“NBU! NBU! NBU!”
The chant rang out loud and proud in the locker room of our opponents after we defeated them in a merciless battle two nights later, the score a whopping forty-two to three at the end of it all.
Leo and Clay were in a dance battle in the middle of the room, whipping each other with towels between moves as Kyle captured it all on his TikTok Live. The entire defensive line was doing some sort of elaborate handshake while a gaggle of receivers pretended to pose for Sports Illustrated covers.
I just laughed and watched, clapping along beside Holden who watched with his own rueful smile.
It felt like we’d turned a corner, like a bowl game and maybe even a National Championship title was within our grasp.
I’d never been high before, never taken so much as a single hit off a joint at any party I’d ever been to. But I wondered if this was what it was like to be high — the buzz of the blood in my veins, the unstoppable smile, the swell of my chest.
Of course, I also wondered if that high was from football, or from the way Zeke watched me from across the locker room.
My eyes caught his, the commotion fading away like background noise once our gazes were locked. Zeke had a damp towel thrown over one shoulder, his broad chest and slick abdomen on display under the low lights of the locker room. I couldn’t help but trace every ridge and valley, and when my eyes made their ascent once more, I found him smirking like he knew exactly what I was thinking.
That made one of us.
It had been perhaps the most confusing forty-eight hours of my life.
From the time Zeke burst through my bedroom door and ripped Chance off me only to claim me for his own, we’d barely come up for air. We spent every waking hour of that night in a fever dream, sleeping for just a few hours before we had to drag our asses to practice the next morning.
My stomach was in knots through that entire practice, even as I soared on a high only multiple orgasms from Zeke Collins could produce. It was torture, sitting through class after, and by the time I made it back to the dorm that evening, I was ready to burst with questions about what it all meant.
But I never had the chance to breathe life into a single one of those questions, because as soon as I made it through the doorway, I was wrapped up in Zeke’s arms and carried back to his bed.
We woke just in time to climb on the bus this morning, and then it was game day, both of us focused, neither of us able to think about anything but football.
Until now.
Zeke licked his bottom lip, his tongue gliding along the flesh slowly as I traced the movement. A spark of heat flooded between my legs, and I crossed them, like that would help.
Zeke smiled wider.
The roar of the team snapped me from my haze, and I jumped up to join everyone else huddling in the middle. As soon as Holden called out No Days Off and hands flew into the air, the team started to disperse.
And Zeke walked right up to me.
“Nice game, Mighty Mouse.”
I narrowed my eyes, but unlike before, that glare was undermined by a smile I couldn’t contain. “Yeah, you did alright. For a kick returner.”
His brows shot up into his hairline. “Just alright? I had two returns for more than forty yards each.”
“Yeah,” I said, stepping into him as I lowered my voice. “But… you didn’t score.”
A wicked gleam found his eyes. “Yet.”
My cheeks flushed, and then Leo popped up between us, throwing his arm around me first and then Zeke.
“We’re going out,” he said, eyeing each of us before he pointed a finger straight into my chest. “That means you, too, Novo.”
I laughed, peeling his arm off me. “I think that hotel bed is calling my name.”
“Ohhh no, it isn’t. Not until at least midnight,” Leo argued, and then he threw me up over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
And where I usually would have flailed and smacked him upside the head until he put me down, I only laughed as he ran me around the locker room.
“We won. Our season is on fire. And we’re in Philadelphia for one night only. You’re coming,” he said with finality, giving my ass a little smack as he finally sat me down.
Who could argue with that?
“I don’t believe you.”
“Neither does anyone else,” Clay assured me with a grin, tapping his water glass against mine. Most of the guys on the team had fake IDs or were known enough around campus that getting a drink there was never an issue.
But we weren’t at our campus, therefore we had to sneak shots from the guys on the team who were old enough to buy them. We all nursed water in-between.
“I don’t care whether you do or not,” Leo said with a shrug, his eyes glazed and smile lazy. “But you asked if I’d ever had a threesome, and I answered your question.”
The bar we’d found was a few blocks off campus, a dark dive crawling with students who were visibly upset to see most of us had worn our North Boston Rebels gear to the bar.
Or should I say, most of the guys seemed pissed off to see us — the girls didn’t mind at all, especially not when our cornerback and safety ripped their shirts off overhead and dared a few of them to do body shots off their abs.
“We might have believed you if all you’d said was yes,” Holden pointed out. “It’s the fact that you then said it was with the university president’s daughter and her best friend that you lost us.”
“Just because her dad runs the school and she has a 4.0 GPA doesn’t mean she doesn’t like to get a little freaky when the lights go down.”
Leo waggled his brows, tossing an arm around me while I made an effort not to snort. I sipped my water instead — at least, until another shot was slid into my hand under the table.
