Keeping Score by Cathryn Fox
Reagan
My body is sore in the most glorious ways. I roll to my side and take in a sleeping Rocco. It’s not even morning yet, and I should feel tired, not invigorated. With the blankets around his waist, his arms above his head, I study his solid body, as I feel my arousal rising, racing through me. Sex with him was soft, and tender and gentle. The way he took care of me hit on a different level, a deeper one, and that scares me a little. Or maybe a lot.
I lightly touch his chest, run my hands over his scars. Bending, I lightly press my lips to his chest and kiss him gently. He shifts, moves beneath my hands, and I lift my head, find him looking at me.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” My voice is hoarse and low.
“You didn’t.”
I grin at him. “Yes, I did.”
He touches my still damp hair, runs it between his fingers. We showered before we fell asleep an hour ago, and we also changed the bedding. I was foolishly embarrassed by the blood, but Rocco wasn’t having any of that. It’s crazy how he can put me at ease, how we can talk about things like my virginity, the blood on the bed, like it’s normal conversation. But it’s more than that. There’s an intimacy in the way we open up and share, and I’m not sure I’d feel that with any other guy.
“Okay, you did wake me,” he admits. “But I don’t mind.” He bends to drop a gentle kiss onto my mouth.
I savor the kiss, wanting more, wanting everything.
Careful, Reagan. He’s not offering everything.
“This is a nice way to wake up.”
His warm gaze moves over my face. “Are you sore?”
“No.”
He grins at me. “Yeah, you are.”
I laugh, a new lightness in me. “Okay, yeah, I am but I’m not too sore to take you again, if you want.”
“Like you even have to ask.” I chuckle at his totally male answer and press my mouth to his chest and kiss him some more. “But we’re not going to.”
My head lifts, and that little tingle of worry tightens in my stomach. I know the rumors, heard the stories of the jocks deflowering virgins in some disgusting game they played for points. Though that happened freshman year, and we’re seniors. But that doesn’t mean I wasn’t a game to him. Revenge on Cochrane, perhaps.
No, Rocco is not like that.
Honestly, I hate myself for even considering it, but old insecurities flow through my veins, and they’ve left their fair share of ruts over time. Like I said, I never knew who wanted to be my friend because of what I had or because they liked me.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Rocco asks.
I put on a smile. “Nothing. If you don’t want to—”
“Sunshine,” he begins and it’s so ridiculous how much I love it when he calls me that. How close it makes me feel to him. “I want to. I told you that. You’re sore and we’re going to give it a bit of time, but believe me, the second you’re not sore, I’m back in here.” He slides his hand down my body and cups my sex.
I chuckle, the last of my worries evaporating. Rocco’s stomach takes that moment to growl. I lift my head to see him. “You must be starving.”
“Yeah, I didn’t eat after the game.”
I sit up and cross my legs. “I’m sorry. You should have been out celebrating the win, and I dragged you into my problems.”
“You didn’t drag me into anything.”
I frown. “Why were you at Wolf House, anyway?”
“You texted me and told me where you were going.” Rocco holds up his hand clenched in a fist, unfurling one finger. “One, I didn’t want you walking back to the pub alone in the dark.” He unfurls the second finger. “And two, I was worried Cochrane was going to give you a hard time and I didn’t want you to have no backup if he did.”
I frown and pluck at the bedding. “I never thought he was a cheater.” A humorless laugh comes out of my throat. “I guess we were on a break, and how am I any better? I just slept with you.”
His eyes darken, his brow furrows. “You regret it,” he states quietly, and reaches for the blankets to push them off.
I grab his arm. “No, not for one second.” He stares at me long and hard, and deep in his brain, I get that he’s trying to decide whether I’m telling the truth or not. “I promise.”
He gives a slow nod and puts his hand on my cheek. “I couldn’t live with myself if I knew you regretted this, Reagan.”
“Later, when I’m not sore, I’m going to show you just how much I don’t regret this.”
He frowns. “Cochrane…are you two going to get back together after our month?”
I swallow. Hard. “You…you really don’t like him, do you?”
He scrubs his face. We both know I’m hedging, that I’m not saying yes or no. The truth is, I’m hurt. I can come to terms with Cochrane being with another girl, I guess. We were on a break. The things he said about Rocco, however. I can’t get past that. My stomach sours just thinking about the vile names he called Rocco. No one deserves to be treated like that, made to feel lesser. I saw a side of Cochrane I’d never seen before, and the things he said to and about me…shocking as well. Will he unleash that side of himself on me again? Once he has everything he wants, will he start treating me like dirt beneath him, and calling me vile names? If anything, Rocco is the better man. Look where he started and look where he’s at right now.
In my bed.
