by Tessa Bailey
Alice’s shoulders gave a jerky shrug. “Thanks. For coming over.”
“Okay.” Peggy seemed relieved. “It was fun, right? Yeah, it was fun.” She gave Elliott a fleeting look, then vanished down the hall, calling, “Bye,” over her shoulder.
Let her go. Let her go. Let her go.
“I’ll just be a minute,” Elliott said briskly, turning and striding after Peggy, the image of his daughter’s raised eyebrows making him feel like ten times a moron. He wrenched the front door open. “Hey.” Peggy spun around halfway down the porch steps and teetered, sending Elliott lunging forward to steady her. “Dammit. Why are you running off so fast?”
“Bet that’s the first time you’ve been annoyed by too much speed, huh, Coach?” Elliott’s lips tilted, like they hadn’t done in so damn long, and Peggy jolted, tearing her eyes away. She stared down at his hands where they circled her arms until he took them back. “Look, tomorrow is a different day. But right now…I just didn’t want you to think I’d volunteered to do this, because of us. Or what happened with us. One has nothing to do with the other.”
“I never thought that.”
“Thank you.”
Elliott nodded while performing a mental rundown of what she’d said. “What did you mean, tomorrow is a different day?”
Peggy rested her attention on his belt buckle, which was only a couple inches below her sightline, thanks to his position on the higher stair. “It means I won’t always run off so fast. Not if I want to give you the opportunity to catch me.”
He was fully erect before the challenge even settled between them, making it necessary to do something he resented. His hand dropped, took hold of his cock, and adjusted the aching flesh. In front of anyone, it would have felt like vulgarity, but he hated the excitement, the gratification that came from touching himself in front of Peggy. The way she clawed into his stomach and reached his basest instinct hadn’t changed with the passage of time. Lord, the absence of that rush might have made it even stronger.
“I won’t chase you, Peggy,” he rasped. “Nothing has changed.”
“Everything has changed.” She smiled so wide, a dimple popped up on her cheek. “This time, I’m only here through the weekend.”
To say he was surprised by the blatant offer was an understatement. Surprised and suspicious. The Peggy he’d known was loyal to a fault. Not the kind of person who would be so casual about fooling around on her husband. Added to that, she knew his faith would prevent him from coveting another man’s wife. Acting on it.
Elliott might have laughed if the throb in his groin wasn’t so painful. Coveting would be the least of his sins if he accepted her invitation. Kissing, touching, taking was where the real depravity would start. And he wouldn’t even admit to himself how badly he needed and wanted to say yes.
Hearing movement in the house behind him, Elliott gestured for Peggy to precede him toward the Suburban. As they walked, he steeled himself against the desire to grab her elbow, to make certain she wouldn’t slip on the driveway. His pulse ticked like a clock in his ears until they reached the street.
The next-door neighbor paused in the act of cleaning out his gutter atop a ladder to watch Peggy cross the street. Little wonder. She looked about as out of place in his suburban area code, clicking along the asphalt in thigh-high leather, as a skyscraper might. The man waved hesitantly at Elliott and got the kind of glance in return reserved for players who’d literally dropped the ball.
When he focused back on Peggy, they’d reached the Suburban. As she turned the key in the door, it made a rusted protest and she winced a little, and at once it occurred to Elliott why the Suburban seemed especially out of place.
“This can’t be a rental car.” He stepped back and eyeballed the dented bumper. “Where did you get this thing?”
Peggy brushed her fingers over the side panel. “It was my mother’s.”
He absorbed that. “You drove from California to Cincinnati.”
“Yes.” Her smile was secretive and a little sad. “With a couple of interesting detours along the way.”
His stomach lurched at the idea of her solitary figure behind the wheel, air flowing through the open window to blow in her hair. “By yourself, Peggy?”
“Can I ask you something?” Elliott’s jaw clenched over not getting the answer he suddenly needed like oxygen, but he nodded, instead of letting on the importance. “When you received my wedding invitation…” Her golden brown eyes cut to the side. “Had the date already passed?”
