by Violet Blaze
"You have a toy collection, Zayden," she says, but I don't respond. If she's able to talk, then I'm not doing my job right.
"What if I asked you to be one of my little toys? Because I want to play all night long with your movable parts." Katie laughs and I groan. Ladies, laughter tightens up all those muscles downstairs. Guys fucking love it. Laugh more during sex, pretty please.
I nibble Katie's lower lip, tasting cherry lip gloss, and slide my tongue into her mouth. Fuck, do I love women. They always smell so good, feel so soft, taste so sweet. If I had to list my hobbies for a stranger, it'd go like this: fucking, video games, fucking, and listening to pop music. But don't tell anybody about that last one or I'll have to kill you.
I squeeze Katie's wrists tighter, fuck her harder, and feel myself on the verge of a mind-blowing orgasm when my phone goes off, buzzing across the nightstand like a vibrator gone rogue.
The ringtone is the song Toxic, but not the Britney Spears' version (even though I secretly dig it). I had to save face, so I put on A Static Lullaby's cover of it.
There's only one person on my contacts list that has that ringtone and he never calls.
I pause for a moment, but Katie wiggles beneath me and I end up dropping my mouth to her freshly pierced nipples. I run my tongue around one and avoid the sore spot, teasing just close enough to make her squirm.
"I'm coming, Zay," she groans as my cock drives deeper and harder. I can feel her tightening around me, getting ready to explode. Thank God. I don't think I could hold on much longer.
The phone stops ringing and immediately starts up again.
I pause yet again, and Katie ends up getting her hands free, wrapping her arms around my neck.
"So close," she whispers against my ear. "So close. Don't stop."
So I keep going and then fucking fuck, there goes that damn phone again.
"I have to answer it," I say, because my brother, he only calls if there's an emergency. I stay right where I am, wrapped up inside of Katie, and lean over to take the call.
"What the fuck do you want? This better be good. I'm entertaining company right now."
My brother doesn't hesitate to rip me a new one.
"Do you have any compassion at all, Zayden? What is your goddamn problem? It's not like I ever ask you for anything. You never return my phone calls or texts, never come home for the holidays."
"Okay, and what's wrong with that? It's not as if we're exactly close," I say and then sit back in shock when Katie slaps me across the face with an open hand.
"I was close," she snaps at me, shoving me back and climbing off the bed. I watch in stunned frustration as she gathers her jeans and tugs them on. "Enjoy the rest of your Monday, you dick."
The front door slams closed behind her as I tug off my condom with a growl. Great. Just great. And I didn't even get her number or her last name. What a waste.
"I need your help, Zayden," Rob says, and I catch the strain in his voice right off the bat. Whatever this is, it really is serious. I feel a little guilty for being an asshole -“ to both Rob and Katie -, and climb off the bed to dispose of the condom in the trash can under the window. "It's Mercedes' parents," he continues as I open the top drawer of my dresser and grab some boxers. My hard-on's long gone now, no point in wandering around naked. Feels kind of wrong to have my junk hanging out when I'm talking to my brother, you know what I mean?
"Okay?" I ask, trying to be sympathetic. I mean, Rob might be a jerk, but his wife, Mercedes, is actually pretty awesome. Sometimes when Rob's asleep and she doesn't think she'll get caught, she gets online and joins my raid group. That girl can take on a red dragon zombie boss like nobody's business - , impressive, even if it's all part of a computer game.
"They were in an accident," he says, sounding tired and worn-out. Rob works as an insurance salesman, so I can totally see that. If I worked as an insurance salesman, I'd only be at the job long enough to buy a gun and a single bullet.
"Oh, shit, are they alright?" I ask, pausing in the kitchen. It's a disaster of take-out and pizza boxes, and it smells like my cat's litter box. Well, technically, he's not my cat. One of my girlfriends left him here when she moved out, and I kind of like the little bastard. I spy the cat crouched on my stove, completely hairless, a hideous feline monstrosity, and flip it off. Hubert hisses at me and flicks his tail, glaring at me with creepy white-green eyes. The effect is somewhat lessened since he's wearing a black sweater. Hey, this is Vegas and it gets hotter than hairy balls in a pair of briefs. I keep the air conditioner cranked, and Hubert being a hairless cat and all, he gets the chills.
