Nixon: A Raleigh Raptors Novel

by Whiskey, Samantha

  “Would you rather I wore someone else's?” She blinked in mock innocence.

  “Fuck, no.” Just the thought of it curdled my stomach. She was mine. Maybe we hadn’t defined exactly what we were, but whatever it was, was mine, and that sweet, tiny, little swell of her belly that had appeared in the last week was mine, too.

  “Then touch me.” She rocked her hips against mine, and it was almost more than I could take. “Because you’re not alone in the driven-crazy department. How do you think it feels to see you shirtless all the time?” She gripped my shirt in her fists. “It’s like living with my switch flipped to the on position.” There was a desperation in her eyes that simultaneously intoxicated my senses while driving me to seek whatever relief I could give her.

  Keeping my eyes on hers, my hand slid to her thigh, then up it, dipping under her dress and rising until I felt the smooth satin of her thong. She rolled her hips again, and my fingers found her, hot and drenched through the material.

  “Damn.” My cock pulsed in time with my heartbeat and any reason we shouldn’t be doing this fled my brain. The need to be inside her overpowered every thought.

  “Told you.” She kissed me, gently sucking on my lower lip.

  “Keep your hands on my shoulders.” I pushed her hips back against the door and sank to my knees.

  She looked confused for about half a second, but her lips parted as I yanked her dress to her waist.

  “Tell me if you don’t want this.” I gripped the straps of her underwear.

  “I want this,” she assured me. “I want you.”

  I dragged her thong down her thighs and past her calves as she stepped out of them. They landed somewhere beside me. Then I pushed her thighs wide and held her open with my fingers, taking a breath of a second to admire how deliciously pink and shiny she was before setting my mouth to her core.

  I gave her a long lick from pussy to clit, and we both moaned. She was sweet and heady, sliding down my throat as I swiped through her cleft again and again. I swirled my tongue around her clit, and when her nails dug into my shoulders, I gave her what she wanted and flicked the bud.

  “Nixon!” she cried out, rocking her hips against my face.

  I pinned her hips to the door so she could only take what I was willing to give her. Then I used every skill I had to drive her wild, learning what pushed her to the edge without taking her over it. I worshipped her with my mouth, tortured her with my tongue, and when her cries came faster and her thighs tensed, I slid two fingers inside her.

  The walls of her pussy gripped my fingers like a vise, and my cock strained against the waistband of my pants. It was going to be so fucking good once I finally slid inside her.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” she started chanting as I thrust my fingers inside her in time with my tongue at her clit. Her entire body locked up, and her breath stuttered.

  I found her G-spot and pushed my fingers against it in a quick tap, then took her clit between my lips and sucked, swiping my tongue over the tender flesh.

  She came, yelling my name before muffling her cries with a fist. Her knees buckled, but I kept her pinned to the door as I licked her clean for long moments, bringing her through the aftershocks.

  “Nixon!” Hendrix shouted, pounding on the door. “Are you in there?”

  We both stilled.

  “Yeah, what’s up?” I managed to answer as Liberty looked down at me with wide, hazy, satiated eyes.

  “Post-game wings, or what?” he asked. “First home game, remember?”

  “Right.” Shit. That had been our ritual since the year he’d signed with the Raptors. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to get my breathing—and my cock—under control.

  “Roman’s already heading for his car. Let’s go,” Hendrix said with a double slap on the door.

  The last thing I wanted to do was leave the sweetness of Liberty’s swollen pussy, but I wasn’t going back on my earlier thought, either. I wasn’t fucking her in my dressing room.

  “We’ll be right there,” she answered for me, a smile tugging at her lips.

  “Excellent.” Footsteps sounded as he walked away.

  I helped her back into her underwear and tugged her dress back into place, then rose slowly.

  She brushed her thumb over my lips and shook her head slowly.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Everyone always says how your arm is magic, right?”

  My brow puckered. “Yeah?”

  “It’s got nothing on your tongue. Holy. Shit.” She bit into her lower lip.

