39. Felix
FELIX
“Oh my go…” My words trail off as I cover my mouth with a fist.
“You like my costume?” Dahlia asks and turns in a circle.
I don’t know where to look first. The black shorts that barely cover her ass, my jersey tied up on one side, the black eye paint smudged under her eyes, or the football in one hand.
The football is a weird focal point, I know, but it’s just so hot seeing her small hands wrapped around the worn leather.
“You definitely wore it better.” I close the distance between us and glide one hand around her back to grab her ass.
Dahlia uses the football to push on my chest, and her gaze scans my costume. “And you. You look —”
“Ridiculous,” Brogan interrupts. “What are you supposed to be?”
“I’m her,” I say, tipping my head toward my girl.
“And I’m him.” Dahlia leans against me.
“I get it,” he says, looking between us and nodding. “Cute.”
Cute? Psha. I’m killing the golfer look. I have on a pink polo—the one with the little green alligator, of course, black slacks, and matching black hat. Oh, and a golf club, which is hooked over my shoulder.
“The real question is what are you?” Dahlia asks, brows lifting as she giggles into my chest.
“Ah. One sec.” Brogan pulls down a pair of sunglasses from his head to cover his eyes and then holds his hands out.
White T-shirt, hideous brown vest, khakis… “I don’t get it.”
He holds up a finger and then grabs a nearby Archer and pulls him over. Archer has on a Red Wings hockey jersey.
“Ferris Bueller’s Day Off!” Dahlia exclaims.
Brogan grins at her. “That’s right. Pretty awesome, right?”
Dahlia looks to me. “We should have done Can’t Buy Me Love.”
“Still haven’t seen it,” I tell her.
“We’re watching it. Soon.” She links her arm through mine. “Let’s go check out everyone else’s costumes.”
Sigma is where everyone is at tonight. There are a lot of girls in sexy animal costumes and guys in flight suits and aviator sunglasses. We stumble on Violet and Gavin. He smiles sheepishly as both Dahlia and I start laughing.
“Yeah, yeah, get your jabs in,” he says.
“Anne and Captain Wentworth?” Dahlia asks.
“Hear that? I’m a captain,” Gavin says and pulls at the fabric around his neck.
“Vi, I can’t believe you made these. They’re incredible.” Dahlia steps closer to get a better look at the complicated-looking dress her friend is wearing.
“Thanks. Have you seen Jane yet?” Vi asks.
“No, and the suspense is killing me. Is she here?”
“I haven’t seen her, but Daisy and Jordan are over by the keg. You won’t even recognize Daisy,” Vi says.
“Look for the guy in the wife beater,” Gavin calls as we keep walking in search of them.
We don’t make it far before we’re stopped by some of my teammates wanting to have a good laugh at my costume and ogle my girl. I let them have a pass for the night. She’s smoking hot. It would be hard not to notice.
Lucas dressed up as the Joker—the Jared Leto version. Stella is the cheerleader from Stranger Things, and I’m never going to be able to unsee Teddy dressed up as Buddy the Elf. Holly is Buddy’s elf girlfriend, Jovi, of course.
“I still haven’t seen Jane,” Dahlia says as we get another drink. “Or Daisy and Jordan.”
“They’re around here somewhere,” I say and wrap my arms around her hips. “And in the meantime, I know how we can kill some time.”
Her eyes twinkle as she brings her hands up to my shoulders. “What a coincidence. I had a few ideas of my own.”
I lean down and whisper in her ear, “Do they include my hands down the front of those tight shorts?”
Her breath hitches, and she nods. “Maybe we should walk to your place.”
It’s almost a mile away, but if it’s the difference between making out with her and not, I’m tempted. Luckily, I know a spot at Sigma. An old teammate was a member here and told me about it, but I had to promise not to share it. Like I’d give up the details on a secret make-out spot.
“I have a better idea. Little halftime show for my hottie QB.”
She giggles. “Are we going to get dirty on the back nine? Hit it into the rough? Choke down on the shaft? Get it into the hole?”
My dick twitches. These slacks are not going to do a good job of hiding it if I get a hard-on in the middle of this party. “Good god, woman.”
“Golf has the best dirty phrases.” Her smile is all sweetness and charm.
“Come on. I know a spot where we can bang it in or bump and run.”
“I know those are football terms, but I have no idea what you just said,” she says as I pull her behind me.
“Real happy to show you, hot stuff.”
We go up a flight of stairs off the kitchen and then hang a left.
There’s a bathroom at the end of the hallway.
The way it was told to me, it’s the president of the frat’s private wing.
The rest of the bedrooms are on the other side of the house, and there are restrooms downstairs so people don’t think to come up here.
I turn the handle and then bend down to bring my lips to Dahlia’s and walk backward into the space.
“I have had dreams, vivid dirty dreams, of fucking you in this jersey.”
“As long as you don’t yell ‘touchdown’ as you come.” She rushes to undo my pants.
Laughing, I mutter, “The things that come out of your mouth.”
“It’s your fault. You broke the barrier. I used to not be able to speak around you and now I can’t stop every thought from spilling out.” She shoves my pants and boxer briefs down and my dick springs free.
