Secret Catch

by Cassie Mae

  “What’s going on?” I immediately duck down too, adjusting the front of my pants in case it’s the fuzz.

  “Brad’s at my place.” She nods to a bike sitting on her front lawn. “Stay here for a minute. I’m going to see what’s wrong.”

  “I could just head home instead of hiding in my car,” I joke. Sam narrows her eyes at me.

  “If you want a kiss goodnight, you’ll stay put.”

  Then she hops from the truck, wiggling her ass at me and making my throat dry out.

  I keep my head down, but I can’t help but peek out the windshield to make sure she’s all right. Nolan steps out onto the porch when Sam approaches, and it looks like he’s giving her shit about something, but he’s smiling and laughing. Sam’s laughing too, so I don’t think too much of it.

  They get serious, Sam nodding and fiddling with her keys while Nolan scratches the back of his head, mouth moving pretty fast. I haven’t seen the dude look… well, normal. But if I were just seeing him for the first time tonight, I probably would’ve introduced myself, shook his hand, tossed the ball around a bit. Something shifts in my stomach, making the back of my tongue taste like acid. It didn’t really hit me before, but it does now. Nolan and Sam are cousins. They’re family. And shit, I’m just some guy who she met a few weeks ago. I’m going to be a wedge if Nolan ever finds out I’ve been making out with his cousin.

  Brad hugs Sam, and it looks a little weird from this angle like they don’t hug a whole lot, then he hops on his bike and heads down the walk. Sam waits till he’s around the corner, and I count to sixty-four before she waves me over.

  I hop out of my truck and beeline to her house. She grabs my hand and pulls me around back, not a single word on her lips.

  “Everything okay?” I ask, and she answers with an aggressive kiss. “Sam,” I say around her lips. “We—”

  “It’s okay. I owed you a kiss goodnight. But that’s the last one you get while we’re out in the open.”

  I half-smile at her, let out a sigh, and then rock her in my arms. We stay there for a bit until she breaks free and tells me I had better go.

  “Okay,” I say, then peck her on the nose. “But I’m curious… which one is your window?”

  She nods at the second window on the left side, way far up.

  “Do you think your dad would’ve made you switch rooms when he realized how close that tree is?”

  Her eyes flick from the tree to me, and she smiles.

  “Actually, it’s not that close.” She strokes the trunk with her fingernail. “It may look like it from down here, but I bet anyone who tried to get in my room via tree would break something.”

  I let go of her and take a few steps around the trunk, eyeing the branch that reaches toward Sam’s window. “Hmm…” I say under my breath as I jump up to the nearest limb and test its durability. Pretty sturdy, and it’s about the same thickness as the one above. I loosen my grip on the branch and land back to the grass, still eyeing that window. “I could do it.”

  “What makes you think I’d let you in?” She cocks an eyebrow at me, and I step behind her.

  “I’ll use my puppy eyes. You won’t be able to resist.”

  Her laughter vibrates against my chest, and even though I shouldn’t since we’re in clear view of the street now, I run my hands over Sam’s hips and tuck my chin in her shoulder.

  She lightly smacks my knuckles. “Not here, Tyler. You’re lucky I even let you follow me.”

  “Had to make sure you got home safe.”

  “Well, I’m here.” She twists in my arms to face me. “And I’m safe. Now go so you get home with all your body parts intact.”

  Her palms flatten against my chest, and she gives a little push. She’s tough, but I stand my ground this time. Sam is adorable as hell when she’s worried about me. There’s a twitch in her left eye I’m not even sure she’s aware of, and she keeps pulling at the bottom corner on her lips and clacking her teeth and fidgeting. It’s a vulnerability I haven’t seen yet, and even though it makes me sound like an ass, I like that I’m her weakness. Because she’s definitely mine.

  The second her teeth come out over that lip again, I snatch it in mine instead. A sharp gasp fills my mouth, and I lightly chuckle and before I can kiss her too deeply, she uses all her strength to shove me off.

  “Damn it, Tyler. This isn’t funny.”

  “Then why are you smiling?” I tease, reaching for her again.

