Page 52 of Touchdown, Tennessee

I turned around to face him, my cock standing in front of me, thick and throbbing and absolutely aching for him.

The droplets of water collecting on his dark lashes.

Wet hair clinging to the edges of his face.

I craved him like a drug. I reached for the vanilla body wash, lathering him up like he had for me. I wanted to return the favor, massaging him and making him feel that relaxed.

But my impulse control wasn’t really good right now.

After a few moments, my hands were already sliding downward, gripping the base of his cock and squeezing him there.

“You’re big,” I said, the words spilling out even though I wished I could hide it.

“Indimidated?”

I gripped him harder. “No. I’m not intimidated. I want your cock inside me, and you already know that, and you’re probably going to fucking torture me with that for the rest of the semester.”

I was saying too much, all over again.

He stepped under the water, rinsing off completely after I took away my grip.

He was quiet for a moment before turning off the shower, looking back up at me.

“In the bedroom,” he finally told me as he stepped out, handing me a towel. “Put your hands up against the wall.”

CHAPTER 8

GRAY

I was used to not wanting to feel anything.

I’d lived a lifetime of numbing myself out. Ignoring emotion. Pretending I felt nothing for so long that it actually started to become true.

But the look in Andrew’s eyes when he’d seen the police cars surrounding his frat house was heartbreaking.

He felt bad for hisfriends.

Not for himself.

Not for the massive burden he carried, being in the public eye.

I’d realized that Andrew Peachel actually cared about others more than himself, which I wouldn’t have thought possible for a guy whose ego was bigger than the state of Tennessee.

I’d also seen the look in his eyes when I let slip that my mom had died recently. He was worried aboutme, even though there was no reason for it.

And that same strange feeling had crept back inside me, murky and unfamiliar.

Someone cared about me.

Something inside this big, gorgeous, dripping wet football player was making himcareabout me, which was something no person should ever do.

And I didn’t like it.

Hated it, actually.

“One time,” I said, stepping over toward him. “Whatever happens tonight is only going to happen one time. You realize that?”

“Sure thing, Gilman.”