The Shameless Hour: A Sports Romance (The Ivy Years Book 4)

FOR A SECOND I wasn’t sure if he was going to follow me. But after a moment of hesitation, I heard Rafe trudging up the stairs behind me. That was good, because I really did not want to be alone tonight, brooding over all my uncertainties.

The staircase wound up into the eaves of the old building, growing narrow at the top. Up here there were just two rooms — mine and another single, its door ajar. Strains of classical music could be heard from a stereo within.

“Evening, Lianne,” I said in the direction of my neighbor’s door. “I have a friend over in case you wanted to join us.”

Silence.

I smiled to myself. I’d been deliberately vague about what it was Lianne might join us for. Generally I considered myself a nice person. But Lianne’s distaste for my personal life had rubbed me the wrong way since move-in day.

My neighbor didn’t approve of the frequency with which men turned up in my room. Her serious frown could often be seen through her open door as I passed by with one of the hockey players who sometimes shared my bed. Both our rooms opened onto a tiny, shared bathroom, and Lianne had once gotten an eyeful of a bare-assed guy in our shower. Her mouth had zipped into a straight, disapproving line.

Lianne thought I was a total slut.

For her part, Lianne seemed to live like a monk. Not only had I never seen her with a guy, she didn’t seem to have friends at all.

“Goodnight,” I called into the crack of her open door.

There was no response.

Whatevs.

Unlocking my door, I propped it open for Rafe. Then I dropped his shiny paper bag on my bed and fetched two dining hall glasses from my desk drawer. I poured the champagne slowly, tipping the glasses so that it wouldn’t fizz up. Into my glass, I only poured a little, since I’d had a couple of beers already. His I filled to the top.

Rafe followed me into the room a moment later, shutting the door behind him. What a hottie he was, with big dark eyes set into a handsome face. Rafe was a soccer player, and he totally had that soccer look. He wasn’t as bulky as the hockey players I usually hung around with, but he carried his muscular body in a way I found absolutely sexy.

Also? There was something to be said for guys who could run for two hours straight. Endurance was an excellent trait in a guy…

Rafe glanced around. “Your room is so cool. I love the slanting ceilings.”

“Mmm,” I said noncommittally. Those ceilings could dole out a vicious bump to the head — or to other body parts — if you weren’t careful.

I handed a glass to Rafe, and then sat down on the bed, my back to the wall. “Sit already,” I told him.

Rafe’s eyes darted around the room for a second, and I saw him doing the math. Aside from the bed, my desk chair was the only other option. And it had about seven books stacked onto its seat.

“Right here,” I told him, patting the space beside me. I needed this tonight — a chance encounter with an obviously lonely guy. A distraction.

A hook-up, if I played my cards right. And I always played them right.

“I don’t bite,” I assured him. “But I do want you to tell me why you’re all dressed up, carrying around a bottle of bubbly and…” I picked up the bag in my free hand and dumped it onto the bed. Two things slid out: a small box with a fancy ribbon around it and an unopened box of condoms. Uh-oh. “Huh. Looks like you had a big night planned. What happened?”

Sitting down beside me, Rafe groaned. “It’s too embarrassing to talk about.”

Aw. “I’m sorry. I’m quite familiar with humiliation, actually.”

He glanced up quickly, surprise on his face. “Challenge.”

“Seriously? My humiliations could arm-wrestle yours to the ground one-handed while singing Queen’s ‘We Will Rock You.’”

“No way.” Rafe’s sexy eyebrows lifted. “Of course, now I’m desperately curious.”

“What do I win if I’m right?” I had a few excellent ideas, of course.

“I’m sharing my champagne either way.” He touched his glass to mine and took a sip. “Tell me your tale of woe.”

“You first,” I demanded, just to see what he’d do.

“Dios.” He rolled his shoulders and undid the top button of his dress shirt, exposing a V of bronzed skin. “You only get the short version. I was dating a girl since last spring. But she spent the summer at a program in South America.”

“Wait!” I grabbed the bottle off my desk to top up his glass. “I remember her. That snooty blonde? Alison with one L.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Yeah. That’s the one.”

