by Lili Valente
I dig my nails into Tanner’s shoulders and ravage his mouth with mine until my breath is coming fast and my blood is pounding in my ears and every inch of my skin is screaming to get closer, closer, until that thick, delicious cock is buried between my legs. I want to be fucked hard and fast and deep, to be taken with a ferocity that assures me I’m going to get what I need, what I’ve been deprived of, what I’m so desperate for that when Tanner tries to kiss his way south toward my breasts and regions beyond, I grab a handful of his hair and hold on tight.
“Fuck me first.” I catch the top of his shorts with my toes and shove them clumsily down his strong thighs. “Fuck me first. Other stuff later.”
“Are you always this bossy in bed?” he asks, even as he helpfully assists in disposing of his shorts, eliminating the barrier between his cock and my fingers.
I reach down, capturing the burning length in my hand and stroking him up and down, drawing a groan from low in his throat. “Not always, but when I am it’s because I’m desperate and not to be trifled with. I need you, Tanner. Inside me. Right now. Right fucking now.”
“Wait.” His breath rushes over my lips as I stroke him again, harder this time, summoning another hungry sound from his lips.
“No waiting. No more waiting.” I fit the head of his cock to where I’m wet, aching, pulsing with a need that’s dizzying in its intensity.
I’m beyond thinking rationally, beyond thinking about anything except getting Tanner buried inside me ASA-fucking-P and filling the ravenous emptiness gnawing away at my core.
I don’t hear the doorbell ring. I don’t hear anyone call out.
I only become aware that something isn’t right when Tanner pins my arms forcefully to the mattress above me and whisper-shouts, “Your brother! Coming up the stairs! Right now! You have to get dressed.”
And then he’s gone, rolling off of me so fast the rush of cool air makes me flinch.
I sit up, determined to get my hands on Tanner and pull him back on top of me, when I hear footsteps on the stairs and a familiar voice saying, “Diana? Are you up here? I got your text.”
My text?
I have no idea what he’s talking about. But I know Brendan will be traumatized if he walks in on me naked, and that trauma will swiftly transform into purple-faced rage if he sees Tanner scrambling into his clothes at the foot of my bed. Yes, Brendan has always respected my ability to choose my own sexual adventures, but he’s also my brother, a big fan of rules, and not one to find it cute that his teammate is banging his sister a day after we moved in together.
“Just a second!” I call out. “Be right down.”
“I’m already up here,” Brendan says from right outside my fucking door. “Can I come in?”
“No!” I shout as Tanner drops to the floor in a push-up position, hiding behind the bed. “No, you can’t! I’m naked! I was napping naked and I just woke up.”
“All right, relax,” he says, his voice already moving away from the door. “I’ll meet you downstairs. Though I’m not sure that pig likes me, either. She tried to trip me on the way up the stairs.”
“Good girl, Wanda,” Tanner whispers, sending an unexpected giggle bubbling up my throat.
I smash a fist to my lips, refusing to incriminate myself. After a beat, I regain control and call, “Take a seat on the porch outside. She can’t get to you there, and I’ll be out in just a sec.”
I wait until my brother’s footsteps retreat and the front door slams shut before turning back to Tanner, who is now lying on the floor wearing nothing but his shorts and a ravenous expression. He looks like he wants to push me back onto the bed and fuck me until I scream, and even though I want that, too—God, how much do I want that, let me count the ways—Brendan’s arrival on the scene came in the nick of time.
“We can’t do this.” I grope for clothes in my newly organized drawers, while keeping one eye on Tanner, needing to get him on board the self-control train. “Seriously. If we do this, you’re going to be in the shit house with your team, and I’m going to be in the shit house with myself. And then we’ll both be in the shit house, and all for nothing because this is never going to work.”
“It felt like it was working just fine,” he says, standing to watch the show as I struggle into a tank top and try not to trip myself stepping into my panties. “It felt like something you needed. Or did I imagine the part where you were begging me to fuck you?”
