Roughing

Feeling possessive over her, I reach them in a hurry and tap him on the shoulder. He knows who I am. Everyone on campus knows who I am. So, it's not surprising when he takes a hint and releases his grip on Tori.

I take his spot behind her without her noticing until she opens her eyes and looks up at me. When I wrap my muscular arms around her, she doesn’t protest.

“Having fun?” I whisper into her ear.

My fingers slide up her bare stomach without a fight. She gives in to me, her ass rubbing against my thigh until she remembers she’s dancing with me. Then, the sickened expression returns to her face, making my stomach knot. Because I’m afraid she’ll run, and I am not in the mood for another chase.

Tori cups my shoulder to steady herself and yells into my ear, “I think I’m going to be sick.”

That explains why she looks so repulsed by me.

I hook my arm around her, and we move through the crowded living room. We ascended a flight of stairs, passing some of my teammates as we walk past endless rooms packed with people and to the end of the hallway. I stop in front of my room and insert the key into the lock.

“You took me to your bedroom?” She rolls her eyes and tries to slip away from my grasp. “So typical. I’m not having sex with you, Bash. Been there, done that, got the T-shirt.”

I laugh at her last comment. “I brought you here because I share a bathroom with Clay. You’ll have more privacy here than one of the hall bathrooms.” I let go of her and throw my hands out at my sides. “Hey, if you want to take your chances out there, then go right ahead. I was trying to be nice. Don’t jump down my throat like you always do.”

“Oh.” She lets out a deep breath. “Sorry. I don't feel good.”

My room is one of the largest in the house. I have enough space for a couch that lines a row of windows, a giant flat screen TV hung on the opposite wall, and a King size bed smack dab in the middle of it all.

“It’s okay,” I say, escorting her into the bathroom at the far corner of the room.

She flips up the toilet seat and gives me a look as though I should leave, but I want to make sure she’s okay.

“Do you think you can turn around or something? Don’t just stand there and watch me. It’s weird, and you’re giving me stage fright.”

I turn to face the wall. “I’m here if you need me, okay?”

“Uh-huh,” she mutters, before puking her guts out.

After she finishes, I hear the toilet seat slam and turn around to face her. She uses the vanity next to the toilet to support her weight and takes a seat on the lid, wiping her mouth with a tissue.

I drop to my knees to position myself in front of her. “Feeling any better?”

“Nope,” she confesses. “Ever since I got hit with the football, my head has been killing me, my stomach hurts, and I feel nauseous.”

My fingers graze her cheek, and I scoot closer to her, staring into her eyes. “It’s possible you have a concussion. You took a hard hit. I’ve had them before, and it sounds like you have some of the symptoms.”

“The doctor said I was fine.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“What are you my dad now? I don’t need you watching over me, Bash.”

“I think you need to brush your teeth, Queenie.” I laugh in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Dick,” she mutters, shaking her head at me. “Give me some mouthwash or a mint then.”

I reach into the bottom vanity drawer and remove a bottle of mouthwash, filling the cup before I hand it over.

She takes it from my hand, swishes it in her mouth, and then leans over the sink to spit and rinse. Then, she wipes her mouth on the hand towel I give her.

“Why are you all of a sudden nice to me, Bash?” She leans her elbows on her knees, her breasts pouring out of her shirt, giving me a nice view of her tits. “You must have some angle you’re working again.”

I sit on the tiled floor in front of her. “That’s where you’re wrong. I just want the chance to make things up to you.”

She huffs. “I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it my entire life. I don’t need you to be my knight in shining armor. You are not my Prince Charming.”