The Forbidden Freshman: A College Sports Romance (Nolan U Hockey Book 1)

When I came down the hallway and saw that shithead yanking Mikayla’s arm while she yelled at him that she didn’t want this and to let her go, I lost it. What kind of fucker treats a woman that way?

And she’s drunk off her ass.

Shit, if I hadn’t found her…

My stomach clenches as I buckle her into the passenger seat and stalk around my truck. There are too many stories of rape and roofies. It’s a nationwide problem, and Nolan U is not immune to it. I should have punched that asshole in the face. What if he goes after another girl?

I glance at Mikayla, pulling out my phone before starting the engine. “Who was that guy?”

She shrugs, closing her eyes and looking sick.

“Did you get his name?”

“Why?” she manages.

“Because I want the guys to keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn’t go after any other girls.”

“He only wanted me,” she mumbles.

“How do you know?”

Her jaw clenches, and she shakes her head, then winces and covers her eyes with a trembling hand.

Shit, she’s gonna cry.

I fire off a quick text to Liam, telling him what happened and what I’m doing. I won’t need to ask anything else of him. Liam’s a protector, and as soon as he reads my text, he’ll take it upon himself to walk the party, keeping an eye on anyone who’s looking vulnerable. He’ll probably be feeling bad about losing sight of Mikayla anyway, which will make him extra vigilant. When I was frantically searching the house for her, I bumped into the guys, and they all went pale when I told them I’d lost her. I’ve never seen them move so fast, breaking away from the table and combing the house for her.

Shit, what if I hadn’t walked into the hallway when I did? What if that asshole had dragged lil’ mouse into a room before I’d found her? She may be feisty, but she’s drunk right now. And I don’t care what she says, she is little. A guy that size could do whatever the hell he wanted with her, and she wouldn’t have been able to fight him off. I feel sick with rage as I drive straight for Hockey House. She’s staying with me tonight. At least until she’s sober. I have to know she’ll be okay.

The thought that he was after Mikayla churns through me. I want to ask her about it, but I don’t want to make things worse. She’s probably just had the shit scared out of her, and she doesn’t need me firing off questions. I’ll follow up tomorrow after she’s had some sleep and feels better.

Resting her head against the glass, she lets out a soft groan when I turn the corner.

“You gonna be sick?” I slow down a little.

She shakes her head, but I don’t know if I believe her.

As soon as we get to the house, I jerk to a stop in the driveway and race around the truck. I’m expecting her to complain that I’m opening the door for her, but she doesn’t say a word and lets me carry her into the house and all the way up to my bedroom.

Laying her down on the bed, I take off her heels and figure she can sleep in the dress. I’ve just taken her away from one creep; I’m not about to go undressing her, even if she would be more comfortable sleeping in her underwear.

“C’mere,” she mumbles.

“Huh?”

“Come.” Slow, uncoordinated fingers beckon me, and I snicker at her drunken smile, walking back up the bed while she rises to her knees. “Thank you.” She rests her hands on my waist. “Thank you for saving me tonight.”

My throat grows thick, and all I can do is brush my hands lightly through her hair and swallow whatever this feeling is.

Her glazed eyes are dreamy, glimmering with a smile as she tugs on my shirt and pulls me down. I go with it, sliding my tongue against hers as she wrecks me with a kiss that’s uninhibited. It’s scorching, sloppy, wet, and I can’t resist it when she moans into my mouth and deepens it a little further. I drop to my knees on the edge of the bed, gliding my hands around her hips and up her back while this blaring alarm goes off in the back of my brain.

She’s drunk!

Don’t take advantage!

Step away!

“Do you really want to be doing this?” I murmur between kisses.

“Yes.” She leans back, giving me this incredulous look. “Do you have any idea how hot you are?”

I grin, brushing my thumb across her glossy lips. “Yeah, but you’re drunk. I don’t want you kissing me if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Oh, I know what I’m doing.” Her smirk is comically smug. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

That sultry voice turns my semi into a ridge of granite, and when she unzips my jeans, then yanks down my boxer briefs, it springs free—hungry and eager to party.

“Well, hello, beautiful.” Her giggle is relaxed and breathy.

I should stop this.

But then she wraps her fingers around my shaft and I’m blinded for a second. The moment the tip of her tongue licks that bead of moisture off my head, I let out an aching groan that makes all thought impossible.

Her sweet lips suck me while her fingers grip the base of my cock and scatter stars across my vision. It’s impossible not to sink my fingers into her hair, not to let out a guttural moan. I’m gonna blow like a fucking fireworks display in her mouth.

