Swagger

by Liz Lincoln

  She turned her head to look at him, and for a moment the restaurant disappeared. It was just the two of them and the heat between them. Fuck, he wanted her so much. Wanted to taste those lush pink lips.

  A soft sound escaped her parted lips. Instantly he was hard, and he couldn’t stop his brain from imagining pulling her onto his lap and having her ride him right there in the booth.

  Shit. “Take—” His voice cracked, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “Take the picture.” His control was slipping; he needed space.

  She looked at him again for a moment that lasted forever, then turned and held out her camera. On the screen, their images stared back at them.

  His head was half out of the picture, so he had no choice but to lean in and rest his chin on her shoulder. Damn, they looked good together. Then again, she’d look good no matter what. She was an objectively pretty woman.

  Just before she snapped the picture, Marcus grabbed his drink and worked it into the frame so her brother would know they were at a restaurant together. He grinned and she smiled, and the image flashed as she tapped the button three times.

  When she lowered her phone, she seemed in no hurry to move away from him. For his own preservation, he pulled his arm back, but otherwise remained where he was. She busied herself looking at the pictures, then held the phone up so he could see.

  Their faces stared back at him, and he was struck not only by how good they looked together, but how good he felt seeing them like that. Like they fit.

  “Send it to me?” He needed a copy of that on his phone.

  “Sure.” Her voice sounded funny and she didn’t look at him.

  Before he knew he was going to do it, he used two fingers to tilt her chin up. “You never said if you’ll come to the benefit with me.”

  Her soft look warmed him everywhere, touching him in places he hadn’t realized were cold. “I’d love to.”

  This woman soothed something inside him, made him think, made him yearn, and yes, turned him on.

  How the hell was he going to wait more than two months until he could have her?

  Chapter 8

  Bree still couldn’t quite believe where she was. The Milwaukee Art Museum was a beautiful space, sleek and modern, overlooking Lake Michigan. But more than that, it was full of large men in expensive suits, all of whom Bree was completely fangirling over, mostly from afar.

  She and Marcus had just spent ten minutes talking with an offensive lineman and his wife. Now they were chatting with linebacker Seth Chamberlain and his girlfriend, Carrie. Bree and Carrie had discovered a mutual love of both science and comic books, prompting good-natured teasing from Marcus.

  “I call bullshit,” Seth said to Marcus. “You’ve got a Mario tattoo. I think that makes you a pretty big nerd.”

  “Mario? As in Super Mario Brothers?” As many pictures as Bree had seen of Marcus, she’d never seen one with his shirt off. She hadn’t known he had tattoos. Her hands tightened on her wineglass. She wanted to see Mario. See if he had any other tattoos.

  Maybe kiss and lick those tattoos.

  Good thing she had on a sleeveless cocktail dress, because suddenly she was burning up. The back of the dress dipped low, and if she shifted it to the side, she’d be able to show Marcus the tattoo on her right shoulder blade.

  “Well it ain’t Mario Batali.”

  “Nice.” Carrie reached over and fist-bumped him.

  Oh what the hell. Bree turned around, smoothed her hair over her shoulder, and slid her dress to the side. “That’s my ink.”

  Marcus sucked in a sharp breath, and when Bree looked at him, his face was tense. He wasn’t looking at her shoulder; instead he was staring right back into her eyes. “Killing me,” he mouthed more than said.

  She couldn’t stop herself; she gave him a wicked smile. Something was in her tonight, something playful and naughty. Maybe it was the sense that she was in a world so different from her own it might as well be another dimension. Maybe her wine had gone to her head faster than she realized. Maybe it was her sassy black dress that always made her feel like she looked good. Who knew? But she wanted to flirt. She wanted to tease.

  What she really wanted was to take Marcus home at the end of the night, strip them both naked, and lose herself in him. Lately, being with him was the only time she didn’t feel the panic clawing at the back of her brain. Something about him soothed her. She knew better than to think any man, any person, could cure her anxiety. And it wasn’t like she was on the verge of a panic attack all the time. It only felt like that right now because her dissertation was her biggest trigger, and it was never far from her mind.

