Page 22

NYLAH

I’ve been waiting outside the movie theater for twenty-five minutes. I told Carson not to be late so I arrived early, not wanting to miss a second of time with him.

But maybe he’s not going to show.

So why isn’t he here?

Disappointment fries my insides.

Shit.

I thought he’d want to come just so he could be with me.

After those kisses on Monday night, I’m completely hooked.

I’ve been looking out for him around every corner of campus.

I even showed up to practice on Wednesday a few minutes early, hoping to catch him, but Dad saw me coming and took me down to his office to wait.

I think I saw the back of Carson’s head as we were leaving the stadium, but that was it.

Dammit. I’ve missed him all week.

And now he’s not here.

He’s bailing on me, and I don’t know why.

Unless Dad got to him. Shit! Did he find out about Fledgling and the motorcycle ride and?—

Calm down. He would have said something to you. You know he would have.

I comfort myself with that truth, spinning on my good leg and pacing back along the sidewalk.

The movie starts in like two minutes. They should still let us buy tickets and sneak in late. But I hate being late.

Dammit. I told him not to be!

He’s not coming, Nylah. Just face the facts.

Now I’m suddenly not sure if I even want to see Species without him .

But it’s such a great movie! I should just go in.

I can get over my disappointment with popcorn and gummy bears and a gorgeous alien trying to kill everyone on-screen.

It’ll distract me from this burning sensation in my stomach.

The one that’s teasing me about how I might not be irresistible at all.

In fairness to him, Carson’s risking the wrath of Coach Jones in order to do this with me.

I should seriously have a word with my father about that.

But maybe I’m not brave enough to deal with his wrath either.

I know deep down my dad is a softy and he’d never do anything to hurt me. He’s so protective it’s annoying.

But if he found out I was dating—distracting—one of his players, he’d be pissed. And I don’t want to be on the receiving end of that.

With a disappointed sigh, I scan the road one more time before turning toward the theater, then jerk to a stop when I hear the rumble of a Harley Davidson coming down the street.

To be honest, all motorcycles sound the same to me, but I’ve got my hopes pinned on a Harley and…

Yes!

It’s a Harley.

It’s Carson’s Harley!

And my sinking stomach is rising so fast and quick it’s getting lodged in my throat. Butterflies swarm me as I watch him park on the other side of the street.

He pulls off his helmet, staring across the road at me, and I’m taken out by how sexy he is. I love his angular face and sharp lines. I love those eyes, which are drinking me in and giving nothing away.

I should find it disconcerting, but something inside me knows that he wants me. I might not be able to read his expressions, but I’ve got this sense about him, and it fuels me like nothing ever has before.

He checks the road before crossing, and I watch his every step, the way his lithe body moves.

He’s so tall and strong, but not in a bulky way.

I felt his shape a little when I was kissing him the other night, and my hands are already itching to feel some more.

I want to study his shape, memorize the curve of each muscle, trace my finger into each defined crevasse.

“Hey, trouble.” He smirks down at me, and these giddy bubbles pop and burst in my chest.

I manage to contain them to a grin. “Lame.”

His laughter is short and hard, but I triumph in his smile.

“How’s it going, douche nugget?”

“Lame.” He shrugs and then tips his head toward the movie theater behind him. “So, are we doing this or what?”

“Let’s go.” Another spray of giddy bubbles bursts through my chest as I pivot and walk beside him into the theater.

He buys the tickets, and I insist on paying for the popcorn and gummy bears. I grab a bottle of water as well, and we sneak into the theater a few minutes late. The trailers are all done, and the opening credits are already rolling.

Thankfully, the theater is really quiet, so we’re not disturbing too many people.

The back rows are kinda full, so I lead Carson down to the front of the theater. There’s no one in the first eight rows, so we take a seat in the middle of the second row, far enough away from everyone else that I can fool myself into thinking we have the entire place to ourselves.

I’m battling giggles. I don’t even know why.

It’s just fun to sneak around with this guy, I guess.

Mysterious music fills the theater as a blonde girl wakes up in a lab, surrounded by scientists in white suits.

I’m barely aware of what’s taking place as my body attunes to the smell of worn leather and manly aftershave.

Glancing to my right, I smile as the screen lights up Carson’s defined jawline. He’s clenching his teeth, then swallowing. His eyes dart to mine, then back to the screen. I want to reach for him, link our fingers together again.

No, I want to kiss him. I want to dive back onto his lap and feel his tongue brush against mine. I want to press our bodies together and feel every inch of him.

Smashed glass and a tense escape take over the screen, but all I can think about…

all I can see… is Carson’s fingers inching over the armrest. He hovers near my hand, brushing the pads of his fingers across my skin before drawing a line down my middle finger and hitting my jeans-clad leg.

Tingles fire through me when he splays his hand just above my knee.

I shift in my seat, loving the feel of him, wishing he’d do more than just palm my leg. But this is good too. I’ll take it. I’ll take whatever he wants to give me.

Curling my fingers around his arm, I give it a squeeze, rubbing my thumb into his jacket and trying my best to watch the movie. But I can’t concentrate.

He’s touching me.

And every inch of my body knows it.

My insides are starting to writhe with yearning, and I rotate my hips in the chair. Trying to keep my butt grounded in this seat is becoming nearly impossible. It’s like I’m doing an unconscious mating dance. And he must pick up on it… because his hand starts to move.

