Rally (Treasure State Wildcats Book 3)

Kissing Rush was like riding a roller coaster. Every time I felt steady he’d do something that made my stomach dip. The moment he carried me across the threshold and kicked the door shut, he spun me through his room. Two turns, then we were falling sideways into his bed.

We crashed into each other, tangling arms and legs and tongues. No matter how long I kissed him, it wasn’t enough. I licked every corner of his mouth as he plundered mine.

My skin was on fire. The throb in my core was a punishing beat. I hooked a leg around his bulky thigh and ground against him, desperate for some friction.

Months and months and months of this push and pull with Rush. It was inevitable that we’d end up here, wasn’t it? No matter how hard we’d resisted—I’d resisted—it had been futile. There was no extinguishing the fire between us. Every touch, every shift of his hands, and I melted.

He nipped at my bottom lip before slanting his mouth at a different angle. The slow slide of his tongue made me whimper. Then came the flutter that made my entire body tremble.

Damn, this man could kiss. If he kept it up, I might come from a kiss alone.

Rush stole his mouth away, leaning back to stare down at me with darkened eyes. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

“What?” My voice was breathy and desperate.

“There’s no going back from this. You’re in my bed. From here on out. Be sure.”

I’d been sure since the moment I’d left that football game. Since I’d come home and dug that can of bear spray out of my closet.

People like Halsey and her friends would always think Rush could do better than me. They’d always believe the only reason we were together was because of the baby.

I didn’t care, not anymore. I was tired of fighting.

Rush was mine. Maybe we wouldn’t have gotten here if I hadn’t been pregnant. Or maybe we would have. Maybe that wild summer night had always been the beginning of us.

I cupped his jaw with my hand. “I’m sure.”

He dropped his forehead to mine. “This is safe? For Squish?”

Rush couldn’t make my last checkup appointment. It was the only doctor’s visit he’d missed so far. It had been strange to be in the exam room without him. To stare at the empty chair where he’d sit quietly, spinning his hat back and forth, waiting until the doctor would let us listen to the baby’s heartbeat.

Maybe it was because Rush had been gone that I’d had the courage to ask the doctor about sex. Not that I’d expected this to happen but since that kiss, maybe since the beginning, a part of me had hoped.

“Yes, it’s safe.”

He leaned away, a glint in those chocolate eyes. His hand lifted, starting at my temple and trailing along the line of my face to my chin. Tingles broke across my skin as he traced the column of my throat, his fingertip pressing into my pulse before dipping to my collarbone.

The tee I’d worn for bed was threadbare and thin. I hadn’t bothered with a bra. It might as well have been nothing for the way his touch penetrated the fabric.

He trailed lower, over my heart and then to my breast. He circled my nipple three times before rolling it between his finger and thumb.

“Rush,” I hissed, arching against him. The friction with the cotton of my shirt and the pinch of his fingers was delicious torment. I rocked my core against his leg, grinding against that rock-hard muscle.

“I’ve dreamed about these nipples.” He bent and latched his mouth over my breast, sucking through the shirt.

“More.” My eyes fluttered closed as I threaded my fingers into his hair. It was longer than it had been this summer. Long enough that it curled beneath the brim of his baseball hats.

When he sucked harder, I tugged at the strands, keeping him trapped against me.

His hand moved lower, skating along my ribs to the sliver of skin where my shirt had ridden up.

He slipped beneath the hem, and this time, there was nothing but that wide, strong hand cupping me, squeezing and kneading my breast as his mouth moved to my other nipple.

Oh, God, I was going to come apart. My heart was beating too hard, like it was knocking against my sternum. My breaths were ragged pants and my head was spinning.

He lifted up onto an elbow and before I even knew what was happening, he whipped the shirt over my head, forcing my arms up until they brushed the headboard. With a flick of his wrist, my tee went flying over his shoulder to the floor. Then his mouth, hot and wet, was on a nipple, and I bit my lip to keep from crying out.

Lightning zinged across my skin. Desire pooled between my legs.

Had it been like this before? I wanted to say yes. Our night together this summer had been the best sex of my life. But this? Tonight? It felt a thousand times better. Every touch was ecstasy. My pulse rocketed higher, its rhythm vibrating through every bone, every fiber, every cell.

