“Rinn,” he breathes. “I’ve been a world-class fuckup about a lot of things. I thought I’d made a pretty sweet damn life for myself — one that would let me forget about my past and not think about the future other than me kicking ass on the field, getting a Super Bowl ring and then driving off into the sunset. I did everything I could not to think about anything more than that. And then you came along — so beautiful, so fucking sexy, so good — and I felt like you were holding up a fucking mirror every time you looked at me, making me see myself like you would.
“And, well, the fact is,” he continues with a smirk and a shake of his head, “other than the devilishly handsome mug staring back at me, I didn’t much like what I saw.”
A small puff of laughter escapes me. Leave it to Jake to crack a joke at a time like this.
“Look,” he tells me, holding up his phone again. “See that guy? See the expression on his face? That guy’s thinking, “How in the hell did I ever get so lucky to meet this girl? How did I ever manage to get her to even give me the time of day? And what do I need to do to make sure she knows she’s the only one I’ll ever want?”
“But how can you know that?” I whisper. “How can you really know I’m the only one you’ll ever want? Jake, you’re surrounded by women who would do anything to be with you. You told me yourself you’ve never really had a girlfriend.”
He chuckles softly and pulls me close to him. “You just don’t get it, do you?” he murmurs against my skin. “You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted. That’s how I know. Rinn, you’re literally the first thing I think about every single morning. I go to sleep with the softness of your skin and the smell of your shampoo filling my head. You make me want to think about a future. A future that doesn’t have anything to do with football at all, or Super Bowl rings, or being a goddamn hero.” He kisses me deeply, passionately, then pulls away. “You make me want a future that’s all about you,” he says huskily. “About this. About making you the happiest woman I can make you. And someday, about having a passel of kids that look just like their mom.”
I giggle. “A ‘passel’?” I tease him.
“Shut up,” he murmurs, and kisses me again. “I’m spitballing here.”
As Jake’s lips find mine, our tongues entwine, sending a wave of heat through me that feels like molten lava. Dizzily, I realize that the piece of the puzzle I thought was missing just popped into place. Jake’s given it to me: the piece he kept back, hidden away from everyone. I see the whole picture now, the picture of who he is, and I realize it’s because he wants me to. He wants me to know him, to understand him.
And just like that, I realize that when he says he loves me, it’s true.
Jake Ryland is in love with me.
He wants a future with me.
I kiss him back, moaning into his mouth as desire begins to course through me. It’s a familiar feeling, the way my body always responds to his touch, but this time there’s something more to it. It’s not just my body giving itself to him. It’s my heart. My soul. I feel myself let go, and for the first time, let myself realize that this isn’t just sex. It’s love. It’s making love.
“Jake,” I whisper. “I love you.”
He freezes, then pulls his face back to look at me.
“Jesus, Rinn,” he says. He closes his eyes for a second, then opens them. They’re dark and shining. “Jesus. I love you so fucking much.”
Then the sound of the rain pounding on the roof starts to blend with the dizzy buzzing of my head as he picks me up and carries me into my bedroom.
Jake sets me down and then he’s pulling off my clothes so fast I don’t even have time to help him. I reach down and fumble with the button of his jeans, and he moves his hands over mine and pulls down the zipper. He kicks them off as they fall to the floor. Then we’re on the bed, and Jake’s on top of me, the hot steel of his cock burning the skin of my thigh. He reaches down to slide finger across my slick folds, and I gasp and thrust against his palm. I’m so ready, and he knows it, and he growls low in his throat and slides himself inside me as I wrap my legs around his waist. I angle my hips toward him, wanting him, needing him as deep as he can possibly go. Jake thrusts deep, then presses into me and grinds. His cock moves inside me, and I throw back my head and moan, it feels so good. His lips come down on mine, capturing the moan, crushing my mouth and devouring me with his tongue. My hands are grasping at his neck, frantic, needing him.
“You’re mine,” he grunts, as he begins to thrust. “This is mine. Your pussy, your hot wet pussy… all mine.”
“Oh, God,” I moan. “Yes, Jake.”
“Tell me.”
“I’m yours.”
“Tell me what you want me to do.”
“I want…” I rasp. “I want… you to make me come. I want you to fill me up.”
He thrusts again, harder. I feel myself climbing.
“I’m gonna make you come, baby. You’re gonna come on my cock.”
Jake,” I whine, so close to losing control I can hardly stand it.
“Come on, baby,” he urges. “Come for me. Milk me dry, let me fill up your sweet pussy.”
It’s too much — his filthy, hot, sexy words send me flying over the edge as I scream his name. Wave after wave of pleasure rips through me as he comes inside me with a long groan. Warmth floods me as he fills me, and I cling to him, feeling like I might fly off the edge of the earth if I let go. We stay like that, our panting the only sound except for the soft rain that’s still falling steadily outside.
Later, the rain has finally stopped, and we’re lying in my bed, listening to the silence and the occasional murmurs of our conversation. It’s so perfect, so real, being with him right now. It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before, and I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that whatever else happens, my future is with Jake.