Lying was a sin. A commandment. The fact that he didn’t even hesitate to break it was proof she was bad for his peace of mind. His path. He was already starting to divert his attention from straight forward. “No. The date hadn’t passed yet.”
“Oh.” She breathed the word, her already petite figure seeming to deflate in front of his eyes, but Elliott had no chance to absorb the blow to his gut. She moved like lightning, propping a foot on the steel runner and hefting herself up into the driver’s seat. “See you around, Coach. I’m late.”
“You said you didn’t have plans.”
“Huh.” Her smile was goofy but distant, as if she’d surprised herself by turning tail so fast. “I did say that.”
She started the Suburban, then ran both sets of fingers through her curls, lifting her shirt and exposing the skin of her belly. Elliott had no idea what possessed him to reach into the car and shut off the engine, but that’s exactly what he did. For the second time that day, he was about to come away from one of their encounters unsatisfied with the score. Disorder and confusion simply weren’t an option for him. “What are you doing?” she asked.
Elliott didn’t have an answer to that, so he went with the second most pressing thing on his mind. “Things with Alice seemed to go well.”
Peggy watched him closely for a moment, before alighting from the car. “Not at first, but we figured out a happy place.”
“Yes, it seemed that way.” He shifted. “How did you find it? This happy place.”
She molded her back and hips against the vehicle, a position which angled her thighs and pushed up her breasts. His palms started to sweat in response, fingers stretching and retracting on their own with the memory of how those swells felt in his grip. How they shook a little, her nipples spearing his palms, when they’d sinned on their hands and knees. A position that should be reserved only for prayer. “I think I kind of stumbled into the happy place, if I’m being honest,” she said, answering his question. “I probably couldn’t find it again if I tried. Someone once called me childish, though, so maybe that helped. Just a childish person relating to a child on her own level.”
Elliott ground his teeth together. “Said a lot of things I didn’t meant back then, Peggy. It was a bad time.”
“I was making a joke. You’re always so serious,” she said on a shrug, reaching out and patting his shoulder, letting her hand linger, thumb brushing the curve of his muscle. “Always. Especially before a game.”
“Peggy.” He gritted out her name. “I know what you’re doing and I won’t be persuaded. I won’t allow my shortcomings to rule me again.”
She snatched her hand back as if she’d been burned, but the blanching expression turned playful in no time as she climbed once more into the driver’s side of the SUV. “Tomorrow is a different day, isn’t it?” Before the door could close, she paused, appearing to wrestle with herself the way Elliott was doing with his guilt for being so harsh. “Alice is terrific. When she says hurtful things to you, she’s just being twelve. I said them to my mom. My mom said them to hers, too.” A flick of her wrist and the engine roared to life. “She’s going to be fine. You’re doing fine.”
Spikes dug into his chest. “Peggy—”
The slamming door cut him off. Hands on hips, head tipped forward, he watched her drive away, thanking God his life didn’t have an instant replay option. When Elliott turned toward the house, he stopped short, finding Alice watching from the front doorway, her fac
e inquisitive. But she ducked out of his sightline, disappearing into the house so quickly, he didn’t even have a chance to take a step.
“Shit.”
Chapter Four
It was the sun’s fault, really. The shiny fucker reflected off Elliott’s sweaty, bare chest as he jogged toward Peggy on the path, shooting a ray into her eye and blinding her, like a sex laser. That was the only reason she stumbled and ate shit, scraping seven layers of skin from her knee. Even in midair, she was already groaning with the humiliation. Bruised vanity made her cheeks bloom with heat. Then, pain.
Still, Peggy tucked and rolled behind a bench, hoping Elliott had missed the whole debacle. Fat chance. They were the only ones out utilizing the jogging path so early in the morning. Why had she chosen a new route, instead of her typical jaunt around the track? This was a disaster. It had been a full week since she’d gone to Elliott in the locker room and he’d made no move to return for seconds. Now she looked like a stalker, creeping on the running trail he probably took every day, at the exact same time. Because that’s how Coach Brooks operated.