I could fly. I could conquer the world. This was what people must feel like when they were high. I was drunk on Rush and never wanted this feeling to stop.

The heat from his body seeped into mine, and I sank into the burn, letting it wash over me, head to toe.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he said, his mouth trailing over my breast before he shifted lower. His tongue darted out, leaving a wet trail on my skin as he kissed a path to my navel.

I lifted my head off the pillow and opened my eyes, watching as his hands molded to the curve of my belly. The bump still wasn’t much, but the reverence in his eyes made my heart tumble.

Rush hadn’t touched my belly often up to this point. I had a feeling that was going to change.

He planted a kiss to the swell, then met my gaze and smirked. Like he was proud of himself for getting me pregnant.

That kind of arrogance shouldn’t have been hot.

But it was. So. Freaking. Hot.

“Rush,” I murmured.

The smirk vanished as a different expression transformed his features. Raw, unbridled hunger. “Faye.”

“Kiss me.”

His eyes became molten pools as he shifted, hovering over me, careful to keep his weight to my side. He bent, his mouth almost capturing mine, but he hesitated. He was so close that his breath feathered across my cheek. He brought his hand to my jaw, holding it in place. Holding my eyes in place.

The world disappeared. This universe was ours alone.

“I pick you,” he said.

My heart doubled, tripled, until it felt too big. “I pick you.”

It was barely out of my mouth before his lips collided against mine. The tender moment was gone with a sweep of his tongue. The raging inferno returned with a vengeance, and damn it, why were we wearing so many clothes?

I grappled with the hem of his shirt as our tongues dueled, doing my best to haul it up over his chest. But Rush was too big and unless he moved, there was no budging him.

“Off,” I panted into his mouth.

He growled, the vibration shooting straight to my core. Then he was gone, and with a quick jackknife, he was off the bed, reaching behind his nape to haul his quarter zip and T-shirt over his head.

Before his shirt had even joined mine on the floor he was reaching for the waistband of my sweats.

“Later, we’ll go slow,” he said. “But not tonight.”

I shook my head, lifting off my hips so he could strip me bare.

Dim light seeped from the window, casting Rush’s room in shadow. Did he leave the blinds open because he’d noticed I never closed mine? Whatever the reason, I was grateful for that light. It caressed the granite features of his gorgeous face. It let me see the ridges and valleys of his delicious abs.

Rush stared at me, naked on his bed, and it took everything I had to stay still. Not to cover my breasts or cross my legs as his gaze roved over every inch of my body. His chest heaved, his stomach flexing with every ragged breath. He pressed a hand to his heart, fingers splayed wide.

“Faye.” He was awestruck.

I’d never felt more beautiful in my life.

Rush shook his head, like he still couldn’t believe this was happening. I wasn’t sure it was either.

He inhaled, that broad chest expanding, then he hooked his thumbs in his pants and shoved them to the floor.

His cock bobbed, hard and thick.

Now it was my turn to stare, mouth watering. I’d forgotten how big he was. How nervous I’d been this summer at the sight of him.

Rush fisted his shaft, giving his erection a few hard strokes before he planted a knee on the bed and crawled on top of me. His elbows bracketed my face as he hovered, his nose running the length of mine. “Kiss me.”

A shiver raced down my spine at the command in his voice. I leaned up and brushed my mouth against his. My tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip.

His knee nudged my legs apart.

As I spread them wide, he settled into the cradle of my hips. His arms flexed, that incredible strength keeping us close but holding all of his weight.

He kissed the corner of my mouth, reaching between us. He dragged the tip of his arousal through my slit.

My heart climbed into my throat as I waited. Every second was agony. My arms and legs began to tremble as he lined up at my entrance and thrust inside.

“Oh, God.” My hands came to his shoulders, my fingers pressing into muscle that might as well have been steel. The stretch was pain and pleasure as I molded around him.

“Fuck.” He gritted his teeth as he plunged deep. He buried his face in my hair and groaned, the sound pure bliss. “You feel so good, Faye.”

“More.” I dug into his back, my short nails probably leaving marks. “Move, Rush.”

I needed him to move, to fuck me and satisfy this ache.