I shake my head as my entire face flushes hot. “That wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t ended up unexpectedly naked in your presence, and that won’t happen again.” I find shorts and pull them on as fast as I can. “Let’s consider this a close brush with disaster, forget it ever happened, and move on as friends.”
His eyebrows do a slow-motion crawl up his forehead. “Forget that I was about two seconds away from being inside you?”
“It sounds hard now, but—”
“It is hard now. Hard and ready to get you off as soon as you tell your brother to go home and get your ass back in that bed.”
Damn, he’s good with the dirty talk, too. Good and dirty and ready to deliver. The strained front of his shorts leaves no doubt about that.
And woah, but do I want what he’s offering. I want to jump back into bed with him and fuck him until I forget my own name. Until I forget my ugly history and my bad taste in men and my worse judgment in knowing when to hold ’em and when to fold ’em.
But instead I back toward the door, aiming a firm finger at Tanner’s beautiful bare chest. “We can’t. This was a mistake.”
“It didn’t—”
“Blame your pig because it’s all her fault,” I cut in. I can’t let him talk anymore. I’m weak and vulnerable to persuasion, which means I need to get out of this house. “I’m going to get ice cream with Brendan. Do you want me to bring you something? A pint of friendly-flavored peace offering, perhaps?”
“No.” His gaze bores into mine with enough heat to make my fresh panties damp between the legs. “Thank you.”
“O-okay,” I stammer, confused. His lips are saying the appropriate things, but the look in his eyes is saying “I’m going to pin you against the wall and fuck you until your bones turn to jelly.”
I guess we’ll have to call that good enough.
“See you later, then.” The words emerge in a breathless rush as I turn, fleeing down the stairs.
I’m seconds from the bottom, about to make my break for freedom, when Wanda appears out of nowhere, positioning her chubby body at the base of the stairs. She’s on another mission of evil, but I’m prepared for her this time.
Jaw clenched, I leap into the air, doing a split leap off the third step and sailing over the pig to land safely on the other side.
“Ha! Take that, pig!” I shout as I dash across the room, pursued by the pitter-patter of little hooves. But I’m too fast for her. Before Wanda can catch up with any bitable part of me, I’m out the door, scampering down the porch steps to where Brendan waits on the walk, tapping something into his phone.
“Let’s hit it,” I pant, grabbing his arm and towing him toward the SUV.
“Where are we going?” he asks, abandoning his text message.
“Ice cream. I could really use an ice cream right now, how about you?”
Or something else cold enough to cool me the hell off, I add silently.
“I could go for ice cream.” Brendan pauses by the passenger’s side door, glancing down. “But don’t you want to get some shoes on first?”
“Nah, barefoot is good.” I haul the door open, hop into the car, and reach for my seatbelt. “We can go to the drive-in near your place. I won’t even have to get out.”
“All right.” He holds up his phone as he walks around to the driver’s side. “You mind if I text Laura and Chloe, see if they want to join us?”
I shake my head, casting a sneaky glance toward the door, an irrational part of me certain I won’t be safe from my own weakness until Brendan and I are away
from this house and all the forbidden things that nearly happened here. That would have happened if my brother were the kind of person who worried about dropping by unannounced.
“Yeah, invite them,” I say as Brendan slides into the SUV. “I’ll bitch about my interview on the way over. I can’t promise to keep my language child-friendly if I wait until we’ve ordered to talk.”
“I don’t blame you.” Brendan’s expression grows stormy. “Those women sounded like real pieces of work.”
“Bitches is a good word,” I say. “Or the c-word.”
“Snot goblin is Chloe’s favorite new insult,” Brendan says as he texts Laura, using ice cream emojis because love has made him thirty-percent cheesier than he was before. “Apparently you can get away with saying snot in the first grade, but not boogers.”
