Interception (Distraction #3)

by Angela McPherson

  "Hey, Mom," I answered, smiling, my composure intact. He had the capacity to turn up my body temperature with the slightest of touches. But Tristan's head was big enough, no reason to give him more ammunition.

  Mom's voice cut through my current line of thoughts. I repressed a groan when she jumped straight to the one topic she'd not shut up about since Tristan and I decided to pull our heads from our asses and work out our issues. "Have you two set a date for the wedding yet?"

  I caught Tristan's smirk and glared. Jerk, you set me up, I mouthed. He responded with a one-shouldered shrug before taking the TV off mute and focusing on the game.

  "Ah, Mom, Tristan and I aren't there yet."

  She sighed. "Well, you're not getting any younger." Amazing the difference between last Christmas when she chewed out Tristan for sneaking from my bedroom window, to now as she pushed wedding dates on me. Besides, Tristan hadn't proposed, or not officially anyway.

  "I'm aware, thanks. I'd like to plan my upcoming college graduation before jumping into a wedding." I laughed, loving our renewed relationship.

  "I suppose," she offered, though sounding a bit defeated.

  "Meet anyone special?" I kept my tone upbeat, hoping to derail her pre-marital fantasies.

  Mom stumbled over her words before landing on, "No, I'm busy." Then she changed the entire subject. "Be here before noon Saturday. I'd like to introduce you to a few newcomers at the meeting."

  "Okay, it's a plan." I chewed on my bottom lip, holding in the rush of upset coming over me.

  "Elle, honey?"

  "Yeah?"

  "It's okay to miss Heather and to be sad. And to move on."

  I closed my eyes for a second, focusing on the face I never wanted to forget–the green eyes once filled with so much life and love. You couldn't help but shine while standing next to her. The little details, the good ones, helped me keep the bad memories at bay. "I know, Mom."

  Silence ensued for a few beats before Mom picked up the conversation again. "Well, I'll see you in a few days, then."

  "Yup."

  "Love you."

  "Love you, too, Mom." I dropped the phone on the coffee table and stepped back, pressing a hand on my chest as an ache spread through it.

  Tristan reached out his arm, immediately pulling me next to him. "You okay?"

  I nodded, nuzzling into his side, and tucked my feet under a pillow. Tristan kissed the top of my head. I allowed my mind to drift back to the best and worst day of my life. When my family was whole, before we lost her.

  Last Christmas, my sister, Heather, found her way home. Aside from Dad's absence, for the first time in years, Heather, Mom, and I were a family again. The only other person I wanted to share Heather's homecoming with was Tristan–and he was ecstatic.

  We were all overfilled with happiness. Until we weren't.

  My sister did what she'd done best; she escaped to addiction and lost to heroin.

  Losing someone you love is brutal, but wondering if you could've saved them is a kind of hell that brands your heart forever. In the beginning, I blamed Tristan and Mom, the two people I wanted comfort from most–and I pushed them away.

  Coming to terms with the self-imposed revulsion sucked. Counseling helped me work through the guilt and resentment I held onto, particularly between Mom and me.

  Mom and I still didn't agree on certain things, but we'd learned to let petty issues go, aside from forgiving Dad. Those emotions were too raw, even now, to allow him access into my life. His eventual silence nailed down my decision to keep him out of my life, at least for now.

  As for Tristan and me, lots of bumps and damn near crashes paved our history. Amazing how much life had changed in a year. We'd been best friends since we were kids, but the separation, the loss of him, due to my inability to forgive, was one of the hardest lesson to overcome.

  Tristan

  "You coming?" Shoes were laced up, and I was ready for our morning jog.

  But not Elle.

  I stepped outside to wait for her, stretching in the brisk morning air. My head swam with too many thoughts: the upcoming combine tryouts, figuring out which agent I wanted to deal with legal stuff for the NFL, graduation, ask Elle to be my wife. You know, everyday shit.

  Jogging stripped my mind clear of it all. My free time. However, Elle insisted on spending time together, "Bonding and shit," she'd said after the huge fight we'd had months back. Basically, it boiled down to slowing my morning routine. Upside? Elle's skin slick with sweat after the run was incredibly hot. Elle rearranging her routine–all for me–woke my ass up to appreciate everything she'd done for me.

  "Are you coming or not?"