He latched his mouth onto my neck and sucked hard enough to leave a mark. Then he eased out and rocked inside once more, hitting that spot where I needed him most.

My inner walls fluttered. My limbs trembled. He set a steady rhythm, rolling his hips with every thrust. The sound of our bodies coming together mingled with my short breaths.

“It’s too much.” It wasn’t enough.

I was unraveling, stroke after stroke. He pistoned his hips faster, his mouth claiming mine. He kissed me until I cried out, desperately trying to breathe as my orgasm barreled closer, stealing the air from my lungs.

The edge was coming too fast. Too hard. I was going to combust and we’d barely even started. Except it kept building, higher and higher. So high I was terrified of what it was going to do to me.

Over and over he brought us together, until the room seemed to tilt sideways. Gravity vanished, and I was floating.

I clawed at Rush’s back, writhing beneath him. “Rush, I can’t⁠—”

“Just let go, sweets.” He bent to kiss my ear. “Just let go. I’ve got you.”

I whimpered, a sound unlike any I’d made before. I sucked in a breath. I closed my eyes.

And shattered.

My body was in pieces. I lost all control, my muscles no longer my own. There were stars in my eyes and fireworks in my chest. Tears streamed down my temples, dripping into my hair.

“Faye.” Rush wiped them away, peppering my face with kisses as he never slowed, never stopped.

He held onto my body, worshipping me, until I stopped floating and returned to reality as someone different.

His.

“Mine,” Rush murmured.

When I opened my eyes, his were waiting. “Mine too.”

He kissed me, slow and long, his tongue matching the pace of his cock.

After an orgasm like that, I should have been a puddle. I should have been comatose. But as he worked in and out, his tongue fluttering in my mouth, my heart rate spiked. My core pulsed around his length.

Rush groaned, the sound disappearing down my throat. Then he broke away, his own breath choppy. His jaw clenched. “Again, Faye.”

It probably should have been impossible after that first orgasm, but I let the sensation sweep over me like a wave.

This release didn’t rattle my bones or blank my mind, but it was powerful in a different way. It was a claiming, his body to mine, in perfect unison as we came together.

Rush let out a low moan as he planted deep, then poured inside me, his massive frame quaking until he was spent. He collapsed, rolling to the side and hauling me into his arms. His heart hammered as I desperately sucked in air, my nose pressed to his chest to breathe him in.

My head was spinning so fast I was dizzy. A good dizzy.

Rush kissed my forehead, then eased us apart before hauling up the blankets we’d managed to kick on the floor.

The last thing I wanted was to leave the warmth of his arms, but the bathroom was calling, so I gathered my clothes and slipped away. When I emerged, I glanced at my room.

The light had been on earlier.

It was dark now.

Rush was in the hallway, dressed in only a pair of fitted black boxer briefs.

He held out a hand.

And made sure that when I fell asleep, it was in his bed, not mine.

Slut. Slut. Slut.

My eyes popped open.

A dream. It was only a dream.

Ugh. I stared into the dark room, letting the dream fade from my mind.

Maybe it was the hormones, but ever since I’d gotten pregnant, my dreams had been so real. In tonight’s, I’d relived the football game, but instead of Halsey whispering the insult to her friend, she’d screamed it in my face. Then the crowd had started chanting slut instead of Rush’s name.

I really hated his ex. Not only was that word stuck in my head, now there’d be no going back to sleep. I was fully awake. Freaking great.

Rush was passed out beside me, his face buried in a pillow with one arm draped over my hips to make sure I didn’t escape.

I shifted, inching toward the edge of the bed. He didn’t budge.

So I slid out from beneath him and tiptoed to the door, easing silently into the hall before going to my room.

I snagged a sweatshirt from the closet, pulling it on before climbing into bed to scroll aimlessly on my phone. Well, not aimlessly. I opened Instagram and, like a fool, went to Rush’s profile. He hadn’t posted anything in months. But I wasn’t looking for his photos. I clicked on his followers and found her name in the list.

halseyray

She had five thousand followers. She even had the little blue check mark beside her name.