The guys shielded me from view of the bartenders and security guard, and I took the tequila down quickly, trying not to wince as I thanked the upperclassman who’d provided it.
“What about you, Novo?” Clay probed.
“Are you asking if I’ve ever had a threesome? Because I think we all know the answer to that,” I deadpanned, earning me a chuckle from the guys.
“Well, then tell us something else. Where’s the dirtiest place you’ve ever done it?” Clay waggled his brows, leaning over the table like I was about to tell him the biggest secret in the world.
I wrinkled my nose. “Done it? You sound like a twelve-year-old.”
“Avoiding the question, I see,” he commented, and I didn’t miss how he winked at Zeke, who was watching him with a murderous glare.
I tilted my head, but Zeke just looked away and chugged his water. I also noticed he hadn’t taken a single shot tonight, hadn’t so much as sipped a beer.
He still doesn’t drink…
I didn’t know why that warmed my chest, but didn’t have time to process it before I was being probed again.
“Come on, give us something,” Leo said. “Let me guess — movie theatre. The woods. Public bathroom!”
“Ew,” I said, shaking my head as I assessed them. “That’s disgusting. People actually want to get banged by a dirty toilet?”
“Not necessarily,” Leo said. “Sometimes it’s on the dirty toilet. Or bent over it. Or—”
Holden elbowed him in the ribs, snuffing out the rest of that sentence and his next inhale. “Ignore them, Novo. You don’t have to answer their stupid questions.”
“Hey! She’s one of the guys now,” Leo defended, like that should have made me feel better.
Then again, being one of the guys was better than how I’d started the season, that was for sure.
I let out a puff of a laugh through my nose, eyes on the edge of my glass where my fingers traced the sweat, and I blamed the tequila running through my system for what I said next.
“I don’t know, I guess I haven’t really ventured into exhibitionism. I’m not the most…” I shrugged, meeting their gazes. “Experienced.”
Zeke’s eyes snapped to mine then, and there was something dark in them, something I couldn’t identify. His brows bent together so fiercely the line between them was deep enough to hold water. Every part of him tensed, from his jaw to where he death-gripped his water glass.
Was he… mad? Disappointed?
Curious?
Whatever it was, it disappeared as quickly as I’d noted it, and then Holden stood and knocked on the wooden tabletop. “Well, I know one thing — none of you are banging in a bathroom tonight.”
“Speak for yourself,” Leo teased, nudging one of the guys next to him.
Holden shook his head. “I’m heading out. Behave,” he warned, pointing a finger at Leo, but his eyes trailed us all. “And don’t be late for the bus in the morning. Coach will have all our asses. And if I have to run laps thanks to one of you, you better believe the punishment I rain down will be worse.”
“Sir, yes, sir!” Clay mocked, popping out of his seat and saluting Holden as he passed. When he was gone, Clay turned his serious expression into a grin that split his face as he reached for my hand. “Let’s dance.”
I was tugged off my barstool before I could laugh or argue, and I didn’t mind — especially not with the alcohol buzzing warm and low in my system. I let Clay lead me out to the middle of the dark, packed dance floor, and followed his lead.
He mostly goofed around, and I followed suit, meeting his running man dance with a grocery cart shopping one of my own. He was whipping out the finger guns when more of the team joined us, some of them bringing girls with them, others finding a girl once they made it to the dance floor.
Lights flashed overhead, the bass thumping heavy in my chest as the DJ switched up the song. The already-full dance floor was like a pack of sardines now, bodies moving against one another whether we wanted to or not.
Clay stood close, barely touching the spot between my shoulders from time to time just to let me know he was there. And in the middle of all my teammates, I realized I felt… safe. Taken care of.
Like I had nothing to worry about.
My hands drifted up overhead, eyes closing as I swayed my hips and let the music move me. That last shot had pushed me over the edge, and I savored the feeling of being drunk for the first time in longer than I could remember as I danced and danced and danced.
I hadn’t realized it, not until that very moment, how much anger and stress and pressure I’d been holding onto. Not even like I’d been drowning under the weight of it, but like I’d been clinging to it as if it were the lifeline keeping me afloat. It was like I had to be angry, to be focused, to have my guard up every second of every day — otherwise, I’d go under.
But tonight, I felt as if I were floating on the surface, the waves cradling me and taking me with the current.
And I wasn’t scared.
I was liberated.
Tonight, I wasn’t thinking about football. I wasn’t thinking about my form or training or the promise I’d made to my twin. I was just drinking and dancing and having fun with my friends.
I didn’t realize how much I needed that.
The beat shifted again, finding a steady, slower rhythm. Clay touched the top of my shoulder again and I smiled, knowing he was right there, knowing everything was fine.
The lights dimmed even more, beat building, and then I felt Clay’s hand again.
Only this time, it was lower.
He touched me softly at first, just a palm against the small of my back, but then that palm glided around to cup my waist, the other hand framing the opposite side.