My heart beats a little faster. But what the hell are my parents going to say? Their little girl is not supposed to veer off her carefully crafted path. My stomach tightens even more as Rocco’s eyes drill into me.
“How about this,” I begin. “How about we don’t talk about Cochrane for the rest of the weekend. Let’s just pretend we’re the only two people who exist.”
He smiles, leans in and lightly brushes his lips over mine. “I like that idea.” He tosses his blankets off and stands, completely comfortable in his naked skin. I let my gaze rake over him, taking in his scars.
“I can’t wait until I’m not sore,” I say, wanting him to know I have zero regrets.
He turns, and grins, his playful mood back. He waves his hand up and down his body. “You want some of this.”
“Nope.”
He angles his head his eyes narrowing. “What?”
“I don’t want some, I want it all.”
He laughs. “I don’t know what I did to you, but I like it.”
I search the floor for clothes, and find his shirt. “Mind if I wear this?”
“Nope.”
He opens his duffle and pulls out a pair of sweatpants. I breathe in his scent as I smell his shirt and grab a clean pair of panties from my bag. I dress and turn to find him staring at me. A thrill goes through me at the ravenous gleam in his eyes. I don’t think any guy has ever looked at me with such yearning before. It’s scary, and exciting.
I jerk my head toward the other room. “Let’s go find something to eat.” He stays close to me as we head to the kitchen, and I open the fridge to find soda, beer, juice and a few condiments. “Drink?”
“Sure.” I take out the juice and pour two glasses. In the freezer, I find bread and bacon. There are no fresh eggs, but we can work with what we have. I root out a frying pan. “Check the cupboard to see if there’s any canned fruit. Mom always stocks the place with peaches.”
“Mmm, peaches.” The doors open and close and he sets a can of peaches on the counter. I nuke the bacon to thaw it and toss it in the pan. I’m about to reach for a fork, when he comes up behind me, puts his arms around my waist and looks over my shoulder.
“Bacon. That’s a food group, right?”
“It is in my world.”
He continues to hold me and I continue to like it. It’s so weird, this intimacy between us. My heart beats a little faster when he’s around; my body is so aware of him. I don’t want to compare, but I’m not sure I ever felt this kind of comfortableness with Cochrane. But I’m not supposed to talk or think about him this weekend.
I sway slightly as I separate the bacon in the pan. Wait, what was that? I push back a little. Yup, it’s still there. Grinning as an idea takes hold, I turn the stove off and spin until I’m facing Rocco.
“You want me to cook…” He stops speaking, his words dissolving in the charged air around us. “What are you up to?”
I point downward. “You seem to have a little problem this morning.”
“Little?”
“Ohmigod, what an ego.”
He shrugs. “What can I say?”
“Okay, let me try this again, you’ve got a big problem down there.”
“You’re too sore, babe. I want to wait.”
Warmth spreads through me. My God, he’s so incredibly sweet it’s hard to believe he’s for real.
“Agreed, but there is something I want to do in the meantime. Something I want to finish.” Before he can say a word, I sink to my knees and take his pants down with me.
“Holy fuck.”
I blink up at him, his cock thickening in front of me. I lean in, and his crown taps the dent in my top lip. I take his thickness into my hand. His breathing changes, each hard, labored breath like a stroke over my clit, making me wet. I love seeing him like this. Love the way my touch can reduce this big, scary football player into a quivering mess of need.
He pushes my hair from my shoulders and grabs a fistful. “You want to suck my cock, Reagan?”
I blink up at him, and wet my lips. He pinches his eyes shut for a second, agony all over his beautifully scarred face. “Yeah…”
His eyes meet mine. “You like that, huh? You like it with me?”
Something in the way he’s saying that…I don’t know, but he needs to hear my answer. It’s important for him to know that I like having him in my mouth.
“Yes.”
His jaw clenches. “Take my cock into your hot little mouth. Let me watch you suck me off.”
My sex pulses at his dirty words, my nipples hard little peaks begging for attention. I lean in, lick the pre-cum from his crown and his growls of pleasure curl around me, giving me confidence in my abilities. I savor the tangy taste of him, breathing in his scent as I take him to the back of my throat. God, I want every inch of him in my mouth, but it’s impossible. Still, it’s not going to stop me from trying.
He tugs on my hair, his moan of pleasure like praise to my ears and I slide my mouth back to lick his crown, taste his offerings.
“That is so good, babe.”
I glance up at him, take in the way his eyes are closing, the muscles in his body tight. I can’t believe how close he is. I swallow more of him, going impossibly deeper, and he eases into my throat. Never have I wanted to pleasure a guy like this. I never thought it could bring me pleasure until Rocco.
“I want to taste you so badly.” He groans, and I want that too. My body warms all over and my pussy grows impossibly wetter. “I’m going to toss you onto your bed, and put my mouth all over you.” He takes a couple fast breaths. “I want to fuck you everywhere. Especially your tits.” My nipples harden just thinking about that. I inch back.
