SPIKED (A Sports Romance)

by Harper James

  Or maybe it was the intensity of his gaze.

  I stepped away from the window, unzipping my skirt and dropping it to the floor.

  And then he was walking towards me. His slacks hung perfectly on his hips. As he got closer, he began loosening his tie.

  He stared at me for a long moment, then slowly unbuttoned his cufflinks and set them down on my desk nearby.

  We didn’t speak. Not as he traced a thumb across my jaw, his own jaw hardening as he clenched his teeth.

  We didn’t speak as he slid a hand over my bra strap, sliding it down my shoulders.

  And I barely breathed as he leaned forward, his lips crashing into mine as his hands curled around my back, yanking me against him.

  He was hard already, and I could feel his pulse against my fingers as I wrapped my hands around the back of his neck, wanting him closer. He backed me up until I sat down hard on my bed with a loud creak from the worn springs.

  I set my hands on the mattress, leaning back to allow him access to my breasts as he unsnapped my bra and it tumbled to the floor.

  He didn’t hesitate to lean down, sucking on my breast. But this time, he wasn’t gentle, wasn’t slow. I gasped as he bit down, hard enough I was sure it would leave a mark, something to remember him by when I was alone in Dallas.

  There was something more aggressive about him today, power and hunger emanating off him in waves.

  Or maybe it was simply that we’d gone down this path before, that he was confident I wanted this in the same way he did.

  He slid me forward, until I was barely perched on the edge of the bed, and let me fall back, so that my elbows were now on the bed, and my legs parted for him. He climbed onto me and pushed against me, grinding the hard line of his cock against my damp underwear.

  He pulled on my hair, forcing my head back so that he could kiss against my throat, his breath coming in heavy, deep groans.

  “Shhhh…” I said, putting my fingers up to his parted lips.

  My own breathing turned jagged as I squirmed against him. He was driving me insane, pushing me toward the edge and I still had my underwear on, my breasts exposed.

  And yet he was still dressed, his tie hanging loosely around his neck, his slacks concealing the thing I wanted most.

  I reached for his belt, unbuckling it with greedy hands. But he reached down and stopped me. “I want to taste you,” he said softly, kneeling in front of the bed now.

  I felt exposed, wishing the lights were off as I sat there, gasping as he pressed his mouth against my clit. Even though the thin satin underwear, his mouth was hot. I gripped the bed harder, raking in a jagged breath of air.

  He spread his fingers across my hips, slipping his fingers into the elastic edge of my panties. In one motion, he slid them down my hips, discarding them on the floor.

  And now I was naked, perched the edge of the mattress and exposed, while this man, this agonizingly attractive man, was still in his button down and tailored slacks, only his muscular forearms exposed.

  I ignored the urge to cover up as he kneeled again, gripping my thighs with his hands and nudging my legs apart. He grabbed my calves, draping them over his shoulder as he leaned in.

  And then his lips and his tongue were on me, hot and wet. He circled my clit as a finger slid across my slit, teasing me. Dipping in and out, just a frustratingly small tip of his finger.

  But I wanted more. I ached for him, wanted to beg him to plunge inside me and take me, fill me up in the way only he could. Instead he was tauntingly slow, deliberate. His hands held my legs apart as his tongue darted in and out, circling and circling and driving me toward the edge.

  I buried my hands in his hair, panting now. Pleasure spiraled through me, building and growing. I wanted to cry out but managed to hold it in, as the tingles in my body grew, until I couldn’t take it anymore. And then the intense climax hit, my entire body throbbing with pleasure. He knew I was coming but he didn’t stop, his tongue swirling as the pulsing ebbed, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

  He stood and undressed, unzipping his pants and unbuttoning his shirt.

  Moments later, his thick, hard cock was unleashed and he was lowering himself onto the bed and onto my waiting body. Before I knew it, he was sliding between my legs and entering me.

  Fucking me the way I’d wanted.

