Nothing in her twenty-three years compared to this man thrusting inside her. She followed his rhythm and picked up the pace until their bodies were so in sync, it was as if they were one mind, one body, one soul. The sensations drove her higher until he thrust into her one final time, deeper and stronger, holding himself there. Emma arched into him, her instincts informing her he was close and so was she, and she wanted them to go together.
“Emma,” he cried out, and that was all it took for both of them.
Shouting her name, he came and took Emma with him. Stars exploded behind her eyes celebrating a pleasure so great she didn’t understand how anyone could survive it. She wasn’t sure she had until her body began to float back to earth.
Tanner collapsed on top of her, his sweaty chest resting on hers. She wrapped her arms around his waist, loving even the heavy weight of his body pressing against her. As their breathing returned to normal, he sprawled onto his back and pulled her on top of him.
“That was fucking incredible,” he said in wonder, as if he truly meant the words.
“You were incredible.” Emma lay her head on his chest, hearing his still harsh breathing as it rose and fell under her ear. She was sore, but a good kind of sore, and her body tingled from the after-effects of his lovemaking.
“And so were you, babe. So were you.” He wrapped his arms around her and rained little kisses on her neck and shoulders.
“Are you…?” Emma felt his erection against her hip and was in absolute amazement.
“Getting hard again? Sure am.”
Emma didn’t have time to marvel over his recovery rate as he took her again and made love to her long into the night and showed her the true meaning of stamina.
* * * *
Several days later Emma woke to the sounds of bird singing. She rolled over to find Tanner’s side of the bed empty.
Sitting up, she glanced around the master bedroom of their new house. Morning sunshine poured through the windows. The French doors were open onto the porch and the backyard. Emma pulled on a pink silk robe and tip-toed outside. Tanner sat in a lounge chair, puffing on a cigar, and staring at the small fish pond in the back yard. His brow was furrowed with worry, his face lined with stress, and his gaze distant. His expression alarmed her, and she immediately worried he might be regretting their marriage already. Yet, he certainly didn’t seem to regret their nights together.
“Tanner?”
He jumped as if startled. Half turning in his chair, he spotted her standing in the doorway. He grinned widely, but he didn’t fool her. She’d seen the real Tanner seconds earlier.
“Are you okay?” She walked toward him. He snaked out an arm and pulled her into his lap. Ready to distract her with kisses and more. Emma refused to be distracted. She put her hands on his chest and pushed, forcing distance between them. Despite his superior strength, he gave in to her.
“Tanner?” she prodded.
“I’m fine,” he said smoothly. “I’ll be even better with a little morning pick-me-up. Sweetheart, you beat coffee any day.”
Emma shook her head and held him off with a hand. “Tell me the truth.”
“I am.” He pretended shock that she’d insinuate he was lying.
“No, you’re not. Something’s troubling you. You’ve been distant since we returned from the honeymoon.”
“I wasn’t distant last night.”
“Tanner, stop it. Be serious for once.” She pushed away from him and stood.
His smile slipped off his face, and he frowned, almost appearing annoyed. He looked beyond her, his mouth set in a stubborn line. “It’s not you, baby, and it’s nothing you can help me with.”
“You could at least share. It might help.”
Tanner drew his gaze back to hers. His irritated scowl surprised her. “Can you catch anything I throw at you and run it in for a touchdown? Or how about cut through the defensive line as if it were butter? Or maybe block the opposing linebacker so I have more time to throw?”
Emma understood now. She’d suspected as much. The team reported for training camp in a few days, and Tanner sat on the hot seat.
Tux streaked out of the bedroom, under Tanner’s chair, and out the door, effectively interrupting any meaningful conversation they may have had.
Tanner shot to his feet and whipped around. “What the fuck was that?”
Emma started laughing.
“What’s so funny?” Tanner stood with legs braced apart, hands on hips, looking ready to do battle.
“That’s my cat.”
