The Southern Nights Series Page 7

  “True, but it’s like a religion to the people around here. I didn’t want them to burn me in effigy if I ducked out.”

  “They probably would have, too.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” she laughs. I love that sound. “I also couldn’t pass up an opportunity to see you cheer on the sidelines.”

  “Oh, you couldn’t?”

  “Nope.”

  “What’d you think?”

  “You disappointed me, all-star. You didn’t give one hundred percent.”

  “Nope,” I agree. “It wasn’t really my thing.”

  “Annoying Coach McKenzie on the sidelines seemed to be your thing.”

  “I was assisting,” I defend myself.

  “I think it was more annoying.” She contends.

  “I helped win the game, didn’t I?”

  Laney rolls her eyes. “I guess.”

  “You guess?” I poke her in the ribs and she jumps, letting out a cute little squeak.

  “That wasn’t nice!” She pokes me back, harder than I expected.

  “Oh, you asked for it.” I toss my cup and pounce on her, tickling her sides. She squeals as some of her drink spills on her shirt and the grass.

  “Kam!” she screams, kicking her legs around. “Uncle! Uncle!”

  I let up on the tickling, but I don’t get off her.

  “You’re so mean,” she huffs, wiping off her t-shirt. I love Laney wet.

  “Sometimes,” I confirm. Then I lean in and kiss her. It’s a test kiss, to see exactly where her head is. My assessment tells me a good place, because she opens her mouth and wraps her arms around my neck. Our tongues dance as I situate myself between her thighs. She sighs, deepening the kiss, causing it to become more urgent, fevered. I press against her, my want evident as she wraps her legs around my waist and draws me close. “God, I missed touching you.” I slip my hand under her shirt, skimming my fingers up her side, until I reach the soft material of her bra. I cup her breast and squeeze lightly as she moans. Laney goes for the hem of my shirt, tugging it up so my stomach is exposed. She runs her hands up my sides and down my back, grazing her nails over my sensitive skin. Holy hell, her touch feels like trickles of water. Soft and enticing, inviting and alluring. My control completely liquefies.

  “Laney,” I rasp as I press my hips against her harder.

  “Kam, shhh. You don’t have to say anything. No strings, remember?”

  I look down at her, our mouths a fraction of a centimeter apart. “What if I want the strings?”

  “Then you can have them.” She lifts her head and brushes her lips across mine. My whole being lights up. There’s nothing at this moment I want more. Laney pulls my shirt over my head then goes for the button of my jeans. I love that she’s not shy, that she knows exactly what she wants. Which, right now, is me.

  After a few seconds of frenzied hands, we’re both stripped completely naked. I grab the other blanket and cover us as I nestle myself back between her knees. Laney folds her arms around me, bringing us as close as we can possibly be. I touch every part of her I can, skin-to-skin, mouth-to-mouth. I slip my hand between our bodies and skim her clit with one finger. She whimpers. It spurs me on, so I slip the same finger inside her and her body tenses.

  “Oh, God . . .” She digs her nails into my shoulders. I finger her slow and suck on her neck. “Kam, please not like this.”

  “Not like what? You have to tell me what you want, Laney.”

  “You. Only you.” She attacks my mouth, and I almost combust. I reach for my pants and pull out my wallet, then two blue foil packets. Laney grabs one. She tears it open, removes the condom, then reaches down between us. I watch as she sheaths my erection, the feel of her hands is euphoric.

  “Fuck, I need to be inside you.” I pump my hips against her palm.

  “No one is stopping you.” She opens her legs a little wider. I love this girl. I am stupidly, ridiculously in love with Laney Summers. I push inside her gradually, savoring every measured inch. Her body welcoming me like a warm embrace. Laney wraps her legs around my waist, and we start to move, searching for a comfortable rhythm. After a minute or two we find it, and that’s when all sense and reason fades away. There’s only Laney; underneath me, folded around me, seeping inside me.

  “Kam, you feel so good.” She flexes her hips, like I can’t thrust deep enough. Her muscles clench and her eyes close, as her breathing becomes choppy. “Please, don’t stop.”