  Fucking me the way I needed. This is what I would remember.

  This is what I would take with me when I was away from him. The pain of the leaving was already in my stomach, deep inside, merging with the pleasure he was giving me.

  It was an ache deeper than I could name.

  “You feel so good,” he whispered into my ear, biting and nipping at my tender flesh as he fucked me.

  I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, so that my bare breasts pushed against his hard chest.

  I wrapped my legs around him as his thrusts grew rougher, harder.

  And then he shoved one last time, hard, and slowed, his cock throbbing inside me. I groaned, relishing the feel of it.

  He stilled, his chest heaving, my arms still around his shoulders. He kissed my neck, and then straightened, and I had to reluctantly release him.

  “Can you stay for just a little while?” I asked, my voice so soft that only he could hear me.

  Landon nodded. He crossed to the other side of the room, turned off the light and then came back to the bed.

  He crawled into bed beside me, holding me close, as I turned and let him spoon me.

  I wanted to remember what this felt like. The heat of him. The feel of his strength, his scent, the knowing that we’d been as close as two people could be.

  I mentally recorded every emotion, every sound, every sensation that went through my body.

  Soon, the only thing I’d have left of Landon would be memories.

  He left before dawn, kissing me and telling me that he’d call me later.

  I almost broke and told him the truth, but then my resolve strengthened again. There would be no breaking down and admitting the truth. I wouldn’t spare him, just as he hadn’t seen fit to spare me the pain and confusion of the last three years spent wondering why he’d left so suddenly.

  I still had no answers.

  Now it would be his turn to wonder.

  I lay in bed, unable to fall back asleep, my thoughts racing. Just before dawn, I got in the shower and then changed into my traveling outfit—light capris and a sweater.

  My flight wasn’t until early afternoon, giving me plenty of time to pack my stuff before I had to go.

  My suitcase was stored in the closet under the stairs, so I went down and tugged on the string attached to the light and dug it out. It was worn, a black that looked more like grey.

  I dragged it toward the kitchen, colliding with the chairs, knocking one to the ground. I froze, worried that I’d woken my father and my brother. Dad didn’t need to be up for another hour or so, and Matt…well, Matt liked to sleep late even on his best days.

  But no one stirred, so I picked up the chair and scooped up my brother’s jacket that had fallen to the floor.

  I was draping it over the back of the chair when a piece of paper scratched against my hand.

  Sliding it out of his pocket, I saw Franciscan Medical Center printed across the top. My throat went dry. I never wanted to see those three words again, because that’s where my mother went… and didn’t come home again. I sighed and sat down. If her death hadn’t been enough to break us, the bills nearly did. The last thing we needed was yet another.

  I slipped my thumb under the flap, sliding out the tri-folded paper. But as I flipped it open, I knew immediately it wasn’t a bill. The letterhead was an unfamiliar name, a Dr. Wallace.

  My heart climbed into my throat as I saw my brother’s name. And then it stopped completely when I saw what the letter was about.

  It was a diagnosis.

  Lymphoma.

  My brother had cancer.

  The End of Book 1

  II

/>   Filthy Lust

  6

  The paper fluttered to the ground, and I sank to the floor, pulling my knees up close and hugging them to my chest.

  Cancer.

  Images barreled through my mind. Me sobbing until my eyes felt like sandpaper. My mom, hooked up to way too many tubes and lines, until she looked more machine than human.

  And when it was all over, my dad, holing up in his room and hardly coming out for days. The days had floated by, a long stream of nothingness as we all tried to figure out what shape to take when there was a giant hole in the middle of our lives.

  Oh god, my brother. How long had he known he was sick?

  I leaned over, grabbing the paper where it had fallen, face down on the linoleum. I flipped it over.

  The date was a month old. He’d been carrying this thing around in his pocket all that time? He’d been smiling at me and acting like nothing was wrong?