  I laughed, then adjusted my dick and swept her under my arm as we headed out to keep the tradition of post-game wings alive. But I knew nothing we had there would even come close to tasting as good as Liberty.

  I was fucking hooked.

  8

  Liberty

  Crack!

  The small black disc hit the partition near the family box we occupied, and I just about jumped out of my seat. Before I could catch my breath, the hockey players were already all over it—a blur of color and ice and smacking sticks.

  Nixon’s hand slid over the small of my back, effortlessly settling me back into the seat next to his. He’d flown us to Charlotte to watch the Reapers, his twin brother—Nathan Noble—a defensemen of some kind on the ice.

  “You good?” he asked, his eyes falling to my stomach for a moment and then back up to my face.

  I nodded, resting my hand on his muscled forearm to reassure him. “A little excitement isn’t going to hurt us,” I said. Nixon blew out a breath, and I leaned my forehead against his. “Besides,” I continued. “You should’ve seen me when you were on the field.” I grinned as his eyes lit with that fire that melted my insides. “Ten times more excited than this.”

  Nixon smiled as I settled back in my seat. “I can’t help it. I want to protect you both.”

  And that raw honesty? That genuine concern for my and the baby’s well-being continued to tear down all the walls I’d tried to build around my heart since having slept with Nixon in Vegas.

  His lips were doing a great deal to break down those walls, too.

  And his tongue.

  Warm shivers danced over my skin, the memory of his mouth between my legs doing everything to tear my focus from the hockey game. Who could use their tongue like that? It’s like he had a map for every spot to drive me to that sweet edge and hold me there in exquisite torture before pushing me over. Those strong hands—the ones that made him a professional NFL star—had held me effortlessly with a primal claiming that shook every cell in my body. He was used to calling the plays, was paid millions for it, and goddamn the man had played my body like a mastered instrument.

  Heat flared over my skin, my body coiling with a tight hunger that was so overwhelming I had to shift in my seat.

  Nixon returned his focus to the game but covered my hand on his arm with his free one. I watched him while he tracked the movements on the ice with a prideful precision that spoke volumes about how much he adored his twin—not that he’d opened up a ton about his family. Even in our numerous get to know you texts and conversations, he tended to avoid any serious details when it came to family—beyond the lake house and the fact that his mother had taught him how to cook.

  The Carolina Reapers were ruthless on the ice, but in a beautiful way that reminded me of a synchronized dance. The players were so in tune with each other’s needs, they almost anticipated it before the move needed to happen. Not unlike football, but with a slab of ice beneath them and blades on their feet.

  A few hours later, we settled into a comfortable booth at a quiet restaurant in the small town where Nathan lived with his fiancé, Harper.

  “What’d you think of the game?” Harper asked after she sat across from me, Nathan scooting in close to her. She’d greeted me with a huge hug like we were the oldest of friends, despite only having met that one time in Vegas. Considering the results of that trip, and her graciousness surrounding everything that had gone down that wee
kend, I was keen to return her kindness.

  “Hockey is…” I swallowed hard, glancing at Nathan who sat with one arm tucked behind Harper. “Interesting.”

  Nixon tried to cover his laugh with a cough but failed miserably.

  Harper giggled, but Nathan gave me a genuine smile. “Little different than Monday Night Football,” he said.

  I spared Nixon a glance as the waitress brought us our drinks and took our orders. The man was carved muscle, those arms relaxed as he sat next to me—the same arms capable of throwing touchdown passes or holding me tight against a locked locker-room door until my body sang for him.

  “I’m partial to football,” I finally answered Nathan after the waitress had left to put in our orders.

  “Really?” Nathan asked, setting down his drink. “A tad boring, don’t you think? All those time outs and flag-fests. The posturing. The end zone celebrations.” His smile had grown wider as he spoke, his eyes on Nixon.

  “As opposed to the caveman-level fights you boys have on the ice every five seconds?” I teased right back.

