“Yo, earth to Tucker,” Lee says, smacking the back of my head as he flashes his other hand in front of my face.
“Fuck off,” I clap back at him, laughing at the sting of pain from him hitting the back of my head. “What the fuck do you need?” I ask.
“You’ve got company,” he tells me, pointing out the back door and onto the deck. Standing there next to the cooler is a vision. Lindsay is talking with some of the other women in attendance, a beer in her hand, so she’s obviously been here for at least a couple minutes. I can see her in profile, and she’s never looked more beautiful. Her hair is down in loose waves, jeans encase her slender legs, and the Bulldogs shirt she’s got on proudly displays her alma mater, that she’s rooting for tonight. My kinda girl!
“Well, fuck me,” I muse under my breath, but loud enough, apparently, that Lee hears me.
“You’d better make a move on that if you don’t want someone else swooping in and locking it down,” he tells me, smacking a hand against my shoulder, this time leaving it resting against me as he squeezes it and points out to a few guys who appear to be circling the group of women outside.
“Fuck,” I curse as I head that way. No way in hell am I going to stand by while one of these fuckers tries to swoop in and steal the one woman I might actually want to pursue for more than a quick lay.
“Ladies,” I greet the group of women talking. “Can I get anyone anything or show you where anything is?” I offer the group.
“We’re good,” they all chime in at the same time. I look around the circle, my eyes lingering on Lindsay for a few moments longer than they do on anyone else.
“Glad that you could make it; I’ve saved a seat for you inside if you wanted to come watch the game,” I offer. I hadn’t really, but she can take my seat. I’ll fucking stand, or better yet, she can sit on my lap while we watch the game.
“Thanks,” she says, leaning in slightly as I pull her into my side for a makeshift side hug. What the fuck am I doing? A fucking side hug. Facepalm.
I lead her into the house that is now filled with at least thirty people all milling around chatting as they watch the game. My hand finds the small of Lindsay’s back as I lead her over to where I’d been sitting, and, thankfully, the spot is still empty. She looks around and realizes that it’s the only open spot front and center. “I can’t take your spot, Tuck,” she says, shortening my name, and all I can think of is her saying that while I fuck her. My dick springs to life in my jeans.
“Sit down, fucker! Didn’t your mama ever tell you that you’re a better door than a window?” Lee calls out from where he’s standing behind the furniture.
I just flip him the bird as I plop down on the chair, pulling Lindsay with me and into my lap. “If you don’t want to take my seat, then you can just sit with me,” I whisper into her ear as I push her hair off her shoulder and out of the way. My lips ghost along the skin of her neck, and I watch as it puckers from the sensation. Her entire body shivers in my arms, and I know that my breath on her skin has affected her, hopefully in a good way. “Cold?” I ask, just as the majority of everyone bursts out in a loud cheer. I look at the TV to see a replay of the quarterback throwing the perfect spiral pass to one of the receivers, who runs the ball in for a touchdown, putting the Bulldogs up six to nothing to open the first quarter of scoring.
“No,” she says, squirming slightly in my arms, and it's at that moment that I realize the problem with her sitting on my lap like this. Her perfect little ass is going to be rubbing against my dick all night long, giving me the largest set of blue balls known to man. I adjust her slightly; hopefully, my dick isn’t pressing too much into her backside and giving me away right now. I find it hard to concentrate on the game with Lindsay in my lap, but the game eventually pulls me in for a little bit.
Halftime rolls around, and the Bulldogs are leading twenty-one to fourteen. “I should go fire up the grill. You want anything other than a burger or hot dog?” I ask Lindsay before I stand her up so I can get myself up and to the grill.
“No, either sounds perfect,” she says, turning to give me a sweet smile. I squeeze her hip with one hand and tuck a lock of hair behind her ear with the other before I break away from her and head for the grill.
“Food time!” I call out to everyone as I fire it up. It doesn’t take me long to have a line of people waiting as they all load up plates with food. Not that everyone hasn’t been snacking on the other food that everyone brought, but now that its halftime and the grill is going, people are hungry.
It takes me all of halftime and part of the third quarter to get everything grilled and my own plate assembled. I grab a couple beers from one of the coolers and make my way back inside. I find Lindsay back in the recliner we’d both occupied earlier, fully engrossed in the game. Bama has managed to tie things up, making this an exciting game, for sure.
I set the beers down on the end table next to the chair and stand not entirely behind the chair, but not exactly beside it, either, kind of between the two. I make sure I’m not blocking anyone else that’s behind the couches standing to watch the game. I scarf down my burger and fixings. Mom’s baked beans are just as amazing as they always are.
“You should have told me you were back. I would have let you have your seat back,” Lindsay says when she notices me standing back here.
“I’m good; I didn’t want to spill on you,” I tell her as I finish off my plate. “But, I did bring you a beer if you want it.” I offer her one of the bottles.
“Thanks,” she says, accepting the bottle after I pop the top off. I watch as she brings it to her mouth, her lips wrapping around the top of it as she tips it back. Fucking hell, when did watching a woman drink a beer cause me to turn into a fucking flagpole? I adjust myself as discreetly as possible as she swallows down the cold liquid.
“Would you like to sit down now?” she asks, patting the open cushion that she’s not covering.
“Only if you don’t go anywhere,” I tell her, going big or going home. I want this woman like I want my next breath. I think it's about time I stop beating around the bush, man up, and make a fucking move.
“Okay,” she agrees, and stands as I round the chair. I sit back down, and she follows me back until we’re in the same position we were for the first half of the game.
“Are you sticking around for the bonfire?” I ask once the game ends. Georgia pulled out the win with a touchdown as the clock expired in the fourth quarter.
“Do you want me to?” she asks, her head still resting on my shoulder, where it's been for the last few minutes.
“Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want you to,” I tell her. “Whatever happened to Allison coming tonight? I haven’t seen her around.”
“She’s not much for football, but I think she was planning on stopping by for the bonfire. I’m supposed to text her when it gets going,” she says, sitting up so she can grab her cell off the end table. It was poking the two of us earlier because she had it tucked in her back pocket, she’d set it there, so it was out of the way. I watch as she unlocks the screen and pulls up her text messages. I look away, not wanting to invade her privacy as she taps away at the screen. “She’ll be here in ten,” she says, standing and sliding the phone into her back pocket.