  "I'm ready, geez." Elle swirled her hair on top of her head, tying it up with a rubber thing. I stared. Toned abs and arms were for me to enjoy, not the motherfucking early morning traffic.

  "What. The hell?" I took inventory: the subtle cleavage spilling from her top and farther down, her bare midsection. Elle stretched one leg at a time, and the black workout bottoms moved with her skin.

  Elle looked down her body, confusion coloring her face when she glanced up. "What?"

  "Change." I crossed my arms, willing to wait even though she'd taken her sweet-ass time getting ready–which was odd, considering she showed more than what she covered.

  Elle laughed, shook her head, and walked past me to the porch. I whipped around, grasping her upper arm before she fully stepped down the stairs.

  "You're wearing a bra." I nodded toward the car slowing as it passed by us to make my point. "Put clothes on, preferably ones that cover your chest and stomach."

  "Tristan, you're ridiculous."

  I jerked her to me. Her minty-fresh breath rushed out the moment our bodies collided. "You feel that?" Twisting her around, I caged her against the side of the house and thrust my dick against her.

  Elle scraped her bottom lip between her teeth. "You're five," she said, breathless, though nestling closer.

  My cock responded. I debated on taking our exercise routine to the bedroom instead of the regular jog.

  "You love it." I stepped away, giving her room to breathe.

  "I'm not changing, but,"–she slipped around me and grinned over her shoulder–"you can chase all you want."

  "Elle!"

  She ignored me, adding earbuds to drown out my voice, and jogged down the sidewalk.

  "Stubborn woman," I muttered, agitated and fucking turned on. Running with a hard-on wasn't pleasant. With an uneasy grin, I took off after her. Payback was gonna be fun.

  Later in the day, a few guys from the frat house invited me to hang at a local bar. Combine tryouts were a few days away, and the few of us who got the call to go wanted to chill and relax. Standing in Lucas Oil Stadium in front of scouts was a dream, and the invitation made the possibility of playing football professionally a near reality.

  Elle never minded me going out with the guys. In fact, she encouraged me to when all I wanted to do was stay home, buried inside her.

  "Sure you don't mind?"

  "Go." Elle sent me a smirk over her shoulder. "Stop being such a girl."

  I shook my head and laughed. "Spud, you make the idea of leaving pretty fucking hard." I stalked to her, and with each step closer, color filled in Elle's cheeks and lust brightened her eyes.

  She drove me insane. Her long hair pulled up in a mess on top of her head with a few pieces falling around her delicate face turned me on. Not to mention the T-shirt and boxers she'd confiscated and insisted on wearing around the house while she cleaned. The woman pulled off sexy in any damn thing she wore, which made leaving in times like today hard, along with another body part.

  I gripped the back of her neck and leaned in until she hovered over my lips. "I assure you, Spud, I'm no girl."

  "I'm fully aware." Elle reached between our bodies and stroked her thumb up and down my length.

  I groaned, pressing into her. "Changed my mind." I kissed her, hard, grabbing her thighs and hauling her body up mine
so she straddled me. Elle pulled back, gasping for air and grinned. "Love you."

  "Always," I said, the one constant thing in my life.

  "Have fun. I've got a few tests to study for, and you teasing me doesn't help." Elle slid down my body, doing a bit of her own taunting before directing her attention to organizing the spices in the kitchen.

  I sent a quick text to Bret: Picking you up in five. Be ready.

  Bret and I fell into a nice wingman kind of team and knowing the guys, plenty of alcohol and women would be attending. Bret dating Elle's best friend made hanging with a bunch of single, horny assholes easier to deal with.

  A minute later, Bret texted back: Bitch, hurry your ass up.

  I laughed, then sent another text to the fellas confirming we'd be there in a few.

  Thirty minutes later, Bret and I showed up to a crowded-ass bar. Soon as we stepped in, our names were shouted from the left.

  "'Bout damn time, man," Jarred yelled, slamming a hand on each of our shoulders.

  "Daniels drives like a bitch," Bret chortled, causing a few assholes to laugh.

  "Enough. You two have some catching up to do," another guy said, giving us each a shot.

  "Cheers." I slammed the amber liquid back, hissing as fire burned my chest. Bret followed up his shot with another, while I grabbed a seat on the other side of the table.

  A waitress smiled coming up to me. "Can I get you anything?"

  "Bud Light."

  "Draft or bottle?" She blew a piece of hair from her forehead.

