After All These Years (One Pass Away #2)

by Mary J. Williams

  Lavender satin and lace. Not Riley’s usual sleep garb. An impulse had her donning the nightgown. Or had it been a premonition?

  The knock on her front door brought a wave of anticipation. It had only been three days, but it felt longer. She missed him. It was that simple. And it made her happy that after a long, exhausting roadtrip, the first thing he wanted was her.

  “Hi.”

  Sean didn’t look tired. He stood in the hall outside of her condo all sexy and masculine.

  He sported a bit of stubble on his face and a smile that made her heart race. Jeans, a leather jacket, and lace-up sneakers that looked like a cross between hiking boots and high-tops. Riley knew each piece of his outfit sported a designer label. However, Sean wore them with a casual ease. He never looked like he was trying too hard to be cool.

  As a result, he was the personification of the word.

  An answering smile curved Sean’s lips. Without a word, he entered her home, lifting her into his arms. Riley locked her legs around his waist, slammed the door, then burrowed her face into his clean, soft hair.

  “I missed you.”

  “I’m glad,” she whispered, breathing deep. Nothing but soap and Sean. It was a scent she wanted to drench herself in.

  Sean pulled back until his eyes met hers. Hazel flecked with green and gold, glowing with need. His gaze dropped to her lips, his groan deep when her tongue moistened the surface. In an instant, he closed the gap that separated them.

  The kiss bordered on desperate. It only took a second for it to cross over. Riley sank into the feel of Sean’s mouth covering hers. He consumed her. Eagerly, she opened to his questing tongue, wanting more. Needing everything.

  “Are we having a sleepover?” Riley asked when Sean headed down the hall.

  “Sleep?” Sean tossed her on the bed. “Eventually.”

  Riley rested on her elbow, not wanting to miss the show. Off came his jacket followed by a white t-shirt. This view alone was worth any price of admission.

  His skin was a light brown. As with his black hair, the tone was a testament to the Cherokee blood that ran on his mother’s side. Smooth, with a slight dusting of hair that formed an interesting V above the waistband of his tight cotton briefs.

  Riley wanted to touch, kiss, and taste very mouthwatering inch.

  “I like the nightgown,” Sean said, slowly lowering his zipper. “But it has to go.”

  Riley opened her mouth, ready to respond with a quick quip. Whatever she was about to say melted from her brain when Sean removed a condom from the pocket of his jeans.

  “That looks serious.” Riley swallowed, hoping she knew what the foil packet meant.

  “I don’t carry them around for show.”

  “Should I sing a chorus of Hallelujah?’

  “I’ll have you singing, Riley.” Grinning, Sean kicked aside his shoes and jeans. “If you want to get a head start, be my guest.”

  “I think I’ll save my energy.”

  She thought Sean taking his clothes off was a show? That was a pale imitation compared to a front row seat to the condom roll.

  “What made you change your mind?”

  “You want to go into that now?” Sean asked. He placed a knee on each side of her, causing the mattress to dip. “All the way to New York I called myself a hundred different kinds of fool for leaving us both wanting. All the way home, I thought of nothing but this. I want you, Riley. I hope that says it all.”

  “It does.”

  “Good.” Sean raised the hem of her nightgown. “So pretty.”

  “Lavender,” Riley breathed. “Silk and lace.”

  “I wasn’t talking about lace.” He ran his hand up the inside of her thigh, stopping where his gaze was focused. “But you do feel like silk.”

  No more talk. No more questions. Riley concentrated on Sean. On his touch and the way only he could make her feel.

  “I want to be inside of you. Ready?”

  Riley was ready. She had been for years.

  “Yes. Now, Sean. Please.”

  “Since you asked so nicely.” Sean nudged at her, finding a warm, welcoming wetness that left little doubt how ready she was. “And since I can’t wait a second longer. Feel me, Riley. Every bit of me is for you. Only you.”

  Only her. Sean was talking about sex. Here. Now. Riley understood that. However, it was impossible not let her heart open a bit more. With wanting and hope.