“Every thought, huh?” I slide my hand down the front of her shorts. “What are you thinking now?”
“I like you,” she says. “So much. And that feels…” She trails off when my fingers slide through her slick center.
“Already so wet.”
“And you’re so hard.” She reaches out and strokes me gently.
I’m too keyed up to let her explore for long.
I lift her onto the vanity and strip her out of the tiny shorts and even tinier thong.
In the week since we’ve been official, we’ve spent a lot of time naked, but fuck if seeing her like this doesn’t hit me with the force of a burly linebacker every single time.
I swipe my tongue along her folds. She leans back and scoots closer to the edge to give me better access. While lapping her up, I reach down for my wallet and grab a condom. I want to eat her until she writhes against my tongue, but I also need to be inside her.
“What are you thinking now?” I ask as I cover myself and line up the head of my cock at the entrance to her pretty pussy.
She hesitates, then lets out a heavy sigh. “I’m the luckiest girl in the world.”
I push in slowly, and we moan in unison.
It’s never felt like this. Nothing feels better than being connected to her, body and soul.
She owns me. It’s too soon to be as gone for her as I am, but I hardly had a choice.
She came into my life like a snowstorm in the desert.
Quiet and beautiful and completely unexpected.
She arches into me as I find a rhythm that has us both burning hot and fast. She comes first, squeezing my dick so hard I see stars and follow along after her.
Her breathing, quick and shallow, is the only sound above the steady thump of the music outside. I pull out, then tie off the condom and trash it.
“What are you thinking now?” I ask, taking in her rosy cheeks and limp body.
“There are no thoughts right now. You screwed them out of me.”
“Mmmm.” I drag my thumb along her bottom lip. “Want to know what I’m thinking?”
“It’s pretty clear what you’re thinking,” she says as she eyes my dick. It’s true, part of me is already ready for round two.
“I’m always thinking about being inside you, babe. Next time I want you in my bed so I can see my name across your back as I pound into you from behind.”
She laughs lightly, hops down off the vanity on wobbly legs, and pulls on her panties and shorts. I get dressed too, but before we leave our little haven and return to the party, I hug her to me.
Her hair is pulled back in a low ponytail, and I run my hand down it and tug gently so her head tilts up. The smile on her face is a straight punch through the chest. So fucking beautiful.
“Ask me what I’m thinking.”
Her expression is happy and amused. Or maybe that’s just my own happiness reflected back.
“What are you thinking?” she asks.
My pulse kicks up before I even say the words. “I love you.”
Her lips part and eyes widen. Her body tenses.
Oh shit. Panic hits me all at once. Maybe I misread her.
She tells me she likes me so much, or likes me an insane amount, or some variation, constantly.
I assumed that was her way of saying the words that feel way too early to say, without really saying them.
I’m second-guessing that now as she stares back at me dumbstruck.
“If you’re not there yet?—”
Her hand shoots up and covers my mouth. “I love you too.”
I exhale audibly.
“Of course, I do. How could I not?”
The relief I feel makes me dizzy. “It’s my abs, right? Maybe my charm and wit. Or my magic fingers.”
“It’s all of you.” She tangles her hands into my hair and kisses me.
That’s the thing about Dahlia. She sees past all the superficial bullshit.
I’m not just a guy with terrific arms (her words, obviously), or a successful college quarterback, or a guy most likely heading to the NFL.
That stuff doesn’t mean anything to her.
I have no doubt she’d support me the same way if I were playing beer league softball.
And as long as she’s there cheering me on, the rest will work itself out.
I’m considering lifting her back onto the vanity for round two, when the door opens.
“Oh, sorry,” Jordan says, quickly averting his gaze, then does a double-take and realizes it’s me and Dahlia. He shakes his head at me. “How do you know about this spot?”
“How do you?” I fire back. “And what the hell are you wearing?”
“He’s Shawn Mendes,” Daisy says, coming in behind him.
My brows lift when I get a good look at her.
Ripped, skintight black jeans, a mesh tank top with a black bra underneath.
Big hair, big lashes. I don’t know who the hell she’s supposed to be until she unfolds a poster in her right hand and holds it up.
In big, glittery letters it reads I heart Shawn.
“You’re his groupie?” I ask.
Her smile is big and pleased at my guess. “Number one groupie.”
“Jane’s downstairs,” Dahlia says, glancing down at her phone. “She says she’ll meet us out back.”
I grab my girl’s hand and tug her toward the door.
“Oh, I can’t wait to see,” Daisy says.
“But we just got here,” Jordan whines, as they follow us back downstairs and outside to the party.
It doesn’t take long to find Jane. There’s a crowd of people around the DJ table.
As we get closer, I realize the music playing is actually Jane singing.
Her blonde hair is dyed green, and she has on a sequined gold dress that catches the light as she moves around, belting out some song I’ve never heard before.
I spot Lucas and come to a stop next to him. “What’s going on?”
“She’s Ivy Greene,” he says.
“Who?”
Dahlia gasps when she finally sees her friend at the center of everyone’s attention.
I tilt my head toward her. “I don’t get it. Who’s she supposed to be?”
“Herself,” Dahlia says.