Despite all the ice baths and massages, my muscles are fatigued. No amount of training would have prepared me for the ungodly amount of torture I’m experiencing on a day-to-day basis. It’s like they want to beat their players to the ground before the season even gets going.

“Ooh . . . looks like Knightly’s girl is here again,” one of the guys says as we approach the dorm.

I look up to see Harper leaning against the wall of the building, arms crossed, legs looking impossibly sexy in a pair of skinny jeans. God, she’s a sight for sore eyes right now.

Sucking in a deep breath, I try to put on my best face as I make my way to my girl. I don’t want her to see how much pain I’m in, especially since I think she can sense it. It’s why she meets up with me outside of classes with bananas and sports drinks, constantly trying to nourish my aching muscles.

She meets me halfway and slips into my embrace, my arms instantly going around her. She kisses my chest. “I missed you today.”

Wednesdays suck. It’s the only day I don’t catch a glimpse of my girl until late at night, after practice and an hour in the training room, soaking and stretching my sore body.

After a month into the school year, we’ve finally gotten into a routine. I know exactly when I’m going to see Harper and where. Might sound a little over the top, but on such a big campus and after such a huge change in our lives, having the familiarity is what keeps me moving.

“I missed you, Harp.” I kiss the top of her head. “How were your classes? Did you choose a major?”

She shakes her head. “Not yet.” She nervously twists her hands together. “But I did have an idea about a major, something I thought about during intermural Frisbee practice.”

“Yeah? What was that?”

“I was talking with this girl, Marjorie, and she was telling me all about this event planner she’s interning with. Apparently, the Finger Lakes are a hotbed for weddings, and they’re always looking for interns to help out. I thought maybe that could be something to try. It sounds really fun, and who doesn’t like weddings?”

“That would be awesome, Harp. You’re super organized. I think you could be great at that.”

“You think so?” She looks up at me with hopeful eyes.

I press a quick kiss on her nose. “I know so.”

“Hey, Knightly, don’t forget, curfew is in thirty minutes,” Josh calls out before the dorm door shuts.

“Fuck,” I mutter, resting my forehead against Harper’s. “I’m sorry, Harp.”

“Don’t be. I’m just happy I got to see you today.”

I lift her chin up and place a light kiss on her mouth, getting lost in the feel of her soft lips against mine. After the hard-as-fuck day I had today, this is what I need to replenish me—Harper’s lips dragging across mine as our tongues dance.

I groan into her mouth and move my hand down to her ass, pulling her in close so she can feel just how happy I am to see her.

Her lips smile sexily against mine as her hand slips down the back of my pants.

“Fuck, Harp. Don’t tease me when you know we can’t do anything.”

“Thirty minutes is a long time, Rogan.”

“Not long enough.” I pull her in closer and slip my hand down her pants as well, feeling that she’s wearing nothing but the tiniest of thongs. “Ugh, come on, Harp. What are you doing practically wearing nothing?”

“Hoping to have a little car sex with my hot-as-hell boyfriend?” She wiggles her eyebrows at me.

“Fuck.” I let out a low breath. “You know I want to more than anything, but if I get caught having sex in a car and Coach catches wind of it, I could lose my scholarship.”

She rests her head against my chest. “This is so stupid. I thought we were going to have more freedom in college, but it’s like we have our parents watching over us all the time.”

“I know.” This isn’t the first time she’s mentioned the restrictions, but I don’t blame her. I feel the same way. “It’s just the first semester; it will get better after this, I promise.”

Her lips find mine again, her hand going to the back of my head as her breasts rub against the thin fabric of my shirt. Christ. I’m going to have to take another shower when I get back to my dorm, but for completely different reasons.

“This weekend,” I choke out, slipping my hand into hers. “We have Sunday completely off. We can spend the whole day in my dorm or yours. You pick.”

