Chapter 33
Blaze
Seeing as I didn’t want my dad to see how they’d made fun of me for the umpteenth time, I waited outside his office until I saw the football players walk out the main entrance. The coast was clear.
I went into men’s locker room, surrounded by a big cloud of steam. I was taking off the dirty shirt when I saw a familiar silhouette out of the corner of my eye.
Jackson.
With his hair still wet and a duffel bag over his shoulder, he smelled like musky body wash.
“So?” he asked self-assuredly. I looked around bewildered. What was he talking about?
“What, Jackson?” I kept my distance.
“Are you sure they’re gonna drug test us?” He interrogated me.
“I heard my dad talk about it with the coach, they’re gonna do it by the end of the month. It’ll be random, only a few players will be tested, and if any of them test positive, they’ll be permanently kicked out.”
“Random? Really?” Jackson seemed skeptical, and tried to hint at a chuckle, but all he could manage was a seductive smile.
“Are you trying to tell me that your dad and the coach don’t discriminate? If it had to do with Hood, they’d let it slide, but if it had to do with James they’d throw him out without thinking twice about it, you know that too.”
We glared at each other, as if there was an invisible enemy between us.
“I don’t know.” I cut off shrugging. “Instead, tell me about the other day at Poppy’s.”
A mischievous glint flashed over his sky-blue eyes.
“It seemed like you liked it,” he remarked, trapping his piercing between his snow-white teeth. Was he really talking about when we were locked in the bathroom and I ended up with my mouth between his legs?
“I’m not talking about that,” I retorted.
Jackson’s tense look drifted down to my quivering hands, intent on squeezing the shirt that James had loaned me.
“What are you talking about?” The question was followed by his usual huffy expression.
“We made cocktails, and you didn’t even have a sip. The guys smoked, and you didn’t even have a hit.” I gazed attentively at him.
“So what?”
“It’s for James, isn’t it? Are you getting ready to sacrifice yourself for him?” This time Jackson charged at me with shocking rage.
“Why the fuck do you always have to talk about him?” He sighed against my cheek.
I held my head high, solely to voice my next provocation. “Jealous?”
“Why should I be?”
“You and he made out together too. Taylor’s words,” I snarled, annoyed.
“It was a screwup.” He downplayed what had happened.
“Sure, the bullshit you do with your best friend, who you’re in love with.” His hand seemed to know the exact force to apply when he wrapped it around my neck. I felt my shoulders slam against the metal lockers, causing a rumble that filled the quiet space.
“If you don’t cut it out with this bullshit, it’s over between you and me,” he whispered on my already throbbing lips.
“Why, when did it start?” I provoked.
Jackson revealed his intentions when he moved his tongue on my lower lip, before letting it slide into my mouth.
His move was unexpected but pleasant. I ran the fingers of both hands through his soft, still-wet hair and tried to pull him to me to call the shots, maybe create the illusion that I could dominate him for once.
But Jackson pushed me away. My back slammed again on the steel door, and before I could open my eyes again, he kissed me again, and I let out a moan that soon died in his warm, expert mouth.
He enveloped my tongue with his and led it in a dance that made me lose my breath.
Ever since our first kiss, I had wondered how Jackson had learned to be such a good kisser.
I knew for sure that he’d never had a girlfriend or boyfriend.
Maybe he was born with it, I thought, as a pleasant shiver reawakened all my senses. A weird sense of emptiness tickled my stomach when his hand left my throat and his fingers speared his shirt, taking it off in front of my eyes.
I was speechless in total adoration. A tense grimace appeared on my face when I noticed that his porcelain skin was marked with bluish bruises.
“When did you get those?”
“Shut your mouth,” he whispered flushed, before assailing my mouth with kisses again. The skin on my lower stomach started to burn, right where Jackson pushed it against his erection. He did this forcefully, like he needed me to feel how the situation was turning him on.
Or maybe it was an invitation?
In doubt, I didn’t move a muscle. Why should I have? I was supposed to be waiting for my dad outside his office and going to the psychologist appointment to talk about the panic attacks, and instead I was here, out of breath with the best quarterback on the football team’s body towering over me.
He went back to squeezing my throat with his left hand, but I was distracted by his right hand pulling down his shorts, allowing me to catch a glimpse of his hard protuberance.
“What’d you have to say to James?” he then asked, intent on taking a breath between one kiss and another.