  Nixon full-out laughed this time, and Nathan’s eyebrows shot right up his head. Harper slow-clapped before pointing a finger at me. “I knew I liked this one,” she said, and I winked at her.

  Nathan raised his glass to me, and I clinked my soda water against his.

  “In all seriousness,” I said after we took our sips. “The game was fantastic. I’m always blown away by what you professional athletes can do with your bodies.” Heat flared over my cheeks, and I shifted in my seat. “I mean…well, what I meant was that you two have huge talents—” Harper nearly spit out her drink, and I facepalmed myself.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” Nathan said.

  I nodded rapidly, trying to shake off the blunder of my no-filter mouth.

  “This coming from a man who told his fiancée I was a running back,” Nixon grumbled from my side, and my eyes darted to his then Harper’s. She nodded, and I gaped at Nathan, who could barely hold back his smile.

  “What?” he asked innocently. “It’s in my blood to mess with my brother.”

  I glanced between the two brothers, wondering how so much hotness could fit at one table. I’d almost gotten used to the stares that followed us whenever Nixon and I went out in public, but with both of them? It was like traveling with…well, with two gorgeous, talented, professional athletes.

  And the resemblance to Nixon was incredible—obviously, they were twins—but Nixon had rougher edges where Nathan’s were smooth, calm. Nixon had a wildness to his eyes, a churning depth this side of painful that I constantly wanted to uncover. Nathan had the soft, kind eyes of a man in love, happy, settled.

  I couldn’t help but wonder if Nixon would ever look that settled or if he’d constantly chase the storms that plagued him—the ones he showed when he thought no one was looking.

  “You’re lucky I love Harper,” Nixon said, a tease in his tone. “Or else I would’ve driven you into the ground for calling me that.”

  Nathan snorted and rolled his eyes. “You can’t take me.”

  “History says otherwise.” Nixon leaned his elbows on the table.

  I raised my brows at Harper, who just waved off the brother’s banter.

  “What, one time out of thousands?”

  “Try the other way around,” Nixon said.

  “Your memory is off,” Nathan joked. “You’ve been sacked too many times, your head has taken too many hits.”

  Nixon shifted next to me, going as still as a statue. I furrowed my brow, wondering if he’d swallowed something from his cocktail, but his glass remained untouched on the table.

  Something glistened in Harper’s eyes, and Nathan flashed Nixon an apologetic look.

  “Nix,” he said, his tone soft. “I didn’t mean…” His voice trailed off, and Harper smoothed her hand over Nathan’s back.

  I studied the hard line of Nixon’s jaw, the way his dark eyes had gone distant, sad even. The tension in my chest tightened as the seconds ticked by and he offered no response.

  “So,” I said, desperate to change the subject. “Twins run in the family.” I glanced down at my stomach, then back up to Nathan. “I’m thankful it skipped us. I mean, while I wouldn’t mind two, one is terrifying enough. I mean, how could I split myself between two babies? How did your mom do it?” And now I was rambling.

  Harper pressed her lips together, giving me a pitiful look.

  Okay. Hello awkward.

  “Mom is the most amazing woman on the planet,” Nixon said, and the sound of his voice washed over me like a tropical shower. “I honestly don’t know how she survived the three of us.”

  Three of them?

  Nathan continued to attempt some sort of silent conversation with Nixon, but I couldn’t tell if Nixon was responding or not. He’d thrown that wall over his eyes, the one he usually reserved for the cameras and reporters.

  “She always says it’s about balance,” Nathan said when Nixon clearly wasn’t elaborating. “And she always treated us as separate entities,” he continued. “We may be twins, but we responded differently to everything. Mom made sure to react or treat each situation according to which of us was at the center of it. That made the whole difference.”

  I chewed on my bottom lip, letting the information sink in. I knew I’d never live up to their mother, what woman could? But I knew I wanted to try. Wanted to be the best mother I could possibly be. Even though before that weekend in Vegas I’d never contemplated having a baby so soon.

