Clash (Crash 2)

Then, leaning back, he pressed one last sweet kiss into my lips. “My god, Luce,” he breathed, the warmth of it coating my face, “how’s a man supposed to concentrate on football after that?”

“Good luck with that,” I answered, my voice as staggered as I’d guessed it would be.

“There better be more where that came from after the game,” he said, flashing an impish grin as he lowered himself down.

“Plenty,” I called down to him.

“Ryder!” The head coach hollered above the noise, “I sure as hell know you don’t mind making a fool of yourself, but quit making a fool of me and the rest of the team! Calm your dick down and focus!”

Jude rolled his eyes up at me before turning and heading back to the sideline.

“Good to see you too, Jude!” Holly yelled, crossing her arms and looking positively put out.

Spinning around, Jude extended his arms. “You know I love ya, Hol!”

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, waving him off.

And then a bronzed goddess put herself in Jude’s path, hands on her h*ps and giving him a look that made me see red all over again. She said something, but I couldn’t hear what. Although I knew that had I been a lip reader, I would have been throwing myself over the railing and slapping that suggestive little smile off her face.

Jude nodded in acknowledgement, reaching down to retrieve his helmet. Adriana moved faster, grabbing the helmet and swinging it out of his reach. Jude reached for it, but she dodged him, lifting it higher. Jude’s face wasn’t amused, and mine was enraged. This chick was resorting to playground tactics to get a boy’s attention. It was weak. And pathetic.

Reaching again for it, Adriana side-stepped, hanging it out of Jude’s grasp. He paused, hanging his hands on his hips, and blew out a breath. It looked like he said please, to which she shook her head. Then, her eyes landed on me before she tapped her cheek with her finger. She waited, holding his helmet away from him, making sure I was watching her. I was.

So when Jude leaned in and gave her a peck on the cheek, she got to witness the storm that clouded my face. Lowering the helmet, she handed it back to him, but not before she lifted a brow at me and settled a victorious smile in its place.

“Who is that bitch?” Holly said, sounding as enraged as I felt.

Glowering at her even after she’d spun around and rejoined the rest of her Spirit Sisters, I planned my revenge. “She’s about to be a dead bitch.”

CHAPTER FIVE

“Put this on,” Holly ordered me, throwing a wad of red cloth my way. Stopping it before it parachuted into my face, I held it in front of me. It was a strapless, slinky, knee-length dress.

“Why?” I asked. In a man’s world, this was considered hot. In a woman’s world, it was considered trashy.

“Because you’re going to beat that Vix bitch at her own game,” she sneered, unfolding a white halter dress that was considerably shorter than mine.

“Vix bitch,” I repeated as I slid Jude’s sweatshirt over my head. “It’s got a catchy ring to it.”

“That’s because her ancestors were the muse for the term.”

I chuckled as I fought with peeling my skinny jeans off my body. I was glad Holly was here. She’d all but held my hand through the rest of the game that Syracuse won, thanks to one Jude Ryder getting a total of seven passes into the end zone in one game. Between glaring holes into Adriana’s back and screaming at the top of my lungs after every completed pass Jude tossed, I was a drained wreck.

“What time is it?” I asked as Holly texted someone on her phone.

“’Bout time you got your ass into that dress and showed Vix Bitch that revenge is a dish best served with a smokin’ side of Lucy.”

I sighed and stepped into the dress.

“Just hurry, okay? The street’s already packed with cars and the team’s going to be rolling up soon. You want to be down there when Jude bursts in because you’re going to be the only thing he sees in that thing,” Holly said, shuffling out of her own clothes and sliding into the white dress.

It was a team tradition that Jude’s house hosted the home game after parties. There was never a shortage of women and alcohol, and inhibitions were always in short supply, so a wild time would and could be had by all. The last party the team had hosted here a few weeks back, Jude and I had just hid out in his dark room, petting the hell out of each other. I would be more than okay with a repeat of that tonight.

Tying the halter behind her neck, Holly tossed a cosmetics bag onto Jude’s bed and began sifting through its contents. Grabbing a few tubes, she marched towards me, wielding them like they were weapons.

“Hold still,” she ordered, uncapping what I guessed was black eyeliner.

“Make me,” I shot back, knowing arguing with Holly was futile.

“Don’t think I won’t.”

Giving in with a sigh, I closed my eyes and let her have her way with them. The girl lined, mascaraed, and glossed me in under a minute. She had a gift.

“What size shoe do you wear?” she asked, hurrying back over to her suitcase while I smacked my lips together.

“Seven and a half.”

“Ah, perfect.” Prying a pair of black, patent leather pumps from her bag, she tossed them on the floor by my feet.