“Go on.”

He sighed. “She’s back from the summer, right? I thought everything was good…”

I picked up the condoms off the bed. “They must have been good.”

Rafe dropped his gaze. “Tonight we were having a birthday celebration.”

“Whose?”

He lifted those espresso-colored eyes. “Both of ours, if you can believe it.”

“Get out of town! You two have the same birthday?” This story kept getting better and better. And I hadn’t even heard the punchline. “And happy birthday, Rafe.”

“Thanks. But before you decide that she and I were meant to be, let me get to the part where her boy toy from the overseas program abroad shows up tonight with flowers at the same time I walk in.”

Jesus. “Seriously? She’s two-timing you?”

He nodded, miserable. “He’s all, ‘Hi baby! Surprise!’ And I’m, like, ‘Who are you? I’m the boyfriend.’ And he says, not in so many words, that he’s the fuck buddy.”

“Oh, Rafe!” I grabbed his hand and squeezed. “You poor thing. What did you do?”

He just shook his head. “Got the hell out of there. Good riddance.”

“Well…” I hated to see my hook-up prospect go up in smoke. But it was a rule of mine never to hook up with someone who was already involved. And maybe all was not lost with Rafe and his little preppy queen. “Maybe she thought you weren’t supposed to be exclusive while she was away. Could it be a misunderstanding?”

Rafe’s expression darkened. “Not a chance. Things were very clear that we were waiting for each other. And she let me believe that she had.”

“What a bitch!” I said with a little too much glee.

“That’s exactly right. I mean… she knew exactly what it would mean to me. She knew. And the guy she cheated with…” He gave his head a violent shake. “She could have slapped me in the face and it wouldn’t have been any clearer.”

“Why? Who was he?”

“Never met him before. But some rich dude in a fancy suit. Your basic nightmare.”

I let out a hoot of laughter. “Rafe? Did you just quote When Harry Met Sally to me?”

His gaze slid into mine, and a slow smile began to overtake his face. “I might have. My mom really likes the chick flicks.”

Aw. “And a good son watches them with his mother once in a while, right? Just to be nice. Not because they’re funny as hell.”

His smile grew, and I felt more than a flutter. Because that smile? It was blindingly hot. “That’s right. Just doing my duty.” We just sat there, taking each other in for a minute longer. And I couldn’t help but fixate on his lips, which were a dark, rosy red. I wondered what they’d feel like sliding against mine.

That’s how it always was with me. I loved men and their variety. The texture of their hair made me want to run my hands through it. Rafe’s hair was coal black and shiny. I imagined it would feel soft as it slid through my fingers. And that muscular chest was calling to me. Last week I’d seen him out jogging shirtless, and he had a set of abs that was tight enough to bounce quarters off of.

Just thinking about it now made me wonder about the scent of his skin and whether those abs would clench when I touched him.

I liked men, and I liked sex. A lot. I gave Rafe’s hand one more squeeze. “I’m sorry your girl was cheating.”

“I am such an idiota.”

“Betrayal always makes you feel like that.” And I should know.

“This just pushes so many buttons for me, though. My mom, for one, will not be surprised.”

“She didn’t like Alison?”

Rafe grimaced. “They never met. But Alison comes from money. She was this fancy California girl, you know? I always thought it didn’t matter to her, though. We hit it off right away last year. We had fun together. But she’s sleeping with Mr. Rolex.”

“And you,” I pointed out. It seemed possible that Rafe was taking this whole social divide thing a little too far.

Rafe looked down at his hands. “Not today,” he mumbled. “Though I guess it’s better to find out first, I guess.”

“Not hardly!” I yelped. “If you’re going to have your heart broken, at least you could get sweaty first. Instead, you get betrayal with a side order of sexual frustration.”

He sipped his wine, a stoic expression on his face. “Nobody ever died from sexual frustration.”

I was pretty sure I’d come close a few times, but I kept that to myself. “There must be some way you could get revenge,” I teased him. “Let’s steal her phone, and break up with her fuck buddy via text message.

