by Stacey Lynn
He slammed it back, chugging it in one swallow, and cringed before he cleaned his mouth with the back of his hand.
“I have a hard time reading him. And in order to trust him, I need to know him.”
“Perhaps it’s his trust you have to earn.” I arched a challenging brow. Yeah, Oliver was the veteran on the offensive line, and he was team captain. But Beaux was still the QB. He had to trust who he was throwing the ball to, not the other way around.
“Can we talk about him without you getting defensive?”
I ground my teeth together. Was that what I’d been doing? For so long, it had just been Beaux and me against the world. It was a hard wall to drop.
“Sorry. What is it?” I reached for my own water and took a seat at the small but cozy kitchen table.
This time, Oliver seemed to measure his thoughts before speaking. “Is he really as laid-back as he seems?”
I tilted my head. “Yeah. I guess. He doesn’t let anything get to him. Is that why you’ve been such a dick to him? You don’t think he takes this shit seriously?”
“There are men who join the game for the game and not the work.”
I snorted. If he only knew. “How cute. I’ll tell Beaux that. He’ll think it’s fucking hilarious. You think he made it as far as he has based solely on natural talent and not his work ethic? How fucking hypocritical of you.”
Oliver’s water bottle crushed inside his death grip. “He lacks intensity. It worries me.”
“He has confidence in his ability and the members of his team in spades. That keeps him loose.”
It hit me then, why it bothered him so much. My irritation that had prickled at the first question began to flicker and disappear. “That’s why it bothers you, isn’t it? He’s enjoying himself out there. Playing his hardest, loving the ride and the life and the game and hell, everything else he has to do in order to get on top and stay there, and it pisses you off he does that while still having fun.”
His lip curled. I’d made my point.
“Tell him he’s hesitating a half-second too long in the pocket. He needs to speed up his throws or he’s going to get sacked every game.”
“Maybe you should get open quicker.”
Another lip curl. Another wave of irritation rolled off him like a tidal wave. Something else I couldn’t miss sparked and burned brighter.
“Fucking hell,” Oliver growled. “How is it that you’re pissing me off, and all I can think about is bending you over this table and fucking the attitude out of you?”
A delicious, warm shiver rolled down my spine.
“You want that?” He stepped forward, setting the damaged bottle on the counter. “Do you know how fucking hot it is that I can read every thought that flashes through your eyes? You hide nothing from me.”
That could be a disaster at some point.
I swallowed a huge gulp of water to settle my nerves and stood from my chair. “Exactly how would you like it to happen?”
I turned my back to him then and pulled his gray shirt, which I’d thrown on earlier, over my head.
I’d barely gotten it tossed onto the floor when one of his hands was at my hip, the other between my shoulder blades, pushing me down.
And then my shorts were pulled down, my legs kicked apart.
His lips hit my shoulder and I heard the tear of foil right before his cock drove into me, not giving me time to adjust—but I was already wet and ready for him.
When we were done, he learned that even a deliciously hard fucking that was quick and powerful wasn’t enough to erase the attitude from me.
Chapter EIGHT
OLIVER
I moved more hay into Winne’s stall, my back hurting worse than it should have been. It’d been bugging me for months now. Not painful, but a dull ache that never seemed to go away despite pain meds and deep tissue massages and chiro appointments.
Yesterday and last night’s activities had made the pain flare up, but I wouldn’t change a damn thing.
I was still hoping to finish cleaning out the stalls before Shannon woke up. The sun was just starting to rise, and while I knew she said she had to get home early, I figured I still had time.
I had plans for her before I had to take her back to her brother’s.
We’d reached an impasse yesterday when I’d talked about Beaux. Her defense of him along with the fact that she’d read me so well made me not want to jump into that topic of him ever again.
He wasn’t going to kick my ass for fucking his sister. And I might try to be less of a dick to him.
I pushed people.
I always had. I wanted to be the best and needed to know everyone else on my team wanted the same thing. Seeing someone so kicked back and chill over practices and incomplete throws and bad plays ate at something deep inside me.
Shannon had also been right—not that I’d admit it. I’d lost the enjoyment of the game a long time ago.
I loved football. It was rooted down deep in me, inside my marrow. Over the last few years, it’d been too hard to stay on top. Too much work to stay the number one tight end in the league. Too much work to stay pain free. I was kidding myself if I wasn’t getting tired of it. Plus, at thirty, retirement was knocking on my door, whispered through the halls and in the voices of sportscasters—not to mention in my own head, late at night when the sounds of birds and crickets were all I heard.
It was barreling down on me. I had another two or three years at most, and that damn gold ring was calling to me—laughing at me in the distance, mocking my inability to take my team there earlier.
And yeah, maybe that was why I drove Beaux harder, pushed him more than I ever would have Mason.
I wasn’t pissed that Mason had gone free agent and Beaux had been traded. I was pissed that Mason and I hadn’t been the ones to bring the Super Bowl win to Raleigh.
I wanted it. I wanted the parade and the madness and the recognition that my team was the best.
We had it in us.