“Cat? You have a cat? You never said anything about a cat.” Tanner rubbed the elbow that he’d jammed against the railing when he’d leapt to his feet.
“You never asked. I was keeping him in the laundry room until he got used to the place, and since you avoid that room like the plague—”
“Yeah, I get the picture,” Tanner interrupted. “I hate cats.”
“Grouchy. You’ll grow to love him. All guys think they hate cats until they live with one.”
Tanner’s chin jutted out as he glared in the direction the cat had gone. “I will not have a cat in bed with us.”
“Tell him that.”
“You can’t tell a cat anything. That’s why I hate them. Give me a good dog anytime.”
“We could get a dog, too,” Emma suggested hopefully.
Tanner grabbed her and crushed her against him, his mouth hot and demanding on hers. Emma forgot about the cat, the dog, and Tanner’s earlier despondency as he once again wrapped his special brand of magic around her heart.
Chapter 10—Running Down the Field
Tanner was having a day—not a good one.
Right now he regretted the day he’d sold his condo for this ancient monstrosity a football field’s distance from his brother. He’d been fucking nuts to do such a dumb-ass thing.
Busying himself with the BBQ, as if Tanner had the first clue how to grill steaks, he kept his back to the family gathered around, talking and laughing like they were having a good time. He resented their joyousness when he was all kinds of messed up.
“Looking forward to training camp?” Isaac asked conversationally, leaning against a nearby tree with a beer in hand. His deceptively casual pose didn’t fool Tanner. Like a snake, the man was coiled and ready to strike at a moment’s notice. Tanner stiffened, an automatic reaction from long years of being programmed to expect the worst from his family. Probing for weakness and attacking the soft spots happened to be what they did best.
“Yeah, sure. Have to show the rookies how it’s done.” Tanner threw back a beer and snorted out a derisive laugh.
“Seems you could use a little advice yourself.” Isaac narrowed his blue eyes and studied Tanner, just like he used to when their father threw them into a ring to fight an opponent or each other until one of them was too beaten up to fight any longer. Meanwhile, dear old Dad and his cronies would bet on the winner. To this day, Tanner hated anything associated with fighting, even though he could hold his own and had a wicked right hook. He’d come a long way since his barroom brawl days in college. Except when it came to Isaac. Isaac represented everything Tanner despised about his background and brought back a searing pain Tanner had worked like hell to forget. He’d made an art out of avoidance in the past few years, becoming a charmer who used his smile and wits rather than his fists. That method sure as hell netted him plenty of women and earned him a lot of casual friends in the locker room, but left him lonely as hell at night.
Until Emma.
He glanced her way, finding comfort in her presence. Isaac cleared his throat, drawing Tanner’s attention back to him.
“Fuck you,” Tanner growled under his breath, not interested in making nice but forced to do so because of his respect for Emma and Avery.
“I’ll leave that to Avery,” Isaac grinned and glanced in the direction of his fiancée. His face softened, and a slow smile turned up the corners of his usually tight mouth.
“You’re got
it bad, Ice.”
“Of course, I have it bad. I’m in love. You should try it, might improve your pissy attitude.” He paused to stare pointedly at his brother’s throwing arm. “And your aim.”
“There’s not a damn thing wrong with my aim or my attitude.”
“Yeah, right.” Isaac leaned forward, and Tanner instinctively pulled back. “One word of advice.”
“I don’t need any advice from you.”
“You’re getting it anyway. Someday you’re going to need to forgive. Not for me, but for yourself. And for Jenny’s memory. She wouldn’t want this wedge between us.”
“Someday hasn’t come, and for now, I’d appreciate you getting out of my space. Jenny isn’t here to offer an opinion because you killed her.” Tanner spat out a little louder than he’d meant. He caught the worried glances of his friends and family.
Isaac’s eyes flashed with pain and sadness. “I’m sorry.”
“Whatever,” Tanner said, regretting his harsh words but too stubborn to take them back.