  “Never.” I push her toward her orgasm, thrusting rhythmically, deeply, unyieldingly, giving her everything she demands from my body until she breaks. Being with Laney is beyond amazing; her smell, her sounds, the way she feels. It’s sensation overload.

  “Oh, God!” She finally comes in a rush, propelling my release. With my own climax threatening, I wring out every drop of ecstasy from her I can.

  As she writhes and moans beneath me, my cock pulses until I explode, my body seizing in pure rapture. When my orgasm releases me, I drop down into Laney’s waiting arms. She hugs me tight. I hug her back; inhaling her skin, skimming my teeth against her flesh, memorizing every luscious inch of her.

  “Is that the first time you ever blew the whistle on the fifty-yard line?” she asks while gliding her fingers up and down my back.

  I chuckle. “Yes. You?”

  Laney laughs. “Definitely.”

  “How was it?”

  “Unforgettable.”

  I peck her on the lips. I’m absurdly happy at the moment. And it’s not because I just got laid.

  I very reluctantly withdraw from Laney—I could stay buried in her all night—and roll onto my back, snuggling her into the crook of my arm. We lie quietly, me rubbing her hip, her rubbing my chest. For the first time in months, everything feels right. It’s like when Laney is next to me my life is aligned. I kiss her head firmly, bindingly.

  “What was that for?”

  “Nothin’.” I shrug. “Can’t a guy just kiss his girlfriend?”

  She glances up at me. “Is that what I am?”

  “Well, Lemon, when I said strings I wasn’t talking about shoelaces.”

  “Glad you made that clear.” She tightens her arm around me. I smile.

  “Why do you always smell so good?” I breathe her in. That strange, exotic scent is tingling my senses.

  “Because I shower.”

  I pinch her playfully. “Smart-ass city girl.”

  “Hey!” She flinches, giggling. “It’s Plumeria.”

  “Plum-whatta?”

  Now she is full-blown laughing. “It’s a flower that grows in Hawaii. My mom always brings me back perfume when she goes.”

  “Hawaii, huh?” I stare into the black ocean above us glowing with stars. “She ever take you on her business trips?”

  “If she can. And if I’m not in school. Why? Want to go to Hawaii?”

  “Might not be a bad idea. I’m going to have some free time on my hands.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because I’m not going to play football anymore.” That’s the first time I’ve admitted that out loud. It feels like someone just stabbed me.

  “Why aren’t you going to play football anymore?” Laney asks softly, snuggling closer to me.

  I huff. “Because I can’t throw anymore, Lemon. My accuracy is gone. And without that, I’m no good to anyone.”

  Laney frowns. “Kam, you really believe your football career is over?”

  I want to say no, but it’s time to face facts. “I think it is.”

  Laney stares at me for a long minute. “How was it before you had the aneurysm?”

  “How do you mean?”

  “I mean, what did you do differently then compared to now?”

  “Nothing. I just picked up a football and threw. I never had to think about it.”

  “Maybe that’s your problem. You’re so worried, you’re overthinking it.”

  I gaze blankly at Laney. Overthinking it? Is that possible? “I never thought of it like that.” />
  “Well, this night is all about new perspective, right?”

  “I guess.” I nuzzle her neck and nip at her skin.

  My Lemon is smart, sassy, and now psychoanalytic. I hit the jackpot with this one.

  I HOLD THE football in my hands as the dawn peeks out from the behind the horizon.

  It’s Monday morning. Laney and I spent the entire weekend together making up for lost time. I don’t think seven days a week, twenty-four seven would be enough time to spend with Laney. The girl has me hooked, and there’s no place I’d rather be. Except maybe on a football field. Preferably with Laney. Naked.

  I roll the ball between my palms and inhale the smell of early morning. Everything is peaceful. Everything is quiet. I stare at the tire swing as pink light casts its luminescent glow.

  Maybe you’re overthinking it. Maybe she’s right.