Told you I was a nerd.
"They're alive, if that's what you're really asking," Rob says, just before a piercing screech crashes through the phone and I jerk it away from my ear like I've been slapped. Either that's a banshee coming to take my soul to the underworld, or it's Rob's daughter, Kinzie. Yes, Kinzie. Weird name. I know, that's what I thought, too.
I am so fucking glad I don't have children.
I work very, very hard to make sure my dick is sheathed at all times. And I always use my own condoms, just to make sure they're fresh and free of holes. Honestly, if I had to choose between having kids and throwing myself off of a bridge, I'd have to think for a while to give you an answer.
"Well, that's good, right?" I ask, shooing the cat off the stove and sliding an old pizza box forward. The slices inside are stiff and tough, like chewy cardboard covered in melted plastic. I shove the end of one in my mouth anyway and turn around, leaning back against the counter. "So what do you need me for?" I ask around a mouthful.
"You know her parents live in South Africa, right?"
"Yeah, and?"
"And that's halfway around the world."
"Okay?"
"Zayden, they're in critical condition. There's a good chance neither of them will make it through the week." I flinch and swallow my bite.
"Man, I'm so sorry to hear that. Give Mercedes my love and tell her I'm praying for them."
"Why don't you tell her yourself?" Rob asks cryptically as I snap my fingers at Hubert who's desperately trying to untangle himself from his sweater.
"Put her on, I guess," I say, wrinkling up my brow and finishing up my pizza slice. I scratch my belly with tattooed fingers and wait.
Silence.
"Rob?"
"Zayden, Mercedes and I are flying to Joburg to see them. Tomorrow."
Joburg. Johannesburg. The city that's home to the tallest building in Africa. That much, at least, I know. Everything else here is a mystery to me. I grab a second slice of pizza and then toss it aside. That one has mold on it. Third one looks fine though.
"What the fuck are you getting at? You know I suck at word games, Rob."
"Zayden, I'm asking you to drive up here. You know, to take care of the kids for me."
Holy shit.
"Um, no?" I say, barely managing to keep from dropping my pizza to the floor. Take care of Rob's kids? I've met them once. Once. And they were little demons from hell -, screeching, wailing, squalling monsters. Oh, and that's not to mention the brand new freaking baby they just had like last year or whatever. A seven year old girl, four year old twins (who may or may not be human based on their behavior), and an infant.
Oh fuck the fuck out of that.
"Why doesn't Mercedes go, and you can stay with the kids?"
"My wife's parents are on their death beds, Zayden, and all you can think about is yourself? Do you think I'd have called if I had anyone else?"
"That really inspires confidence, bro. Why would you even trust me with watching your kids anyway? I killed two goldfish last week. On accident." I don't mention the fact that it was actually Hubert who murdered Teensy and Woo-woo, two more pets left over from a past girlfriend.
"I work a shit job. I have no money, no family in this world other than you. Mercedes has nobody left other than her parents. Zayden, please. Don't send my wife alone to watch her parents die."
Aw,
man.
I stand up straight and pad across the cold slate tile floor to the fridge to grab a soda. My brother's using the sympathy card on me right now, and it's working. I might be kind of a douche sometimes, but I'm really a nice guy underneath. I think? I mean, I try to be anyway.
"The kids don't have passports, Zay. And Mercedes doesn't want to take the baby on such a long flight. Can you imagine trying to care for a one year old in a hotel room? Or how about at the side of a hospital bed?"
"Dude, it's a fourteen hour drive up there and all I have is my ugly ass Geo. The car is older than I am, Rob. I was conceived in the backseat of the damn thing. I can't drive that piece of shit to the grocery store, let alone into California."
I pop the top on my Mountain Dew and down half of it before Rob decides to speak again, his voice low and thick, like he's on the verge of tears. Fucking Christ. In the background, Kinzie screams again, sending a chill down my spine.