“Did you get kicked off the team when they found out what happened?” I eventually think to ask. I’m amazed that with everything that’s happened, it never occurred to me to wonder about this before now.
“Nah,” he drawls. “They’re slapping my wrist, putting our second string QB in as a starter. But that’s only temporary.” He reaches up to stroke my hair. “I’m so sorry about your job, Rinn,” he says, kissing my head. “But I was thinking: you’ve got some leverage to use with Rose Fowler.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Well…” I can tell from his voice that he’s smiling devilishly. “We do have certain information about the true nature of Rose and Knute’s relationship, after all. You might be able to persuade her to reconsider dumping you as interim director if she knows you know.”
“Jake, I’m not going to blackmail Rose,” I say firmly. “And anyway, It’s okay. I mean, it’s not okay. But honestly? If Rose can treat me this way, after everything I’ve done for the foundation, then it’s pretty clear to me that it’s not the right place for me, anyway. I know I still have a job there, but I think it’s time I look at trying to find something else.”
“Well, then, if that’s the case,” he murmurs, “I’ve been thinking about something the last couple of days. Something that might work out kind of perfectly, if you’re up for it.”
“What’s that?” I shift in his arms and look at him.
“I was thinking,” he begins. “I want to start an organization. To help sick kids, but not exactly like Give A Wish.” He pauses for a second, then continues. “Kids who are fighting serious illnesses want to feel normal, right? To have not everything in their lives be about being sick. So, why not start a nonprofit that’s about giving these kids access to activities, like sports or games or outdoor things? So they don’t feel like their entire lives are about being in a hospital bed. Not a wish granting organization. More like something that lets them be part of a club, or a team. Something that gives them a place to go for fun, whenever they’re up for it. Something they can call theirs. With the kinds of friendships you build from teamwork and helping each other get better at somethin
g.”
I contemplate his words. “I’ve never heard about anything like that before,” I say slowly. “It could work, for sure, depending on how it was structured. But Jake, you don’t have time for something that big, especially during the season.”
“That’s why I’d hire you to run it,” he grins.
“But…” I stammer. “Jake, that’s crazy! You don’t have to make up a job for me just because you feel bad about me losing the director’s position at Give A Wish.”
“I’m not,” he protests. “I swear. When I started thinking about this, it was before I knew that Rose had was planning to shitcan you. But think about it. You’d be the perfect person to do this. And it’s the perfect time, as well. We’re both done with Give A Wish. We’re both looking for the next thing. So come on, Rinn.” A corner of his mouth lifts in that cocky half-smile he knows I can’t resist. “Say you’ll do this with me.”
I sit back and consider. He’s right in a lot of ways: this is kind of a perfect solution. The idea of starting a nonprofit from the ground up is scary, but it’s also exciting as hell. And there’s nothing like it that I can think of in the city.
“I’ll think about it,” I say, but he’s already grinning like crazy.
“I knew you couldn’t resist my charms,” he smirks, and I sigh and ball up my fist to hit him on the shoulder.
Because he’s absolutely right, and we both know it.
Epilogue
Jake
ONE YEAR LATER
Caitlynn’s funeral was a week after her death. Rinn and I went together. With Margo and Jeff’s approval, I put an autographed jersey in the casket when we went through the line to pay our respects. During the funeral, I held Rinn’s hand, squeezing it so hard sometimes that was afraid I’d hurt her, but she never let go.
We started work on the new nonprofit after the board of Give A Wish finished their search for a permanent director. It was Rinn’s idea to call it Caitlynn’s Kids. It’s taken us almost a year to get the foundation up and running as a bare-bones organization, but already Rinn’s gotten a huge response from parents in the city who want their kids to have a spot.
I was back in the starting lineup with the Rockets by mid-season, and ended up having my best year yet. I tell Rinn it’s because of her, and it’s true. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been in my damn life, and that’s all on her. Hell, even the media’s been running stories about how Jake Ryland is a changed man, and pointing to the influence of his fiancée, Marinda Blake, as a possible reason.
“It’s flattering that the media thinks I’m such a miracle worker,” Rinn says about it all. “But I know better. I know this is the man you always were. Down deep inside.”
It’s Friday night, and the end of a long and very important week for the foundation. Rinn’s been working really hard on a big media campaign to launch Caitlynn’s Kids, and next week is when the campaign goes live. So, to celebrate, I’m taking her out for a fancy dinner at Glasshouse, where we had our first tense lunch date a little over a year ago. Rinn ends up staying late at the office to finish up a few things, so she calls me and tells me she’ll meet me at the restaurant.
I get there a few minutes early. I’ve made sure to reserve the same table we had before, and when the waiter comes up, I him to bring a bottle of champagne. He comes back with the bottle and a bucket of ice, and he’s just left when Rinn walks into the restaurant. She’s looking more beautiful than I can ever remember seeing her. But I pretty much think that every time Rinn walks in.
“Hey, you,” she says as she comes toward the table, flashing me that special smile she reserves just for me.