He chuckled. “You are evil.”

“Only when it’s deserved. And revenge is very cathartic.” I mimed someone texting on a phone. “Sorry Mr. Rolex, but you’re just not that good in bed. I’ll call you if I’m feeling desperate.”

Rafe shook his head. “At least I can return the earrings.” He tossed the little jewelry box back into the gift bag. “Couldn’t really afford them. But I wanted to get her something nice. I thought we were going to be together for a long time.”

“And that is why I do not do relationships.” Because some nice person like you comes around to remind me why it’s a bad idea.

Rafe cocked his head to the side. “How’s that working for you? I think it’s your turn to tell me an embarrassing story. Because I’m pretty sure I’m winning this bet.”

“Not hardly.” The truth was that my humiliation could dance the cha-cha around his. But I’d already decided to keep the worst of it to myself. Instead, I was going to tell my second most humiliating tale.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But I’d never repeat it.”

He wouldn’t, either. Rafe had one of the more trustworthy faces I’d ever come across. There was something serious in his expression that I didn’t often find in men our age.

With a fortifying gulp of champagne, I told him about the ugly morning I’d had last January. “I have a friend, but he and I used to be friends with benefits. We’d stopped fooling around a year earlier, though. His decision. And he never really said why…”

I got lost there for a second, picturing myself in Graham’s room, removing his clothes. We were usually drunk and giddy. Getting Graham’s jeans off his body when he was wasted wasn’t easy. But I was happy to do it. Graham only liked to have sex when he was trashed. That should have been a clue. Maybe there were other clues, too. But I never saw them. I’d always had a blind spot when it came to Graham.

Rafe was waiting patiently for my story to continue. I’d never talked about this. Not with anyone. But there was something steady in his expression that made it possible for me to go on. “I was hung up on him,” I admitted. I’d never said that out loud before, either. And it wasn’t easy. College was too early, in my opinion, to get all swoony over a guy. That never worked out.

But still, I’d hoped.

“Even though we weren’t fooling around anymore, I always thought that some day we’d get together and stay that way. Because he understood me in a way most people don’t. We were such close friends, too. We told each other everything. At least that’s what I thought.”

I had to swallow hard then.

“You really don’t have to tell me,” Rafe said gently.

Christ. I obviously wasn’t as good at putting a brave face on things as I imagined. I cleared my throat. “I walked in on him hooking up with somebody else.”

“That sucks,” Rafe said softly.

I held up a hand. “That’s not the point. I never thought he was celibate after we stopped fucking. The problem was that I walked in on him with a man.”

Rafe’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh. That’s not where I thought this story was going.”

“Me neither.” I gave a nervous laugh.

“Maybe it was just a one-time thing. Or maybe he’s bi.”

I shook my head. “It wasn’t. And he isn’t. He has a serious boyfriend now. They’re ridiculously happy together. And when I saw them that morning…” I broke off, because it was impossible to express. I just knew. All of a sudden, I understood what I hadn’t wanted to see before. For all the sloppy, drunk sex we’d had, it had never meant a thing to him.

That awful day last winter, it was sober wake-up-next-to-the-one-you-love-and-grab-each-other sex that I’d walked in on. And when I saw Graham kissing Rikker, there was more passion and tenderness on his face than I had ever seen there before.

People could say what they wanted about all the recreational sex I’d had. But I knew what love looked like. I’d probably stood there thirty seconds longer than necessary that morning, just trying to process my own disappointment.

I let out a big sigh. “I never made him as happy as he is now. Not even close.”

“That sucks, Bella.”

“It really did. But it was the lying that killed me. I thought we told each other everything,” I said, hating how pathetic it sounded. It’s hard to admit you’re just in someone’s periphery when you imagined you were closer to the center of their world.

“He should have leveled with you. But maybe he was afraid.”

But not of me, I argued to myself. I liked to think of myself as bulletproof. Things that bothered other girls (like being called a slut behind my back) didn’t bother me so much. Graham’s heartbreak hadn’t been so easy to brush away. He had never belonged to me. But it had been a shock to know he never would.