  She dodges me, folds her arms, but keeps a finger out to scold me. “Now. Get. Out. Of. Here.”

  If she thinks being bossy is a turnoff, she’s wrong. But I pretend she’s not driving me to the absolute edge of my control and laugh instead of attack her again. “All right.”

  “And text me when you get home.”

  “I will.”

  I walk back a few steps before turning around to the truck.

  “Tyler?” Sam half whispers, and I just notice she followed me.

  “Yeah, babe?” Then my face warms because I haven’t said that before to anyone, and I made fun of every one of the guys who had a “babe,” but here I am, saying it, and I don’t even want to take it back.

  “It’ll be okay, right?” Her eye does that small twitch again, and she curls in on herself like she’s cold. “Next week, after the game. You’ll be okay?”

  I step into her, circle my arms around her and kiss her forehead. “Stop worrying about me.”

  “I can’t help it.” Her breath comes out hot against my neck, and I squeeze her tighter.

  “Look, I’ll tell Coach. We’ll make sure there’s extra security there. I’ll be with the guys all night. Don’t worry, okay?” I pause as she nods, but I don’t think she’s agreeing with me. “A-and we probably shouldn’t see each other next weekend. Don’t come to the game. Stay at home with Josh or hang with a friend or whatever, ’kay? Brad’ll expect you on his side, I’ll expect you on mine… it’ll just be—”

  “Now who’s worried?” she tries to joke, but I can tell it’s getting hard for her to keep it light. Her face tilts up and she kisses the corner of my lips. “But I think you’re right. And that’s going to suck.”

  “I’ll make sure we Skype that night.”

  “Or talk dirty over the phone.”

  “You want dirty talk?” I ask, then whisper in her ear. “Muddy cleats, sweaty jerseys…”

  “Oooh, tell me more.” She smiles and I can see with each bubble of laughter her eyes shine a little less with tears.

  Instead of giving her muddy field talk, I tap my lips against hers once more and wait till she tells me to go again. Hopefully I’ve held myself together enough for her, because even though I told her not to worry, I can’t help the sick feeling in my gut that something bad is going to happen, no matter what I try to do to stop it.

  ***

  Sam’s window looks a lot higher stuck on a flimsy tree limb, shirt pulled up enough the night breeze could freeze anyone’s bellybutton, and dangling about fifteen feet in the air that feels more like fifteen thousand feet.

  I thought I was going to be one hundred percent smooth about the romantic climbing-through-the-window shit, but I’m about to scream “help!” like a trapped cat.

  I shoot my gaze from the ground to her window. Maybe I can make the jump to the ledge, ninja-move it to the left, and tap on the glass from there. Just don’t look down at the inevitable fall to my broken limbs.

  The hard bark of the tree scrapes my palms as I scoot closer to the house, trying to ignore the dip the branch makes every miniscule move I make. I should’ve just used the front door, but I was going for the romantic thing. I wonder how charming Sam will find me falling on my ass.

  I get as far as I can on the branch without it snapping and start swinging my legs for momentum. It’s not that far. I mean, like two feet. Maybe three. Shit, what if it’s ten feet and I smack right into the siding waking the whole damn house?

  No, it’s two feet, Tyler. Stop freaking out!

&nbs
p; Taking a deep breath and ignoring my stomach wanting to leap out my throat, I swing one final time and pray to the Almighty that I make the jump.

  I let out the girliest yelp as my hands uncurl from the branch and soar toward Sam’s window ledge. When they smack the plastic, I hoist myself up with whatever adrenaline rush I have from the jump, then sit for a minute on the ledge in awe at how totally kickass that was. But one look at how far the grass is from where I’m perched, I vow to never do this again.

  I probably wouldn’t have done it at all if it weren’t for the anvil I feel is hanging over my head. Every minute I laid in bed listening to Hunter sleep talk felt like a waste. If I’m about to get the shit beat out of me, I want my healthy minutes with Sam.

