Chapter 4
Chapter Four
THANE
How did I get roped into going to a ceramic café on a hot Sunday afternoon when I had plans of fixing the backyard deck?
I glance ahead of me at the giggling girls walking down the sidewalk, arm-in-arm, as we head towards our destination.
That’s how.
I stuff my hands into my pant pockets, walking a few paces behind them.
When the little cheerleader that’s been marathoning inside of my mind for the last few months extended the invite while batting her lashes and giving me those big brown eyes, I was done for.
My sister insisting I join was the final nail in the coffin. Mom and Dad used to say I was a sucker where Michaela was concerned. I could never say no to her.
And Michaela was right. We hadn’t hung out together in forever. Most of that was of her own making, but I wasn’t going to remind her. I’m choosing to turn over a new leaf and work towards a future where we’re actually in each others’ lives…because I’ve missed her.
Before heading to the ceramic café, Marlow and Michaela insisted we try the new ice cream parlor that opened up down the block. I waved them off, since I don’t consume sweets. But I still paid for their cones.
I’m ashamed to say that I secretly watched Marlow behind my aviator shades as she heartily licked her two scoops of bubble gum flavoured ice cream.
Pure need erupted inside of me at that moment.
I continuously imagined how her pink tongue would look lapping at my cock as she kneeled at my feet, her pretty manicured hand wrapping around my nine-inches.
That visual would play in my mind tonight as I fucked myself in the shower.
Lust aside, what really worries me is how much I want to get to know Marlow. What makes her smile and laugh. What her hobbies are. What’s her life story? Everything that lies behind that shiny exterior and makes her sparkle like a rare jewel.
She’s the first woman to genuinely pique my interest in years and make me want to come out of my shell and live life again.
If it weren’t for the way she watched me while sipping the coffee I prepared for her, I wouldn’t ever believe that Marlow would want anything to do with me.
Except the attraction was evident on her face.
The blush on her cheeks. The low-lidded blue eyes. The bite of her bottom lip. The shifting in her seat like she was slick between her thighs and needed a man—me—to slake her appetite.
Fuck, she’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen and I want her so fucking bad.
But I can’t.
We can’t.
She’s Michaela’s best friend. Beyond that, she’s a college cheerleader for the same football team that I coach.
If people got wind of the fact that we got our hands on each other, even if she’s not my student, it wouldn’t be good for either of our reputations.
I wouldn’t lose my job and Marlow wouldn’t lose her position on the team, but still.
In this society, men rarely take the heat for any of their fuckups and I’ll be damned if Marlow gets any shit for getting involved with me.
The ceramic café is as predicted, inviting and boasting big groups, including birthday parties. There’s only two places where I feel at ease: my home and the football field. But I give myself A+ for coming here and stepping out of my comfort zone.
After being given instructions and picking out mugs, we’re situated at a table by the corner, near a window with a street-view. Marlow and Michaela sit across from each other and after a few seconds of contemplation, I slide into the seat next to Marlow.
“No one talk to me,” Michaela says, shoving her headphones on and blaring some music. “It’ll ruin my creative flow. I’m determined to make this mug my best one yet.”
With that, Michaela is in her own bubble and no longer paying attention to us, a frown etched on her face as she begins designing pointe shoes on her mug.
Amused, I shake my head and Marlow gives her the two finger salute. “Ai, ai, captain.”
Then Marlow leans into my space to bring the brushes and paints closer to her, her elbow almost touching mine on the table. Her floral and candy perfume strikes me and I bite back a groan.
I want to bottle up that scent and keep it with me forever.
As if she can hear my thoughts and feel my stark craving, Marlow beams at me. “Have you decided what to paint?”
I’d like to paint my cum all over your gorgeous body and kiss your mouth to taste that bubble gum flavor, baby.
“No,” I rasp. Thank fuck we’re seated and there’s a table hiding the stiffening in my jeans. “Maybe a football field.”
Marlow’s laugh is low and bell-like, reminding me of the wind chimes I’ve hung in my backyard, the ones that sway gently in the summer breeze.
My throat tightens. Everything about her is soft, kind, and warm.
Like sunshine. The kind where you just want to lounge underneath a spring afternoon and soak up all the rays.
“Another sports memorabilia item, huh?” she teases. “Typical man.”
I lick my bottom lip, starving for her. “Come closer to me and say that again.”
I don’t know what possesses me to say that to her. But she doesn’t heed my playful warning. Her own eyes widen and sparkle with an…understanding.