We start walking toward Harper’s car—she petitioned to have one as a freshman, claiming she needed it for her off-campus job—hand in hand, my heart already starting to ache from having to say good night without pulling her into my arms.

“I have an idea.” When we reach her car, she spins around, so I easily pin her against the driver’s door, my hand falling to her hip, the other pressing into the cold metal of the car as the parking lot lamps illuminate our connection. “What if we go somewhere Saturday night, after practice? We can stay the night somewhere and have some alone time, you know, without our roommates constantly walking in on us. We have that graduation money we could use.”

I lean my forehead against hers. “I could not think of anything more perfect. Let’s do it.”

“And then we can have all the sex we want.”

I chuckle and shake my head. “What am I going to do with you, Harper?”

“Hey, it’s not my fault you’re really good at sex,” she whispers. “I think about it all the time. I think there is something wrong with me.”

“There isn’t. I think about it all the time too.”

“Do you think it’s because we’re the perfect match?”

“That and . . . my giant cock.”

“Oh Jesus.” She swats at my chest and playfully pushes me away, but I take her hands in mine and pin them to her side. I lean forward and slowly work my lips against hers, letting my tongue barely reach inside her mouth, teasing her while working my hips against hers.

My lips travel across her jaw to her neck while my hips still press her against the car, my hard-on rubbing against her as her chest rises and falls against mine, her breath growing short.

“Oh God, Rogan,” she moans. At the breathlessness in her voice and the pleading tone, I step away, putting both hands behind my neck and looking down at her.

Her eyes flutter open. Passion blazes in her pupils, the need for more rising and falling with her chest.

“We need to stop.”

“I know. But I don’t want to.”

“Neither do I.” I take a step forward, about to press my hand against her cheek—then I glance toward her car. Dark-tinted windows. Thirty minutes. I look around the empty parking lot. Fuck it. I need her.

I break free from her and open the door to her back seat. “Get in, now.”

“Rogan?”

“Get. In.”

I slip my hand over her ass and nudge her, and she follows my direction. Leaning forward, I peek into the car, and I nod at her jeans. “Take them off, along with your shoes, along with your underwear. This is going to be a quick fuck.”

Eyes wide, a small smile spreading over her lips, she quickly takes off her shoes and pants and then looks up at me, thumbs hooked under the strings of her thong.

“What if I want you to take these off?”

Like she even has to ask twice. I toss my shit in the front seat and fold my large body into the back of her cramped car, my knees instantly hitting the seats in front of me.

Fuck, this is going to be harder than I thought. Turning toward Harper, I grab the waistband of her thong, and with one swift tug, I rip it off her body. She gasps, eyes wide, and looks up at me.

“Did you just tear those?”

I hold them up and smile. “I guess I did.” I toss them into the passenger seat and then pull her onto my lap.

“This has to be quick, Harp. I don’t want to get caught.” I move my hand up her sweater to find that, once again, she’s not wearing a bra. Loving my girl, I take her breast into my palm and start running my thumb over her nipple, just the way she likes it.

“Quick won’t be a problem.” With a smile, she adds, “You’re always short on the trigger.”

With her tit in midsqueeze, I pause and look up at her. “Excuse me?”

She laughs, hard. Glad she finds that funny. “Oh, you’re such a freaking guy.”

“I came fast once, and it’s because you were teasing me all goddamn day with texts.”

She strokes my jaw and presses a kiss against my lips. “I’m kidding. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

“You know, to teach you a lesson, I should leave this car. I can go jack off in the shower and be just as happy with my hand.”

“What?” Her eyes pop open. “You did not just say that.” I shrug, and she swats my shoulder. “Rogan, take that back.”

“Hand? Harper? Hmm . . . which one is better?” I weigh the options.

“You do realize that I have a hand too, right?”

“Your hand is nothing compared to my dick,” I counter.

A challenge crosses her features. “You really think so?” And then she places her hand between her spread legs and starts to move her fingers in and out.