  So for now, if Marcus had a calming effect on her, she’d take it.

  “That’s an atom symbol, right?” Seth asked.

  Pause for holy shit surreal moment: Seth Chamberlain is staring at my bare back.

  “Yes.” Bree managed to sound normal, even though in her head she was freaking out a little. Just because she had the major hots for Marcus, and Seth was clearly madly in love with his girlfriend, didn’t mean she couldn’t squeal in her head for a second.

  “That makes sense,” Carrie said. “It’s cute.”

  When Bree turned back around and dropped her hair, she noticed Marcus had inched closer to her. She gave him a soft smile, then took a sip of her wine. She couldn’t resist looking up at him through her eyelashes. Maybe someday he’d get to see her other tattoo, on her hip, a butterfly she’d gotten in college. It was cliché but cute.

  His nostrils flared and he leaned close to softly say, “You’re playing dirty tonight.”

  She didn’t say anything, just curved her lips into a grin and—corny as it was—winked.

  *

  —

  The chatter around the table was standard-issue small talk. Bree ended up between Marcus and Tanisha. Besides her and Jaron, seated at their table were Matt and Celia, Seth and Carrie, kicker Jeremy Trask, who had been at Bubble when Bree went, and wide receiver Ricky Donovan. Ricky had been at the University of Illinois at the same time as Bree’s brother Hank, and Hank wore a Donovan jersey to watch every Dragons game. So of course Bree had screwed up the courage to ask for a picture. Rubbing it in to her brother was a good motivator.

  Then Marcus piped up and suggested they take a picture as a table, both for Bree to taunt her brothers with and for Celia to use as publicity. So halfway through dinner, Bree found herself posing for a group photo with six Dragons players and three of their significant others.

  Pause for holy shit surreal moment: What even is my life?

  The professional photographer the Traumatic Brain Injury Initiative had hired for the dinner took a few shots with her fancy camera, then Marcus shoved Bree’s phone at her and insisted she use that for another picture.

  “Marcus, no, you don’t—”

  “How else you gonna make your brothers jealous?” He grinned at her just as the photographer snapped the picture.

  Bree was caught between being annoyed Marcus had made her such an obvious fangirl and being thrilled with the picture. Since she had it, she might as well focus on the latter.

  They all retook their seats and went back to eating and chatting.

  Tanisha bumped her shoulder into Bree’s. “Let’s see the picture.”

  Bree pulled it up and looked with Tanisha. The photographer had talent and had captured every one of them smiling and with their eyes open. Even Ricky Donovan, who wasn’t an attractive man, looked decent.

  The expression on Marcus’ face stole Bree’s breath. He was looking at her with a grin, but there was something else too. Even on the small phone screen, the heat in his gaze was obvious.

  “Girl,” Tanisha said, drawing out the word.

  Bree looked up at her, and they shared a look. Tanisha didn’t have to say another word; Bree knew what her girl meant.

  Sure, she’d known Marcus wanted her. But somehow other people seeing it made it that much more real. Like their attraction
had suddenly taken shape, was now a physical entity.

  Which was a thought road she shouldn’t go down. Fortunately, before she could dwell for another moment, Celia’s voice came through loud enough to stop all conversation at the table.

  “Wait a second. What is this?”

  Bree looked over in time to see Celia grabbing Carrie’s hand and pulling it to her for inspection. From her seat at the other side of the table, Bree couldn’t tell what Celia was looking at.

  “Tell me this is what I think it is.”

  Carrie’s cheeks turned pink, clashing with her red hair.

  Seth put his arm around Carrie and kissed the top of her head. “Yep. We’re getting married.”

  Bree’s chest squeezed, and she felt overcome with emotion. Which was ridiculous; she barely knew these people. But there was something about weddings and engagements that made her go all soft and girly. She’d once cried at a then-boyfriend’s cousin’s wedding, and she’d never even met the couple.

