Kicked: A Bad Boy Sports Romance Read Online Free Page B

are you doing here?” I asked back, trying to keep my voice cool, calm. It wasn't working. My body was riled up from my workout, from the frustration that'd been brewing for far too long. And Teagan was so goddamn hot. I could feel my cock responding to her, giving me this ache that just begged me to fill her up, take her hot and heavy right now.
    “Um, I live here?” she asked, taking a step back from me, like she could sense the turmoil twisting up my insides. I looked away from her, surveying the sterile white couches, the glass and metal side tables, the modern art hung sparsely across the gray walls. It was so not Teagan. Teagan painted murals on her walls and sang southern gospel songs she didn't believe in. “What do you want, Tyce?”
    I turned back to look at her, my eyes drawn. I couldn't stay away if I tried. I took another step towards her.
    “You remember your name yet?” I asked, as I reached up and let my fingers brush some of that red hair from her face. The rose on my hand was inked in the same color, a little nod, a memory of Teagan Fletcher that I thought I might need. Honestly, I didn't think I'd ever see her again.
    “I think you should go,” Teagan said, trying to move around me towards the front door. I stepped back and put my shoulder against it, looking her straight in the face, trying to find the right words to say what needed to be said. Nothing rational would come to me. I ran my tongue over my lower lip and watched her follow the movement. “Seriously, Tyce. Please, go, before my roommate gets back. She isn't exactly a football fan.”
    “Why did you come here?” I asked again, watching as those eyes of hers, like two sideways teardrops, pulled away from me and focused purposefully on a blank spot on the wall. She still had that faint scar on her forehead from that time she fell on the playground. I remembered leaning forward and kissing the blood away, not knowing or caring at age ten that I shouldn't be doing something like that.
    I slid a hand over my face, tasting the metallic tang of blood on my lips. But it wasn't just a memory of Teagan's, it was mine. I was biting my lip— hard.
    “You really need to go,” Teagan said again, leaning forward and wrapping her hand around mine, which was locked tight around the nickel finish of the doorknob. “Tyce,” she said again as I grabbed her wrist with my other hand, pushing her back into the wall. I let go of the handle and reached up, curling my fingers under her chin and tilting her face to mine.
    My mouth closed the gap between us as I bent and pressed my mouth hard against hers, tasted her with my tongue and felt the sudden collapse of her body. With my left hand, I held Teagan up around the waist, pulling her tight against me.
    Kissing her was like fucking fire.
    I felt an adrenaline rush like nothing else, a sense of mental and physical obliteration that had me fumbling at the button on Teagan's jeans, pressing myself tight against the hot heat of her body like I had nowhere else to go.
    “Tyce,” she moaned, breaking the kiss, putting her hands on either side of my face. She caught my gaze and held it tight, making me look at her. “Tyce, it's me,” Teagan whispered, her voice hoarse and broken, like this moment was sheer hell.
    “I know,” I said, still holding her, my body still aching, my cock hard and insistent, straining against the confines of my sweatpants. “Do you think I wouldn't recognize you, Teagan Fletcher? I might be an asshole, but I'm not stupid.”
    There was a second there where things looked like they might be okay, like we could do this, figure this weirdness out. My thoughts would calm, my sudden obsession would retreat, and I could pound the Washington Huskies into the ground on Saturday.
    “Wait … what?” Teagan asked, putting her palms on my chest, making space between us. Her small mouth rounded in shock, and she shoved with all of her might, forcing me to take a step back. “What did you