Free One Southern Night by Marissa Carmel

bred.” She laughs.
    “I forgive you,” I joke.
    “We can’t all be perfect like you.” She knocks her knees against mine.
    “I’m not perfect anymore. Not that I ever was.” I look up at the starry sky.
    “You’re too hard on yourself.” I can feel Laney’s eyes searing through me.
    “I don’t know any other way to be.” I shrug. “My whole life I’ve been under a spotlight. People have either wanted something or expected something from me. I’ve always felt pressure to deliver.”
    “I see,” she muses, taking another sip of her drink. I didn’t mean to get deep, but it’s easy to talk to Laney. Too easy sometimes.
    “So why is your dad in New York?” I clear my throat, my soul feeling a little bare.
    “He’s guest starring on America’s Next Top Chef. He’s the celebrity judge.”
    “That sounds cool.”
    “Yeah, he asked me to go with him, but I couldn’t bail on the football game. Miranda would have skinned me.”
    “You passed on a trip to New York to play Powder Puff football?” I raise my eyebrows.
    “Why do you sound shocked?”
    “Because I am.” I laugh.
    “Why?” she demands.
    “Because football is just a game to you.”
    “True, but it’s like a religion to the people around here. I didn’t want them to burn me in effigy if I ducked out.”
    “They probably would have, too.”
    “I don’t doubt it,” she laughs. I love that sound. “I also couldn’t pass up an opportunity to see you cheer on the sidelines.”
    “Oh, you couldn’t?”
    “Nope.”
    “What’d you think?”
    “You disappointed me all-star. You didn’t give one hundred percent.”
    “Nope,” I agree. “It wasn’t really my thing.”
    “Annoying Coach McKenzie on the sidelines seemed to be your thing.”
    “I was assisting,” I defend myself.
    “I think it was more annoying.” She contends.
    “I helped win the game, didn’t I?”
    Laney rolls her eyes. “I guess.”
    “You guess?” I poke her in the ribs and she jumps, letting out a cute little squeak.
    “That wasn’t nice!” She pokes me back, harder than I expected.
    “Oh, you asked for it.” I toss my cup and pounce on her, tickling her sides. She squeals as some of her drink spills on her shirt and the grass.
    “Kam!” she screams, kicking her legs around. “Uncle! Uncle!”
    I let up on the tickling, but I don’t get off her.
    “You’re so mean,” she huffs, wiping off her T-shirt. I love Laney wet.
    “Sometimes,” I confirm. Then I lean in and kiss her. It’s a test kiss, to see exactly where her head is. My assessment tells me a good place, because she opens her mouth and wraps her arms around my neck. Our tongues dance as I situate myself between her thighs. She sighs, deepening the kiss, causing it to become more urgent, fevered. I press against her, my want evident as she wraps her legs around me and draws me close. “God, I missed touching you.” I slip my hand under her shirt, skimming my fingers up her side, until I reach the soft material of her bra. I cup her breast and squeeze lightly as she moans. Laney goes for the hem of my shirt, tugging it up so my stomach is exposed. She runs her hands up my sides and down my back, grazing her nails over my sensitive skin. Holy hell, her touch feels like trickles of water. Soft and enticing, inviting and alluring. My control completely liquefies.
    “Laney,” I rasp as I press my hips against her harder.
    “Kam, shhh. You don’t have to say anything. No strings, remember?”
    I look down at her, our mouths a fraction of a centimeter apart. “What if I want the strings?”
    “Then you can have them.” She lifts her head and brushes her lips across mine. My whole being lights up. There’s nothing at this moment I want more. Laney pulls my shirt over my head then goes for the button of my jeans. I love that she’s not shy, that she knows exactly what she wants. Which, right now, is me. After a few seconds of frenzied hands, we’re both stripped completely