  The ride was wild. Sean took her up. Higher and higher. Then pushed her over. Falling with her. There wasn’t a crash. Riley floated back to Earth.

  The first thing she became aware of was Sean’s ragged breathing. The weight of his body on hers comforted instead of crushed. He was big and strong, outweighing her by a hundred pounds, but Riley didn’t care. She wanted to stay like this, hot, sweaty and oh, so satisfied, as long as possible.

  “I should move.”

  “No.” Riley tightened her grip on his waist.

  “I should say thank you.”

  She smiled, her lips brushing his shoulder.

  “Okay.”

  Chuckling, Sean shifted until he was on his side with Riley draped over his chest. Somehow—experience, she supposed—he removed the condom and pulled the covers over with little effort.

  “Thank you, Riley.”

  Riley smiled again, this time with her mouth against his. After a lingering kiss, she relaxed against him.

  “If you are very, very good, I’ll let you thank me again. All night long.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE KNIGHTS’ FIRST loss of the season occurred three days after the picture of Riley and Gaige burned up the internet.

  No one thought there was a connection. The official team statement said as much. The fact that they addressed the issue spoke volumes. Everyone could deny it all they wanted. The average Knights’ fan believed there was a rift in the locker room.

  Normally, it was a simple matter to gloss over a minor argument. These things happened all the time in the course of a season. However, when the perceived problem was a love triangle between Gaige Benson, Sean McBride, and Riley Preston, no amount of sugar coating worked.

  The press smelled high-priced blood, and they weren’t letting go of the scent.

  “It’s ridiculous.”

  “I agree.”

  “I’ve hugged Gaige hundreds of times.”

  “I’ve seen you do it.”

  “Why now?”

  “We all know the answer to that.”

  Riley and Sean were having dinner with Logan and Claire at the newly engaged couple’s downtown apartment. It was a rental. Logan hadn’t wanted to buy until he knew his comeback was a success. He was making a base salary laden with incentives.

  By the looks of things, Logan Price was going to have a hefty bank account by the end of the season. He and Claire planned on looking for someplace permanent in the spring.

  “A hug is a hug. Until it becomes common knowledge that you’re dating a member of the team—and the man you were caught hugging is a different Knight.”

  “And not just any Knight. Gaige Benson. Maybe the most famous football player in the country. And Sean’s best friend.”

  Claire summarized the situation perfectly. Said aloud, it sounded crazier than ever.

  “What does the team think?”

  “Riley.” Sean rubbed her back. “They know Gaige. Half of the guys have been with the team long enough to remember you. We told them there is nothing to the story, and they believe us.”

  “He’s right.” Logan joined them in the living room. He handed them each a cup of coffee. “The offensive line offered to kick some blogger butt if they keep pecking at you.”

  Riley smiled. Logan’s personal drama happened while she was in Boston. His injury during his rookie season and failed return the next year. She was glad to be here to witness his improbable comeback. The triumph over adversity angle made his story irresistible. Happily, the man was a nice guy.

  His love for C
laire was obvious to the most casual observer. Riley approved. For the team. And for her friend.

  “It’s a tempting offer, Logan. Unfortunately, there’s no taking it back. Any picture can look bad with the right spin.”

  Riley knew when the picture was taken. The day she visited Coach Coleman during practice. Gaige and Sean joined her on the sidelines. The photographer caught the moment she hugged Gaige. Innocent enough. Until you added the caption. Owner’s daughter. Spreading the love around? It went on to mention Riley and Sean’s relationship.

  Riley knew as gossip went, it could have been worse. Then the Knights lost. Gaige threw an interception. Sean dropped a pass. And suddenly, the world was ending.

  Riley was cast in the role of Pandora, Delilah, and Yoko Ono. All rolled into one. One game! If they lost again on Sunday, she wouldn’t be able to show her face in public.

  Sean put a more positive spin on it.

  “When we win on Sunday, all of this shit will be forgotten.”

