Touchdowns and Tiaras: The Complete Boxed Set

by Sosie Frost

  “Match made in heaven.” Rory laughed.

  Cole grumbled. The monster of a man knelt down, helped Rose to her feet, and sighed as she gave him a kiss to his cheek. She then bolted to race Sam once more.

  “Great.” Cole scowled at Jack. “Tell me that apple fell very, very far from your tree. I won’t have your boy breaking my little girl’s heart.”

  Jack hauled Sam up, patted the dirt and grass from his butt, and sent him after Rose once more. “You’ll be relieved to learn that he takes after Leah.”

  “I think they’re cute,” Rory said. “They can grow up together. Always have someone to watch over them. It’s…” She glanced at me. “They’re lucky they’ll have each other.”

  And the guilt crushed me.

  And the lust.

  And the fucking confusion of it all.

  But I’d swear Rory hadn’t been acting through either of the kisses. Her lips had nibbled, her eyes had closed, and her soft, gasped breath was a secret invitation.

  Had I imagined it?

  Rory reached into her purse, checking her phone. Her fingertips drifted over my shoulders.

  “I’ve gotta go make a call.” Her gaze lingered a moment too long. “I’ll be right back.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  “I won’t be far.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Rory snuck away, her fingers tangling in mine until her arm outstretched. The heat remained. Her dress clung to her hips, framing everything soft and feminine and curvy. Even her damn hat looked cute, though I’d have loved to knock it back and dive in for the kiss she really deserved.

  “So…” Jack gestured over his shoulder with a thumb. “Aren’t you…?”

  “What?”

  Even Cole gave me a frustrated glance. “Honeybuns?”

  “What about her?”

  Jack groaned. “Christ, dude. I know those concussions dented your brain, but how the fuck did you knock her up if you’re this dense?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “She wanted you to follow her, Daddy.”

  I stiffened, in more ways than one. I played it cool. “She said she was making a call.”

  Cole rubbed his chin. “She’s second trimester?”

  “Yeah?”

  Jack shrugged. “And you’re just gonna…pass up this opportunity? Jude, this is when the sex is great.”

  I was stealing Rory’s baby book the instant we got home. “Believe me, I know Rory. She’s not that adventurous.”

  “Those hormones bring out the wild side,” Cole said. “You thought I was the Beast? When Piper was pregnant with Ethan, I thought I was gonna die of exhaustion. A good death, but messy.”

  Jack agreed. “But we’re not gonna tell you how to please your woman.”

  What the hell was I supposed to do?

  I only knew two things about women. First, they were bad for my game, and I avoided a serious relationship like I avoided linebackers. Secondly, I had no business seducing a friend.

  Even if she had flirted too.

  And kissed me.

  Damn.

  She did give me one last little touch. What if that was an invitation?

  I was a gentleman, but I wasn’t an idiot.

  “I should go see what she wants,” I said.

  “Not hard to guess,” Jack grinned.

  I had good instincts on the field, but they ended at the hash marks. I wasn’t following intuition. I chased hope.

  This was a mistake.

  I didn’t make mistakes.

  I was too careful for mistakes.

  But I couldn’t wait to ruin our lives with this one.

  I followed Rory into the practice facility, my echoing steps loud, obtrusive, and revealing a determination to claim what wasn’t mine to take. I rounded the corner to the locker room, expecting a smiling Rory, giggling under a hat, teasing me without her panties.

  Fuck me, I was a goddamned idiot.

  Rory wasn’t baiting me. She hadn’t tried to seduce me.

  She was legitimately on the phone.

  I’d kill those guys. Second trimester my ass.

  Rory frowned at me, just as confused as I was.

  No. More confused than me. But nowhere near as fucking embarrassed. I walked cock-first into a mistake.

  Jesus.

  “Thank you, Doctor Summers. I’ll give you a call next week.” Rory lowered her phone with a frown. “Is everything okay, Jude?”

