeping things. We’ve got a late-night supper already set up for you guys in Ballroom A in the hotel. If you want to run to your room before you eat, it’s at the back of the hotel, past the workout area. Our flight home leaves at seven thirty in the morning, which means we leave this hotel at five thirty. I won’t tell you how late you can stay up, because you guys deserve to do a little celebrating. But I sure as hell better not have to come find any of you guys in the morning. If your ass isn’t on a seat in this bus at five twenty-nine A.M., you better believe you’ll regret it. And your teammates will, too. So roommates, take care of your own. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“The usual rules apply. No leaving this hotel. No drugs. No alcohol. No girls in your room. You can make use of the pool and other hotel facilities until they close for the night, but I better not get any calls from the hotel about any of you causing problems. Is that also clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

He smiles, and we pull up in front of the lobby of our hotel. “Well, then gentleman, enjoy your food and enjoy your win.”

If anybody in the hotel was already asleep, they most likely aren’t now. The noise we make as we leave the bus is enough to wake the dead. As soon as I climb off, Coach Cole falls into step beside me.

“Oz gave me your final stats. Eight catches for two hundred and eight yards in total. An excellent game, son.”

“Thanks, Coach.” I like Coach Cole. I know I can be a pain in the ass, and I rarely know when to shut my mouth, and he’s been cool about it. But we’ve not really had that much one-on-one interaction. It’s mostly just been him telling me to be quiet or calm down or quit dancing. He gives me a serious look now, and I don’t know how Carson doesn’t piss his pants every time he’s near Coach. I find him intimidating, and I’m not dating his daughter.

“You keep matching that level of play, stay consistent, and you’ll be in good shape for the draft when you graduate in two years.”

My heartbeat thunders in my ears, loud enough to drown out even the overwhelming noise of my teammates. Draft?

“That something you’re interested in?”

I stumble over the words because I try to get them out so fast.

“I—I am. Yes, sir. I am.”

“Good. Right now, concentrate on the next game, on this season. The best way to get you noticed is to get this team noticed as much as possible. But keep up the good work, stay serious, and we’ll talk in the off-season about what else we can do to get you ready.”