[18+] ENEMIES TO LOVERS SPORTS ROMANCE
She can't stand the school's golden boy, but when fate keeps throwing them together, their rivalry starts to look a lot like chemistry-and suddenly they're not playing the game they thought they were.
°•°•°•°
...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Tristan
"Have I told you that I don't have a gag reflex?"
Damn.
I raised a brow at the brazenness of the blonde bombshell next to me. Someone's daddy didn't raise them right—or maybe he did.
"Not that I recall, no," I said.
With a self-satisfied smile, she boldly placed her hand on my thigh. Long nails, painted in blue and purple glitter, teased the skin of my inner knee before slowly inching higher. The nails were stupidly long and impractical, but I couldn't help but think they'd look hot wrapped around a certain appendage.
Not going to lie, I was really tempted. Yeah, she was a little forward and out there—but that told me all I needed to know. She'd be down for whatever and was probably going to be fine when I didn't call her back. She was also hot enough for me to enjoy her aggressive approach. Huge tits and wide lips—a deadly combination.
Though I was more of an ass guy, her looks didn't hurt her chances.
The last couple of weeks certainly gave me added incentive to accept her offer. There was nothing like spending a couple of weeks in a camp full of men to make you miss the touch of a woman, even when she was coming onto you harder than a Jehovah's Witness.
Dragging my gaze off her bold hand placement, I quickly checked to make sure Professor Haynes hadn't caught on to what was happening at the back of his lecture hall. But the old guy was engrossed in his lesson, reading off the projector about T-cell receptors and immune responses. Yawn. The No-Gag-Reflexes girl was a lot more interesting.
Sitting low in my seat with arms folded over my chest and legs spread wide, my eyes returned to the movements of her hand. The corner of my lips tipped up as her fingers reached the edge of my shorts, tracing the muscles beneath them. She teased the hem of the material as her knuckles brushed against my leg hair.
The girl—I didn't even know her name yet—leaned in, minty breath close enough to brush against my jaw. I pushed back the slight discomfort her sudden proximity brought and turned my head to meet her hooded, hungry eyes. Then, she deliberately bit down on her lower lip, knowing exactly where to draw my gaze. This woman was a professional. I respected that.
"And I always swallow."
Double damn. Girls this forward were rare and criminally underappreciated. I got plenty of offers, sure, especially in the DMs, but in person? They were usually a lot more coy or hesitant about approaching the Tristan Beckett with ulterior motives. Mostly, they just stared or giggled at everything I said, too star-struck to be brave. Others flirted, sure, but hardly ever this openly. Or this dirty.
I nodded slowly, biting back a smirk. "Always, huh?"
She shrugged, tracing a circle into my inner thigh. "What can I say? I'm just a girl who finishes what she starts."