I had twenty-something followers. Granted, my account was private, and I hated posting pictures of myself, so most of mine were of Gloria or Dusty or the diner. Still, it was just another reminder that she was bright and shiny, while I was, well . . . me.

I scrolled through her feed, mostly finding selfies and photos with her friends. But there were a few videos with Rush. Wasn’t it a rule or something to remove posts of your ex after a breakup?

He wasn’t hers anymore.

Rush was mine.

I scowled at her face, wishing I could find a flaw. But she was as gorgeous on social media as she was in real life. Did her five thousand followers know that she was a mean girl?

Was she even a mean girl?

She’d been in love with Rush, and he’d broken it off. Then she’d found out I was pregnant, and if I was in her position, I’d probably consider me a slut too.

It was hard to hate someone when you could empathize with their feelings.

I lay down on my pillow, curling my legs in as I slipped under the covers. Then I kept scrolling, my envy growing a little bit more with every picture.

How long had they dated? How many nights had she slept down the hall in his bed? Why did my brain come up with questions that I really, really didn’t need to be thinking about at 2:39 in the morning?

I set my phone on the nightstand, screen down, and hugged my pillow to my chest as I closed my eyes.

Slut. Slut. Slut.

“This is ridiculous.”

“Agreed.” The light flipped on and I yelped, smacking a hand over my heart as I sat up straight.

Rush scowled from the doorway as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Care to explain why I woke up alone? Again?”

“I can’t sleep.” My shoulders slumped. “I didn’t want to wake you up.”

He sighed and flipped off the light, padding to the bed to crawl in behind me. He moved beneath the covers, curling against me as he used my one and only pillow and I used his arm as a headrest.

“What’s going on in here?” He touched my temple.

“It’s nothing.”

“Is it about earlier? You and me?”

“No. I had a bad dream. They’re very vivid lately. I’m blaming Squish. It was about, um . . . Halsey.”

He stiffened. “Halsey?”

“Yeah. I saw her at the game. She was in my dream.” And since I was a tiny bit sleep-deprived and delirious, I kept the confession coming. “I dreamed that she called me a slut and then the whole stadium started chanting slut, slut, slut.”

His chest started to shake.

“Don’t laugh.” I elbowed him in the stomach, and he turned his face into the pillow, muffling the sound. “It’s not funny.”

“It’s not funny.” He held me tighter, his nose in my hair. I didn’t need to see his face to know he was still grinning.

“Anyway,” I drawled, “I was looking at her Instagram. She’s very pretty.”

“Meh.”

I scoffed. “Meh?”

“It’s all staged, sweets. It’s not real. Your beauty? It’s real. And it’s a thousand times prettier than anything Halsey posts online.”

“Rush,” I whispered. There was a lot to unpack in that statement. Maybe, for a change, I didn’t have to analyze it at all. I could just . . . believe him. “Thank you.”

“Welcome.”

“I like it when you call me sweets.”

“Good.” He kissed my hair, then snuggled deeper, holding me as he relaxed.

“Rush?”

“Faye?”

“I’m jealous that she had you first. That she spent so many nights in your bed.” I had to be delirious. That was not something I ever would have admitted otherwise. It had to be the sex. He’d scrambled my brain.

“You could be spending the night in my bed,” he teased.

“You know what I mean.”

He held me closer. “Yeah. I know. I’m not crazy about the idea of you living with fuckwad Justin.”

My nose scrunched at his name. It had been surprisingly easy to forget about him.

“If it makes you feel better, Halsey didn’t sleep here.”

I lifted up on an elbow to twist and look at him. “Really?”

“We stayed at her place. Like Erik does with Kalindi.”

“Let me guess. Maverick?”

“Something like that.” He yawned. “Can we save that story for daylight hours?”

“Yeah.” I lay down again, trying to relax and shut off my brain.

Slut. Slut. Slut.

“Rush?”

“Faye?” he murmured.

“This bed is too small.”

Rush moved his hand beneath my hoodie, pressing his palm against my belly. “Go to sleep.”

He wasn’t talking to Squish.

So I snuggled deeper, certain there was no way I’d crash.

But when I woke up, there was sun streaming through my windows. Rush’s body was curled around mine. And for as clear as it had been in the middle of the night, I’d forgotten all about that silly dream.