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  What could I say that didn’t sound perverted? Yeah, I just thought you were horny as fuck and wanted to hump like teenagers in a public bathroom.

  “Just making sure everything’s okay.”

  “Oh.” Rory nodded. “That was just my old hospital. Checking up on me. Doctor Summers was excited about the fellowship…though I suspect he just wants Rivets’ tickets.”

  My mind blanked. Great. Silence would help explain why I was creeping on her. The damn humiliation silenced me.

  Or was it disappointment?

  I had nothing. Just a stare. Just a longing to see this beautiful woman with her perplexed smile and ridiculous hat.

  My head told me to back off.

  My instincts refused.

  I reached for her, but Rory giggled as I tugged her close.

  “Jude, if we aren’t careful, no one will see us.”

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  She laughed. “Why did you follow me?”

  No sense lying. “We never finished that kiss.”

  Rory didn’t retreat, but her voice lowered. She was right. I’d never played games, but I definitely walked a dangerous line now. And if I stumbled?

  Rory was going down with me.

  Or on me.

  A man could dream.

  “Did you want to practice a little more?” she asked.

  I wanted the real thing. “We can never be too believable.”

  Her tongue slipped out, licking her bottom lip. I’d taste both soon enough.

  “You’re right,” she whispered. “We should take any chance we get to become comfortable with each other.”

  “The closer we are, the more realistic this looks.”

  “It already feels kinda real.”

  I lowered my head, nibbling over her kiss. “Say the word, Doc, and we can really start pretending.”

  “Practice makes perfect.”

  And she was perfect.

  And soft.

  And hot.

  And clutching me with the same intensity that I captured her. Her lips parted, but I wasn’t waiting for the thrill of her tongue. I took it myself, flicking across her silken heat and capturing her whimpered groan.

  That was a real sound. That was the real Rory. Not the polite woman on my arm, awkwardly kissing my cheek at practice and smirking anytime someone mentioned our baby. The throaty, passionate groan was everything honest, genuine, and burning inside her.

  The hallway was no place for us. My steps propelled us backward, through the swinging door of the locker room and into our own quiet, private sanctuary. Her hands wove over my body, as if memorizing my muscles, my arms, even brushing through my hair.

  I did the same.

  Rory was a firecracker without the fuse—too polite to light herself. I’d strike that match for us, hoping for a sparking delight and not to have this mistake blow up in my face. This was trouble. Danger. And I liked it.

  She was my best-friend’s sister.

  A lifelong friend.

  A woman carrying another man’s child.

  It didn’t matter. In that moment, she’d chosen me. Parted her lips and groaned my name. Rory touched me, caressed me, and, in her own excitement, led me back until my ass struck one of the trainers’ tables.

  She pinned me.

  What man in his right mind would try to get away?

  I hungrily devoured any kiss she offered. Her sundress wrinkled in my hand. She’d said she wasn’t wearing panties.

 
Was it worth jeopardizing our relationship to find out the truth?

  Yes.

  No.

  I inched the dress over her hips, one fistful at a time. Higher and higher, until the warm flesh of her thigh brushed my fingertips.

  It was enough to drive a man mad…if he had any mind left to shatter.

  For once, the concussions spared me. My mind rejected everything but the promising heat that pulsed from the hidden slit between her legs.

  I’d imagined it enough, fantasized about this very pleasure in my shower while struggling under the icy blast of the water. It never eased the strain of my principals, morals, and desires.

  But now she was here. Waiting for me. Her every secret within my grasp. All it’d take was a single touch, a rolled finger striking a most forbidden spot. I could cripple her. Turn her pants into gasps. Transform the frustrated ache into a moment of deserving pleasure.

  I had to touch her. Had to feel that wetness against my skin. Had to obey my own fantasies and savor the heat and slickness and silken petals that tormented me these past six weeks.

  My hand tickled over her thigh without a single breath of protest from Rory. She gripped me, tight, but she didn’t move away.

  She pressed against me instead.

  I stroked her clit, a tiny little button that trembled because of my touch.