Her knee throbbed with pain, but she didn’t look, knowing the sight of blood would make it worse. And Elliott was almost even with where she sat sprawled on the grass. Maybe if she just closed her eyes and remained completely still…
“I can see you, Miss Clarkson.”
Embarrassment speared Peggy in the middle, along with a wiggling finger of lust. His morning voice was scratchy. Throw in those panting breaths and he might as well be railing her against the locker again. Her eyes flew open at the memory, and that single finger of lust became a bunched fist. Shirtless Coach Brooks. Da-hamn. A big, imposing mess of dripping sweat and black hair and rounded muscles. Also a scowl. “I was just watching the sunrise.”
Of course, his skeptical face made him even hotter. “Your knee is bleeding.”
“So it is.” It ached worse for having been acknowledged. “It’s well known around campus this is the best vantage point for watching the sun come up. I had to fight off at least a dozen students trying to claim my spot—”
“I saw you fall.”
Had his mouth twitched? Maybe just a tad? Peggy blew a loose curl out of her eye. “Thanks for playing along,” she muttered. “I’m guessing improv isn’t really your jam, huh?” Bracing a hand against the bench, she started to rise. “While we’re tearing down the fourth wall, I think ‘Miss Clarkson’ is a little formal. Don’t you think?”
Her question ended on a squeak when Elliott scooped her off the ground. “Do you always ramble when you’re bleeding out?” He aimed his frown at her knee. Beneath the thunder, she detected…worry. “That was a hard fall. Half of my players would be crying for the medic by now.”
“Am I being recruited? ’Cause I would look insanely hot in football pants. Boom. Ticket sales through the roof.” Her joke emerged breathless, because hello. She was being carried through the morning mist by a bare-chested legend. And yeah, she was pretty sure he’d nearly smiled again, which was almost better than riding the orgasm train to heaven in her cheerleading skirt last week with him as conductor. “Where are you taking me?”
“There’s a first aid kit in my truck.” A worry crease appeared between his eyes as he regarded her mangled knee again. “You’re tougher than you look. If…”
Pleasure tickled Peggy head to toe. Men complimented her on a regular basis about everything under the sun, but Coach calling her tough was like getting a pink Rolls-Royce for Christmas. “If what?”
Elliott became impatient. “If I’d been going at my normal pace, I would have caught you.” Showing zero exertion, he climbed a knoll, bringing them into the parking lot. “This is why plans and execution are so important.”
She tucked her hands beneath her chin and gave him an exaggerated, starry-eyed look. “Tell me more.”
“Yes, I’m sure you’re spellbound.” There was another mysterious jump at the corner of his mouth, but he sobered quickly. “Maybe I’m punished when I deviate from my path. In fact, I’m certain I am.”
“Seeing me hurt is punishment?”
He paused before easing her down onto the bumper of his truck, surprise coloring his chiseled features. “Yes. It is.”
* * *
What the hell am I doing?
Elliott forced himself to break contact with Peggy and retrieve the first aid kit from his glove compartment. Carrying her had been a mistake, but it might have killed him to watch her walk on the injured knee. Lord, she was soft. Curved to fit. Made to be lifted and laid down, wherever he chose to place her.
No, not he. Someone else. Elliott wasn’t her boyfriend. They were nothing to one another and couldn’t be. He shouldn’t have given in to temptation—irresistible as it had been—in the locker room, and they shouldn’t be spending time together now. Their association was dangerous. Could cost him his job and, hell, his self-respect. The dirt was still fresh on his wife’s grave, he had a child to raise, a team to coach. With so many responsibilities on his plate, fraternizing with a student was unacceptable. No matter how gorgeous. No matter how she made him want to laugh. Him. Laugh. He wasn’t even sure what it would sound like.
Clutching the kit so hard, the tin bit into his finger, Elliott reached into his pocket with his free hand and rolled his thumb over the smooth bumps of his rosary beads. A reminder that he needed to remain steadfast in his faith. No more mistakes, like the one they’d made together in the locker room.
