Hail Mary (BSU Football Book 2)

look is fucking adorable.
A warm hand slides around me from behind. I look down to see Calista’s hand creep up the hem of my T-shirt. The bite of her long nails against my abdomen feels like a warning.
I grip her wrist and turn around to face her, giving the blonde my back. “Not tonight.”
Her seductive smile falls instantly and is replaced by fiery eyes. “Why not?”
“Do I need to give a reason? No means no.”
“Fine.” She turns on a heel and walks away, most likely in search of the next football player willing to jump into her pants. She won’t have to look hard, there are plenty of them here.
“Yo, Spider! Last shot!”
I’m grateful to see the little blonde is still in her spot next to me sipping her wine when I take the shot of tequila from Loren. I hand it to the girl. “Here. This probably tastes better than that shit wine.”
She brings it to her nose. “Oh wow.” She blinks rapidly as if the fumes made her eyes water. “What is it?”
“Patron. Tequila.” I push up close to her, feeling her dainty shoulder press into my ribs as I reach beyond her to grab another shot from the line up.
Loren sits on top of the bar and raises his glass. “Last touchdown shot of the night!” The bar erupts in cheers. “To an undefeated season!”
The place goes crazy with drunken applause and I watch in rapt awe as the girl beside me sips her shot once, twice, and then takes the whole thing into her mouth as if she’d done it a million times before. She cringes, coughs, and covers her mouth as her watery eyes find mine.
“Good, right?” I throw back my shot tasting it less than the first four.
“Delicious,” she says through a lilt of laughter. “But I think I’ll stick with my wine.”
“Suit yourself.” My mouth feels loose, my pulse throbs harder than usual, and I realize I’m a little drunk and a lot turned on by little Miss Goodie Two-Shoes. I watch her as she watches me and I wonder what kind of beauty hides under her clothes. If given the chance, I’d have to be cautious with her. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was a virgin. She’s giving off the small town, church girl vibe, and the animal in me would give anything to corrupt her. Not that she’d give me the chance.
She’s much better suited for Loren, the Ken doll look-a-like who grew up on a farm milking cows and bailing hay. He’d respect her boundaries and her body.
Me? I’m already thinking of the hundred different things I’d like to do to her.
“Spider?” Her soft voice calls me from my thoughts. “Do you want to dance?”
My booze-riddled mind is slow to register. “I don’t dance.”
Her mouth tips up on one side and she grabs my hand under the bar. “Let’s go.”

Emery
I got him.
I knew I would. I’m aware of what men see when they look at me—naive, pristine, virgin. The perfect canvas for corruption. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
I stepped into the bar tonight knowing exactly what I was looking for. The options of men are endless. When I spotted the one they call Spider across the room—all those tattoos, the lip piercing, the fuck-everyone-attitude etched into his expression, he is everything I’d been looking for.
He wasn’t kidding when he said he didn’t dance. He stands still as a statue on the dance floor only moving to draw from his beer as he watches me sway to the music. His gaze is like fingers against my skin as he searches, explores, and tries to figure me out. Heat flickers in his eyes when he studies my lips and I’d bet my pearl earrings he’s wondering what my mouth tastes like.
I move closer to him, put a hand at his waist, and stare directly into his hauntingly dark eyes. So brown they’re nearly black and the darkness that calls to me like a bottomless abyss where feelings don’t exist.
“Do you want me to kiss you?” I already know the answer, but I’ll make him say it anyway.
“I want you to do a hell of a lot more than kiss me.” He runs his fingers through the ends of my hair while he studies my neck as if he’s thinking about biting it and drinking my blood. The very thought sends a thrill through me.
“Like what?” I slip my hand between us and palm the semi-hardness behind his zipper. “This?”
His eyes widen minutely and his lips peel back over clenched teeth. “Yes. Just like that.”
I squeeze him until a hiss escapes through his teeth. “I’d like to kiss you now.”
He snags the back of my neck and brings my lips to his. I struggle to stay on my toes as he hovers his lips close to mine. “What’s your name?” he breathes against my mouth, his lip ring brushes against my skin.
“Does it really matter?”
His dark brows pinch together seconds before he presses his lips against mine. I tilt my head, part my lips, and lick into his mouth. The sharp flavor of alcohol mixes with the taste of sin and the promise of pain that I suspect is uniquely his.
The boys in boarding school only ever tasted like tobacco and breath mints.
I moan into his mouth, claw at his shirt to get closer, and shove my hand behind the button of his jeans until he teeters on his Converse.
“Fuck,” he says, breaking the kiss with wet lips that he licks and savors. Sometime during the kiss, he tangled his fist into the back of my hair, holding my head in place. “You’re not what I expected.”
No. Shit.
“Come home with me.” I don’t ask because I won’t take no for an answer like the last girl did.
A wicked grin tilts his lips. “I’ll get the Uber.”
Fish in a barrel.
We kiss feverishly in the back of the Honda Accord while our driver Hector watches from the rearview mirror. At one point I meet his brown