by Jacob Chance
A large hand clamps down on my shoulder, and when I swing my head around, the smile fades. Brady Lincoln.
“What’s the matter, Harlow? If I didn’t know better, I’d think you weren’t happy to see me.” He smiles and every coherent thought in my brain is gone. I can’t believe I’ve been struck dumb by a jock.
What’s wrong with me? I’m surprised he remembers my name. Then again, I’m probably the first girl who’s ever turned him down.
His eyes are so beautiful, I get distracted staring at them. They’re mesmerizing, and when I finally snap my own away, I notice his lips are curved into a knowing smirk.
I compose myself enough to answer him. “Nothing’s wrong. We’re just doing shots.” His hand slides down to cup my upper arm in his warm palm. Just that simple touch has my body reacting. My heart is racing and my legs are trembling.
“What are you ladies drinking?” I open my mouth to tell him we don’t need anyone to buy us shots when Raine interrupts.
“Patron, thanks.” She smiles at me when I flash her a death glare. I don’t want Brady to stick around. Now he’s buying us drinks and I’m going to need to play nice with him. I move my arm to loosen his hold, but instead of letting me go like I anticipated, he slides his hand down, taking mine.
Oh, my God. I can’t believe I’m holding hands with Brady Lincoln.
I glance down to make sure I’m not imagining this. Nope, I’m not and his smooth palm is hot against mine. My mind conjures up visions of me lying on his bed while those large hands slowly slide all over my stomach, pushing my shirt with them.
“Here you go, kitten,” Brady’s voice snaps me out of my unwanted fantasies. Glancing up at him, I find him smiling down at me. My face flushes. Crap. I grab the glass and down the shot. I squeeze my eyes shut. Cocky Brady is hard to resist, but sweet Brady might be my undoing.
What is he doing flirting with someone like me?
I open my eyes and find him studying me. His stare is too much and I lower my chin before looking in the other direction.
He hands Raine a shot. “Thanks Brady,”
“Harlow.” I hear his voice but I stubbornly remain facing away from him. “Harlow.” This time his voice is close to my ear and it surprises me. I shiver, liking the way his warm breath feels on my skin – liking it too much.
I tug on my hand, but he won’t let go. When my head whips around to tell him off, my long bangs fall in my eyes. I reach up with my free hand to push them back, but he beats me to it. Gently pushing them to the side with his fingertips, he tucks them behind my ear.
Pensively biting on my bottom lip, I stare up at him.
Who is this guy?
One minute he’s a cocky asshole and the next he’s unbelievably sweet. He has me completely off balance and I don’t know what to make of him.
Which one is the real Brady?
Chapter Three
BRADY
God this girl – she gets to me. I don’t know what it is about her, but I’m torn between wanting to hold her in my arms and wanting to bury my cock inside her for the next week straight. Her big gray eyes are so expressive. I can see everything in them, all the things she’d rather keep to herself. She’s afraid of her attraction to me. I usually snap my fingers and they follow. She’s the first one I’ve met who’s shown any resistance to my charm. I can see her balancing on the edge, but I’m not sure which way she’ll decide to go. I think she’s going to need a little push.
I flag down Jodie the bartender and she saunters over with a smile on her red, glossy lips. I’m familiar with her lips and what they’re capable of. She’s given me head more than once. She sucks dick like a pro and swallows every drop like a champ. Looking at her now I feel nothing. I used her to get off. I know I’m an asshole for it, but at least she knew what she was getting. Making promises to the women I screw around with, isn’t something I ever do.
“What can I get you handsome?” she asks.
“Three shots of Patron.” She winks at me and I look down at Harlow standing next to me. Thankfully, she’s not paying attention to Jodie’s flirtatious behavior. I know that would just be one more reason she’d use to convince herself to stay away from me.
Jodie places the shots down and sends one more heated look my way, but I’m not biting. Placing a few bills on the bar, I slide Raine’s shot toward her. She raises it when I turn to hand Harlow hers.
“Harlow and I always do a toast whenever we drink shots. It’s just a little rule of ours. She comes up with some good ones,” she explains. “What are we toasting to Harlow?” Raine asks.