Next to me, Hulk battered against the door of his stall, anxious for his early morning ride I didn’t have time for.
“Settle, boy.” I moved the remaining hay around Winne’s stall before propping the pitchfork on the far wall. I went to the stall she was waiting in and moved her back into hers before locking the door and going to see Hulk.
His black eyes narrowed when I came closer, that distrust so similar to Shannon’s when I spoke dirty to her.
She didn’t trust me, and she shouldn’t. So far I’d worked to earn Hulk’s, but if things went according to my plan with Shannon, there was no point in earning hers.
She’d be gone before there was time anyway.
Hulk whined and bucked against the door again, thrusting his head out of the stall and toward a noise I couldn’t yet hear, but I still turned to look at the barn doors just in time to see Shannon rush through them.
Her curly hair was wild and untamed, flying out behind her when she slid in the dirt and braced herself against the doorway.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” She was breathless, a hand pressed to her chest. She’d also already thrown back on yesterday’s barely existent outfit of her swimsuit and cover-up.
I scowled at the look. She’d ruined my idea of waking her up with my mouth all over her.
“I’m here.” I walked toward her and checked my watch. “What are you doing up? It’s still before six.”
“I told you I had to get home early today.”
She had, but early by most people’s standards wasn’t before seven. Another way I’d underestimated her, apparently.
“Do you have to go now?” I asked, cutting the distance between us by half. “Because I’m done here, and I was thinking of joining you in bed, my mouth on you, your hands digging into my hair, your legs spread open for me.”
Her breathing faltered when I reached her. I placed my gloved hands on her hips, smiling as she shivered at my touch.
She was so transparent. So pliant.
Her pink tongue darted out and swiped her lips.
Instead of taking me up on my offer, she stepped back and pushed her hands through her unruly hair.
“I can’t. I really have to get back to town and get to work. There’s so much to do.” Her voice thickened as she looked up at me, long black lashes flickering wildly as pink burst onto her cheeks. “And, well, I’m really sore.”
The thrill of victory burst in my chest, and I couldn’t stop my grin. “I made you sore?”
She nodded.
“I made you hurt in a way that will make you remember yesterday and last night.”
She cleared her throat. “And early into the morning, yes.”
“Do your hips ache? Does your pussy hurt?”
She looked away from me then, the pink spreading to her throat and chest. “Don’t be so vulgar.”
“You have to know that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Not that I’d done it. We’d been wild. Hell, my dick was sore, too. Not so sore I couldn’t—and wouldn’t—go again, but she’d drained me dry.
“You say things to me that I think should gross me out.”
“But they don’t.” I pulled her to me, my hand at her hip. “And that’s why this will work. You like my filthy words. You like that they turn you on. This next month…you get to enjoy whatever the fuck you want to do, knowing you have someone willing to do whatever you want.”
“And you? What do you get?”
“Someone who gets off on doing whatever I want.”
Her pulse jumped into her throat and she swallowed. For a moment I thought she was going to take me up on the idea I’d had about waking her up. I could use a shower, and a long, relaxing one would do my tight muscles some good before I had to get to the stadium.
“I should go,” she whispered, pulling away.
The rumble of Lee’s engine echoed in the distance, growing closer.
She turned her eyes to me. “Who’s that?”
“Lee.” I pulled off my work gloves and tossed them on a nearby shelf. “He helps with my horses during the season.”
“And off season?”
“I do it.”
She didn’t hide her surprise. “You? All of this land? The work in the barn and the horses?”
I couldn’t hide my scowl. Or the fact my next words fell with disdain. “Not all of us can tour the country in party buses.”
It was what Beaux had done last summer, and the summer before. The day the season ended, he’d hopped into a tricked-out RV, gathered friends from wherever, and took off. Last year there’d been an Instagram feed devoted solely to “Where’s Hale?”
Shannon stiffened at the comment. I didn’t take it back. Seemed as if I wasn’t the only one underestimating a person, and I didn’t care enough to apologize.
“Hey, Ollie,” Lee shouted as he climbed out of the truck. He took in Shannon’s messed and unruly appearance without hiding the surprise on his face. “Hello,” he said, walking directly toward her. “I’m Lee. Powell’s caretaker. And you are?”
“Leaving,” Shannon whispered. Her angry burning eyes flashed to me. “I’m leaving soon.”
Lee tipped his hat in her direction and wished her a good day, giving me a scathing look as he passed.
“If you give me a few minutes to change and grab my workout bag, I’ll get you home.”
She cleared her throat. “I’ll wait for you by the car.”
She walked away to the fence as Lee guided Ralph out to the paddock. There, he saddled him. Ralph would roam the circle for a while before Lee would come back out and give him his morning ride.
I tried not to look back this time, but when I reached the door to my house, I couldn’t help but watch Ralph canter over to Shannon and nudge her hand with his nose.
I went inside and kicked off my work clothes, threw on a clean outfit, and washed the smell of horseshit off my hands before I walked back out to the car.
Shannon was still at the fence, arms folded on the top rung when I approached. Her smile was soft as she watched Lee ride Ralph in circles but never leave the pen.