  Amazing.

  She wanted this. Wanted me. Wanted more.

  A touch wasn’t enough. I circled with my finger, pressing hard against that perfect spot just to hear the tremble in her voice and savor the heat pulsing from her slit. Rory gripped me, her fingers tangling in my shirt as she struggled to remain standing.

  What sort of gentleman was I?

  I had a table. A desperate woman. A waiting slit.

  And I needed to see her, to study and taste and delight that dangerous place of no return.

  I tensed to move her, but Rory jumped as if I had clocked her instead.

  She pushed me away, brushing her dress over her thighs.

  I frowned. “What—”

  Rory grabbed my cheeks, inadvertently slapping hard against my head. I saw stars, but, when I opened my eyes, she was there. Staring. Eyebrows arched high.

  “Your pupils look good.” She spoke too loudly. “Yep. You’re gonna be fine.”

  What the hell?

  I blinked a split second of utter confusion, but the door banged open, and an army of eight-year-olds invaded the locker room. Lachlan bounced them around on a tour of the practice facility, exhausting the few camp counselors desperately trying to keep the kids from climbing through players’ lockers.

  Rory plastered a fake smile on her face and greeted everyone.

  “Hi there, kids. I’m Doctor Merriweather!”

  The children screamed in unison. “Hello, Doctor Merriweather.”

  “I was just…checking over a patient,” she said.

  The campers didn’t care, but Elle wasn’t buying it. “Right. Just playing doctor, huh?”

  I hopped off the table. “Thanks, Doc. I’m feeling a lot better.”

  Rory groaned. “Why do I doubt that?”

  “Second trimester?” Elle asked.

  What the hell was this magical trimester? And why did it embarrass Rory so much? She ducked away from Elle and Lachlan and raced to the door.

  She was embarrassed.

  Terrified.

  Running.

  That figured.

  I raced after her before Rory attempted to wall-flower herself straight into the foundation. I chased her to the hall, but she wouldn’t look me in the eyes.

  “Rory,” I said. “It just got a little out of hand.”

  “No…I’m pretty sure I got into your hand.”

  “You’ll get no complaints from me.”

  She didn’t want to hear it, couldn’t even look at me.

  Christ, what had I done?

  “I think you should help Lachlan out. The team’s supposed to mingle with the kids.” She stepped away. “I’ll go see if the medical team needs me.”

  “Rory, wait.”

  She slipped away without another word.

  Great.

  I couldn’t let myself get distracted like this, not when I had a hard enough time keeping my head in one piece. No reminder on my phone or set schedule would help me with Rory, and any energy I focused off the field would only hurt my chances of success.

  I knew how to win a football game, but scoring with Rory? It wasn’t just a bad idea; it was the wrong game to play.

  And yet, life already had handed me the ball.

  I wasn’t a man who liked to lose.

  10

  Rory

  Maybe I needed to wear two sets of panties around Jude. Obviously, wearing none was a bad idea.

  I pawed through my drawers, re-organizing the clothing for the second time that night.

  I wasn’t nesting. I was avoiding Jude.

  Panties would be my first line of defense. I’d wear the ones that hugged a bit too tight. They were still cute, but the constriction would remind me to keep my damn legs shut. Then, I’d cover them with a pair of my rattiest, ugliest granny-panties. The pair that survived the laundry because they were good for period insurance. One look at the floral yellow monstrosity wouldn’t just frighten a would-be suitor—it’d retract his boys right on up into his gut to hide.

  Still, this plan hinged on me keeping the panties on via my own ethical and moral code. That was harder than it should have been. Especially after my first real official game with the team.

  Last Sunday, I’d stood on the sidelines cheering and biting my nails raw while watching as Jude, Jack, and Lachlan utterly decimated the opposing defense.

  Jude hadn’t looked thirty-three years old. He’d run like a rookie, sweat dripping from his forehead, arms bulging with thick muscles. His gun-metal grey eyes studied only the end zone. That was good. He never saw me staring at him.