“I’ve never done that before,” I tell him, and he nods.
“We’re going to do lots of firsts, Reagan.”
I smile and go back to pleasuring him, loving the idea of a weekend of sex. And a weekend of first. I might not be able to be his first in the bedroom, but here at the cottage there are other things we can do. We’re in my territory now, and that’s foreign to him.
“Babe,” he tugs on my hair, but I clamp my hands around his legs and hold him in my mouth. I want to taste him. “You want this? You want my cum in your throat?”
I murmur and nod around his engorged cock, each swollen vein filled with heated blood as I suck on him, like my very existence depends on it.
“Fuck, babe…”
His words, so soft and tender, so full of…I’m not exactly sure what the right word is. All I know is he’s filled with wonderment. Like he’s surprised that I want to do things for him.
“I’m there,” he moans, and a second later, he spurts down my throat. I drink him in. Or at least I try to. I stay on the floor until he spills every last drop, and I glance up at him. The second my eyes meet his, catch the warmth and gratitude staring back at me, my heart does a little tumble.
He smiles at me, and runs his hand over my mess of hair. “Hey,” he says, and it makes me grin.
“Hey yourself.”
“For a guy who doesn’t like surprises, I really liked that one.”
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “We have the whole weekend, and I think I’m going to surprise you a lot.”
“I think I’m going to like that.” He frowns. “What about you? Can I touch you?” His stomach grumbles, and I chuckle.
“Rain check?”
He pulls me to my feet, and presses a kiss to my forehead. “I’m going to do the dirtiest things to you.”
My entire body quivers. “I’m looking forward to it. Right now, I’m going to feed you.”
He pulls his sweats up, and gets me a glass of water. “Drink.”
I do as he says, and point to the coffee pods. “Why don’t you make us coffee and I’ll get this food ready.”
I turn from him. When he doesn’t move right away, I’m about to glance over my shoulder to question him when big arms circle my waist. He lifts me clear from the floor as he gives me a bear hug. It does the craziest things to my beating heart.
He sets me on my feet, and goes to work on the coffee. I don’t need to turn to know he’s watching me. I can practically feel his eyes burning into the side of my head.
“Is there something you want to say?” I ask, unable to keep the happiness from my voice, which raises the question, what is it about being secluded with Rocco that makes me so happy? I just caught my long-term boyfriend, my future husband, cheating on me, and my parents are going to flip out once they find out we’re no longer a couple. Our mothers have been planning our wedding forever. Yet, here I am, in the woods with Rocco, and I’m very happy.
“I like you.”
I turn to him, and while his eyes are filled with delight, there’s a seriousness about him. “I like you too, Rocco.”
“Good.”
Just like that, he goes back to making the coffee and I put the toast down as the bacon cooks. He opens the fridge. “No milk.”
“There’s powder in the cupboard.”
Once he fixes our coffees, I plate our food and set a jar of jam on the table. He looks at it and looks at me.
“I might never leave here.”
I laugh. “It’s my happy place too. But reality calls.”
“Not until Monday it doesn’t.”
“But it still will.” I push down the stupid lump in my throat. What’s going on here isn’t reality, it’s fantasy and that’s okay, for now.
He bites into the bacon and moans. My gaze leaves his face, and settles on the biggest scar on his chest. I want to ask. I don’t. It’s not my business and maybe it’s not wise getting too personal with him. It will only make it harder when this is all over.
“My father was a bastard,” he begins. “Especially when he was drunk.”
“I’m sorry, Rocco.”
“Thanks, but it’s not your fault.”
I look at the angry scar. “He did that?”
“I was twelve, bringing him a beer, like he asked. Tripped over my own feet, and the bottle broke on the floor beneath me. Landed in emergency getting stitches with a drunk father ranting in the waiting room. That’s when child protective services started getting involved.”
I wince, understanding he’s telling me something very personal, very private, something I suspect he doesn’t tell too many people. I like that he’s comfortable enough to open up with me. I feel the same way about him.
“I’m sorry you got hurt,” I softly empathize. “As awful as it was, maybe going to the hospital was a blessing. With child protective services involved, it got you out of that environment.”
He laughs, but it holds no humor. “Not really. I was thirteen the first time I went to a home. Things were no better there. Most foster families do it for the money. They don’t want or care about the kids.” He frowns. “My father was a bastard, but he was still my father. Being taken away wasn’t easy for me.”
I frown. We had such different upbringings, yet we’re here together, right now. Breathing the same air and enjoying the same things. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”
“It’s okay.” Dark lashes fall over blue eyes. “I don’t want anyone’s pity.”
I look over his face, note the way the hard angles seem softer this morning. “What do you want?”