My heart does a weird hiccup, this thrill skipping through me as he slowly trails his fingers north.

It’s hard to breathe as I glance down and watch his hand closing in.

Closer and closer he inches his way up, adjusting his trail until those fingers of his are caressing my inner thigh, then brushing up the fly of my jeans.

I jolt, parting my legs and struggling to stifle my groan.

“Do it again!” I want to scream. “Cup me, tease me, make my body burn and fire with these sizzling sensations. I love it!”

But I can’t go doing that, so I clench my jaw, sucking in a breath through my nose and hoping he’s telepathic.

Squeezing my upper thigh, he steals a glance at me. The screen lights up as the shot changes from night to day, and I try to convey what I’m thinking.

He drinks me in…

And then it happens…

The second he swivels in his seat, leaning toward me, I cup his cheek and lurch against him. His hot mouth covers mine, his hungry tongue devouring me with an intensity that is addictive. If I thought our last kiss was hot, I was seriously mistaken.

Dragging my fingers into his hair, I fist his messy locks at the back, drawing him closer.

I can’t get enough of his taste, his flavor.

The popcorn box beside me tips over, and I barely notice as kernels hit the floor and Carson switches hands, his right fingers now trailing a path up my leg.

He squeezes my upper thigh again, and this time I whimper into his mouth.

Yes. Touch me!

He lightly caresses my crotch, then trails a path up my zipper, brushing his thumb over the top button of my jeans and sending those butterflies into a frenzy. They swarm my body, taking out my senses and making me moan and whimper again.

“Shhhh,” he whispers, his lips curling up at the corners before he seals our lips together once more.

His fingers wriggle beneath my shirt, tracing soft, sweet lines across my belly before cupping my left breast and giving it a firm squeeze.

I respond to his touch, leaning into him, silently begging for more. He rubs my nipple through the lacy fabric, and it’s taking maximum effort not to moan and cry out a loud “Yes!”

Focusing on his tongue, I try to control the animalistic urges riding through me as he teases my nipple, then starts to trail back down my body. Cupping my pussy again, he then moves down my thigh, but no fucking way.

I want his fingers on me. I need his touch. My clit is crying for a feel of him, and so I help him out. I ignore the fact that we’re in a public theater and there are people watching the movie only six rows behind us. I ignore the fact that if we get busted, it will be so humiliating.

My body has taken over, shutting off every one of my logical brain cells as I rush to unzip my jeans and drag them down my hips.

“Are you sure?” Carson whispers against my cheek.

“I just need you to touch me. Please.” My voice is quivering, this hungry energy pulsing through me.

He hesitates for a second, and I watch his face fall from shadow to light as the next scene of the movie begins.

“Touch me,” I mouth.

His lips twitch, his eyes lighting with a smile as his hand trails back up my body, drawing a circle on my cotton panties before tucking his index finger into the waistband.

My breath hitches and I bite my lip, grinning back at him when he brushes my clit with the tip of his finger. He watches my face like he’s ensuring I definitely want this, and I nod, fisting his jacket and pulling him in for another kiss.

While his tongue dances against mine in a perfect tango, his finger teases my clit until the blood is pulsing through my body with a beat so strong and steady I’m feeling lightheaded.

Breaking away from his mouth, I tip my head back, biting my bottom lip against the guttural moan bubbling in my belly. I want to unleash it. I want to scream Carson’s name. But I hold myself in check.

Instead, I silently writhe in that movie chair while Carson kisses my jaw, my neck, my chin, then breathes against my cheek as an orgasm I can’t control starts to build and burn. It spreads like wildfire, clutching my body and tightening every muscle and tendon until I can’t hold back my whimper.

Carson snickers, lightly resting his hand over my mouth and reminding me to be quiet.

But how?

He’s…

It’s…

Yes…

Yes!

That fire reaches its peak, and my hips buck off the seat before I clamp my legs together, trapping his fingers as I ride out this pleasurable, heady wave.

It takes a fair minute. I haven’t been touched like this in a long time, and I’m pretty sure my senses will need to emerge from some black hole millions of miles away before I’ll ever be able to think straight again.

Carson rests his lips against my cheek, then nibbles his way to my lips. I drink him in, my mind a scattered mess as my limbs slowly start to loosen and relax.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he whispers as he draws his hand out from my underwear and helps me hike my jeans back up.

I get the giggles as I wrestle the zipper closed. My hands are still shaking, and I seriously don’t know if I will ever breathe normally again.

That was so hot.

He made me come in a movie theater.

Holy shit!

And I let him.

Sitting back up, I’m still giggling when someone a few rows back whisper-barks, “Can you two be quiet down there! We’re trying to watch the movie.”

“Sorry,” I softly call back, pressing my mouth against Carson’s shoulder and giggling against him.

His lips brush across my forehead, and as much I want to keep this thing going, maybe give his private places a little party, I resist the urge, figuring I should respect the other moviegoers.

Maybe I can convince Carson to take me somewhere on his bike after this and we can continue what he started here.

Now that would be a good way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

Resting my head on his shoulder, I smile when his hand falls back onto my lap, seeking out my fingers. He threads our digits together, and I realize that this is also a pretty good way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

But if we can get it on again after this… yeah, that’ll be epic.