I tsk disapprovingly. “Really? What is the world coming to, that a child can’t call a booger by its rightful name? What the heck is she supposed to call it?”
“I don’t know.” He starts the engine and glances over his shoulder. “You’ll have to ask her.”
“I will.” I begin to breathe easier as Brendan clears the driveway and pulls away from the house. “She always has good answers to questions like that.”
“She does.” Brendan smiles and reaches out to pat my knee. “And don’t worry about the snot goblin bitches. You’re going to find a job you love and people you love working for. You’re too talented to be unemployed for more than a month or two. And you’re too good a person to waste your time with shallow losers with fucked up priorities.”
“Thanks, big brother,” I say softly, feeling lucky to have him, and lucky that this is my second pep talk in less than an hour.
In addition to making me forget my misery with kisses and his epic chest, Tanner said all the right things. Even more importantly, he seemed to mean every kind, generous word.
I wince as I remember the other business I left unfinished at my new abode. “Fuck!”
“What?” Brendan asks, dividing his attention between me and the road.
“Can I use your phone? I left mine at home, and I need to warn Tanner about something.”
Brendan scowls, but nods. “Sure. You mind telling me what?”
“Just roomie stuff,” I say vaguely as I snatch Brendan’s phone from the cup holder between us and text: Don’t go in your bedroom! I’ll come get rid of the creepy Things that Shall Not Be Named as soon as I get home. I won’t be more than an hour or so. Sorry again. I promise not to step over the line with pranks or anything else from here on out. This is Diana, by the way. I borrowed Brendan’s phone.
I hit send and then immediately delete the message from Brendan and Tanner’s chat history, which seems mostly to include dates and times for scrimmages and meeting up for beers. Though there is something further up—Tanner offering sincere, heartfelt congratulations on Brendan’s engagement—that hints at a deeper than casual relationship.
And at Tanner being more of a romantic than I suspected…
“Are you looking through my texts?” Brendan asks.
“Why?” I scroll faster, looking for more evidence of this Not Afraid to Be Sweet Even with his Guy Friends Tanner. “Are you and Nowicki having some kind of secret bromance you’re afraid I might find out about?”
“No. I just don’t like having nosy sister types poking around in my private messages. Shut it down.”
Before I can protest that I’m not poking in his business—I’m just curious about my new roommate and want to nose around in his business—Tanner texts back—Gotcha. No worries. I’m going to head to the gym, anyway.
Frowning, I text back—Didn’t you just get back from scrimmage and a bike ride?
After a moment, he replies—I suddenly find myself with the need to let off some steam. Though if you would rather I stay here until you get back, I’m happy to wait right where I am. Right where you left me…
No, that’s fine, I tap out quickly, pulse spiking as the drive-in comes into view. Go let off steam, and we’ll get back on the right track tomorrow. Oh, and I’m deleting these texts right now. You should do the same. Talk later.
I hit send and then delete the chat history, tossing the phone back into the cup holder as Brendan pulls into the stall at the end of the drive-in’s second row of spaces. Before he can cut the engine, another text pops through, but thankfully it’s just Laura and Chloe, saying they’re biking over to meet us in a few minutes.
Brendan and I order sparkling raspberry-flavored water—another drive-in specialty—and talk job interview hell for a few minutes, waiting to order our ice cream until the rest of our group arrives. But I’m no longer angry or hurt enough to rant for more than a few minutes, and the conversation soon turns to wedding plans and honeymoon plans and all the other happy things my brother has on his mind.
And for the first time in a long while, the fact that he’s wearing love-colored glasses doesn’t bother me. I don’t have one bitter or cynical thought. That, as much as anything else that’s happened this afternoon, assures me that I made the right decision running from Tanner.
Letting go of cynicism is fine, but starting to think love-colored glasses are acceptable accessories is another. My brother can afford to be besotted—he’s got excellent taste in women, and Laura is a total keeper—but I am a different creature, one that should keep her eyes open, uncovered, and on the lookout for danger.