  Maybe it was a triple panty type of day. I’d add a thong, just to stay appropriately uncomfortable.

  I couldn’t afford any mistakes with him. The few moments at the charity event?

  Big mistake.

  No matter how much I liked it, no matter how much I had always dreamed of a moment like that, it could never be just fun and games. I had a baby on the way. And if that wasn’t complicated enough, I was living a lie and stuck in a relationship with the sexiest man I should never love.

  My step-mother wasn’t answering my calls. My step-brother had threatened Jude the last time he texted. And my second trimester subbed out my morning sickness for a dose of hormones that destroyed my inhibitions.

  I couldn’t hide from him forever. Fortunately, the Rivets had traveled to a hotel in the city Saturday night before the game. After the win yesterday, Jude came home and hobbled right to bed. Today wasn’t much better. He’d limped to the practice facility, watched films of the best and worse plays, and then dragged himself home to collapse on the couch.

  Apparently, this was normal.

  The team always looked like they were jumped in a dark alley after a game. He’d recover, he said. It didn’t take a medical professional to realize his butt was kicked.

  I thought I had to worry about his head. How was the rest of him going to survive the season?

  Fortunately, Tuesdays were the official day off for the entire league. Jude had all of the night and tomorrow to recuperate. That meant he’d be around the house.

  And we’d have to…talk.

  About what had happened. About what was going to happen.

  I knew this arrangement would be messy. I had no idea how much of a disaster it could be too.

  I joined him in the living room as he ate dinner—three chicken breasts in a bowl filled to the brim with frozen vegetables and brown rice.

  Hell, he couldn’t even get the fork to his lips.

  Jude caught my worried glance. “Don’t get worried about me. We won the game.”

  “It looks like you lost.”
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br />   “That’s the price of success.”

  “I’d ask for a refund.”

  Phillip snorted from his bed in the corner. At least the dog was on my side.

  Jude stretched his legs out on the ottoman before swearing under his breath. He grimaced as he bent his knees, and I hopped up before he did any damage.

  “What can I get you?” I asked.

  “Ice.” He pointed to the kitchen. “I forgot my packs.”

  “I’ll find them.”

  “You’re a goddamned saint, Doc.”

  “I’ll add it to my bill.”

  Jude smiled. God, he had such a nice smile. Something teasing and still genuine. Bright.

  I was finally able to look in his eyes again, but a single word from him twisted me into a complete pretzel, every knot another bad decision I’d make around him, for him, because of him.

  Now I needed the ice. I dipped into the freezer and took a breath. Time to get this under control. I couldn’t let his voice echo inside me, so deep and rumbling and shaded with promise.

  But who could blame me? I hadn’t had any relief from the last time he touched me. Four days of lying in bed, aching, thinking about him. I remembered the moments together, but my fingers couldn’t replicate that heated brush of his hand.

  Until I finally came and just let myself feel what I felt for him without shame, I’d never be able to concentrate again. I rested his ice pack on the back of my neck. Too bad I couldn’t find a tranquilizer in his damn freezer.

  Something buzzed around the kitchen. I frowned and checked the cabinet.

  Why Jude decided to stash his cellphone next to the plates was beyond me, but it was the same reason he sometimes left the remote in the fridge and his keys in the door. That worried me more than the pain in his knees.

  An alert jingled his phone.

  8:00 – Laundry

  I shut it off.

  Another popped up.

  10:00 - Bed

  Responsible. I shut it off too. Another immediately appeared.

  “Wow…” I cleared it, though it had already been snoozed.

  7:30 – Pay Bills (Phone/Internet)

  Jude was disciplined, but I hadn’t realized quite how structured he lived. I shouldn’t have pried, but I checked the other scheduled events. Most of them related to Phillip, but the dog didn’t need any help. Lamps were broken when he was hungry, toilet paper stolen when we slept an extra ten minutes, and he now stood on the tables to demand his afternoon walk. He was hard to ignore, even for a disturbingly forgetful running back.