I pick up my drink and wait while my eyes shift to Harlow. She chews on her bottom lip and stares down into her shot glass.
“Everyone should believe in something. I believe I’ll have another drink.” She giggles, clinks her glass against mine and then Raine’s.
God, she’s adorable. I’m totally enamored with this girl. Knocking the shot back, I slide the empty glass along the bar. Glancing around, I notice some of my teammates across the room. Cameron Davis is looking at Harlow. His stare has a predatory quality to it and I don’t fucking like it, but I can’t say I really like Cam either. He’s the starting running back on our team and he’s immensely talented. He’s also a giant egomaniac asshole. He and I aren’t friends. I tolerate him only for the sake of the team.
Releasing Harlow’s hand, I proprietarily place my palm on her lower back, staking my claim. I want him to know she’s off limits.
Her head tips up at me questioningly, gray eyes wide and filled with uncertainty, her mouth still glossy from the shot. It’s all I can do to keep myself from stealing an unexpected kiss from her. The urge to taste her lips is so strong it takes every ounce of resolve in me to hold back. I want to show her how combustible we’ll be together, but I don’t want our first kiss to be in a bar. Instead, I lean down and kiss the top of her head. She tenses up. The silky strands are soft on my lips and cling to them as I pull away. It’s not the kiss I’m craving, but it’ll have to do for now.
“Relax,” I coax and let my hand stroke down over the long, shiny length of her hair.
“Here guys.” Raine appears with six more shots. We each take one in hand.
“It’s better to spend tonight like there’s no tomorrow, than to spend tonight like there’s no money,” Harlow says not missing a beat. We all touch our glasses to murmurs of “here, here,” and then tip the shots back.
I slam my glass down on the bar upside down and notice Jodie’s eyes on me.
“Okay, one more for now,” Raine draws my attention as she hands us our glasses. She looks at Harlow, waiting for her to say something. She has a small smile playing on her full lips. She looks mischievous and I can’t wait to hear what’s about to come out of her mouth.
Harlow lifts her glass. “The rose may kiss the butterfly, the wine may kiss the crystal glass, a girl may kiss her man goodbye, but you my friends may kiss my ass.” She barely finishes the toast before laughter peals out of her. Her laugh is adorable. Christ, everything about this girl entices me. I need to convince her to give me a chance. I know if she goes on one date with me, she’ll see I’m not the asshole she thinks I am. I need to have her under me – on top of me – any way I can.
Over the course of the next hour we drink a few more shots and keep the conversation light. When Cameron comes over to talk to Raine, Harlow moves over to my side, burrowing in as close as she can get. I tuck my arm around her and wonder if she has history with him.
Did he do something to her?
I don’t want to ask her now and risk upsetting her. She’s just starting to act like I’m not the devil and it’s probably because she’s drunk and her defenses are down, but I’ll take what I can get.
Another hour passes and now I’m sitting on a stool leaning on the bar behind me. My eyes may be looking out at the crowd, but I’m very much focused on this sweet girl standing between my legs with her back to my chest. She’s relaxed, my arms are loose ar
ound her waist. I want to pull her against me so she can feel the hard on trying to bust out of my jeans, but I don’t want to scare her off. I already know she’s not like other girls. She flat out turned me down and I can’t treat her the same as I do them. I want nothing more than to be naked in my bed with her at this very moment. Hell, I’d settle for bending her over the bathroom sink in the men’s room right now. Fuck. I really need to stop thinking about this. I know I won’t be getting any relief for my blue balls between Harlow’s sexy thighs.
My eyes land on a cute blonde across the room. Looking her over, I wonder if I’ve ever messed around with her before. She’s giving me the look and I know all I’d have to do is crook my finger at her or flash her a smile and she’d be at my beck and call. It might be nice to sink my dick inside some new pussy tonight. I haven’t gotten laid for almost two weeks now.
Harlow spins around in my arms and stares up at me with her wide stormy gray eyes wiping out all thoughts of any other woman. No matter how much I try to convince myself I’d bury my dick in any pussy, now that she’s on my radar – I don’t want to.