  “Thanks for the tip,” I finally said. “I need as many as I can get.” Maybe if I ever found the courage, I’d ask Nixon if I could call his mother and take notes about how she managed to raise two incredible men.

  “You’ll do amazing,” Nixon said, the edge gone from his voice. I smiled at him, and then our waitress brought our meals, and we ate in a comfortable mish-mash of real and light conversation. I found myself relaxing as the night went on, settling into the easy way it was to talk to both Harper and Nathan. The Noble family was truly not a bad one to have gotten accidentally attached to.

  “I’ll be right back,” I said to Nixon after we’d finished dessert, well, after I’d finished mine and the rest of his. Somedays I could eat a mountain of food and still never feel full. “Bathroom.” I motioned across the restaurant.

  “Me too!” Harper hopped up from her seat, hurrying to my side.

  I didn’t raise a brow at her eagerness, having grown quite used to her quirks the past two times I’d met her. She was a loveable genius who couldn’t help but speak her mind or hide away in it.

  “So,” Harper said as I washed my hands. She leaned against the granite counter, her arms folded over her chest.

  “So?” I asked as I dried my hands and tossed the paper towel in the garbage. I arched a brow at her when she didn’t immediately head for the door.

  “What’s the official story on you and Nixon?” she asked.

  “Um…well…” I glanced down at my tummy and then back up again. “Vegas. Drinks. Two pink lines. You were there for part of it.” The drinks part, anyway.

  Harper laughed softly and shook her head. “I remember that part,” she said, then cringed. “Well, not all the parts. But I remember the drinks.”

  I nodded. She’d been kind enough to make me some mythical smoothie that had cut my hangover in half.

  “You moved in with Nixon.”

  “He asked me to,” I said. “When he learned how bad the morning sickness affected me.”

  She tilted her head.

  “Morning sickness isn’t actually confined to the morning. At least not for me. It was an all-day, all-night kind of thing. And it was even worse when triggered by certain smells, like this fish tank…” A shudder choked off the last of my words, and I swallowed back a mouthful of acid. God, I still couldn’t think about that smell without wanting to puke.

  “That’s awful,” she said. “Is it better at his place?”

  So.
Much. Better. Not only because there weren’t any nefarious smells assaulting me, but because he had an incredibly comfortable bed, a spacious and quiet home, and a kiss that haunted my dreams.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Do you love him?”

  I sputtered at her direct question. “I’m just getting to know him,” I blurted.

  She eyed me, and I had to give the woman credit, she wasn’t pulling any punches. “Look,” she said. “Nixon hated me at first. It took me months to earn his trust, and then his love. So, I’m sorry if I’m being that girl, but I’m protective of these brothers. They’re good men, and they deserve to be treated as such.”

  I parted my lips, but nodded. “I know that,” I said on a released breath. “I do. But I won’t stand here and lie to you, Harper. Nixon is…” What was he? Infuriating and gorgeous and funny and endearing and God, he made me crazy.

  “Yeah,” Harper said like she could read my mind.

  “I don’t know what we are,” I admitted. “I don’t think either of us know. We didn’t plan for this to happen. It was thrown at us. And he’s been more than amazing about the whole situation.” Except for the day I told him, but now I understood his reasoning. “I don’t know if I love him. It’s impossible for me to know that this soon, but I can tell you one thing with absolute certainty.” I smoothed my hand over my stomach, feeling the life inside there. “I love this baby. And it’s made up of pieces of us.” I shrugged like there was nothing else I could possibly explain beyond that.

  Harper bit back a smile, nodding. “I understand that,” she said. “And, again, I’m sorry. It’s just Nixon has been through so much. What with Nick—”

  “His ex—” We spoke at the same time, and I tilted my head.

  “Who’s Nick?”

  “His ex?”

  We spoke at the same time again, and Harper’s eyes scanned my face, something like pity flashing there again.

  “Who’s Nick?” I asked again.