Also, I considered myself an excellent judge of character. But twice now I’d fallen in love with people who were incapable of loving me back.

Since then, I’d stuck to sex and kept my unreliable heart out of it.

Unzipping my hockey jacket, I shrugged it off. “To add insult to injury,” I added, “I was in such a hurry to get out of there that I caught my jacket on the door handle.” I showed Rafe the pocket. “And it tore. I still need to get it fixed.”

Rafe took the jacket out of my hands and inspected the rip. “This isn’t so bad. It just needs a few stitches. You should do it, though, before the edges get too frayed.”

“True. I’ll take it to that dry cleaner’s on Chapel Street tomorrow.”

“And let them charge you twenty bucks for a half-inch repair?” Rafe looked appalled. “Don’t you have a sewing kit?”

I did, as a matter of fact. “Sewing on buttons is the most I can manage.”

Rafe gave me an eye-roll, which most men can’t really pull off. On his chiseled face it looked sexy. “Whip it out, then. I’ll mend it.”

“Seriously?” I slid off the bed and went over to my desk. In the very back of the drawer, behind the highlighters that I never seemed to use, I found my tiny sewing kit. “I bought this on the street corner in Chinatown just because I liked the little silk pouch. Not because I know how to sew.”

He took it from my hand. “Where are you from?”

“New York City.”

Rafe raised his eyes. “Me too. What part?”

“Guess.”

He chuckled because I’d put him on the spot. New Yorkers were very opinionated about their neighborhoods. “Well, you don’t dress prissy enough for me to guess the Upper East Side.” He measured me with his eyes. “So… I’m going to go with the West ’70s. How did I do?”

I gave him my biggest smile. “You’re half right. Because I went to school on the West Side. But I grew up in a townhouse on East 78th and Madison.”

“Wow.” His smile was wan. “But where are your pearls?”

“Very funny.”

“Your turn,” he said, fiddling with the sewing stuff. “Where am I from?”

“Staten Island,” I teased him.

“What?”

Now we were both laughing, because I’d just named the least fashionable corner of the five boroughs. And I was glad I had, because it meant I got to see even more of Rafe’s hot smile.

“Just kidding, okay? How about Red Hook? That’s my guess.”

“You are not even close.” He picked up a needle. “I’m from Washington Heights. My family runs a Dominican restaurant.” He looked at the needle in his hand. “These are pre-threaded. That’s handy.”

“How is it that you know how to sew?”

Rafe shrugged. “My mother made me learn the basics when I was a little kid.”

“Show me,” I demanded.

His long fingers held up a needle with black thread dangling from it.

“Is that going to look okay against the gray?” I asked.

“Sure is,” he said. He wrapped the free end of the thread around the tip of a finger, then rolled it against his thumb, revealing a knot on the end. He slid the jacket onto his lap, dipping the needle’s tip into the pocket and anchoring the thread. “Okay, see that?”

I peered into the pocket. He’d tucked the knot into the crease where it was almost invisible. “Yeah?”

“If you make the stitches shallow, they won’t even show on top.”

That didn’t mean a thing to me. But whatevs. Rafe bent over my jacket for, oh, about seventeen seconds before tying another knot and asking me for scissors.

“Aren’t these scissors?” I asked, pulling a tiny pair from the sewing kit.

He grinned. “My pinky finger won’t even fit into those. You’ll have to do it.”

He passed me the jacket, and I bent down to find the torn seam now lying flat against the fabric in almost the same way it had before it ripped. Rafe had zipped the tear shut as if by magic. I opened the pocket to find a pristine row of stitches almost too small to be seen with the naked eye. “Holy crap. How did you do that?”

“I’m good with my hands,” Rafe said, a flare in his dark eyes.

The expression on his face made heat blossom in my belly. Oh, baby. I loved a boy who could turn my own jokes back on me. I wondered what he would do if I kissed him. My pulse kicked up a notch just thinking about it. “Thank you, Rafe. Really.”