Chapter Four
HARLOW
When I open my eyes, the bright morning sunshine feels like knives repeatedly stabbing my forehead. I snap them closed and groan. Fuck.
Why’d I drink so much at the bar? Oh God. My head aches so bad. Covering my eyes with one hand, I block out the rays of sunlight coming in the window.
Is it possible to die from a hangover? If not, I might just be the first documented case. I lick my lips and notice the horrible taste in my mouth. Gross. I’d kill for some mouthwash right now, but it would be too much work to get out of bed. I think I’d prefer to stay here and succumb to my hangover. Harlow Summers hangover death patient zero. I’ll be famous on all college campuses nationwide and used in public service ads as an example of how not to act like a complete newb when you’ve already been in college for two years.
Snuggling down under the covers, I pray I’ll feel better soon. My feet are freezing and so are my legs. I must’ve been too drunk to put on pajama bottoms and socks. While sliding my feet back and forth on the smooth sheets to warm them, the bottom of my foot makes contact with a hairy leg. Gasping, my foot quickly retreats to my side. Another gasp escapes me when I sit up and realize who’s in bed beside me – Brady Lincoln. Pain grips my head and my hands move up to gently cradle both sides of it.
“You…” Is all that comes out. I’m at a loss for words.
He smiles, his dimple in his right cheek showing. “Me,” he says with a wink and a nod of his head. “Good morning, kitten. This isn’t the reaction I usually get from women in my bed.”
“How…you...me?” I sputter, clearly frazzled. As if waking up with him wasn’t bad enough, I have no idea how I ended up here in his very large comfortable bed and not in my own twin sized bed. I glance down and notice I’m wearing a Boston University Terriers shirt and I know it must be his. My hands drop to smooth over the material, then pluck it away from my chest. “Did you undress me?” I question, my voice shrill.
He sits up and the sheet slips down to his lap revealing his bare chest. My mouth drops open and I can’t stop my body’s reaction to him no matter how hard I try. I could possibly be drooling. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a muscular torso in my entire life. It’s all I can do to stop myself from stretching my arm out so my fingers can graze his chest. I want to trace them over the BU Terriers mascot tattooed there and then let my hand run down over the ridges of his abs.
I need to get out of here. Brady Lincoln is the ultimate bad boy treat for someone who’s as sex starved as I am. He’s like a piece of cake fresh from the oven, dripping with a thick layer of frosting, tempting you to stray from your diet. It tastes so good at the time, but then the self-loathing sets in because you’ve been trying to lose five pounds you gained during freshman year – make that six now and you hate yourself for being too weak to resist.
Brady Lincoln is my “cake.”
He’s a threat to my methodical practices and it’s time for me to get the hell out of here.
“Harlow, calm down. I didn’t take advantage of you while you were passed out.” He runs his fingers through his messy hair pushing it back off his face. “You got really drunk and Raine was leaving with Cameron. I told her I’d make sure you got home safe. We were in the cab heading toward your place when you made the driver pull over. You got so sick, you could barely stand. I knew I couldn’t leave you alone. I brought you back here because it was closer and I changed your shirt because it was a mess. But, I didn’t touch your bra; you did. And don’t worry I turned my back like a perfect gentleman. I didn’t see a thing – or two things.” He winks at me.
Oh. My. God. I threw up in front of Brady Lincoln. My face burns with embarrassment. This couldn’t get much worse – unless I threw up on him. Crap.
“I didn’t throw up on you, did I?” My voice is a panicked squeak.
He chuckles. “No, I managed to avoid the line of fire.”
Oh, dear god. My head slumps forward. If it was possible to die from humiliation I’d be a spirit floating merrily away right now. Death might be preferable to the remorse I’m experiencing.
I slide to the edge of the bed and hold his shirt down over my ass while rising to my feet. He’s seen enough of me already.
“Where are my clothes?” I question, not spotting them anywhere.
“I washed them and threw them in the dryer for you.” He slides out of bed and my eyes track his every move, checking him out from head to toe, front to back and every imaginable angle in between.
