Page 33 of Fragile (Cedar Lakes University #2)

Chapter thirty-two

Miles

The roar of the crowd echoes through our Cedar Lakes Stadium, vibrating in my chest as I stand on the sidelines, watching our defense force yet another punt. It’s the biggest game of the year, the one that means everything to this town. The rivalry game against Washington. The score sits at 21-14 in our favor, but the nagging thought in the back of my mind keeps whispering that it won’t be enough. I won’t be enough. I’ve managed to push it aside, but nothing has been easy so far.

Hearing Quinn’s voice earlier settled me. That nervous jitter of fear and anticipation, of not wanting to let him down disappeared when the sound of her sunshine came down the line. I didn’t even have to say much; she just got it.

But out here on the field, with cameras surrounding us, that fear seeps back in, the worry that I’m still not good enough for my dad. Is he watching right now?

I wipe the sweat from my brow, trying to focus on the game instead of the noise in my head.

“Ready to get back out there?” Seb’s voice pulls me back into the moment.

“Always,” I reply, even though I’m faking the certainty. The crowd’s energy pulses around us as we huddle up for the next offensive drive. Seb calls the play, a deep route for me, and I can see the confidence in his eyes. He believes in this, in us.

We break the huddle and line up. I glance over at Quinn once to hit that serotonin level. She gives me a small nod, and it’s like she’s transferring her strength to me. I dig my cleats into the turf, focusing on the count.

The ball snaps, and I explode off the line, sprinting downfield. My legs pump like pistons, my breath steady. I break past the cornerback, a quick stutter-step leaving him in the dust. The safety’s coming over, but I’ve got a step on him. Seb’s pass is perfect, spiraling through the air, and I stretch out my hands, feeling the satisfying thud of the ball hitting exactly where he intended it.

I tuck it in and sprint for the end zone. The crowd’s roar increases, and I cross the goal line, spiking the ball in triumph. 27-14. We’re pulling away. The team mobs me in the end zone, slapping my helmet, shouting praises, but my eyes search for Quinn. She’s on her feet, cheering with her squad, a wide smile lighting up her face. I want to run to her, to share this moment, but I know there’s more game to play.

Washington fights back, scoring another touchdown, and suddenly it’s 27-21. We’re in the final minute, and they’re driving downfield, desperate to steal the game from us. My muscles ache, my lungs burn, my mind feels tired, but I can’t let up now.

We hold them at midfield, forcing them into a fourth-and-long situation. The tension is palpable as their quarterback drops back to pass. He heaves a desperate throw downfield, and our cornerback leaps, batting it down. Turnover on downs. Our ball. The crowd erupts again, but there’s still time on the clock. We need one more score to seal this.

Seb and I exchange a look as we line up for what could be the final drive. His confidence is unwavering, and it gives me strength I need. He calls a simple play to run down the clock, but I know he’s looking for an opportunity to strike.

The ball snaps, and Seb hands it off to our running back, who plows forward for a few yards. The clock ticks down. We line up again, this time for a pass play. I break out wide, feeling the cornerback’s eyes on me, and then I’m off, sprinting down the sideline.

Seb drops back, scanning the field, and then he sees it. He launches the ball, and I’m there, arms outstretched. The ball is delivered into my palms, and I pull it in, racing toward the end zone. When the cornerback dives, I’m too quick. I cross the goal line just as the final whistle blows.

The stadium explodes in celebration. We’ve won. 33-21. The team engulfs me, and I find Seb in the chaos, hugging him tight. We did it. We actually did it. More importantly, I did it without anything but blood in my veins.

Through the crowd, I see Quinn pushing her way onto the field. She reaches me, throwing her arms around my neck, and for a moment, everything else fades away.

“You did it, I’m so proud of you,” she hums into my ear, eradicating all the noise around us. Right now, there’s nothing but her. I let myself sink into the feeling of having her wrapped around me because I need it, I need her, and I don’t want to let her go.

For the first time in my life, I feel my heart beating outside of my body.

Because she’s holding it in her hands.

“We did it!” Seb shouts next to us, and the cocoon we were in breaks open, letting all the noise back in. Quinn shifts from my embrace to her brother’s, just as Hudson claps my shoulder.

“You were on fire tonight. Actual flames, dude.”

I smile, absorbing his compliment. “You too, Huds. We fucking did it.”

“Party tonight, and I’m going all in.”

“Isn’t that what you always do?”

He snorts a laugh. “No other way to live.” And then he’s gone, swallowed by the crowd, scooping up cheerleaders and celebrating. I take a second to look around and revel in the victory, but something in my stomach sours when the fear of my dad’s impending commentary grips me, clouding me like a storm. No, don’t let him in.