Isaac shrugged, and Avery came up beside him, curving her hand around his arm. She shot Tanner a look that would’ve killed most men. As it was, she’d blown a hole in his steely resolve when it came to his brother. Maybe Tanner was the asshole now, not Isaac?
Turning his back on them all, Tanner flipped the steaks and ignored the group. He felt Emma before he saw her. She slid up next to him, smelling of spring flowers and sweetness, a sweetness he didn’t deserve and craved every waking minute.
“He means well, you know.”
“You have no idea what kind of history we have, do you?”
“Uh, no.” Emma worried her plump lower lip into her mouth, and he suppressed a groan. She killed him when she did that.
“I thought perhaps Avery might have filled you in on Ice’s version.”
“Not really. Why don’t you fill me in?”
“Because it’s between Ice and me, and no one else’s fucking business,” Tanner snapped at her. The second the mean words left his mouth, he felt like a first-class dick. “Emma, I’m sorry.”
She waved him off as tears filled her eyes and pushed him away when he reached for her. “Leave me alone. You’ve made it perfectly clear where I fit in your life. In your bed and maybe your kitchen, and that’s it. I’m fine with that.” Her sadness turned to anger, and she spun around and stomped off. Tanner sighed, staring down the charcoaled steaks. He’d better order out for pizza and find a way to grovel back into Emma’s good graces.
He glanced around to see if anyone had noticed their altercation. Isaac stared back at him, his glare cutting right through Tanner’s bullshit and splitting him open to expose the ugliness inside. Emma stood in a small group with her sisters sipping a glass of wine and putting on a performance that did him proud. Or maybe it wasn’t a performance, Maybe he mattered so little to her that she could walk away from an argument unscathed.
Unfortunately and much to his surprise, he could not.
* * * *
Emma’s attempt to give Tanner a football season kick-off party failed miserably. Tanner burnt the steaks. Cooper came to the rescue and ran to the closest pizza place to return an hour later with several boxes of steaming pizza of which the hungry men made short work. Meanwhile, Emma vacillated between being angry at Tanner and worried about him. His hatred of Isaac was slowly destroying him from the inside out, and she didn’t know how to repair what was broken, especially considering he wouldn’t tell her why it was broken.
She could ask Avery and started to several times. Avery would tell her, but she wanted to hear it from Tanner, the man who was supposed to be her husband.
Everyone cleared out by eight-thirty, and Tanner went straight to bed. He’d volunteered to help Emma clean up, but she turned him down. He had a big day tomorrow, and she didn’t want to do anything jeopardizing his first day of training camp. When she finally crawled into bed, he lay naked on his stomach, snoring, completely dead to the world. He’d kicked the covers off and Tux lay on the pillow next to his head. Not wanting to wake him, she stayed on her side with Tuxedo snuggled between them. A vision of her as an old lady with no one to keep her company but her dozen cats flashed before her eyes.
Emma rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling fan as it turned slow lazy circles. Tanner didn’t care for AC. He said it was unnatural, which was fine with Emma, though they’d been suffering through an unusually hot July.
Tanner yawned and rolled over, displacing the cat, and pulling her to him.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. I know you have an early morning.”
“Yeah,” he answered groggily. “I’d like to—but I’m really tired.”
“It’s okay, Tan. I’m fine. We can take a night off once in a while.”
“Yeah, sure, sweetheart.” He wrapped his arms around her and in seconds snored softly into her ear.
Emma buried her head in his chest, wishing she could spend forever in his arms. Instead, she didn’t even know if she had tomorrow. She sighed and snuggled closer to him, despite the heat, wishing he’d talk to her. Under his easygoing grin and playful personality lurked dark secrets and tragic regrets. She saw the pain in his eyes, even though he covered it well, and his sadness broke her heart. If only he’d let her in.
Emma closed her eyes, but sleep didn’t come.