I felt drunk, inebriated by his firm touch and arousing kisses, but I could sense a hint of jealousy.
“Nothing.”
His jaw seemed to clench so much that it forged a tense line ready to explode. The question remained the same: Was he jealous of me or of James?
Any perplexity was swept away when his erection found space in my hand.
I gulped, then armed myself with courage and grabbed his lower lip with my teeth, demonstrating a bit of audacity.
The sensual gasps of pleasure he let out in response made me feel heavenly.
I tried to tighten my grip around his length, but my hand didn’t seem capable of containing all of his arousal.
He liked it. It was a new sensation, and the idea of having that effect on him almost made me come in my pants.
I continued to press the rhythmic movement onto his erection, and for a moment I imagined the tables being turned. If it was Jackson doing something like that to me, I probably wouldn’t be able to contain my moans while he seemed controlled. It didn’t matter how indecent our kissing had become now.
“Blaze.”
He never said my name, and hearing him say it with his aroused, deep voice left me breathless. I increased the rhythm, and when he stopped kissing me to throw his head back and close his eyes, I realized that gushes of sperm were staining his abs, which contracted from pleasure.
I was still stunned by the intense sensations I felt. Jackson, on the other hand, seemed to immediately find his usual restraint again.
“You had to wash so much, huh?” he breathed, pointing at my shirt, dirtied by him just like my hands were.
And if I was a disaster then, he managed to dazzle me with his beauty.
I bowed my head, as if I wasn’t worthy of admiring the powerful chest that disappeared under the T-shirt he put on.
The adrenaline was still rushing and throbbing through my veins, but the question remained: Did he like me or not?
I pointed at his abs, referring to the bruises I’d just seen.
“What did you do, Jackson? What the fuck did you drag Hunter into this time?”
“The usual,” he spat, grabbing his letterman’s jacket.
“What do you mean?”
“We stopped by the club before coming here,” I heard him murmur.
“Why?”
Jackson grumbled without answering me.
“Please tell me,” I begged him.
“Last night, Ethan Austin’s brother roofied Tiffany’s drink.” My jaw dropped, but I was at a loss for words. What kind of people were they dealing with?
“June had some too,” he added.
“Oh for Christ’s sake.”
I let out a curse word while I faced the sink, washing my hands carefully with the jet of cold water.
“James wasn’t happy about it, and he wanted to make him pay.”
“Why do you let him drag you into his messes?”
“It got out of hand,” he admitted, lowering his gaze.
“Does it hurt?” I asked hesitantly.
His answer was curt. “No.”
Jackson averted his gaze from mine, maybe to not show me his more vulnerable side. I wanted to hug him.
“My dad’s gonna spend a weekend in Aspen next week if you wanna—” With a brusque gesture, he avoided the hand I wanted to put on his cheek.
“I’m at home alone,” I finished.
“And I have the game next weekend. I can’t have any distractions.”
A distraction. That was what I was for him.
“Well, we can still see each other after the game.”
“Seriously?” he replied with a sharp voice.
I felt my eyelids get heavy, like every other time he made me feel that way. Rejected.
“I thought you’d like spending time together.”
Jackson finished fixing his jacket collar. “I only need ten minutes with you.”
The silence that followed that sentence was so cold and distracted that I didn’t even hear him leave the locker room.
The mirror hanging over the sink didn’t have any compassion for me.
After admiring Jackson’s disturbing beauty, seeing my reflection was almost as depressing as the way I felt.
Dirty and used, like my shirt. With tears in my eyes, I got undressed to take a shower.
I felt split in half, like every time I found myself alone with him.
I knew I had to resist him. I knew he’d never give me more than a few minutes, but I stopped being rational and always acted impulsively in indulging his desire.
The same thing happened while I was under the pounding warm water.
If on the one hand my emotions were in turmoil, and I just wanted to cry, when I looked down between my legs I couldn’t help but notice the swollen erection in front of me.
It had been that way since we’d started making out. He’d used me for the umpteenth time. I swallowed a sob and looked around.
How many times had I imagined this scene in my dreams? The scent of virility, musky body wash, and then, maybe sweet nothings right after. But the real Jackson wasn’t like the one in my dreams.
Despite the jet of water on my skin, I distinctly felt the tears stream slowly down my cheeks. Suddenly, a sound hit my ears. It seemed like the racket from a slamming door. I jumped.