Clenching my butt cheeks, I try to hold out, gain some control.

No cum for a month.

The thought hits me and is then followed by a succession of painful darts.

She’s drunk.

You can’t sleep with her.

You don’t want to walk around campus naked.

Don’t take this risk.

It’s just a blow job.

No one has to know.

I’ll know!

Be the better man.

Be a man of your word.

Fuck! I can’t let this happen.

“Wait,” I rasp. “Just… wait.” I jerk back, gently pushing on her shoulders until her lips pop off the end of my cock. My body aches with the abrupt loss while she looks up with a confused frown. But then her eyes seem to light with understanding, and she flops back on the bed and starts pushing the dress straps off her shoulders.

“What are you doing?”

“I want you. Let’s do it.” Her words are slow and slurred, which helps me battle off the near overwhelming temptation.

She’s not wearing a bra, and those nipples of hers are sexy as sin. Pink and puckered, begging me to suck them again.

I close my eyes and grit out, “I’m not sure that’s a great idea. You’re wasted.”

“I can still turn you on, baby.” She giggles, and she’s not wrong. When I open my eyes and catch a glimpse of her exposed torso, I can barely breathe.

I want to touch, explore every inch of that smooth skin with my fingertips, then follow it up with my tongue. I want to yank that dress off her hips, spread those legs, and⁠—

The bet. Remember the fucking bet!

I wince, snapping my eyes shut again.

“What’s wrong?”

“Uh…” I scrape my fingers through my hair. My hands are shaking as I fight for control and scramble for an answer that doesn’t give away the truth. I’m not supposed to tell anyone.

I’ve never hated Asher more.

I’ve never hated myself more!

She huffs. “I’m not a virgin, if that’s the problem. I mean, technically.”

My eyes pop back open. “Technically?”

“Yeah, I’ve done it.” Her eyebrows bunch. “Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

She flops back on the bed with a sigh, her breasts jiggling. I avert my gaze, trying to focus on the fact that she’s practically a virgin. It’s actually helping, because there’s no way in hell I’m doing this with her if she’s not 100 percent aware of it. She’s not some puck bunny who gets off on tipsy sex romps. She’s a freshman who has sort of, technically, done it once.

“I don’t know if he finished.” She groans, her eyes dipping shut. “It was kind of fast, and then he got off me and was fire-engine red and mumbled something, then left. And I was like… that’s it? Why do people make such a big deal about this, you know?” She starts giggling, then rolls onto her side and looks at me. Her floppy hand drags down my arm. “But then I see you, and I’m pretty sure I’d feel it and it wouldn’t be quick and you’d make me come. And I want to make you come. I want to make you feel good. And then you can make me feel good, and it’ll be alllllllll good.” Her words are getting sloppier by the second, and…

Holy shit, the guy didn’t even make her come?

What kind of fucktard doesn’t pleasure his woman?

What kind of asshole doesn’t understand the art of foreplay?

We’re not taking this one step further. If I ever get the chance to give this girl an orgasm, I want that memory tattooed on her brain for eternity.

Her eyes drift shut again, her words wispy and slurred. “Let’s come together.” And then she’s gone, drifting away on a sleep she never even saw coming.

I gaze down at her relaxed face, skimming my finger over her ear and down her jawline.

“One day, baby. And you’ll remember every second of it,” I whisper, brushing my lips over her forehead. “I just need you to wait for me.”

For some reason, my voice has gone thick with emotion. I don’t know what’s wrong with me or what this sensation in my chest means, but it’s disconcerting.

Clearing my throat, I go into practical mode, hiking the dress back up her body and making her decent again. I’d prefer to strip it off and let her sleep in one of my T-shirts, but I don’t want the guys making all the wrong assumptions. They will anyway, but at least if they walk in, trying to bust me, they’ll see her tucked up in my bed, fully dressed, with me lying on the outside of the covers.

I wrestle the duvet out from under her body and get her tucked into my bed before lying down beside her. I rest my arm under my head and gaze up at the ceiling as Mikayla lets out these soft snores that are downright adorable.

What I wouldn’t give to roll over right now and spoon with her.

What I wouldn’t give to do exactly what she’d asked me to and make her come, then make her feel every inch of me as I took her over the edge of ecstasy.

My cock stirs, reminding me he’s still there and still waiting… all the more impatiently.

But I won’t break this bet.

Just like I shouldn’t break any other rules, like bringing romance into my college experience.

Clenching my jaw, I grip my fist beneath my head and try to fall asleep, reminding myself of that very thing.

I’m not here to fall in love. I’m here to make the pros and get a degree. That’s all. That’s all it can be.