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He surged forward, driving into me from behind with a raw, unchecked power that sent my notebooks sliding toward the edge of the table. This wasn’t the teasing, restrained Trace from before. This was my boyfriend losing his grip on his own self-control.

Every thrust was deep and punishing, the friction of him inside my over-sensitive pussy sending fresh sparks through me before I’d even finished coming down from the last orgasm.

The continued quest for silence, and the heavy thud of his body against mine felt loud enough to bring the whole of Havenport running. I buried my face in my arm to keep from crying out as he picked up the pace.

He felt impossibly bigger, somehow. Harder. Causing an exquisite stretch in my pussy.

A muffled grunt filtered into the air around me, and that’s when I felt it. The sudden, violent tension in his thighs and the way his fingers dug into my hips, holding me still as he shot over the edge. His body jolted hard as he emptied himself into me, scraping the table along the floor. The force of his release triggered something in me, a final, reflexive break that unraveled me for a third time. My walls clamped down on him, my vision blurring into streaks of light as we both shook, held together only by friction and heat.

We were still suspended there, jerking and quaking in the aftermath, when the silence was shattered by a sharp ringing.

“Shit,” Trace whisper-screamed, sliding his limp dick out of me.

The shock hit us like a bucket of ice water. We scrambled apart, the sound of fabric snapping and zippers absolutely deafening in the library's vacuum. Trace lunged for the phone, his hands shaking as he swiped to silence the caller, while I frantically smoothed down my skirt and adjusted my bra, my heart trying to kick its way out of my chest.

“Seriously?” I glared at him, still catching my breath.

“Forgot to put it on silent. Sue me,” he said with a sheepish laugh.

A sharp, piercing “SHHH!” cut through the air from the librarian’s desk up front.

We froze, half-dressed and breathless, staring at each other in the dim light of the stacks. Trace’s hair was a mess, his shirt untucked, and his face was still flushed with a dark, triumphant heat. I knew I looked just as guilty.

The absurdity of it hit us at the same time. I bit my lip, my shoulders shaking as I fought back a delirious, hysterical laugh, and Trace ducked his head, a wide, boyish grin breaking across his face.

36

Trace

If the regular-season finale had been a test of nerves, the first round of the playoffs felt like a death sentence.

We’d written off our chances of even making it this far, but now that we were here, the stakes were high enough to make me throw up. Because we weren’t just playing any team. We were facing the Springfield Pride. They were a goddamn machine, national champions several years running, and they didn’t just win games… they annihilated their opponents.

I looked around the bus, seeing the same uneasy tension reflected in the faces of my teammates. Malik had made a good point before we hit the road, when Cam talked about everyone loving underdogs. We were more like sacrificial lambs.

The bus hissed to a stop, the air brakes letting out a long, tired sigh as we pulled up to the stadium. The doors swung open, and a heavy cloud of dread settled over us. No one moved. We just stared out at the sprawling concrete fortress of Springfield’s home turf, knowing that once we stepped off this bus, there would be no turning back.

“You guys do realize this could be the last time we drive in such luxury, right?” Malik was the first to leave his seat.

“I’m gonna miss the black-out windows,” Dylan said, running his fingers over one. “They helped with my motion sickness.”

“Please don’t leave us!” Lucas grabbed onto a headrest dramatically, pretending to cry his heart out.

When Dakota had released her tell-all article, it not only impacted our school. It had a damaging effect on the entire college football sphere. Things were so intense that Frank Delaney had been MIA for days. So we were all worried about what was going to happen to us and our team, but at the same time, there wasn’t really anything we could do about it.

“What do I keep telling you boys about inviting the fate you don’t want?” Coach said as he pushed up from his seat. “Enjoy the game and everything we have while it’s still ours, and leave the rest where it belongs.”

“Do you think we’re gonna have to give up the bus?” Connor asked.

Coach scoffed, clearly having had enough of all this bullshit. “Yeah, the nice, fancy bus will probably be a thing of the past.”

For some weird, inexplicable reason, his brutal acceptance of things outside of our control helped to lift our spirits. By the time we filed off the bus, we were totally ready to have our asses handed to us.

*

The starting whistle blew, and we kicked off. Cam did such a good job that our ball made it all the way to the end zone. It forced Springfield to take a knee for a touchback. The offense started at the 25-yard line, and they decided to go for a running play. Their quarterback handed off to the running back, and he looked for a gap, but our defense immediately saw it coming. We stopped them before they could gain more than five yards.

“Okay, if I’m reading the situation right, they’re going to set down for a pass play,” Coach said, his eyes scanning the field. “So I want us to try for a nickel and see if that will get us the lead. Once we have that, the game is ours.”