Chapter 11—Sacked
At five A.M. the next morning, Tanner strode into the Bridge. He was the first one there, except for Mike, the geriatric security officer and one of the few employees who’d been with the team since its inception as an expansion team in the seventies. Back in the day, a group of Seattle businessmen, including the Reynolds family, had banded together to bring football to Seattle. The team had come a long way since the days of three-year waiting lists for season tickets and sold-out stadiums—a long way downhill—culminating with the former owner’s aborted attempt to move the team out of Seattle to Los Angeles a few months ago.
Tanner wasn’t proud of his contribution to the team’s demise and consequent sale to the new ownership group. In the two years he’d been the starting quarterback, the team failed to have a winning season. They also held the record for the longest playoff drought.
Tanner tried to shake off his lack of sleep with coffee and a brutal workout. If he watched film this early, he’d be snoring in no time. Emma was going to be the death of him. He’d woken up in the middle of the night and found her wet and willing. For a sweet little thing with minimal sexual experience, she caught on fast and kept Tanner in a constant state of arousal. Even now his cock hardened thinking about her.
Tanner upped the pace on the treadmill until his legs screamed for relief and sweat streamed down his face, anything to drive Emma out of his mind so he could concentrate on the business at hand. His priorities were clear—make the playoffs, prove he belonged in the league as a starter, and get a nice, new long-term contract. But first he needed to secure his spot as the starter. Noah Hernandez, the Steelheads’ first-round draft pick would be gnawing at his heels. The kid was good, but Tanner was better.
Tanner’s throat was parched, and his heart slammed in his chest. He slowed the treadmill and cooled down, finally stepping off. Leaning over, hands on hips, he attempted to catch his breath.
“Seriously? That’s the best you’ve got?”
Tanner straightened and turned in the direction of the voice, ignoring the sharp pain in his side. Watching him with a smirk on his face stood a Steelhead legend, Jackson “Jack” Meyer, a three-time Super Bowl winner from the Steelheads’ glory days and a personal idol of Tanner’s.
“What kind of pussy-assed workout is that?” Meyer sneered. The retired quarterback wasn’t exactly known for his winning personality, just his winning on the field. He’d been hired as the quarterback coach by the new management a few weeks ago, but Tanner hadn’t come face to face with him until now.
“I—uh—I—” Tanner’s gifted tongue deserted him. He couldn’t think of a
thing to say.
Meyer studied him with his legendary intensity as if he saw it all—Tanner’s strengths, his weaknesses, even his secret fondness for spinach quiche. Despite his burning lungs, Tanner attempted to control his breathing and present a cool, calm demeanor. He failed miserably. Meyer said nothing, merely sized him up with his ever-present scowl saying more than words.
Finally the man showed a little mercy and spoke. “I’ve analyzed your tapes, how you throw, your release, your footwork.”
“Okay.” Tanner swallowed, figuring less said the better.
“You’re operating on instincts, which is good if your technique is there, but it’s not. In fact, it fucking sucks.” Meyer was known for his fondness for the F word, his bluntness, and his lack of tact. He told it like it was.
Tanner didn’t respond. He’d gone into maintenance mode, where survival meant everything, even at a loss of ego.
“Don’t worry. We’ll whip your lazy, incompetent ass into shape.” Meyer’s wicked grin scared Tanner more than facing an entire defensive line of all-pros.
Tanner had no doubt Meyer would whip him into shape, or they’d both die trying. “Coach. I’m looking forward to working with you. You’re a star in this city, and I could only hope to be half as good as you someday.” Finally finding his tongue, Tanner gushed like a proverbial fangirl.
“Cut the crap. I know all about how the bullshit spews out of that mouth of yours. I’m not interested in bullshit. I’m interested in results. We have a snot-nosed rookie just dying for a chance at your job. Are you going to give him that chance or solidify your position with this team?”
“This is my team,” Tanner boasted with confidence he didn’t feel, knowing Meyer expected nothing less than absolute confidence in himself and his team. Tanner had neither, but he’d fake it until he did.
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