  It’s not exactly smooth to be shaking and breathing hard when I get into her room, so I wait while my body calms itself down. I’m not the smartest football player at the moment, considering I probably could’ve broken something important and that would be three players off the field due to injury. Fredrickson will be back hopefully in two weeks, but Jacoby…there’s still no improvement. Last physical therapy session was a disaster. I doubt he’ll be able to walk normally again, let alone play tight-end.

  I shake my head and pinch my eyes shut. I can’t think about it because it makes me want to leap from this ledge and go beat the crap out of Brad. But I’ve resolved not to lay a hand on him. Not after seeing how Sam was with him earlier.

  Twisting so I face her window, I test my breath—Trident fresh—and then test the lock. I wasn’t expecting it to be open, but it slides up and I’m hit with a wave of Sam’s perfect scent.

  Like a dog to a slab of meat, I follow it, not even thinking about how there could be something under the window, and it’s too dark to see anything. When my feet hit everything on Sam’s desk, knocking most of it to the floor with the loudest noise known to man, a curse flies from my mouth, and a shadow flies from the bed.

  “Aagh!” she screams, then a hard fist to my gut almost sends me soaring back out the window. I hold my hands up in surrender, but I think she thinks I’m about to hit back and another punch lands on my jaw—right in that spot that sends me to the floor, out like a light.

  ***

  My neck is freezing. What the hell did I land in?

  I blink my eyes open, squinting through the dim light of the room. I’m still on the floor, papers and pens scattered on my left, a bunched up bedspread on my right, and a sexy as hell girl on top of me.

  Sam leans down, hair brushing my shoulder as she kisses my jawline, leaving a scorching imprint of her lips before she presses the ice in a Ziploc against my neck.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  I wiggle my jaw around. It’s a little sore, nothing major, but damn. “You’ve got one hell of a left hook.”

  “My dad taught me how to punch in the sweet spot.” She removes the ice and places more kisses along my skin. I prefer that method of healing anyway.

  “Tyler, what the hell are you doing here?” she says between kisses. “You scared me half to death.”

  “Good to know you can defend yourself.”

  “You should’ve called.”

  “I wanted to surprise you.”

  “Well, you did.”

  Her mouth travels from my sore chin to my lips, and we both stop talking to make up for the four hours it’s been since we last saw each other.

  I sit up, taking her with me, and her knees settle on either side of my hips while we adjust so I’m resting my back against the bed. She feels so good, I don’t want to leave. I wasn’t planning on staying overnight, or even wanting to stay, but I’m suddenly talking around her mouth, my voice coming out in a low grunt.

  “I want to sleep with you.”

  She freezes on top of me, lips not exactly parting from mine, but not pressed against them either, and that’s when it hits me that it came out completely not the way I meant it.

  “No, wait. Not sleep with you. But sleep with you. I mean… no. I want to sleep with you, too, but we don’t, I mean it’s really soon and I get that. It’s not what I meant. I mean… shit.”

  Sam inches back enough for me to see her laughing her ass off. I hang my head and kiss her knuckles through my smile.

  “Sam, say something and save me.”

  “Why? This is fun.”

  “For you, maybe.”

  She chuckles against my head before placing a kiss on it. Her mouth lowers to my ear, and she scoots so close on my lap that I know there’s no way I can hide the effect of having her body on top of mine.

  “I want to sleep with you, too.”

  I lift my eyes to hers. “Sleep with me? Or sleep with me?”

  She stretches up on those sexy legs I can’t get enough of and holds her hands to me. I take it slow, since she did knock me out, but as soon as I’m standing, I’m shoved backwards on her twin bed. She hops on, half on top of me, half pressed against my side.

  “Sleep for tonight. Sleep probably in the future.” She gives me a wicked grin, and I restrain from kissing that mouth because if I do, there’s no way I can follow her request.

  I adjust my arm, twisting on the mattress so I can face her and she can use me as a pillow. Her finger traces the design on my shirt, and because I can’t help myself when it comes to her, I let my lips drag across her forehead, her cheek, her neck—any place within reach that isn’t her mouth.

  “You know, I have a bone to pick with you,” she whispers in the semi-dark.