"You're my last chance, Zay. Please. Please do this. What would Mom and Dad say if they were here?" I roll my eyes and run the fingers of my right hand through my the hair on the left side of my scalp. The other side is currently shaved like a military man gone punk. "I'll tell you what they'd say: Family is everything and everything is family. This is as much your problem as it is mine, Zay. We're brothers, and even though you can be an irresponsible prick sometimes, I love you."
"Gah," I stick my tongue out at my own reflection and shake my head. I can't take this lovey family shit. I feel myself just about ready to cave in. My buddy runs the shop I work at, so he'd understand. Besides, I could get the new dude, what's-his-face, to take over my appointments for me. I'd miss out on a lot of nipple piercings, but what choice do I have? I can't tell Rob no and not feel like a piece of human garbage, now can I? "Fine."
Rob sighs in relief as goose bumps break out over my arms.
I'm going to hate this. Every second of it. I know that to be a fact.
"But I want a plane ticket. I can't drive fourteen hours straight, man."
"I can't afford a plane ticket for you. I just spent all of my savings on tickets for Mercedes and me. You'll have to drive. If you leave now and take minimal rest stops, you can be here a few hours before our flight leaves tomorrow."
I start to protest, but the phone is suddenly snatched away from my brother by his wife.
"Thank you, Zay," she sobs, voice thick and sniffly. "Thank you so much. I love you like the little brother I never had, you know that right?"
Great.
I'm a sucker for pretty girls in distress.
I purse my lips so tight that my lip rings stand out like swords on either side of my mouth.
"See ya in fourteen hours then."
DESCRIPTION
Obsession.
I know the feeling well.
I'm the top draft prospect for the NFL, voted All-American last year, and a God at the University of Oregon.
I didn't get here by fucking around or chasing fantasies-and I'll never forget where I came from. A guy like me only gets one chance to get out, to make something of himself.
Passion.
I thought football was my passion.
But Teagan Fletcher, she's my obsession.
My childhood friend is now a woman with curves for days and hair like fire.
But she also hates me-and I don't blame her.
I want her. But I can't have her.
I need her. But I don't know how to let go.
One way or another, I'll have it all: football ... and Fletcher.
CHAPTER ONE
Teagan Fletcher
Tyce Winship had a serious god complex.
That was the first thing I noticed when I bumped into him for the first time in four years. I stood there in the middle of the park and gaped up at his smirking face. My breath came in quick, panting gasps as my fingers found the edge of Tyce's sweatpants. My nails scraped over the firm hills and valleys of his lower abs as I steadied myself and tried to keep the shock off of my face.
This is so my luck, I thought as I stared up at his bare tattooed chest, slack-jawed and surprised as hell. I go out for a run and literally fall into the arms of my childhood best friend. Not exactly the evening I was expecting.
“Tyce?” I asked, because the second I saw his face, I knew it was him. It was the boy I hadn't seen in years, a boy that had turned into a man. A somewhat famous man if ESPN was to be believed. Hell, I'd even seen him listed in Seventeen Magazine as one of the top ten hottest football players in the country. Hadn't expected to see him out on a deserted trail, a pair of Nike sneakers on his feet and gray sweatpants slung low over his defined hips.
Tyce raised one dark brow at the mention of his name, but his face-his gloriously handsome face-didn't show even an ounce of surprise.
“That'd be me,” he said, his voice that same deep, dark promise of sex and passion that cut straight through me. Of course, I'd never heard that tone directed at me. Now that's a change, I thought as I waited for him to acknowledge me. 'Hey, Tea. Long time no talk. Sorry for abandoning you all those years ago.' “Now how about you tell me your name?”
My ... name? I thought as I struggled to gather my thoughts. I was still reeling from the sheer coincidence of the moment, and Tyce was still ... smirking at me. His hands were hot on my upper arms, his fingertips rough but sensual as he kept a firm grip on my body. His touch was intoxicating, but it wasn't enough to numb the sting of his words.