Especially the kind of danger that comes calling in beautiful, green-eyed, chisel-chested packages.
Chapter Nine
From the texts of Tanner Nowicki
and Alexei Petrov
*
Petrov: Hey, my housecleaner is here. Should I have her put fresh sheets on the bed in the pool house before she leaves?
*
Nowicki: No thanks, man. I appreciate the offer, but I have to stay here and take care of Wanda. She’s got some aggression issues I need to get under control before they get any worse.
*
Petrov: I have a good method for dealing with pig aggression…
*
Nowicki: Don’t even start. This pig is a friend, not food.
*
Petrov: Do your best to remember the other female in your house is just a friend, too. Though I confess I don’t have much hope for you.
*
Nowicki: Oh yeah, why’s that?
*
Petrov: The titanium plate on my collarbone is aching.
It knows when there’s trouble on the horizon.
*
Nowicki: That’s kind of superstitious, don’t you think?
*
Petrov: I’m Russian. We understand the importance of omens. Your destiny is only partially under your control, rookie. That’s why it’s important to make wise choices and to remove temptation from your path whenever possible.
Are you sure you don’t want to come crash at the pool house?
I’ll let you bring your pig if you need something to snuggle with at night.
*
Nowicki: That’s very generous.
*
Petrov: Yeah, well, you play a solid two-way game.
I’d like you to stick around for a while, and that’s more likely to happen if the team captain isn’t out for your blood.
*
Nowicki: Understood. I’ve got this under control. No worries.
*
Petrov: Right, and like my grandmother says—your elbow seems close to your mouth, but you can’t bite it.
*
Nowicki: What?
*
Petrov: Some things seem easy when they are, in fact, impossible.
*
Nowicki: Thanks for the pep talk.
*
Petrov: Any time. And I’ll have Georgina change those sheets, just in case.
Chapter Ten
Diana
Come the weekend, I’m starting to feel semi-normal again, figuring it’s okay to stop rushing straight to my room as soon as
I get home (or as soon as I hear Tanner’s car in the drive) to avoid ripping my roomie’s clothes off with my teeth, when Tanner texts from the backyard.
Hey. Can you take a break and come down to the pool for a few minutes? I wanted to try one of those pig discipline techniques I’ve been reading about.
Frowning first at my phone, then at the closed curtains blocking my view of the pool and the man out there in a chest-revealing swimsuit, I text back, I’m in the middle of color correcting a bunch of wedding photos I need to get back to my friend by tomorrow morning. Rain check until later?
“Preferably at a time when you’re wearing a shirt,” I mutter, tossing the phone back onto my desk and squinting at the tiny photos of Pepto-Bismol-pink bridesmaids I’m batch editing in an attempt to correct the bride’s poor taste in wedding party attire. The color is truly horrendous, and the puffed sleeves on the dresses only add insult to injury.
God, these poor women…
I’m considering adding a filter to the entire shoot and hoping I can find one that will compliment the skin tones of the many ethnicities represented in the bridal party, when my phone dings again—
I’m not sure conditions will be optimal later. Just pop down for a second? It shouldn’t take long, and I’ll make you a latte after, as a reward for helping with pig training.
A latte. Damn, that sounds good.
The ghosting-while-Tanner-is-home policy has led to a marked drop in caffeine consumption, since the coffee machine lives in the kitchen and I’ve been hiding out upstairs. Surely I’ll be able to resist the siren’s call of my roommate’s lickable chest if I focus on the equally tempting lure of caffeine waiting for me as soon as I’ve completed my pig wrangling duties.
A latte is every bit as delicious as an eight-pack belonging to an excessively fit man who has made it clear he wants nothing more in life than to fuck me until I come my brains out.
Right?
“You’re an idiot. Don’t go down there,” I mutter, even as I put my computer screen to sleep and text Tanner a quick: be right down.