I stand and pull her into my arms. “Hey yourself,” I growl against her throat. I’m already half-hard just from watching her saunter up to me.
“Jake, there are people around,” she pretends to protest, but she’s grinning wickedly. “You behave yourself, now.”
“Sweetheart, no court in the country would convict me if I bent you over right now and had my way with you.” I let go of her, though, very reluctantly, and pull her chair out for her to sit.
“You got us champagne,” she notices as I go over to my side and take my seat. It’s weird, though — she doesn’t look all that happy about it. In fact, she looks a little… dismayed.
“Is there a problem?” I cock my head. “I thought you liked champagne.”
“I do,” she replies, biting her lip. “It’s just…”
“What?”
“Well…” she begins. “I, um, have something for you.” She reaches into her oversized bag. “Close your eyes.”
“Seriously?” I retort, but I do what she says. When she tells me to open them, there’s something sitting on my plate, on top of the folded napkin.
It’s a tiny football.
It takes me a second to figure out why it’s there.
“Holy shit,” I whisper, and look up at her. “Really?”
She nods. “Really.”
“Holy shit,” I say again.
Rinn snorts. “I know. That’s what I said, too.”
“How long?”
“About six weeks, I think.” Her eyes are shining. “I haven’t been to the doctor yet. But I peed on like a dozen sticks, and they all said the same thing.”
“Gross. And wow.” I lean forward and take her hand in mine. “Holy hell, we’re going to be parents.” All of a sudden, I’m grinning so wide I think my face is going to split.
“I know,” she laughs. “Jake Ryland’s going to be a family man. The papers are going to love you even more.”
I can’t believe it. I’m going to be a father. Me.
I hope to hell I’m up to the task. But even if I’m not, I know Rinn’s going to be a fantastic mom. This baby is going to be one lucky kid.
“She’s going to look just like you, Rinn.” I swallow the lump that’s rising in my throat. “I can feel it.”
“What if it’s a boy?” she teases me. “Don’t you want a little future football star?”
“Hey, girls can play football,” I protest. “Don’t be sexist.”
But the truth is, I really do hope we have a little girl first. One with Rinn’s eyes, and her laugh. Even though I know that as soon as she’s born, she’ll have me wrapped around her little finger.
Just like her mother does.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
THE END
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As a special treat, I’ve included a bonus story for you, called THROTTLE.
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Also, after THROTTLE, I’ve included the first to chapters of the NEXT book in the Springville Rockets series, SNAP COUNT, which will come out in December 2016!
Bonus Story: THROTTLE
A Stepbrother Romance
Chapter 1
Hadley
Oh, how I hate that little red oil can.
You know the one. That angry red light on your dashboard that always appears at the absolute worst times. The one that reminds you that your piece of crap car burns oil like an old drunk sucks cheap booze.
Sighing, I pulled over to the side of the dusty highway. I threw the car in park, and shut off the engine with an angry turn of the key. For probably the millionth time, I wished I had enough money to afford more of a vehicle than this unreliable beater. But then, for the millionth time, I reminded myself that I was lucky to even have wheels that worked, even if sporadically. Opening the door, I flipped on the hazard lights, even though the likelihood of anyone passing me in this isolated patch of desert was pretty damn slim.
I popped the hood and the trunk and hoisted myself out of the car.
After lifting and securing the hood, I peered inside and grabbed hold of the dipstick to check the oil level, even though I already knew what I would see. Sure enough: dry as a bone, with only the tip slightly wet with the dark substance. I swore softly. Usually I didn’t let it get that low. I guessed that the long distance drive in this heat had upped my already gluttonous girl’s thirst for the stuff. Luckily, always I carried a case of 10w30 in my trunk for just such an occasion.
I was rummaging around in the back, looking for a quart I hadn’t used yet, when my ear caught the low rumble of an engine approaching from a distance. From the sound of it, it was a late model Harley. Even though it had been a while since I’d been around Hogs much, the low lub-dub heartbeat sound was unmistakable. I stood up and looked behind me, watching as the bike approached, then slowed and stopped just behind my car. Mild irritation laced with a small spike of fear coursed through my veins. I was suddenly very aware that I was a woman alone in the middle of nowhere. I had pepper spray in my purse, but that wasn’t going to help me now unless I dove inside and locked the door.
A large, dark figure in a leather vest and reflective aviator sunglasses cut the bike’s engine and stood. He flung a leg over the back, shrugged off the vest and placed it on the seat. He strode toward me on long legs that seemed to eat up the distance between us.
“Need help?” He asked the question in a deep, rumbling baritone, his voice the echo of his bike.
It was a little like standing next to a mountain, being this close to him. As I gazed up at him from my 5’4” height, I mused dazedly that he must be almost a foot taller than me. Broad, muscled shoulders rippled under a black T-shirt that stretched taut over his frame. Tattoos swirled up and down his arms, pulsing as his muscles shifted. Worn jeans hung low on his narrow hips, and though they were not tight, I could still detect a very healthy and... ahem, robust... package concealed there.
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