“Or are you more the mysterious type?” he continued, still holding me, still not getting it. Tyce Winship was looking down at me like a conquest, like a find, some beautiful girl that stumbled into him in the dark that needed saving. His face said he was pretty damn sure I'd fall into his arms, that he was exactly the casanova that I was looking for tonight. But to me, he was still that angry little boy from two blocks down. That asshole teenager who broke my friends' hearts, who kept me frustratingly close at the same time he kept me at arm's length. Now ... he was a haughty jerk with a perfectly defined 'V' of muscles at his hips, a taut tummy, and a chest that got my blood pumping hot and furious.
Oh, and apparently he must also be suffering from memory problems because he didn't recognize me.
“I'm gonna take that as a yes,” Tyce continued as my mind spun in a million different directions and he leaned close-way too close-to my lips. “The mysterious, silent type. I like that.” His lips curved in a sensual smile. The movement of that mouth turned my knees to jelly. “But be careful. Next time you might not have something this sturdy to grab onto.” With a start, I realized my grip was precariously low, my fingers in a hot, sweaty place that they really shouldn't be. But that they kind of wanted to.
“Sorry,” I said automatically as I unhooked my grip and stumbled back, the shock of the moment making me numb, and, for just a split second there, speechless. Not a usual thing for me. I continued to stare back at Tyce, waiting still for that recognition that I so badly wanted. We grew up together, you asshole. Remember me, damn it.
“No apologies necessary,” he said, his sapphire eyes catching the evening's last golden streams of sunlight. “I'm always happy to help a beautiful girl.”
My heart started pounding again, and I found myself having trouble catching my breath. I'd come to Alton Baker Park to run. After all, I'd just moved to a city nicknamed TrackTown, USA so why not try to embrace the local lifestyle? Sweat continued to stream down my face and stray strands of red hair clung to my forehead and my cheeks as I stared Tyce down and tried to figure out what to say or do. I should just walk away and forget I ever saw him, but I was effectively mesmerized by that smile of his.
He was taller than I remembered him, a towering six foot two that made me feel even shorter than usual. And those eyes ... had they always been that blue? Two sapphire orbs ringed in gold, the perfect color to offset his chocolate dark hair and that ruggedly sculpted face. His lips looked ripe and moist, wet with sweat, and would've been his most distracting feature had he been wea
ring a shirt.
I swallowed hard and brushed some hair away from my face, unconsciously wetting my lips at the same time. I didn't mean to flirt. Hell, I was actually starting to get pretty pissed. How could Tyce not recognize me? After all that we'd been through ... A part of me had never forgiven him for leaving.
I curled my hands into fists by my sides and listened to the subtle beeping of my Fitbit. It was warning me of my rapidly rocketing heart rate. Approaching the danger zone. Like I needed a warning. I could feel it in my throat.
“You must be a Ducks fan,” Tyce said, taking a step closer to me. It wasn't a question. He looked down at my green and yellow University of Oregon shirt and then lifted up a hand to trace the curve of my side.
His fingers were warm, his touch firm, and when he finally settled his grip on on the round swell of my hip, I felt a distinct tugging sensation in my belly. I was turned on, but I didn't want to be turned on. I wanted to be mad, furious, indignant.
“Not really,” I said softly, registering the confusion on his face. Good, that makes two of us now. The nearby oak cast mesmerizing shadows across Tyce's face, highlighting the strong square shape of his jaw and the high but masculine cheekbones that he'd inherited from his mother. A warm coloring of bronze shaded his skin, complementing the dark tattoos near his hip and down his arm. Those were new. When Tyce had left our hometown four years ago, he hadn't had a single one. “My friend gave me this shirt.”
“Well, then, why don't you let me do you the favor of taking it off? I guarantee by the time we're done, you'll be a huge fan.” Tyce cupped his junk with his other hand and gave me a look that I just knew had a near one hundred percent success rate filling his bed. I bet the girls at the U of O fell all over themselves for an offer like that.
“You don't recognize me, do you?” I asked as I locked my green eyes with his blue ones and waited for something, something that told me the asshole was still human. I mean, I was surprised to see him, and I was hurt, but I wasn't going to let this wreck me emotionally. I'd been devastated when he left; I got over it.