I tried sliding my foot inside one, but it wasn’t going. Peering down at the size, I understood why. “These are sixes,” I said, wondering if my boots or barefoot would be the better option.

leaning back, he pressed one last sweet kiss into my lips. “My god, Luce,” he breathed, the warmth of it coating my face, “how’s a man supposed to concentrate on football after that?”

“Good luck with that,” I answered, my voice as staggered as I’d guessed it would be.

“There better be more where that came from after the game,” he said, flashing an impish grin as he lowered himself down.

“Plenty,” I called down to him.

“Ryder!” The head coach hollered above the noise, “I sure as hell know you don’t mind making a fool of yourself, but quit making a fool of me and the rest of the team! Calm your dick down and focus!”

Jude rolled his eyes up at me before turning and heading back to the sideline.

“Good to see you too, Jude!” Holly yelled, crossing her arms and looking positively put out.

Spinning around, Jude extended his arms. “You know I love ya, Hol!”

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, waving him off.

And then a bronzed goddess put herself in Jude’s path, hands on her h*ps and giving him a look that made me see red all over again. She said something, but I couldn’t hear what. Although I knew that had I been a lip reader, I would have been throwing myself over the railing and slapping that suggestive little smile off her face.

Jude nodded in acknowledgement, reaching down to retrieve his helmet. Adriana moved faster, grabbing the helmet and swinging it out of his reach. Jude reached for it, but she dodged him, lifting it higher. Jude’s face wasn’t amused, and mine was enraged. This chick was resorting to playground tactics to get a boy’s attention. It was weak. And pathetic.

Reaching again for it, Adriana side-stepped, hanging it out of Jude’s grasp. He paused, hanging his hands on his hips, and blew out a breath. It looked like he said please, to which she shook her head. Then, her eyes landed on me before she tapped her cheek with her finger. She waited, holding his helmet away from him, making sure I was watching her. I was.

So when Jude leaned in and gave her a peck on the cheek, she got to witness the storm that clouded my face. Lowering the helmet, she handed it back to him, but not before she lifted a brow at me and settled a victorious smile in its place.

“Who is that bitch?” Holly said, sounding as enraged as I felt.

Glowering at her even after she’d spun around and rejoined the rest of her Spirit Sisters, I planned my revenge. “She’s about to be a dead bitch.”

CHAPTER FIVE

“Put this on,” Holly ordered me, throwing a wad of red cloth my way. Stopping it before it parachuted into my face, I held it in front of me. It was a strapless, slinky, knee-length dress.

“Why?” I asked. In a man’s world, this was considered hot. In a woman’s world, it was considered trashy.

“Because you’re going to beat that Vix bitch at her own game,” she sneered, unfolding a white halter dress that was considerably shorter than mine.

“Vix bitch,” I repeated as I slid Jude’s sweatshirt over my head. “It’s got a catchy ring to it.”

“That’s because her ancestors were the muse for the term.”

I chuckled as I fought with peeling my skinny jeans off my body. I was glad Holly was here. She’d all but held my hand through the rest of the game that Syracuse won, thanks to one Jude Ryder getting a total of seven passes into the end zone in one game. Between glaring holes into Adriana’s back and screaming at the top of my lungs after every completed pass Jude tossed, I was a drained wreck.

“What time is it?” I asked as Holly texted someone on her phone.

“’Bout time you got your ass into that dress and showed Vix Bitch that revenge is a dish best served with a smokin’ side of Lucy.”

I sighed and stepped into the dress.

“Just hurry, okay? The street’s already packed with cars and the team’s going to be rolling up soon. You want to be down there when Jude bursts in because you’re going to be the only thing he sees in that thing,” Holly said, shuffling out of her own clothes and sliding into the white dress.

It was a team tradition that Jude’s house hosted the home game after parties. There was never a shortage of women and alcohol, and inhibitions were always in short supply, so a wild time would and could be had by all. The last party the team had hosted here a few weeks back, Jude and I had just hid out in his dark room, petting the hell out of each other. I would be more than okay with a repeat of that tonight.

Tying the halter behind her neck, Holly tossed a cosmetics bag onto Jude’s bed and began sifting through its contents. Grabbing a few tubes, she marched towards me, wielding them like they were weapons.

“Hold still,” she ordered, uncapping what I guessed was black eyeliner.

“Make me,” I shot back, knowing arguing with Holly was futile.

“Don’t think I won’t.”

Giving in with a sigh, I closed my eyes and let her have her way with them. The girl lined, mascaraed, and glossed me in under a minute. She had a gift.

“What size shoe do you wear?” she asked, hurrying back over to her suitcase while I smacked my lips together.

“Seven and a half.”

“Ah, perfect.” Prying a pair of black, patent leather pumps from her bag, she tossed them on the floor by my feet.

I tried sliding my foot inside one, but it wasn’t going. Peering down at the size, I understood why. “These are sixes,” I said, wondering if my boots or barefoot would be the better option.