He shrugged, folding his arms over his chest. Even though he was wearing a dress shirt, I could see the outline of his biceps flaring against the fabric. “It’s the only part of your shitty story that I can fix,” he said in a low voice.

Oh, this guy! How any girl could cheat on him was beyond me. You had to wonder if the girl also kicked puppies just for fun. Without thinking it through, I lifted a hand to the muscle joining his neck to his shoulder, giving him a little squeeze.

Beside me, Rafe stopped breathing.

My fingers drifted upwards, past the collar of his dress shirt and onto his neck. He was warm and solid, and I didn’t want to stop touching him.

Rafe turned his chin two or three tiny degrees in my direction, improving the contact with my hand.

I rose onto my knees, the jacket sliding onto the floor, forgotten. Rafe watched me, and the moment stretched out between us. I loved this part — the crackling tension when “will we or won’t we” became the only question in the room. “Rafe,” I whispered. “Maybe there’s a part of your shitty day that I can fix.”

He swallowed roughly, and his gaze dropped to my mouth, but he didn’t make a move. Instead, time seemed to slow down, and I saw Rafe’s awareness of me engulf him. His body went quiet, and his eyes darkened.

For several beats of my heart, I let him get used to the idea. When I slowly put my other hand on his chest, he made a small grunt of surprise. Still, he didn’t move a muscle. He just watched me with hungry eyes.

“I’ve always thought you were sexy,” I whispered, pressing my palm against his pec. “Seems like a good time to tell you.” It was the God’s honest truth. And the truth, I’d learned by now, was the sexiest thing ever.

He obviously agreed with me. Because that handsome face dipped closer. And then Rafe’s surprisingly soft lips skimmed mine on a sigh. He stopped at the sensitive corner of my mouth, his lips making the gentlest nibble on mine, before he pressed, warm and firm, against my mouth.

My heart practically stopped at the way he’d silently asserted control. Holy macaroni. He didn’t grab me or anything. He didn’t need to. It was a subtle takeover. I received a slow, insistent kiss. And then another. His chest shifted ever so slightly toward mine until I could feel the heat pouring off his body, and I had no choice but to press my breasts against him as he deepened the kiss.

I heard a rather eager little moan. And realized it had come from me.

Two of Rafe’s fingers cupped my jaw. His other hand whispered onto my waist with a pressure so light I almost didn’t know it was there.

The man was barely touching me, and I was already feeling a little desperate for him. I parted my lips beneath his. And the first glide of his tongue over mine made me even achier with longing. He tasted like good wine and sex. My fingers gripped the cotton of his dress shirt. Slow down, I coached myself. But the intense vibe I was getting from Rafe made that difficult. We’d both had a bad day. It only made sense we’d both want to work that out with some energetic sex.

Who wouldn’t?

Smiling against his mouth, I shifted onto his lap. As I relaxed my body onto his, he let loose a groan of longing.

I felt it everywhere.

“Bella,” he rasped between kisses. “Me matas.” Anyone who grew up in New York could translate that. You’re killing me.

Holy hell. I wanted him to whisper like that again. Maybe all night. My mind filled with erotic ideas. Rafe uttering Spanish curses into my ear while he pressed me up against the shower wall. Rafe’s tan hands on my pale breasts…

Meanwhile, he kissed me senseless. You can learn a lot about someone by how they kiss. Rafe wasn’t fast or sloppy. He was a very focused kisser. Each glide of his lips against mine was purposeful and so potent. It was wonderful, but it made me hungry for more.

Hoping to move things along, I began unbuttoning his shirt, revealing more smooth skin. Before I’d reached the bottom button I had to bend down and kiss his throat.

He tasted as good as he looked.

Rafe tipped his head back and sucked in a deep breath. Now I had him fighting for self-control, and it was beautiful to hear. Quickly, I divested him of the shirt so I could run my hands all over his tan six-pack. Muscular arms wrapped around me. His touch wasn’t quite so polite now. He held me close, kissing me hard, taking greedy pulls from my mouth. His big hands slid down to my ass, and he pulled my body even nearer to his, until I was close enough to feel through his trousers just how well I’d revved him up.