Groaning low over the memories that winked in front of his vision, Elliott returned to where Peggy sat. She was clearly refusing to show a hint of pain. So brave. Or stubborn. Maybe both. “Turn sideways and prop your leg on the bumper.”
“Yes, Coach.” Along with her smirk, that title alone coming from Peggy made blood run south to his cock. And it didn’t help his situation when she followed his instructions, stretching out her long leg, tightening the material of her tiny running shorts over her pussy. “Like this?”
If Peggy didn’t seem oblivious to the effect she was having on him, pain finally beginning to make her chin wobble, Elliott might have addressed the elephant in the parking lot. He’d fucked her. A student. Hard. Rough. Nasty. They’d done something against not only the school’s rules, but his own unwritten ones. His focus would not stray, would not change. It needed to be consistent.
If he didn’t commit every ounce of energy to football now, he’d been an absent husband, son, father…for nothing. He’d neglected his family for football, choosing the sport over everything and making his purpose clear. It couldn’t change now.
Elliott knelt with a curse, smacking open the tin box to remove cotton balls and hydrogen peroxide, applying the latter to the former. But with the necessary items in hand, he couldn’t seem to lower the soaked cotton to Peggy’s bleeding scrape.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered.
“I’ve never…” Christ, were his hands shaking? “I’ve probably bandaged a thousand injuries, but never one on a woman.”
Peggy didn’t laugh as he expected. “It’s the same procedure. Leg-wise, at least.” He heard her swallow. “If I had a compound boobie fracture, we’d be shit out of luck.”
His chuckle was rusty and unexpected. Neither of them moved afterward and the silence grew wider, deeper. Morning fog drifted past, unaware of the time. “I have a daughter. I had a wife. I should have done this before.” Peggy’s fingers slid into his hair, her nails making light circles on his scalp and he just wanted to sleep, right there with his head in her lap. “I should have done so many things.”
She brushed her thumb down his temple, massaging. “I love my mother more than anything in the world. I tell her constantly. And if she died tomorrow, I would still have a million regrets. It’s natural, Elliott.”
“This is going to sting,” he murmured, touching the wet cotton to her scrape. She hissed in a breath and snagged his hair between her fingers—abusing the strands with a yank. Exactly as she might if his mouth were teasing b
etween her thighs. His dick hardened at the image, tenting the front of his running pants. A growl shook out of his throat without permission and they locked eyes.
Guilt trapped him. In one breath, he talked about his failures, his regrets; in the next he wanted to pound this beautiful, perceptive girl against his bumper. Wanted to get lost in her acceptance and feel the squeeze of her pussy. To think of nothing but getting her off. His mind had been a hazard zone since the last time he was inside of her. God, to feel that mental peace again…That level of need-drunk lust he’d never achieved elsewhere.
More guilt. His hands started to work fast, swabbing Peggy’s injury, but she slowed him with a touch, capturing his attention. “Tell me something good you’ve done.”
Elliott thinned his lips.
“You’re right. That’s the last thing you would ever do.” She leaned over and snagged a bandage between her fingers, ripping it open with her teeth. “I’ll do it for you, then. Last week, after the game, you went out of your way to shake the other teams’ kicker’s hand, after he blew that field goal. What did you say to him?”
“That he would redeem himself if he practiced hard enough. That there would be chances to make everyone forget the one he missed.”
Her smile caused his heart to make a racket. She’d never given him one so bright, not during any of their encounters on campus. This one was pure approval and it hit his bloodstream like a drug. People gave him reverential smiles often, but they came from…the other side of the glass, while Peggy was right there, close, on his side. “I see you. You make positive differences every day, you just don’t let yourself have them.” She ducked her head to apply the bandage. “Let yourself have them, Elliott.”
“I can’t be with you again,” he rasped. “It makes me forget everything and I don’t deserve that.”
“I say you do.” With barely a wince, Peggy swung her legs off the bumper and stood. Elliott closed his eyes against the urge to wrap both arms around her waist, force her to stay, and make him feel human a little longer. “Come find me when you’re ready to be convinced.”