My eyes shot open, and I gulped.
He has a girlfriend.
Dread sank into my stomach just as his hands gripped my hips hard, pulling me into him, and I internally groaned.
Why, Clay? Why’d you have to make it awkward?
I angled my head, wondering if I should tell him to back off or just laugh as I peeled his hands off me myself. He was just drunk. He didn’t mean to cross the line.
But before I could speak, I was met with a low voice rumbling against my neck.
“It’s kind of fun, you know.”
My eyes fluttered shut at the sound of Zeke’s voice, toes curling as his hands slid down just a fraction of an inch, fingertips playing with the skin exposed between my shirt and the band of my jeans.
He pulled me against him, my back flush with his chest, his hips moving in time with mine as he held onto me tightly.
“What’s that?” I managed, breath fleeting as Zeke’s warm lips traced the curve of my neck. I scanned the crowd to make sure no one on the team saw us. But it was too dark, and I couldn’t make any of them out other than a flash of a face now and then.
I relaxed.
Until Zeke whispered, “Exhibitionism.”
The word sounded so dirty, so seductive as it rolled off his tongue and collided against my damp skin. I reached behind me, finding his shirt and fisting my hands in it to hold him closer.
“It’s a sort of… rush,” he continued, his lips moving against my neck, voice a breath of heat in my ear. “Knowing you’re surrounded by people, that at any moment they could see you, catch you…” His fingers dipped below the band of my jeans, barely a centimeter, but enough to make my next breath lodge in my throat as he whispered, “Watch you.”
I wet my lips, letting my head fall back against his chest. I didn’t have words, not a single one. I just kept moving with him, reveling in the way it felt to have his hands on me.
“Do you trust me?” he whispered next, pressing a featherlight kiss to the back of my neck.
I swallowed, turning a bit in his arms so I could find his eyes in the darkness.
No.
That was what I should have said. It was what I felt down to the very core just days ago.
Or was it?
I’d loathed him.
Or had I?
I searched my innermost soul for that hatred I had for him, for all the reasons this was wrong. But everything was so far from my mind — Gavin, football, the accident…
My singular focus lived where Zeke’s hand slipped into mine, and he silently guided me through the crowd.
It was dark, save for the flash of lights that would illuminate us from time to time. I latched onto everything I saw in those flashes — Zeke’s fingers wrapped around mine, the muscles of his back as he guided me, the curve of his lips as he eyed me over one shoulder.
We went deeper and deeper into the crowd, toward the DJ, until Zeke pulled me toward the deepest corner of the room. It was right by the DJ stand, the music so loud where it blasted from the speakers that I couldn’t hear anything over it anymore — not even my heartbeat as it raced dangerously fast in my chest.
The crowd was thicker up here, bodies bumping against one another as they danced and held their hands in the air. A few girls balanced precariously in high-heels on the small stage-like platform next to the DJ, one of them pouring shots straight from a bottle into the mouths of anyone who presented themselves at her feet.
There was nowhere else to go, but Zeke still pulled me, weaving us in-between bodies that were very reluctant to let us pass through them.
“Zeke!” I tried, but it was useless over the music. I knew he couldn’t hear me.
We were nearly touching the DJ booth when Zeke smiled at me once more over his shoulder, and then he disappeared behind a wall I hadn’t even realized was there.
And he took me with him.
The music dulled just a fraction, the difference between being in front of the giant speakers and behind them. My ears rang as he cornered me against the back of the speaker, slipping us into the dark space between it and the DJ booth.
My hands crawled up his chest, finding his neck, fingertips tracing the smile curling on his lips. He nipped at my finger, sending a shock between my legs, and though I couldn’t hear a thing, I felt the words he spoke against my finger next.
Trust me.
He descended then, pressing my slick back into the cool, hard speaker as his hands framed my face. His fingers curled in my hair, tugging, my neck arching without choice, and then he claimed my mouth in a slow, torturous circle of his tongue.
I gasped into that kiss, into how his body pinned mine, my erratic breaths met by those of his own. He kissed me like I’d never been kissed in my life — powerful and possessive, his expert tongue massaging mine before he bit my bottom lip hard enough that I whimpered into his mouth.
It was so dark, all I could do was surrender to the feel of him pressed against me, to the way his lips met mine in the pitch black. But when he began kissing down my neck, I looked up, allowing him better access.
And realized we were right below the DJ.
He was focused on the music, holding his headphones to his ear as he mixed into the next song, head bopping along with the beat. Those girls danced next to him, and whenever he wasn’t working the controls of the booth, he was watching them.
If he just looked down and to his left, if he so much as glanced behind that speaker, he’d see us.
Panic zipped through me, but it wasn’t the kind that crippled me before a kick. No, it was… heavier, deeper, anxiety laced with something deliciously forbidden.
