Chapter Three

Aspen

“Oh, uh…I was just…” I say, pointing down the road, not really sure what to say.

He laughs and opens his truck door, stepping out. And f*uck, I thought he was hot when I saw him on the field but up close where I can clearly see the dark blue starburst around his iris, get a first-hand look at those lips, and smell his cologne, damn.

He smiles down at me, his large frame towering over all five feet, one inch of me.

“I’m Boston, and that’s my brother Lincoln.” He says, pointing to who I now see is the other Jones boy, although I still don’t know which one is the one that I had apparently caught the attention of at the game.

“We’re heading to a party. Wanna come?”

Yes!

But then I don’t know these boys from Adam. For all, I know they could be planning on taking advantage of me or something.

He must sense my unease because he says, “Or, we could give you a lift home. But you shouldn’t be walking alone out here at night.”

“Why? Is it dangerous around here or something?” I find myself asking instead of answering his question.“I’m guessing you’re new to the area?” At my nod, he continues, “didn’t think I’d seen you around before. And to answer your question, naw. It’s usually pretty quiet around here but it’s always better to be safe…”

“True,” I mutter, biting my bottom lip.

“So, would you like to go to the party with us or a ride home?” he asks again, dipping his head to look me in the eyes when I take my eyes off of him.

I wanted to go to the party and now, the whole reason why I was interested in the party, is standing right in front of me.

“I could party,” I say, smiling as I hear his brother say yes, inside the truck’s cab.

Walking past him, he holds the driver’s side door open for me as I try to figure out the best way to climb up in his truck. It’s raised up higher than your average truck and that makes it difficult when you’re already vertically challenged. Hands wrap around my waist, causing me to catch my breath as he lifts me into the truck.

“Thanks,” I tell him, scooting over until I’m between Boston and Lincoln. Boston closes the driver’s side door and takes back off down the road, heading in the same direction I had been going to go home.

“I’m Aspen, by the way,” I say into the silence of the truck, realizing that I hadn’t given my name.

“So, Aspen, how’d you like the game?” Lincoln asks from beside me, a mischievous smile on his face.

“It was great. I haven’t been to a football game in so long. And you guys were awesome!” I say looking between the brothers as Boston turns down the same road that I now live on. “Although, I’m not sure who’s the wide receiver and who’s the quarterback?” I ask, glancing from Lincoln back over to Boston as he pulls up to the curb.

Once I look around, I find that we’re close enough that I can see my house from here. Which is probably a good thing for when I need to go home tonight. I won’t have to try to drunkenly give directions to an Uber, or anyone else for that matter.

“I’m QB,” Lincoln says, then nods to Boston, “Bos is wide receiver.” Okay, so it’s Boston who noticed me.

Interesting.

The guys both open their doors and hop out of the truck. Boston turns around and offers to help me down, and I gladly accept so that I don’t fall on my face. As I slide off of the seat, his hands wrap around my waist and my body slides down the front of his. Boston’s eyes darken at the contact as he stares down at me, not removing his hands from my waist.

His eyes bounce from mine, down to my mouth, then back up to my eyes, as he licks his lips. The brush of his thumb against my cheek jolts me out of whatever was going on as he brushes a piece of hair away from my face, “thanks,” I mutter.

“Let’s go get you a drink. I’ll get you a bottle when we get inside, just don’t take anything from anyone, okay?” Uh, should I be worried? Biting his lip, he chuckles, “it’s just always better to be safe.”

“That’s the second time you’ve said, and I quote “it’s better to be safe”, should I be worried about something?” I ask, looking back and forth from Boston to Lincoln.

Boston looks over at Lincoln for a moment then turns his attention to me, “there have been instances girl’s drinks being roofied, resulting in them being taken advantage of.” He almost looks concerned, but I don’t know him well enough to know if that’s actually a look of concern or not.

“Oh,” I say, not really knowing how to respond to that. Instead, I look a little way down the road, wondering if I should just go home after all.

“It will be fine. Just, don’t take anything from anyone other than me. And I will bring your drink to you and open it in front of you so that you know it’s not been messed with.” He must have been able to sense my sudden unease at his revelation.

As he slides his hand into mine, linking our fingers and winking down at me, that unease flies out the window, replaced by butterflies as he watches me. His concern for a complete stranger is both evident and oddly touching.

I follow him into the party, whoops and hollers sounding out as soon as Boston walks through the door. He does that weird handshake-clap thing with some of the guys, others he gives a one-armed bro hug, complete with a clap on the back all the while, never pulling his hand from mine.

Instead, I get an occasional squeeze, which causes me to look up at him, “You okay?” He asks, leaning down to whisper in my ear so that I can hear him.

At my nod, he pulls us on through the crowd in search of something to drink.

Boston and I are out on the makeshift dance floor, beers in hand raised above our heads as I grind against his pelvis and he pulls me further into him, pulling my hair over my shoulder, he begins kissing my neck causing an ache to form between my thighs.

I’ve got a nice buzz going on, but I don’t need anything more than that. I’m having fun with Boston, and I want to actually remember having fun with him when I wake up in the morning.

Turning around in his arms, I roll my hips, dancing to the beat of the music. Boston pulls me closer, one of his legs going between both of mine to where I’m almost straddling his thigh. Taking another drink of my beer to wet my parched mouth, I wrap my free hand around his waist just above his as*s, bracing myself against him as we dance.

Someone walks by us, and he gives them both of our beer bottles, then slides both of his hands into my back pockets and lowers his head until I can smell the mix of mint and beer on his breath.

I’m staring into his eyes and rolling my hips against him to the beat of the music. Boston places a kiss against my jaw, slowly making his way over until his lips are on my mouth and they are every bit as soft as I thought they would be.

We stay out on the dance floor, dancing, grinding against one another, and making out until I’m so turned on that he can probably feel my wetness on his thigh through his jeans.

His hands have been all over me all night, trailing up and down my arms, sides, and back, his touch lighting me up like a livewire. Both of his hands cup the back of my head, his fingers tangling in my hair as the kiss deepens and he backs me up, off the dance floor.

Pulling away, and breaking the kiss, Boston leans his forehead against mine. The fire in his eyes tells me that he’s as turned on as I am. As if the feel of his hard cock between us wasn’t enough of an indication.

He peers into my eyes as if asking if I want to take this somewhere else,  and at my almost imperceptible head nod, he slips his hand into mine, lacing our fingers together, and leads me up the stairs and into an empty bedroom.

Once the door is shut behind me, my back is against it and Boston’s mouth is on mine once again, devouring me as his hands roam my body. “Are you sure?” He asks, breaking the kiss and resting our foreheads together, looking into my eyes to, “You’ve drank, and I don’t…”