  I close my eyes. What do I have to lose? Placing my fingers between the laces, I just let go; tossing the ball at the tire. I send every dream, every hope, and every expectation spiraling through the air. I open my eyes just in time to see the football pass through the hole. Something inside me lifts, then cracks. I pick up another football and throw again, sending it straight through the hole. Tears actually prick my eyes. I throw pass after pass, the way I once had. Almost every attempt hitting the target. I wipe my eyes after the bin is empty. “Yes!” I scream as loud as I can. The heaviness I’ve been carrying around the past few months now seems like nothing more than a weightless cloud. It feels like I just won a war.

  I walk back into my house like I’m on air. My mother is standing at the kitchen counter. Her eyes are bright and brimming with tears, she must have been watching. She hugs me. “Kam, I want you to know, whether you play football or not, I love you. I never thought to tell you that because I thought you already knew. But now I’m making it perfectly clear. I’m proud of you for who you are, not for what you can do.”

  I hug her tighter. “Thanks, Mom.” I adore this woman. I don’t know what I would do without her. Oh, right, laundry, according to Laney.

  My mom lets go and holds my face in her hands. “I love you.” She reaffirms.

  “I love you, too,” I respond, and she releases me. “I gotta get to school.”

  “Picking up Laney?” my mom asks slyly as she opens the refrigerator.

  “Yup,” I smirk, and walk out of the room.

  Laney and I drive to school quietly while Justin Timberlake sings about it not being a bad thing to fall in love. At the moment, I’m inclined to agree. I squeeze her hand and glance over at the city girl whose presence, when we first met, felt like sudden impact. And still does in a way.

  I pull into the packed parking lot where everyone is hanging out, not sweating first period. It’s the last week of school and the vibe is laid back. Finals are done, sports are over, and summer break is about to begin. You can feel the excitement in the air.

  “Ready for your last week as a high school student?” Laney smiles at me.

  I look at the brick building I’ve spent the last four years in. Lots of memories, lots of fun, some regrets.

  “Yeah, I think I am,” I smile back.

  Laney opens the door, but I snatch her hand. “One thing, though.”

  “Oh? What’s that?”

  I reach into the back seat. “I want you to wear this.” I hold up the shirt. Laney looks down at my practice jersey and then back up at me. “I know it, and you know it, now I want everyone else to know exactly whom you belong to.”

  She beams as she pulls on the jersey. It goes perfect with her little cut-off shorts and Converse sneakers. I wonder if one of these days I can persuade her to wear a pair of cowboy boots. Preferably naked.

  “I think it’s only fair if I wear something of yours, you should wear something of mine.”

  I look at her funny.

  “Relax. It’s not my underwear or anything.” She giggles, as she removes a thick, black, braided bracelet from her wrist. I would have never even noticed it; she’s wearing like twenty of them. “I made it for you.”

  “You did?” I slip it on. It feels right.

  “Mmmm-hmmm. I wanted you to have something to remember me by.”

  My face falls. “Are you going somewhere?”

  “Maybe. I still haven’t decided where to go to college.”

  “What are your options?” I swallow the lump in my throat. I know Laney has never been thrilled to live here, even if she did say the country was growing on her.

  “New York, New Jersey, Maryland, and Alabama.”

  “Alabama?” My interest is piqued.

  “Yes. Miranda talked me into applying to the University of Alabama. She has this nutty hope we could go to college together.”

  “And you’re having trouble deciding?”

  “I’m not sure the new star quarterback for the Crimson Tide wants his high school girlfriend toting after him all year.” She bites her lip. It’s sweet and sexy all at the same time.

  “Laney? Are you crazy? I’m personally driving to Tuscaloosa so you can drop off your deposit.” I pull her

  over the seat and into my arms. Then I kiss her so hard she squeaks. I hope everyone sees, too.

  “So, you wouldn’t mind if I stayed?” She bats her eyelashes. A piece of dyed red hair is falling over her face.

  “Mind? Lemon, if you decided to go anywhere else, I would haul you back here. No questions, no arguments.”

  Laney kisses me, and there’s so much heat behind it, the windows may just shatter. “Keep that up, sugar, and we may end up in the storage room.” I joke.