Zeke’s hands crawling down the length of my body brought me back to him, those warm palms splaying along my ribs before they trailed down farther. He paused his kissing, lips hovering against mine as he unfastened the button of my jeans, slowly unzipping them while I tried not to pass out.
“Breathe,” he commanded against the shell of my ear, but he traced his tongue along that same space next, and I let out a moan without any prayer of being able to stop it.
Those lips hovering over my skin spread into a smile, and then he shimmied my jeans down my hips — not all the way to the floor, but down to my thighs, taking my panties with them.
I swallowed air in large, panicked gulps, glancing back up at the DJ to make sure he wasn’t watching us. But he was still focused on his job, and when Zeke pressed one hand against the speaker next to my head and the other slipped between my legs, I closed my eyes.
And I surrendered.
Those knowing fingers circled where I ached, making my knees tremble as I held onto Zeke for dear life. He kissed and sucked and licked my neck as he dipped his hand lower, the line of his forefinger gliding along my seam. I trembled, desperate for him to be inside me, to catch the release already building like a wildfire in my core.
Zeke pressed in on me more, surrounding every sense. One hand wrapped around my throat, cutting off my moans but allowing just enough room for sips of oxygen as his other hand worked between my legs. The music thumped through my body in a constant vibration, and through the darkness, I could just barely make out the outline of his face, or glance up to find the DJ right above us, oblivious to the pleasure Zeke was giving me just below him.
I savored the taste of his salty skin on my tongue as I bit down on his shoulder, muffling my cries. His scent enveloped me — turf and dirt and body wash, earthy and youthful, freedom on an inhale.
He cupped me with his palm, rubbing my clit as his fingers worked inside me. I struggled against the restraint of my jeans, desperate to spread my legs, to open for him, to thrust my hips more and catch the climax teasing me just out of reach.
I reached out into the darkness, tracing a trail down the length of his abs to the band of his joggers. His stomach stiffened at the touch, his hand between my legs stalling a bit when I dove my own down.
Zeke groaned when I wrapped a hand around him, stroking him in time with how his fingers worked slowly inside me.
“Please,” I begged against his ear, repeating it to make sure he heard me. “Zeke, please.”
He cursed, biting his lip first before he captured mine in a fiery kiss. “Can’t,” he croaked.
I frowned, stroking the length of him as he pressed deeper inside me.
“No condom,” he explained.
I nodded in understanding, but didn’t take my hands off him. Instead, I closed my eyes and imagined him inside me, imagined those fingers were the thick, impressive length of him, instead.
I rolled my hips, grinding against his palm, and he smiled against my neck, sucking the skin there and egging me on.
“Let go,” he commanded.
And I did.
My orgasm rolled through me like a fierce thunderstorm, moans drowned out by the music thumping loud and heavy through the speaker. Every muscle in my body released at once, the blood coursing through, numbing and all-consuming in tandem.
I rode it out until the very last lash of lightning struck between my legs, until Zeke pulled his fingers out of me and walked them up my chest to my lips, where I sucked them into my mouth and held his eyes through the darkness.
He cursed, dropping his forehead to mine.
“You’re going to make me come if you don’t stop,” he hissed, but he still flexed into my hand, like as much as he knew he couldn’t get off here, he didn’t want to stop trying.
No condom, no place to safely release…
Except…
I caught his mouth in a heavy kiss, stroking him in long, smooth strokes that made him tremble and pant.
“Riley,” he warned, but before he could pull away, I dropped to my knees.
I felt his hands pulling at my elbow, trying to get me to stand, to let it go, but I ripped from his grasp. In one quick movement, I had his joggers around his ankles, along with his briefs.
And then I took him in my mouth, sliding my tongue flat along his hard shaft before I sucked the crown of him.
I couldn’t hear the curse I knew was ripping from his throat, but I felt his hands find my hair, felt them tighten into fists as I repeated the torture, licking and sucking and working to find what would drive him to his own release.
I peeked up at the DJ, but he was still oblivious — or maybe he’d seen and was quietly smirking to himself knowing what was happening under him. For some reason that made me even more wet than I already was from my release, and I intensified my efforts, using one hand in tandem with my mouth to wrap around Zeke’s cock.
He tightened his grip in my hair, guiding me, helping me suck him. His pace quickened, stomach trembling with his shallow breaths, and he warned me, trying to pull at my hair to let me know he was there.
But I shook him off, kept my pace, and reveled when he spilled into my mouth.
His groan was deep, vibrating through every inch of him so that I felt that tremor in my throat. I savored every drop of that release, working in the same rhythm that had helped him reach the edge until he completely stilled.
He helped me stand, panting, his thumb tracing my lips before his hand splayed the length of my throat.
I swallowed.
And he cursed, dropping his head to mine with a salacious smile as I savored the taste of his surrender.