A small, soft hand links into my arm, grounding me. “Stay in the locker room. Make an excuse to stick around, and text me when you’re alone,” Quinn purrs, and my body ignites with a single spark. With a wink, I watch her sway away with her squad, hips swinging, loose hair flowing behind her, and the knowledge that, for right now, she’s mine.

***

Trying to get rid of my team is a lot harder than I had planned. It’s like they knew something was going on. I just told them I had to talk to the physio about a twinge I had during the game. Seb eyed me like I was bullshitting him because, by that point, I was already in my suit, so why would I need to see the physio? But he eventually took my word for it and left. Hudson and some of the others, they weren’t as willing to leave me until they are one hundred percent assured I’ll meet them at the party later. Honestly, I’ve had easier times sneaking away from my dad growing up.

Finally, I’m alone, and I text Quinn.

Miles

Come get me, Queenie xo

Quinn

I was about to give up hope xo

I chuckle at her response. A few minutes later, she knocks on the door, and it creaks open to reveal her in a short black dress covered in lemons. The deep V of the neckline draws my eyes straight to her perfect freckled cleavage and my mouth waters.

“Hey,” I manage to force out, tearing my eyes from my perusal of her body and looking into her green depths.

“Hey.” She grins. “The suit is working for you. It always does.”

“The dress is working for you. You look beautiful.”

“Thanks.” She blushes, the apples of her cheeks tinting as she tentatively moves toward me. Her gaze flits quickly to the floor, then back up, avoiding direct eye contact for too long. Every movement is cautious, as if she’s hyper-aware of every step she takes.

“Am I making you nervous, Queenie?” I tease, my voice low.

Her wide green eyes lock onto mine. “No,” she squeaks. “Don’t be silly.” She laughs, but it’s laced with the nerves she claims not to have. “We could get caught again,” she says with a glint in her eyes.

Suddenly realizing why she’s acting a little skittish, I take a step toward her, wanting to soothe her in any way I can. “We could get caught. You sure you want to be here with me?” I ask, knowing the question has a double meaning. If we’re caught, people will know about us, and I’m pushing that boundary to see where she stands with it.

When she nods slowly, my insides light up. “Now you’ve got me alone in here, what are you going to do with me?”

She chews on her bottom lip as our hands lace together. “Do you have anything in mind?”

Sliding closer to her again, I make sure to place my hand firmly on her hip and pull her into me. “I have everything in mind, Queenie.” Letting my gaze lazily travel all over her face, I bring up one hand to trace her mouth with my fingers. “These lips, the ones that cheer for me every game? I want them wrapped around me.” She shivers at the contact, so I slowly continue dragging my fingertips down her neck, collarbone, the tip of her shoulder, counting all the freckles as I go, until I link our hands together and bring them to my lips. “These hands that clap for me? I want them all over my body. And these eyes? I want them on me at all times.”

“Specific,” she says breathlessly, her eyes dilating as she stares up at me.

“You’ve awoken the beast in me,” I say, bopping my nose against hers, the scent of cinnamon filling my head.

“Beast, hmm, I always preferred him to the prince anyway.” Her arms wrap around my neck as I crash into her, taking everything she’s offering. Her nearness is wreaking havoc on my brain chemistry, and I only have tunnel vision when it comes to her. I definitely know I don’t deserve her, but I sure as hell can’t give her up when she’s a lifeline I desperately seek out.

Needing to have her closer somehow, I dip my hands under the skirt of her dress and grasp her ass as our bodies press against one another. It doesn’t seem like enough. I want more. I need to be so close to her, I’m practically under her skin. It’s probably not healthy to think that way, but she’s consuming me.

Twenty years of knowing Quinn, and it feels like I’m only just seeing her.

Breaking the kiss, I squeeze her ass again, breathing heavily as I look at her full swollen lips. Desire spiking my already heated blood. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to catch a ball while you shake your perfect ass on the sidelines?”

“Worried you don’t have the skills, Cooper?” she taunts, the nerves suddenly disappeared.

“Oh, I’ve got the skills, Queenie, and I can’t fucking wait to show you.”

“So much talking.” She presses her lips against mine. “Too much talking.”

Backing her up against the wall next to the row of lockers, I fuse our lips together and devour her with a hunger that I’ve never felt before. Lifting her hips, I encourage her to wrap her legs around me, and as soon as she does, I lose my mind. Her hands paw at my shirt buttons, lips on mine as she rolls against me. “Miles,” she breathes, pushing my shirt open and kissing my collarbone and neck, leaving a scorching trail of kisses, ones that I want to immortalize on my skin like the rest of the ink there.

I’m dizzy from all the blood pumping around my body at warp speed. Dizzy with having her wrapped around me, needing me, showing me how badly she wants me. Yet somehow, in the midst of her touch and kisses, I remind myself that she’s worth more. “Wait, wait, wait,” I say, pulling her back up to my face. “Hold up, let me think.” Because, right now, the only thing in control is south of my waistband.