  “What’d I do?” I try to keep my voice playful, but I really hope she’s not going to bring up something about the rivalry. I’m so over that shit.

  “Josh gets to sleep in your hoodie every night.” She looks up at me and sticks her bottom lip out slightly. “I don’t think that’s very fair.”

  I squeeze her hip, letting my fingers trace over the skin peeking from between her boxer shorts and tank top. “You want a Trojan jacket? All you had to do was ask.” I laugh before going for her lips because I just can’t stop anymore, but her hand jets up between our mouths.

  “It doesn’t matter what shirt, Tyler. I just want something of yours to sleep in.”

  “You’ve got the real thing right now.”

  Her eyes narrow. “Are you refusing to give me a piece of your wardrobe? I had no idea how attached you were to your clothes.”

  I nibble at her fingers and she laughs as I roll so I’m leaning over her. “Tell me what you want, and you can have it.”

  Her tongue snakes out across her bottom lip, then her teeth pull at it making my brain fuzz. I lose a little bit of strength on my arms and press closer to her.

  “I like this one,” she says, dragging her nails under the bottom of my shirt, scraping the skin on my lower back. I lose more strength on my arms and fall all the way on top of her. But she doesn’t seem to care.

  “Then take it,” I challenge. Truth is, I’d rip it off myself right now and hand it over on a Heisman trophy, but I can’t seem to move.

  She pulls the fabric up, and I suck in so it doesn’t get stuck between our pressed stomachs. Her nails leave fiery trails along my back, yet goose bumps take place all over my skin. She bunches the shirt around my neck and pulls, freeing all but my arms. She takes care of that with careful speed, kissing the bump on my shoulder as she slides the fabric down my biceps.

  “Thank you,” she says, then pushes my chest gently so she has room to wiggle into my shirt. I lean up and she sits with me as I help get her through the head hole. When she’s covered in my New England blue clothing, I take my turn to trace the design on her upper chest.

  “Sam?”

  “Yeah?”

  I flick my eyes to hers, the words right on the edge of my lips, but I can’t make them come out. It’s been three weeks. Who falls in love in three weeks? But I try to tell her with my eyes that I’m there, I just can’t say it. And I swear she tells me the same thing, the same way.

  She leans forward, resting her forehead on my bare skin, and I
grab her hands and play with her fingers.

  “Number eighteen always runs left.”

  “What?” I chuckle over her head.

  “When you play the Skyhawks again. Number eighteen always runs left on the snap.”

  “You’re helping me out?”

  “You’ll need it.”

  I drop my jaw in mock shock, and she pushes it back into place.

  “For real, though, if anyone needs pointers it’s us,” she says, gesturing to her Skyhawk flag in the corner of the room. “That last game? You were incredible.”

  “You mean the one we lost?” I joke.

  “You would’ve won if Brad hadn’t…” She drifts off, eyes flicking to my chest. Her finger trails down between my pecs. I have to suddenly breathe through my mouth. “You were great in that game.”

  “Liar. I bet you didn’t even notice me.”

  Her eyes move back up to mine. “You played all four quarters. Made one of the touchdowns. You played cornerback in the third quarter on top of playing wide receiver. You took your helmet off at least three times to drink Gatorade. You missed your mouth one of the times.” Her fingernail lowers to my waistband, and I suck in a breath. “Trust me,” she says. “I noticed you.”

  I raise an eyebrow, and she gives me an I-told-you-so look that has me falling all over myself again. Damn, I was trying to be the romantic one here, climbing through her window (and getting knocked out), telling her I wanted to sleep together (botched that one), and on the verge of telling her I loved her (and chickening out). Yet she’s doing it so naturally. Every word out of her mouth seems to mean something.

  Plus game pointers? Romantic as hell.

  I cup her face and pull her to me. We fall back against the pillows, and I kiss her firmer than I ever have. Her tongue slides out and I meet it with mine, stroking her jaw with my thumbs, trying to keep my hips from thrusting into hers. But she wraps her fingers into my belt loops, yanking me toward her so there isn’t an inch of air between us.

  “Sam,” I breathe, “I thought you said we were going to sleep, not sleep.”