“He’s older than the others,” she said.
“Almost sixteen. An old man in horse years.”
She said nothing then before she turned to me. “You’re nothing like I thought you’d be.”
“I’m exactly what you thought I’d be,” I said, warning her.
I was the playboy she had read about. I used women. I bent them to my will before I tossed them aside. I couldn’t stand immaturity on the field and had no problems letting a ref know when he’d made a shitty call. I was the asshole she was expecting.
“Don’t let the horses fool you,” I said, dropping my voice. “I’m worse than anything you read about.”
She smiled, reached up, and stroked my unshaven cheek. “Okay, Oliver. Ready to take me to Beaux’s?”
No. That soft touch stirred something inside of me. It stretched and glided inside my gut. It woke up parts of me I’d long since put to sleep. “Sure.”
I walked next to her as we moved back to my car, my hands at my sides and not holding on to her.
She unsettled me. Saw things she shouldn’t. Knew things she couldn’t.
Distance helped me regain my bearings when we climbed into the car and I pulled out, taking back country roads where I could push the mettle of the Audi without fear of traffic or cops.
***
The drive back into the city was mostly quiet. The radio volume was turned down so we could talk over it, but we didn’t say much.
Next to me, Shannon curled a strand of hair around her finger before letting it pop back. She did it repeatedly, her other finger tapping along to the music on the side of her door.
She was fidgety and nervous, and there wasn’t much to say to make her feel better. I wondered if she was regretting the night, changing her mind about our agreement.
That she might actually do it made me keep quiet for most of the drive. I didn’t want to hear her say that yes, she regretted it. No, she didn’t want to see me again.
I hadn’t had repeats in my bed in years, but this girl…she was proving herself different from all the others.
So far, she’d challenged me. She’d shocked the hell out of me, and she’d made me shoot my brain out through my dick.
She impressed me at every turn, which was what finally made me speak as she quietly gave me directions to Beaux’s as we got closer.
“Where do you work?” I asked, breaking another long stretch of silence. I shouldn’t have cared. Yet I already knew her answer wasn’t going to be cheerleader or assistant or wannabe model/actress, like most of the women I met.
Shannon had a depth to her, a seriousness that hid her playful side. Somehow, I wanted to dig through all of it and explore every side of her—the sweet and shy and easily embarrassed to the dirtiest places she imagined.
“Stamped. It’s an internet-based business.”
“What?”
Her lips twisted and her finger went back to her hair. Twist, pull, spring.
“I have my own business. It’s nothing too exciting. I make metal jewelry, stamping it into the shape I want it. So it’s called Stamped.”
My interest was piqued along with my irritation. She had to leave my house before fucking to go make jewelry?
“You only sell it online?”
She hesitated a moment before answering. When she did, she turned to me and I saw a spark of fear, maybe excitement, before her hesitancy took over. “I’ve done that for years, but Beaux leased a building for me in the arts district. Said he wanted to help my dream come true like I’d always done for him. I’ve spent the week cleaning the building along with the apartment I’ll move into as soon as I can get my stuff from home.”
She frowned and looked out the window.
“There’s a street fair coming up next week I’ve been getting ready for. I have no idea how busy it is, how many customers I could get, but I’ve barely slept while t
rying to get everything prepared.” She pointed to a corner. “Turn here. His place is the second on the left.”
I skipped the turn, and she shot me a look. “I’m just driving around the block so you don’t have to cross the street when I let you out.” I knew these streets. The row of brownstones didn’t have parking except in alleys behind them, and parallel parking was a bitch.
“Oh.” That sweet blush hit her cheeks. “Thank you.”
My fingers twisted around the steering wheel. “You coming to the game this week?”
She turned to me then and grinned. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
It was the first time I’d seen her seem truly free since I’d met her. Her pride in her brother seeped out of every one of her pores, almost making her shine.
It made me feel like an asshole for being rude to her about him.
I quickly pulled around the corner and placed my hand over hers before she could get out. That heat that was always between us grew and inflamed in the cool car.
I wrapped my hand around the back of her neck and pulled her to me, holding her steady as my lips pressed against hers. She opened for me immediately, her tongue seeking mine, and it wasn’t just me kissing her…but her kissing me back. She wasn’t just taking it, allowing it…she wanted it.
I swallowed her soft whimper and pulled back before I had the overwhelming desire to fuck her in my car.
Honesty spilled from me before I could stop it. I blamed the sexy-as-hell kiss and her soft, pouty lips. “I had a good time with you.”
She licked her lips before answering. “Me too. But I should go.”
She turned to open the door, and something about the moment—her hesitance in wanting me while she made it obvious—had me reaching out to her, the only way I knew I could get her attention.
“I’ll try to be less of an asshole to Beaux.”
She grinned at me, looking over her shoulder as she opened her door. “I’ll tell him to throw faster.”
“When can I see you again?” And why did I feel so fucking desperate for it?
“I don’t know.” She winked and slid out of the car, bending over to face me once she was on the curb. “Call me.”