Running (Battles in Love #2)

Prologue

He tears his mouth off of mine as I shift across his lap.

“I’m pretty sure this isn’t what your brother meant when he asked me to keep you entertained, Little Battle.” His tone makes the comment sound like a joke, but his eyes wear a sheen of guilt.

I don’t have any regrets though, even if he is my brother Landon’s roommate.

We’re two hours and one beer into my “entertainment” tonight, my final night visiting Landon at the University of Alabama. One beer more than I usually have on a Tuesday night, but it’s spring break at Princeton, where I’m a junior.

I’m determined to have a little adventure during my visit, even if my brother’s classes are still in session—his spring break falls on a different week. He’s at a study group right now, resulting in this one-on-one time with his roommate.

After Landon left earlier, we started the night by watching a college basketball game. With the TV constantly blasting some athletic event in their living room during my visit, we’d connected over sports already, so it was a safe beginning to our first time alone.

I’m plenty comfortable hanging with guys, as a sister to three brothers. But with him, there’s been a spark to our conversations over the last couple of days. I’ve even caught him looking at me when Landon’s not paying attention.

As Landon’s study group approached, a thought crept up, becoming louder as the hours passed: I’m longing to have my adventure during spring break with him.

A more experienced woman might know exactly how to handle whatever is going on between us, but experienced is one thing I’m not.

I am a quick study, though.

Yesterday, we played “Truth or Dare” with a big group of their friends from the football team. So after the basketball game we were watching ended tonight, I suggested another round—between just the two of us.

Three truths and an easy dare followed—I sucked on a lemon slice for a minute.

Through our laughter and teasing, as the beer worked to enhance my ease, the polite filter and shyness that usually cage my behavior faded away.

The result? On the next dare, I challenged him to kiss me…and after his eyes went wide, he gave a short nod, and I climbed into his lap. Bolder than I’ve ever been before.

Because normally I’m the good girl. But looking at him now—mussed dark hair, cocoa brown eyes, cut jawbone freshly shaved—he’s the best bad decision I’ve ever made.

“I warned my big brother that visiting Alabama for the week has me feeling free to step out of my comfort zone. To have fun, not be the same old Grace.”

His hands drift to my hips, resting gently on them.

“Well, I like the Grace I’ve gotten to know so far.

” I notice he doesn’t use the ‘Little Battle’ nickname he’d stuck me with when we first met two days ago, to my brother’s amusement.

“But as much as I want to be your fun, really badly,” his voice carries genuine regret, “it’s not a good idea. ”

I don’t want to pop my bubble of brave and bold Grace, so I push. “Because of Landon? What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. And I leave tomorrow to go home for the rest of my break.”

He looks decidedly conflicted. A worried expression is on his face, yet his eyes dip to my lips and his hands still sit on my hips, like he’s unwilling to let go. So I continue to make my case.

“Anyway, you’re both about to get drafted in a month, never to see each other again except across the line of scrimmage once or twice a year.”

His eyes flick up to mine and then down to my mouth again. “Maybe just one more kiss.”

I can’t help my smile of victory as I lean in to join our lips. As soon as our mouths meet, he moves his hands around to the back of my jeans, like a reflex. Commanding firm control of our kiss, he slips his tongue inside my mouth, and a moan escapes me.

I’m relieved he’s owning things at first, and I take in the sensations he’s lighting up across my body. But after a beat, I experiment with my own tongue. His matching groans signal he likes it.

I’ve barely dated, and I’ve certainly never been kissed like this. Having skipped a grade when I was young, I’ve always been a year behind my classmates. Add in my reserved public demeanor, and the opportunities have not been pouring in.

He doesn’t know any of that, though. During this trip, with my brother around most of the time, I’ve relaxed into a more genuine version of myself. Our conversations have flowed easily.

I’m not talking much right now, though. It’s all I can do to keep myself from fully melting into his six foot three frame.

We keep going long past “just one more kiss” territory. His mouth is magic, and I can’t believe I’ve had to wait this long for someone who can do this so well.

After a while, I feel his fingers dig tighter into my back pockets. “You’re trouble,” he murmurs when we briefly take a breath of air before locking our lips again.

I instinctively push my center against him, a hunger rising for more…something. With the press of my body, I feel that he’s hard. It’s the first time I’ve been in the position to cause such a reaction from a guy, with my limited experience.

