4

“Jason...” I smiled so wide my cheeks hurt. “That’s amazing. I’m so freakin’ proud of you.” I slung my arms around his neck and crushed him to me, peppering his face in sloppy kisses. “My boyfriend, QB One and captain of the Penn Quakers.”

But he didn’t revel in my excitement. He was still and quiet.

Too quiet.

“Jase?” I held him at arm’s length. “What is it?”

“What if I’m not ready? What if I screw it up? Fuck, you should have seen the way they were all looking at me. As if I had the answers, the power to make things happen.”

“Babe, listen to me and listen good. You, Jason Ford, are one of the best quarterbacks in the country right now. You came into a well-established team and proved yourself in your freshman year. You ranked third for the most passing yards in a single season.” Pride flooded me. “Third, babe.

That’s huge. Not to mention the fact you blew the Quakers passing yards record out of the water.”

Jason was already in the Penn Quaker Hall of Fame; he’d already made Quaker history. But with that kind of accolade came the pressure to always do more, to constantly be better.

“You’ve got this, Jason,” I said with complete conviction, ignoring the niggle of doubt that this was going to take my boyfriend away from me even more than football already had.

Didn’t captains have to spend more time with the coach, watching game footage and devising plays? And then there would be the rest of the team. The captain was a leader, a father figure, the guy everyone went to when they needed an ear to listen or a shoulder to lean on.

But if anyone deserved it, it was Jason.

So how could I even contemplate feeling anything besides pride for him?

The answer was, I couldn’t.

I knew what football meant to him. Jason had given everything to the game he loved. Hours of conditioning and practice. He was one hundred and ten percent committed to his team, to forging a successful football career for himself. And I was the lucky girl who got to stand at his side and watch him flourish. So I stuffed down my reservations, plastered on my best smile, and said, “I’m so proud of you.”

“And I’m so fucking lucky to have you in my corner.” Jason captured my lips in a slow, deep kiss. The kind of kiss that we sank into, exploring each other’s mouth with easy familiarity. But like every time we touched, it soon turned into more. Heat simmered between us, rising into an inferno neither one of us could control.

Jase slid his hands to the hem of my t-shirt and began working it up my body. His lips brushed a path up my stomach, his tongue dipping into the valley of my breasts as he pushed the material over my head.

“God, Jason,” I moaned, jamming my fingers into his thick, dark hair. He continued painting my skin with his lips, tracing letters of love and promises of forever over my chest and collarbone.

“I need you.”

He pulled away, leaving me cold, to yank off his jersey. My eyes traced over his body, his chest, shredded with muscle, all hard lines and deep grooves.

“Sometimes I forget how gorgeous you are,” I whispered, reaching out to touch him.

He’d always been physically fit, a sculpted work of art thanks to all the conditioning and hours spent in the gym. But since playing college ball, his body had matured and refined in a way that left me breathless every time I saw him naked.

“You look like you want to devour me.” He smirked, holding my heated gaze with his own.

“I do,” I confessed.

Jason dived for me and we became a clash of limbs, fighting to undress the other, desperate to touch and feel and taste. I was hardly surprised he got me naked first, pinning me to the bed and dipping his head to flick his tongue over my nipple. I cried out, arching into his mouth. His smooth chuckle reverberated around my sensitive skin, sending shivers skittering up my spine.

Nothing would ever compare to this, to the feel of him touching me... owning me. I loved it, almost as much as I loved him.

“I want to take my time,” he rasped as he punched his hips forward rocking into me, “but I’m not sure I can.”

“So don’t,” I practically pleaded. We could play afterwards. Right now, I needed to feel him inside me, above me, riding me hard and fast until neither of us knew where I ended and he began.

Jason ripped my panties off; ripped them clean off my body before sinking inside me without warning. We both groaned, his hands tangling with mine either side of my head. “I love you, Felicity, so fucking much.”

“Then show me...” My voice cracked as he pulled out and rocked forward again, sheathing himself deep inside me.

Jason loved like he played football. With complete determination, skill, and confidence. He knew exactly how to play my body, the way he played on the field, and he knew exactly how to make me come every damn time.

“Fuck, babe, nothing... nothing will ever feel as good as this.” He thrust into me again, over and over, splintering my body apart in the best kind of way. Jason kissed like a man starved, dragging the oxygen from my lungs and taking it for himself. One of his hands slipped down my thigh, hitching my leg higher, letting him drive deeper.

“Jason... God...” I breathed, trying to ground myself, but it was too much.

It always was.

“Let go, babe.” He kissed me slower, mimicking the shallow rock of his hips as he drew pleasure from my body.

My legs began to tremble, sweat beading on my skin and slipping down my body. I pressed my lips together, trapping the moan building into my throat. I was so close.