  Celia and Tanisha immediately started peppering Carrie with questions and offering up advice.

  “You should take our spot here in June. It’s really hard to get in, but since we’re doing a quick wedding next week…”

  “Destination wedding. I’m telling you, it keeps away all the crazy relatives who don’t want to fly to Jamaica.”

  “Is Maddie excited for you guys? I bet she can’t wait for you to be her stepmom.”

  “Ooh, is she going to be a bridesmaid? She’ll look so beautiful.”

  “What are you thinking for a honeymoon? I want to go to Paris, but Matt says Hawaii.”

  “We went to Hawaii. It was amazing. Oh, and I’ll give you the name of my florist—”

  Carrie sat with wide eyes, letting them talk at her. She looked completely overwhelmed. Hell, Bree felt overwhelmed. She needed to talk to Marcus and Jeremy Trask, who sat on his other side, about football. Politics. Maybe religion. Anything but wedding overload. She might cry at the weddings of strangers, but she wasn’t that girly. When it was her time, she’d gladly elope.

  So she turned in Jeremy’s direction.

  *

  —

  “Trask, you’ve been having a fantastic season.”

  Marcus grinned as Bree spoke to his teammate. It definitely added to her appeal that she could talk football. He liked being with women who understood and appreciated what he did, and didn’t just like his money and celebrity.

  Finished eating, he sat back in his chair and listened as Bree and Trask chatted. He extended his arm and rested it on the back of Bree’s chair. He wanted to reach forward and touch that bare patch of skin on her back, maybe trace the tattoo she’d flashed earlier. Her skin teased him.

  He didn’t pay much attention to the conversation, instead watching her animated face as she and Trask discussed stats of various kickers in the league. She had a better mind for stats than half the analysts he knew. If physics didn’t work out, she could definitely turn her focus to football analysis and be just fine.

  Which just made her sexier. As if he needed yet another reason to be attracted to her.

  At least there wasn’t dancing at this shindig. If he had a chance to hold her like that, he’d be a goner. The semester couldn’t end soon enough.

  He just wouldn’t let himself think about her getting a new job and moving away.

  The servers cleared their plates and topped off their wine. He got into an animated discussion with Bree, Trask, and Ricky about the strength of the Colorado Springs Vipers’ run game. Ricky and Bree insisted they were a silent threat, despite what their numbers said. Trask and Marcus maintained that a better offensive line wouldn’t do all that much to help their runningback.

  The coolest part was, Bree had a few insights that even his teammates and he hadn’t thought of.

  Damn.

  This woman hit all Marcus’ buttons.

  Thank God Matt chose that moment to stand up and tap his wineglass with his fork to get everyone’s attention. He made his way up to the podium set up in front of the windows that gave a panoramic view of Lake Michigan. Having grown up in Minnesota, Marcus had an appreciation for lake views. Though he hadn’t complained about the ocean being so close when he was in college in California.

  “I want to welcome you all tonight,” Matt said into the microphone, exuding the confidence that made him a great leader. He was still young, but he had the right personality to command his team. Even if he weren’t one of his closest friends, Marcus would have a hell of a lot of respect for the guy.

  Matt went through a typical welcome speech, thanking the Traumatic Brain Injury Initiative staff, noting Celia’s efforts, and giving a brief background of the services TBII provided for people with TBI, along with some of the research they’d helped fund in the past year.

  “Now I want to let you know about a brand-new objective TBII will be spearheading. Some of you may not know that my older brother suffered a brain injury when he was hit by a drunk driver. I was a sophomore at the University of Colorado when it happened, and I almost quit school to go back to Boston and be with my family. My dad refused to let me leave in the middle of the year, but I took the next year off. It hurt my football career, knocked me down in the draft.” Matt shrugged. “But who cares? Dave is my big brother. He taught me to throw a football. So when the Dragons picked me up in the fifth round and everyone said I’d never be more than a mediocre backup, well, guess we proved them wrong.”

  That got a laugh as Matt flashed his trademark aw-shucks smile for the room.