  “From your mouth to the football God’s ear.”

  THE KNIGHTS WON. Big.

  A home game, the stadium was packed to the rafters. Because the game was against a bitter division rival, the crowd was particularly vocal. Unlike the last time, Riley didn’t sit in the crowd. The owners’ box wasn’t the perfect solution, but she refused to stay at home. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Hiding away as though she had, wasn’t the solution.

  “I’m surprised to see you. I can’t fault your nerve.”

  Riley glanced at her mother. Overdressed, as usual. In Corrine Preston’s opinion, diamonds and fur worked for any occasion.

  “I always support the team.”

  “Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Corrine’s laugh had a sharp edge to it. “In my day—”

  “In your day? You have the nerve to pull out that chestnut?” Riley was in no mood to turn the other cheek. Her mother was likely to slap it. “I know how many Knights I’ve slept with. Want to compare lists?”

  “You smug little bitch.”

  “Why are you here, Mother? You only show up when there’s a new crop of rookies to prey upon.”

  Riley regretted the words the moment she said them. Not out of respect. That ship hadn’t sailed—it never left port. Exchanging barbs with Corrine served no purpose. When she was younger, it gave her a sick little thrill to mentally out joust her. Now, it made her tired.

  “You believe you have it all, don’t you? Money, youth, power. It’s an illusion. Nothing is forever. In twenty years, that pretty football player you’re screwing will be on his third, much younger wife. And you’ll have what? This team? You won’t be so sassy then.”

  Corrine glided away, leaving behind a cloud of French perfume and bitterness. Unlike her mother, Riley knew her life would never be an empty round of boring parties and charity luncheons.

  Life was a series of choices. Some good. Some bad. Corrine chose to marry Gerald Preston. She chose to stay married to him. If her mother were unhappy, she had only herself to blame.

  “I see your mother is doing her best to spread sunshine all over the place.” Ross Morrisey offered Riley a sandwich. The gourmet grilled cheese sat untouched on his plate beside a scoop of equally fancy potato salad.

  “No, thanks.”

  Ross took a sip of scotch. Riley knew the bar was stocked with each board member’s favorite drink. Ross liked an aged single malt.

  “She almost had my wife in tears. I’ve never hit a woman, but—”

  “This is where I should step up as the loyal daughter.” Reconsidering, Riley took the sandwich. “I’ve never defended her before, I can’t start now.”

  “No one blames you, Riley. Your parents are, for the most part, indefensible snakes.”

  It was said with no heat or rancor. She wondered how two people could be so coldly disliked. Didn’t heat automatically accompany hate? Or was it hate? Riley disliked her parents. She didn’t care enough to hate them.

  “You knew my grandfather. How did such a wonderful man produce a son like Gerald Preston?” Riley and Ross had spoken on many subjects. This was one they had avoided. Today, for some reason, Riley needed an answer.

  “Douglas was a good man, Riley. However, he wasn’t perfect. It’s good and right that you idolize him. I think if he were here, he would be the first to admit he wasn’t the best father in the world.”

  “But—” Riley started to protest.

  “Don’t get me wrong. Douglas wasn’t abusive. He was neglectful. You had the best of him—after he made his money and wasn’t driven by ambition. Gerald didn’t see very much of his father. It isn’t an excuse for how he is now. It is the reason, at least partially, that he resents you.”

  “Resents?”

  “Too mild?” Ross’ words had a teasing tone.

  “I don’t know. I guess it’s as good a word as any. What my parents feel for me has always been a mystery. I’m sorry my father didn’t grow up knowing the Douglas Preston I knew. I wonder if it would have made a difference.”

  “You blow me away, Riley.” Ross shook his head. “You have insight the rest of us can only dream about.”

  “Insight? Is that what it is? I thought I was stating the obvious. My father is a petty, small-minded man. He has no reason to be. He was given every advantage. Education. Money. He’s seen the world. Read extensively. Yet for some reason, his view is narrow and self-involved. Do you think that’s because of his daddy issues? I don’t. I think it’s all on him.”

