Dirty Curve

I bury my face in her neck, kissing her there and she stirs, but no more than a flicker of a smile in her sleep. As sneakily as possible, I climb from the bed, doing my best not to actually wake her.

Bay hasn’t woken up yet, and from what I know, this might be a first, her sleeping in past sunrise.

It’s a quarter to six, so a little later than I would normally wake, but before last night, I hadn’t slept much at all. When I did, it was sleeping off stupidity, not actual sleep.

Today, though, I’m refreshed as fuck, feeling good, but also guilty as shit.

I’ve fucked off my team lately, gave half, maybe even less than half of myself and that’s bullshit.

I need to get back at it, but before that, I need a quick run, my body is weighted with toxins that need to be released.

In the kitchen, I quietly pour a glass of water and pull the marker off the dry erase board, writing her a quick note, knowing she’ll likely wake up before I get back.

Our clothes are all over the place, something I realize when I go in search of mine, finding one shoe under the bed, the other near the back door.

I grin.

No clue how that happened.

Moving a few things around, I hunt for my shirt, finally spotting it in the small gap between the couch and the end table. I pull it free, wincing when her bag tips over, half the shit falling out.

My eyes dart to the bed and while she stirs, she doesn’t wake, and I make a mental note to move this thing when I get back to grab what fell behind it. In the meantime, I pick up what I can reach. Her wallet in hand, I go to set it on top, but my fingers brush along the clear plastic on the opposite side. Curious, I flip it over to look. Inside the protective screen, framed in pleather, is her ID.

I look over her photo, grinning at how, even here, her famous bun is in place, and then my eyes are pulled right.

Every single part of me locks up. The air in my lungs evaporates, and I’d swear the blood in my body has even stopped flowing by the way my organs seem to shrivel, fold over, and twist.

Meyer’s last name isn’t Sanders, like she said.

It’s Reid.

Coach Reid isn’t just her boss.

He’s her fucking father.

CHAPTER 31

Meyer

The soft click of the door closing has my eyes fluttering open and I’m instantly struck with memories of last night.

Of the irresistible charge of desire that darkened Tobias’s eyes.

Of the rough texture of his hands as they ran over every inch of my body.

Of how, even after our second round, it wasn’t enough.

He needed more.

Wanted more.

My fingers lift, running along my neck, the spot he refused to neglect for more than five seconds. Be it his hands, his chin, his tongue ... he kept coming back for more, lighting the sensitive spot on fire with any and every move he made.

Not once was his focus on himself. It was all me, all night, and when he fell asleep beside me, all I could think was how perfectly he fit there.

Rolling onto my back, my arm falls to the now empty space and my lips curl. The heat of his body is still there, as is the indent in the pillow.

An unexpected sense of comfort washes over me, but it’s short-lived, because in the next second, I push up onto my elbow, and the first thing I spot ... my wallet.

No.

My chest caves and I can’t breathe. It’s as if metal is seeping into my lungs and hardening by the second.

No, no no ...

I scramble off the bed, falling onto my knees as the blankets tether around me and lift my wallet toward my face.

My driver’s license.

It’s gone.

Dashing around the room, I search for my phone, tearing it from the charger and quickly dialing his number.

It rings once and goes to voice mail.

“Shit!” I hiss, trying again, but this time, there is no ring.

In a panic, I try the man I know he went to see, but the line just keeps ringing.

I call Bianca to see if she can come sit with Bailey, so I can find him before he finds him.

“Hi, I’m busy!” Her voice mail picks up. “Leave a message and if you’re lucky, I’ll call you back.”

Damn it.

My heart cries and I fall onto my butt again, gripping my legs as I look to the ceiling, praying I didn’t put myself into a situation I’ll regret for the rest of my life.

It’s with that thought in mind that I open the long since ignored acceptance letter from UOF and click on the link provided.

q

Tobias

Pushing through the doors, I head straight for Coach’s office, and to say he’s surprised to see me is an understatement.