  “Anyway, my point is, brain injury research is something that’s important to me. Dave lost a lot in that car accident, so I promised him I would do what I could with the gobs of money they throw at me to help him. When I got to Milwaukee, the first thing I did was look up a way to get involved, and I found the TBII. Which was lucky not only for Dave, but for me, because it’s where I met my amazing wife-to-be, Celia.”

  That got a round of applause.

  “Celia and I have spent a lot of time brainstorming ways I can help more,” Matt continued. “And tonight is the result of our hours of what’s probably really boring discussion. I’m lucky she puts up with me.”

  As the crowd laughed and clapped, Bree turned to Marcus with a smile and said something. But the applause was too loud and her voice too soft, and he couldn’t make out the words.

  As she spoke, she set her hand on his thigh to steady herself as she leaned toward him. Everything in Marcus tensed. Because that hand was so dangerously close to his crotch, the tension included his cock going half hard. He imagined grabbing her wrist and pressing her hand over him until she was cupping him.

  He closed his eyes and took a long, slow breath. He thought about his sisters, his dad complaining about the way he was wasting his life in football, how much pain he’d been in right after his knee surgery. It eased him back to what would qualify as only slightly hard.

  It was something.

  “Cee, you want to come up here with me? This is your baby too.” Matt held out his hand, and there was another round of applause as Celia made her way to the podium.

  Marcus hated this part of benefits. At least Matt wasn’t as cheesy as the more polished speakers he sometimes had to listen to.

  Putting his arm around Celia, Matt said, “I am so excited to announce a new partnership between the TBII and my foundation, the Baxter Foundation. Starting after the first of the year, Celia is going to be the executive director of the David Baxter Center for TBI Research. Instead of just funding it, we’ll be hiring scientists to do research. And because I’m a mild fan of football, one of the big initiatives will be improving current imaging technology so we’re able to detect brain trauma like CTE earlier.”

  Well, holy shit. For possibly the first time in his life, Matt hadn’t been overdramatic when he said they had a big announcement.

  A new research center, getting married, having twins, and a huge promotion for Celia. Double holy s
hit. That deserved more than polite applause.

  Marcus pushed to his feet, put his fingers in his mouth, and let out a whistle. The rest of his teammates stood along with him, hooting and clapping. Besides the awesome news for the TBII, and for Matt and Celia, every man at the table understood the implications of the research initiative. There wasn’t a single man on an NFL team who hadn’t had at least one concussion; Marcus would wager there wasn’t a player in the NCAA who’d escaped having a concussion.

  And they all knew the subconcussive hits they took every game were cumulatively taking their toll. Not every player had a nationally renowned neurologist sending him any and every article out there, but they couldn’t escape the most basic information, no matter how far into the sand they might try to stick their heads.

  The rest of the attendees joined the standing ovation, though none with anything close to the enthusiasm of the Dragons players, along with Carrie and Tanni. Bree registered somewhere between the rest of their table and the reserved donors at the other tables.

  She shot Marcus a shy smile, and he was riding high enough with the excitement of the moment that he put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her to his side. He laughed and jiggled her, and she laughed along with him.

  Perma-grin on his face, he let himself enjoy the softness of her bare arm before letting her go and settling back into his seat. It was a good night.

  *

  —

  “Nope. Not less surreal. Probably more so.” Bree smoothed her hand over the passenger seat of Marcus’ car, fondling the smooth, soft leather.

  “What, hanging out with the team?” Marcus asked. He glanced at her, then back to the road.

  “That too.” Bree sank back into the seat, looking out the window at the lake as it rolled by. “But I meant this car. I honestly never thought I’d ever ride in a Tesla.”

  “Yeah, I went to test drive it, really just on a whim. I loved it so much I had to buy one.”

  “What kind of mileage do you get on this thing?” Every physicist Bree knew wanted a Tesla. They were engineering marvels as far as she and all her friends were concerned. But of course, on grad student and postdoc salaries, there was no way any of them could afford one. The monthly payment on Marcus’ car had to be more than her rent.