  “One, don’t ever call me sugar. Two, I think we still have twenty minutes before first period.” Laney smiles shamelessly.

  “I love you.” I laugh.

  Laney freezes. Her blue eyes, wide. Whoops . . . that just slipped out. I wait for a response. And wait and wait. Should I worry yet? Then Laney relaxes in my arms and slips her hands around my neck. “I love you, too.”

  A string of words have never sounded so good. Except for ‘you have been accepted to the University of Alabama.’

  “Let’s go, Lemon. I want to show my new bracelet off.” I smack her ass.

  She kisses my neck.

  We each step out of my pickup and meet at the back of the cab. I grab her hand and look up; that’s when I notice everyone staring. Laney fidgets.

  “Why are you fidgeting? I thought you were used to being in the spotlight?”

  “I never said I was used to it.” Laney squeezes my hand. “I’d rather it be reserved for the men in my life,” she whispers.

  “Well, that better change fast. Because if they didn’t know you before, they sure as hell are going to know you now.” I grin down at her.

  Lucky number seven: Kamdyn Fucking Ellis’s girl.

  The End

  One Northern Morning

  Alabama’s golden boy has everything he’s ever wanted.

  He’s smashed the school record for most passing yards, touchdown passes and completed passes during his college career. He is the winner of the Maxwell Award as the Nation’s best all-around player, and is slated to enter the NFL draft. But even with all his success, he was unable to hold onto the one thing that was most important to him-Laney Summers.

  Laney and Kam have long since gone their separate ways, but one Friday morning sports broadcasting class and an unforeseen threat to Kam’s brightly shining future has these two back on a very familiar path. A path full of love and lust and unresolved feelings. A path where life-altering decisions have to be made, and questions need to be answered—like what’s more important your heart or your career?

  In life, as in football, you won’t go far unless you know where the goalposts are.

  ~Arnold H. Glasow

  Winter Break, Freshman Year

  Laney

  HE DIDN’T SHOW up . . .

  I’m standing across from a camera crew in my father’s newly opened restaurant in our hometown. You know, the one he
moved us to my senior year of high school—Nowhere, Alabama. It’s a full-service diner with a modern twist on down-home cooking. I know he’s my dad and all, and I’m supposed to brag, but the food really is amazing. Especially the wildly flavored milkshakes. My favorite, the frozen hot chocolate. It reminds me of New York when he would take me to Serendipity on a Sunday afternoon. Those were the best times. I didn’t realize how much I missed them until he started concocting his own recipe and using me as his guinea pig taste tester.

  The cooking channel isn’t here to feature Celebrity Chef Riley’s new eating establishment, though. No, they’re here doing a segment on master chefs and their children. Which means I’m on camera right now. Me. I hate the spotlight, but I want to support my father. So, over the last several hours, with bright lights shining in my face, I’ve assisted as he made our favorite meal—the one I would demand as a child. Spaghetti and meatballs.

  Kam was supposed to be here. He knew how important this was to me—he knew how nervous I was—and he promised. He’s been doing that to me a lot lately—making promises and never following through. I know he doesn’t do it on purpose. At least, I keep telling myself that.

  He’s a pretty popular person, at the moment. He led Alabama to the conference finals, and then won. As a freshman. That’s almost unheard of, unless you’re Kamdyn Ellis.

  He’s a natural born star.

  And my absent boyfriend.

  I watch, trying to hide the disappointment, as my father presents a plate of perfectly coiled spaghetti with meatballs and happily garnishes it with a sprig of parsley. When he’s finished, he wraps one arm around my shoulders and smiles into the camera.

  “And there you have it. Spaghetti and meatballs a la Laney and Riley Summers,” he says in this watered-down Southern accent.

  “Thanks for joining us. May your plates be full and your company be plentiful.” He throws in his signature catch phrase—the one he became known for on the cooking competition that made him famous. It’s something similar to what my grandmother used to say when we would sit down for holiday meals. Food and family, she firmly believed, are two staples that go perfectly together.