It was absolutely glorious.

As we made out, his hands slipped up the back of my shirt, fingers splaying across my skin. That was nice, but I was not a patient girl. So I grabbed my shirt tugged it over my head. That seemed to break Rafe’s reverie. He didn’t dive back into the kiss once I’d disentangled myself. Instead, he took a moment just to look at me. His dark eyes measured my body with an intensity I wasn’t used to. I might have wondered if he’d found some flaw, except that his hands continued to worship my skin, sliding around my ribcage, slipping up to cup my breasts, which were still trapped inside my bra.

“Take it off,” I begged. “Actually, take everything off. And I want you naked, too.”

His eyes widened. And for a moment I was sure I’d blown it. Too much, too soon. But then he took a deep breath. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice rough.

“Do I look unsure?” I reached behind my back and unhooked my bra, tossing it to the floor.

He let out another groan. And then those gorgeous hands slid up my ribcage, cupping my boobs. And Rafe dove back into my mouth, his kisses deep and bossy.

Heaven.

Eventually, he tipped us both onto the bed, shoving one of his muscular legs between mine. Otherwise, he didn’t escalate things. It was if he had all the time in the world to kiss me. He held me snug against him, the way you’d hold a treasure close to your chest. And his free hand made lazy circles on the small of my back, sometimes dipping down to cup my ass.

It was divine, but I wanted more. He still had too many clothes on. I wanted my hands on the impressive erection that had been teasing me through our clothing since the first moment I climbed into his lap. So I worked a hand down onto his fly and popped the button on the trousers he was wearing.

He broke our kiss to watch me while his breath sawed in and out of his chest. His gaze suggested that I was the most serious topic on earth, and he was going to study me and write a paper about me later.

Under that penetrating gaze, I worked his zipper down until the fabric of his dress pants gave way. I slipped a hand down his perfect abs and into his trousers. He gasped when I dipped my hand beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs, my hand grazing his cock. Then he yanked his clothes down off his hips to give me better access.

It’s bad form to ever crack a smile during the Big Reveal, but I couldn’t help but grin. “Jesus, Rafe. You’re gorgeous. Where has this been all my life?” I love dicks and not just the big ones. His was truly exquisite — long and thick and uncut. A perfect bead of precum glistened in his slit. I bent my body at the waist so I could lick it off.

Rafe’s stomach clenched violently when I touched him with my tongue, and he let loose a whispered litany of sexy Spanish cursing. “Mmm,” I sighed, taking him into my mouth. I loved his taste and the heavy feel of him on my tongue. And the urgent noises he’d begun to make. Rafe was a sexy beast.

Two strong hands reached under my arms, and I was hauled upward for more demanding kisses. As he held my ass in his hands, I could feel him pressing between my legs. I flexed my hips, desperate for a little friction. He let out a groan and the sound of it ricocheted through my body, like a pinball, lighting up everything it touched.

“Tan hermosa,” he whispered, breaking our kiss, dipping his head to reach my breast. He gentled his kiss, his tongue barely swirling around my nipple.

“More,” I whispered, practically squirming against him. There was something about his restraint that made me want to crack through it. Fortunately, his fingers slid down into the waistband of my knit pants. That long hand ran slowly down to the edge of my tiny underwear, then stopped to tease my belly. Noooooo! Keep going, hand! I took his mouth in a kiss, hoping to encourage him.

His hand slipped downward again, his fingers finally sliding into the slippery desire that I’d accumulated just for him. Yessss!

And that’s when I felt Rafe’s restraint fall away. We moaned together, our tongues tangling. Everything was heat and motion. I kicked off my pants, and he helped. We pushed all the last bits of clothing off the bed.

Side by side now, he held me as if he were trying to eliminate any distance between our bodies. Shaking hands skimmed my waist, dipping low to tease my clit, then retreating again. Even now that he was hard and leaking for me, he still did not rush. This beautiful man was worshipping at the altar of me.

And his girlfriend cheated on him? She must be an imbecile.