My eyeballs move to his snug, black boxer briefs and the obvious morning wood he’s sporting. I don’t want to look at him; I’m trying not to. I know this is the only time I’ll have this opportunity because I don’t plan to see Brady again. Ever.
And like metal drawn to a magnet, my gaze can’t seem to resist the pull of his almost naked body. I hope he’s not paying attention.
He pulls on a clean white t-shirt and some black basketball shorts, looking like the quintessential athlete.
“Let me grab your stuff and then I’ll make you some breakfast.”
“No.” The word leaves me with more force than I intended, but there’s no way I want to stay here with him any longer than I have to. “I’m not hungry anyway,” I reply, nervously tugging at the bottom of the shirt I’m wearing. I’m not used to being in this situation. I’ve never spent the night with a guy other than my ex-boyfriend Rob and even though Brady and I didn’t even kiss, it’s still unbelievably awkward.
“Okay then, no food. Gotcha. I’ll just go grab your clothes for you.” He gestures toward the door with his head and I nod. Sitting down on the edge of his large bed my eyes roam around his room. The walls are painted a dull white and he has BU sports memorabilia displayed on a bookcase situated between two large windows. His steel topped desk sits against one of the side walls and there’s a closed laptop situated on it. The rest of the desktop is clean and clutter free. A tall dark stained bureau stands against the wall closest to where I’m seated. The wood is marked up with numerous scratches like he bought it used or maybe it came with the apartment. It doesn’t seem like something the son of a former NFL player would own. I wonder what else about him would surprise me?
“Here you go,” his deep voice interrupts my thoughts. I shouldn’t be thinking about him at all. I need to get the hell out of here and pretend I never met Brady.
He hands me my jeans and shirt and I notice how neatly they’re folded. It was considerate of him to wash them for me. This guy keeps surprising me and I don’t like it – not one little bit. I don’t want him to be more than the young, dumb, full of come jock I’ve always assumed he was.
“Thank you,” my voice is soft, barely more than a whisper. He has me feeling emotionally off balance and it’s completely out of character for me. I don’t let people close enough to affect me like this. Even Rob my ex-boyfriend never made me feel
this thrilling sense of unease.
Being around Brady is exciting and frightening at the same time. So many untapped possibilities for us to explore and so much devastation when he gets what he wants from me and casts me aside like every other girl he’s slept with.
Rising to my feet, I glance up at him. An icy jolt of awareness runs through me when our eyes lock. It makes me shiver. My attraction to him is gaining momentum with each second spent in his presence. His blue eyes are hypnotic and I have to force myself to look away.
I hold my bundle of clothes in front of my chest like a shield to protect me from the heat of his gaze as he slowly looks me over from the tips of my purple toe nails to the top of my dark unruly morning hair.
A muscle tics in his cheek. “Get dressed. I’ll be waiting in the kitchen.” His voice is hoarse.
I nod and as soon as he’s closed the door behind him I tear his t-shirt off, throwing it on the bed. Slipping my bra and shirt on, like I’m in a race against the clock, I remind myself not to think about how comfortable his t-shirt felt against my skin. I shouldn’t think about how it smelled like him either.
Sliding my jeans over my hips, I scan his floor for my missing socks while zipping up and buttoning. Spotting both peeking out from under his bed, I scoop them up and sit on the edge of the mattress to tug them on my feet.
Once my shoes are on my eyes make one final journey around Brady Lincoln’s private sanctuary knowing without a doubt this is the only time I’ll ever be in this room.
Soon he’ll tire of me turning him down. The thrill of the chase will turn into annoyance at the amount of work it’s become. He’ll want a girl who puts out and expects nothing in return. That will never be me.
I bet he’s never had to really work for anything. It must be nice to get everything handed to you just because your dad is Lawrence Lincoln, a former NFL player, who now hosts a sports talk show on ESPN. From what I remember, he looks like an older version of Brady; still handsome even in his early fifties. He married some socialite, and they live in New York City. I’m sure Brady will follow the same path as his father which is just one more reason on an extremely long list of why I need to avoid him at all costs.