  A lump grew in my throat as tears shimmered in my eyes. How could he look me in the eye and not tell me?

  And how could our family survive this a second time? It had almost torn us apart when Mom got sick. The fear and uncertainty was enough…no matter how hard we tried, the cracks started to show. And then losing the fight… burying my mother…

  My father had to be in the dark too. He’d just been smiling and excited about a promotion—he wouldn’t have acted that way if he knew that Matt was sick.

  Pain, jagged, knifed its way through me. My brother didn’t tell us because he didn’t want it to break us all over again. He was living with this alone to spare us. It made me love him and hate him in the same breath. He’d been telling us his job was keeping him busy, but it wasn’t that at all.

  It was cancer treatment. Jesus.

  A sob wrenched free and I scrambled to my feet. The letter was still gripped in my hand, so I smoothed it out, then carefully folded it and slid it back into the envelope, hoping my tears hadn’t stained the paper. Then I slipped it gently back into his coat pocket.

  I raked in a shaky breath of air, trying to slow my heart, trying to steady my breathing. I dug my phone out, dialing Annie’s number.

  “Pick up pick up pick up,” I said, panic swelling in my chest. What was I supposed to do? My internship started tomorrow. I had a plane to catch in four hours.

  “ARGH,” I groaned, when her voicemail picked up.

  I paced the kitchen, tears trailing down my cheek, unable to calm myself down. What was the right thing to do now? Tell my dad? Confront my brother?

  The letter in my brother’s coat pocket practically screamed at me, like some telltale heart.

  Impulsively, I did something totally instinctive. It just felt right.

  I dialed Landon’s number, my heart in my throat as it rang four times, then went to voicemail.

  I switched windows, to the web browser. It took three tries to find the number online for Prestige Sports medicine, but only one ring for a perky receptionist to pick up.

  “Landon Hill, please,” I said, as smoothly as I could with the tears clogging my throat.

  “May I ask who’s calling?” She was too chipper. Her world wasn’t crumbling.

  “Taryn. Just tell him Taryn.”

  My voice cracked and I could sense her hesitation, like maybe I was some crazy person. But then I was put on hold. Soothing music played as a crisp voice began to tell me about the award-winning programs founded by Prestige.

  “Taryn?” Landon answered.

  “Landon.” My voice broke on that one word, and a sob wrenched free.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s my brother,” I gasped out. “I need…” I sniffled. “I need…”

  “Meet me at my house in ten minutes,” he said.

  Relief came swiftly. “Thank you.”

  “And Taryn?”

  “Yes?”

  “Drive safe.”

  And then the line went dead.

  I dragged myself off the floor, wiping my nose with the back of my hand. I couldn’t even bring myself to care about the fact that I would arrive at Landon’s house a total mess.

  My life was a total mess. What if Matty died? What if this all went the same way as last time, and he was gone, and it was just my dad and me? My mom’s passing had nearly ruined my father. This would finish the job.

  I grabbed my purse and keys, rushing out the door as sobs threatened to overtake me. Maybe my brother and I weren’t as close as we were as kids, but I still loved him. I’d followed him everywhere, trailing after him to the arcades, to the ball fields, and down the halls at school. And he put up with it. He looked out for me.

  I climbed into the car and buckled up, then sat there in silence for a moment, raking in shaky breaths and trying to blink away the tears. I could do this. I could hold it together long enough to get to Landon’s so he could help me figure out what the hell I was supposed to do with this news.

  Landon would know what to do. He always did. When we were younger, he was the one who knew how to handle a car accident we witnessed. How to check for injuries, stabilize a broken arm, and call the authorities all at once. He would do that here… he would perform a triage so I could calm the hell down and figure out a plan.

  I finally put the car in drive and set out for Landon’s, the radio off as I stared ahead, in a zombie-like trance. I wasn’t even sure how I made it there, except by autopilot. The trees and the road streamed by, and then I was pulling into the stamped-concrete driveway, stopping in front of one of the big stained-wood garage doors. My car probably looked like it should be towed away, sitting in his too-fancy driveway.