“I don’t want to wait, Miles. You are what I want.” She kisses my jaw again, and I bite back a groan.

“I want you too, but Queenie…” I stop her and pull her face to mine until our noses touch. “You’re worth more than a quick fuck in the locker room. I want to enjoy you and take my damn time getting to know every single freckled inch of you.”

She whimpers.

She fucking whimpers.

And it takes everything in me not to fold, but she does deserve more. She deserves to be worshipped like the Queen she is.

“Okay, you’re right. You’re right.” She kisses me softly, as though I’m the most fragile thing in her world and something deeper inside me shifts. I definitely feel all the things for her. All the big, scary things that I’ve never felt for anyone else before. And then, as I’m debating how my world suddenly revolves around her, she slides down my body slowly, eyes locked on mine and keeps moving lower and lower until she’s sunk to her knees before me.

“Jesus, Queenie, baby, what are you doing?” I ask, struggling to inhale at the sight.

“I want to do this for you.” She looks up at me from under her lashes. “I want to suck your cock.”

“You can’t say shit like that,” I groan, barely holding on to my sanity.

“Please? I’ve been thinking about it.”

“You have?” I manage, half choking at the imagery that particular admission brings. Does she think about doing it when she gets herself off? Jesus, I can’t cope. I think I’m about to implode, just as her fingers reach up and trail down my stomach, pausing at my belt buckle.

Nodding, she licks her lips, and seeing the wetness she leaves behind on her bottom lip makes my cock jump in my pants.

“Have you ever…?” I begin, then quickly realize I don’t want to know if she has. Why the fuck did my brain go there? But when she shakes her head, euphoria lights up my veins and sparks of fire dance along my skin at the thought of being this girl’s first something.

“Please,” she begs, her eyes soft, yet full of want and lust. Her fingers move with a slight shake, but the belt undoes in one smooth motion. With a swift flick, my pants button is undone, followed by the sharp, metallic sound of the zipper, loud in the quiet locker room.

Bringing my hand up to her cheek, I caress her skin, completely in awe of her.

She pauses just as she moves her fingertips to brush over the band of my boxers. I thread my hand into her hair to pull out the bow, watching the strands unravel over her shoulders, still gripping just enough in silent encouragement. And then she pushes the material down, freeing my aching cock.

“Jesus,” she whispers, coming face to face with me for the first time. The wideness of her eyes and the intrigue glistening in them too makes me feel invincible.

“You know that look on your face does wonders for my ego.”

“The eggplant emoji is supposed to be a euphemism, not a real thing.”

“Is this the part where I’m supposed to say it’ll fit?”

The noise that leaves her mouth is a mixture of snort and laugh. “I’m not afraid of your above average dick.”

“Very above average,” I correct, gripping myself and stroking once, twice, three times to take away the edge I’m already teetering on.

“Overachiever,” she mutters playfully, and then I watch with rapt attention as she brings her hand up to replace mine and her perfectly pink tongue sneaks out and licks the tip. I almost lose my shit right there and then.

“Holy shit,” I curse. Her mouth opens, and her heat surrounds me, all of me, taking me to the back of her throat in one swift motion. “Ooh, holy shit,” I repeat, because I really am about to lose it. I bow forward, but stop myself by holding on to the wall. The coolness of the stone wall helps me refocus for about half a second before she’s dragging her mouth back to the tip.

Looking down, as her head bobs and her hand works the base of me, I feel a growl building in my throat at the sight. It’s sloppy, and lacking in finesse, but she makes up for it with enthusiasm and the ability to take me so deeply that my toes curl. This is fucking Quinn Dawson, the girl next door, the girl who bakes cookies and colors within the lines. And now she’s giving me the best blow job of my life.

“Fuuuuuuck,” I hiss, my hips pushing forward as my grip tightens in her hair. The idea that I’m about to corrupt this innocent girl makes me feel like I’m spiraling out of control. Heat builds down my spine as she moves faster, gripping harder, and I can barely catch my breath.

“Oh, shit. I’m gonna, you need to—”

I’m cut off by her pushing me all the way to the back of her throat with a determined look, and then I lose it, coming harder than I ever have, my muscles locking and jaw slack as she watches me fall apart for her.

She sucks me once more, eyes still locked on mine beneath me as she slowly pulls away, her tongue lingering on the head of my sensitive cock and licking every last drop. With a hiss, I haul her up as she brushes her thumb over the corner of her swollen lips, and I crash my mouth to hers, tasting myself on her sweet tongue. “You’re incredible,” I murmur against her mouth. “I can’t wait until I can taste you.”

Her sharp inhale and the wild look in her eyes tell me she can’t wait for that too.