  “Run for president. You’ll have my vote. Laugh if you will, I’m serious.”

  “I know. That’s why I’m laughing. I thought you were my friend. Why would you wish something like that on me? Besides, I’m a Democrat. And a woman.”

  “Shh.” Ross looked around in mock horror. “You’re standing in a room of ultra-Republicans. You just spoke a dirty word.”

  “Democrat?” With her tongue only half in her cheek, Riley added, “or woman?”

  Ross’ bark of laughter garnered a lot of attention. Wanting to know the source of the joke, Riley soon found herself surrounded by half of the Knights’ board of directors. These were men she worked with in her consulting business. Getting an in with them had been simple. Once Ross was in, the rest followed.

  Riley had used one of her grandfather’s business tactics. When trying to infiltrate a group, go for the alpha first. It worked. The bonus was, Riley had acquired a friend as well as a client.

  Ross Morrisey was one of the good ones and Riley was glad to have him on her side.

  Halftime rolled around and the Knights were well in control of the game. They coasted through the second half, Coach Coleman taking out most of the starters in the fourth quarter.

  So much for her womanly wiles destroying the team.

  Riley let herself into her condo. She and Sean had agreed that it didn’t make sense for her to wait around after the game. His routine varied depending on how may news outlets requested interviews. He planned on joining some of the guys for a drink.

  Riley told Sean to go home and get some sleep when he was finished. They didn’t need to see each other every day. Sean didn’t agree. He would call when he was on his way. No later than eight o’clock.

  She checked her messages. There wasn’t anything that needed her immediate attention. Riley opened her refrigerator. One look told her what she already knew. Dinner would either be cereal and milk that had an iffy sell-by date—or takeout.

  Every now and then. Check that. More often than not, when she found herself in this situation, Riley considered learning how to cook. Something beyond toast and scrambled eggs. Occasionally, she worked herself into the belief that she would take a class.

  World Cuisine 101. Travel the globe from the comfort of your own kitchen.

  The urge lasted until Riley remembered why she didn’t cook. She didn’t want to. To be good at something, and Riley would insist on being great, she had to want to do it. Preparing an amazing meal was something to b
e admired, but she didn’t aspire to that talent.

  Seattle was home to some amazing restaurants. Riley grabbed her phone. It would be a shame not to take advantage of them.

  Before she could decide what she was in the mood for, her phone rang. It was Claire.

  “I’m on my way. I know it looks bad, but try not to overreact.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Well, crap. Never mind. I’m just entering your building. I’ll tell you when I see you.”

  “Claire—”

  “Never mind announcing me,” Claire said. “She’s right here. Riley, tell him I can come up.”

  Riley pictured Claire holding out her phone. “It’s all right, Stuart.”

  “Okay, Ms. Preston.”

  “Why don’t you meet me at the elevator?”

  “What?” Riley couldn’t figure out what was going on. “Why? Are you carrying something large and cumbersome? If so, Stuart would be happy to help.”

  “No. I just… You know what? Never mind. I’m already on your floor.”

  There was a knock. Knowing who was there didn’t stop Riley from automatically checking the peephole.

  “What is going on?” she asked as she let Claire in.

  Claire dropped her purse on the sofa.

  “There isn’t a pretty way of doing this. Here.”

  Puzzled, Riley took Claire’s phone. What she saw cleared up the mystery. And made her blood boil.

  “You have to be fucking kidding me.”

  It was a picture of her and Logan. Laughing. Riley had her hand on his arms and she was leaning in. It could be construed as intimate. Or a sane, rational person could see it for what it was. Two friends sharing a moment. Period.

  The blogger, or whatever the person who posted the picture called himself, was not sane or rational. Under the photo, it read: At it again? Not happy with two Knights, Riley Preston wants the entire team. Whether they are married or not.

  “The entire team? Three men are the entire team?” Riley couldn’t take it in. Then she realized the implications. “Claire. I’m sorry. This is a slap at you, too.”