Like a brat, she comes closer and taunts, “Typical man.”
I’m far from the typical men she’s encountered in the past, I bet, my tastes no doubt darker than any of the boys she’s bedded.
Her attitude is the spark against the flint wheel and my whole-body jerks to attention, every fiber in my being pulsing.
Not only do I want to kiss and come all over her, but I want to throw her over my knee and swat her perky ass until she’s a writhing, crying, pouting mess, whining over her shoulder, “M-More, Coach Thane.”
Something tells me Marlow could go toe-to-toe with every lustful directive of mine, obeying it like it’s her life’s purpose.
She’d enjoy the hell out of it too, based on the way her brown gaze peruses me like she fucking loves what she sees.
The clenching of my jaw. The bulging muscles in my arms. The ink tatted on my skin.
I’m as much of her fantasy as she is mine.
Has Marlow ever watched me on the field, the way I have her, or is today the first time I’ve caught her eye?
“What are you painting?” I turn the table on her, my voice gruff and coated with thick need.
Marlow’s eyes are on my lips and only my lips. Fuck. I resist the urge to reach below and adjust my dick, straining against my seam. Or place a hand over her thigh, slowly trickling it between the juncture so she knows exactly where my mind’s at.
No. Goddammit no. We have company and even if we didn’t, we’re still out in public.
“A pink background with pompoms.”
I lean closer to her and return, “How typical, little cheerleader.”
Her breath catches, my words getting her going. I make a mental note to call her little cheerleader when I get my hands on her…because right now, it’s looking inevitable.
Marlow and I are bound to crash into bed, where we’ll have sheet-clawing sex until we’ve purged this sexual tension between us. It’s just a matter of time.
She’s eating me up with her eyes, letting me know she will have me.
I’m game.
I’m so fucking game, I feel like I’m coming out of my skin for her.
My gaze strays down the column of her throat.
I want to mark her. Right there. Bite her pulse and suck a hickey so every man within a ten-foot radius knows she’s mine.
Then I want to suck on those pretty tits.
They’re encased in a strapless sundress that messes with my sanity and shows ample cleavage and tan lines.
I never thought I’d find tan lines sexy but now I want to lick them.
Want to kiss her where the sun hasn’t and get a good taste of that tight pussy.
“You’re right. How predictable of me.” A flirty smile tugs on her lips, but it doesn’t denote the desire pouring off of her in waves. “If you do my design, I’ll do yours. Try something different for a change.”
She’s weaving a trap and I fall for it. I never back down from a challenge. “All right.”
Michaela is still unaware of what’s happening between her friend and me. She’s a third of the way through her design by the time we begin ours.
Marlow paints a blue sky and a green field, adding white markings to it.
The little overachiever goes as far as to even paint herself on the field with her pompoms. It’s fucking cute.
I’m halfway through painting a sunset background and adding pompoms on mine, which look horrendous in my opinion because I don’t have an artistic bone in my body.
However, I’m surprised by how much I enjoy this activity.
Not only because of the challenge, but it’s calming and healing to my old inner self who’s never taken the time to slow down and enjoy the simple things in life.
Michaela pulls out her headphones and showcases her finished product. “I’m done.”
It’s got pointe shoes and clouds.
“Super cute,” Marlow pitches in. “I love it.”
“Looks good, Michaela,” I tell her too.
Michaela startles at my compliment—the first in years—and breaks out into a genuine smile. “Thanks, guys. I’m going to head over to the reception and give them mine for glazing and firing.”
“I think we’re almost done with ours too,” Marlow informs her.
Michaela leaves and I try to peek at Marlow’s mug because she’s currently hiding a section from me with a cheeky grin, adding a few paint strokes. “What are you doing?”
“It’s a surprise,” she says. “You can see the final product once we pick it up a week from now.”
“Fine. Keep your secrets.” For now.
Marlow grins and the paint brush accidentally falls from her hand and…unceremoniously winds up in my lap, adding a small splatter over my crotch.
She dives forward with a flurry of apologies but when her hand grabs the paintbrush and her knuckles graze over my tented bulge, she immediately pauses, holding her breath in stilled shock.
Her head raises to mine and she maintains eye-contact.
I hiss an inhale and my big palm falls over her bare upper-thigh, kneading the flesh. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Marlow.”
She licks her bottom lip and whispers, “And you’re playing it back, Thane.”