I shove the realization down, willing myself not to think too much about anything right now. Then I push against him again, and an “oh” escapes my mouth.

“Feel good?” His voice sounds gruff. He’s no longer showing any signs of hesitation. Instead, with our kiss broken, he leans down to the right side of my face, and—oh my god—nips my ear.

“Such a beautiful, delicate little thing,” he whispers as he takes two more nips. “Just like you.” He then gives my earlobe a suck before mirroring the action right below on my neck.

In response, I intensify the rocking of my hips against him. Lost to the feel of his mouth and body, completely out of my head now, chasing my own need.

“That’s right, Grace, use me.” He sounds as amped up as I am, but his voice has a slight tease as he speaks his next words softly in my ear. “I dare you to come.”

It would be the first time that I come with a guy. Another new experience.

And I do, within two minutes, feeling so overwhelmed by our contact that I’m able to relax and truly let go. The waves of pleasure that cascade down my body last a lot longer than when I give myself an orgasm. Noted.

He’s still gripping the back of my jeans, holding me against him, as my awareness comes back. “Ahhhh, oh shit,” I hear him shout as his own body jerks up a few times, his fingers pressing firmly into me.

Once he stops the movement, I peer down at the front of his athletic shorts and there’s a telltale wetness.

I made him come. Whoa.

When I tilt my view back up to his face, he doesn’t look embarrassed. Instead, a grin flashes when he sees me looking. “That was so fucking hot.”

I blush a little at the compliment. “Thank you.”

His hands come up to my cheeks, and he gives me a light kiss on the forehead. “Let me get up and clean myself off.” He then shifts his hands back to my hips, gently rolling me off of him to the next couch cushion over.

Standing up, he walks to his bedroom and disappears for a moment. When he emerges, he’s got a different pair of shorts on and a clean shirt in his hand.

Those abs. Wow. He’s a lean kind of strong, which I guess makes sense for a quarterback. As an athlete myself, I can appreciate what it takes to get all those cuts.

“Good as new,” he jokes, and he puts on the shirt as he walks back to the couch and sits beside me.

I smile in response, but I’m now firmly lost in my own thoughts. This was exactly what I’d had in mind for my spring break outing. Plus, I checked off a few new experiences.

One big first left.

“What?” he asks. Oh shoot, did I say that out loud? “What big first do you mean?”

The good girl Grace—the shy Grace, the perfect Princeton Grace—having been shuffled off for the evening, I answer him honestly.

“I’ve never had sex.”

His whole body freezes, and he looks intently at me with a hint of surprise.

“You’re a virgin?”

I give a small nod.

He sits up, his palms tensely pushing against the couch cushion he’s seated on.

Oh no, is he freaking out? I shouldn’t have told him.

He studies me for a moment. After a beat, I see an apology in his eyes.

I don’t want an apology. Not for tonight.

“I’m sorry, Grace. I should never have let this happen.” There’s a formality in his tone I don’t recognize. “You’re amazing, but I—“

Suddenly, the door to the suite swings open. “Hey, how’s everyone doing?”

Landon. Back from his study group. He throws his book bag against the wall near his bedroom door and comes over to the couch.

“You two stay out of trouble while I was gone?”

His roommate’s eyes go big a moment before he smooths out his expression.

I need to get out of here. Think. Process. “It was fine. I’m going to go to your room and crash, if that’s okay?”

Landon nods. “That’s cool. It’s already eleven-fifteen.” My brother knows well that I’m useless after midnight, and they’re an hour behind here from Princeton time. “We’ll have a nice long breakfast before you leave tomorrow, kay Gracie?”

“Sounds good.” I shoot a quick glance at his roommate, who studies me with a heavy expression, clearly wanting to say something yet unable to in Landon’s presence.

Whatever. He’s probably a complete player—Landon and most of his football friends I’ve met over the years certainly are—but it doesn’t matter. Tonight was still what I wanted from this trip, I tell myself.

As I get ready for bed, that thought is reinforced by the pleasurable ache between my legs, still lingering.

Once I’m changed into sleepwear, I crawl onto the spare futon in Landon’s room. Feeling my mind start to spin about his roommate's reaction to the fact that I’m a virgin, I return to my internal pep talk.

Don’t overthink it, I say to myself as my eyes get heavy.

And who cares anyway...because you’ll never see Johnson Samuels again.