  I’d beaten him there, so I walked up to the porch and thunked down, hard, on the steps, pulling my knees up to my chest and resting my forehead on my knees. The tears came in full then, as if a dam had broken lose, and I must’ve been a sad sight, sobbing into my jeans, wracked with sobs.

  I didn’t hear his car pull up, but a door slammed and then he was puling me into his lap, wrapping his arms around me.

  It was the most comforting thing in the world, to be wrapped up by him, held and rocked as I cried, as he rubbed my back and whispered shhhh, under his breath. He rested his lips against my temple, his breath warm against my skin.

  I calmed slowly, leaning into him, my panicked heart slowing.

  “I can’t breathe,” I said finally, gasping out a jagged breath.

  “Come inside,” he said, pulling us up to our feet. But he didn’t let go of me, held me against him as if he was afraid I’d collapse if he let go.

  And maybe I would.

  He led me to the kitchen, handing me a tissue box. I blew my nose but it didn’t seem to matter. I was falling apart, unraveling. And he could see that. But he didn’t push. Didn’t ask what had turned me into this mess.

  Eventually, I could breathe again.

  “It’s my brother.”

  His eyes darkened, and he reached over, resting a hand over mine. “Is he okay? Did something happen this morning?”

  “He has cancer,” I said, the words coming out on a shaky breath.

  Landon didn’t flinch. Didn’t react at all.

  I yanked my hand away. “You knew?”

  He remained stoic, nodding. “Yes. I knew.”

  “He told you and not me? How long have you known?”

  “Awhile. It’s why I came back.”

  “You told me you came back for me,” I said. “Not that I believed you. You had your center.”

  “I opened the center because I knew it was the right place for the next expansion. But I never planned on making it my home base. I hired a manager to run the day-to-day operations. But then things changed.”

  I hated the way my heart twisted.

  I hadn’t truly believed him when he said I came back for you. But until that moment, I hadn’t realized just how much I wanted to believe him.

  He hadn’t spent his last few years thinking of me the way I’d been thinking of him. He would return to this town for his center,
for his best friend. But not for me.

  I tried not to think of the martini bar, of the way his colleague had smirked and joked about finding us in the closet, like Landon dragged girls into dark places all the time.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.

  He scrubbed his hand across his jawline, where stubble lined his chin. “It wasn’t my secret to tell.”

  “Why didn’t he tell me?”

  “Because he knew what it would do to you,” Landon said. “You’ve lived this before. He wanted to spare you. He was hoping to get through treatment, get to a place where it was in remission. And then tell you, when it was in the rear view mirror. When you wouldn’t react…”

  “Like this?” I said, gesturing to my face. I was sure my eyes were bloodshot and my nose would be red. Plus, my skin always got blotchy when I cried.

  He nodded.

  “What am I supposed to do?” I despaired, running a hand through my hair. I wanted to scream.

  “Let him tell you on his own terms.”

  An ugly bark of bitter laughter escaped. “I’m supposed to pretend I don’t know? I can’t act normal around him after this.”

  “He’s grappling with a lot right now,” Landon said, gently. “He didn’t tell you because it would only add guilt.”

  “I can’t believe he wanted to go through this alone.”

  “He’s not going through it alone,” Landon said.

  His voice was surprisingly gruff. I glanced up, annoyance seeping in. I should be there for him, not just Landon. “What, like you’re some big emotional support system?”

  “I’m not a cold bastard, if that’s what you’re implying. I’ve gone to every doctor’s appointment with him.”

  It felt like the rug was pulled out from under me. I couldn’t picture him sitting in a doctor’s office, acting as emotional support. I knew they’d been best friends for years, but I’d assumed they’d drifted apart since he’d been gone. But this… this was something else.

  He smirked. “You actually do think me a cold bastard, don’t you?”