  "Bottle, thanks."

  "Okay, I'll be back," she said, before rushing into the throng of people. The next few hours were spent hanging with a group of guys I'd learned to call brothers. As we joked and laughed with each other, someone bumped into me from behind. My arm jerked, and warm beer sloshed over the rim and landed on my knuckles. I turned, surprised to find Jarred stumbling. He ended up catching himself before ramming into the table next to him.

  Jarred leaned in with traces of beer and tequila on his breath. "Don't wanna fuck up at tryouts." He enunciated tryouts in a slurred mess that came out more like "ry-outs."

  I palmed his shoulder and squeezed. "Have another, man. You'll forget all about the nerves." A new waitress headed our way, and I waved, beckoning her over.

  She smiled and sashayed to us. "Tristan Daniels, haven't seen you in a while," she cooed as if knowing me, for which I felt like a dick because my mind drew a blank. As in no fucking idea.

  I glanced at her nametag reading Dianne, though no bells rang. I smiled. "Been a while."

  "Yeah," she said, giggling and causing her breasts to shake. Definitely would've remembered those, but again, nada.

  "So, my pal here"–I jerked a thumb behind me–"needs a cold one."

  Dianne peeked around me, brushing her plump chest on my shoulder. "No problem," she said, moving in too close for comfort, then stumbled.

  "Whoa." I steadied her, fighting the need to shove her away. My stomach rolled at the feel of her because the only woman I wanted pressed into me was Elle.

  "My shift ends in an hour," she told me. Damn, too bad Jarred drank so much. A female such as Dianne would screw the anxiety right out of him. Bastard should let loose, get laid more often.

  Putting on a nice guy front, I grinned. "As tempting as your offer is, I'm in a serious relationship." A small laugh escaped, reminding me of a similar situation once upon a time.

  Last year, I turned down another tempting sexual offer. I'd also stupidly moved here with Kellie, my ex-fiancée. Funny how life worked out. How one broken road leads to the one you always wanted, which made me grin. Because of the road, though bumpy as hell, it led me straight to my best friend. Elle.

  Dianne shifted closer, pulling my attention toward her. Her red lips turned down into a pout, and she folded her arms, pushing up her ample chest. "Sure about that?"

  Jarred bumped into my side, breaking up the conversation with the can't-get-a-fucking-clue chick. "Hey, man." I helped to right him, to which a few guys laughed and teased him for.

  "Ah, hold the beer for now and bring water instead."

  "Shame." Dianne shrugged and moved away from the table, en route to the bar.

  I focused on babysitting the guy who usually had his shit together. "Jarred, what the hell?" Dude drank it up with the rest of us, but rarely did he go past his limit.

  "Think you're right." He slapped a hand on the table, managing to knock over a few empty bottles in the process.

  "You should sleep it off."

  He glared at me with red and glossy eyes. "Since when did you turn into the goddamn voice of reason?"

  Good question. "Water's on the way, man," I said, feeling sorry for the poor bastard. Never had a reason to be nervous; the pinching in others' guts never made its way to mine. Not saying I didn't worry, but not when it came to performing. Football came as naturally as breathing. Simple.

  Jarred continued, mumbling something about touchdowns, but I couldn't pretend to understand the rest. Once Dianne sauntered back with his water, Jarred ended up slumped over and passed out in a puddle of drool. Bret nodded, and I shrugged.

  "Better get him back. You okay leaving or you want to hang longer?"

  "I'll help you get him to his place. Alyssa's coming over in twenty anyway."

  "All right."

  Bret and another couple guys helped hoist Jarred up and out to my car. Once in the back seat, Jarred groaned, and suddenly I wanted to hurl.

  "Dude's gonna upchuck."

  "Motherfucking shit, he is." I jumped inside. "Get in." The door slammed, and I peeled out of the lot, racing down backstreets to Jarred's place.

  "Looks pretty grim, Daniels." Bret's taunting only added to my speed, and I didn't bother answering him until we'd parked in front of Jarred's.

  "Help," I demanded.

  Bret laughed but moved to lug Jarred from the back and up to his house. Finished, I dropped Bret off at Alyssa's house and drove home.

  Nice way to spend the evening, with a bunch of drunken assholes, when I could've enjoyed a night with Elle under me. The morning jog and a particular promise filtered in. Elle owed me, and dear Lord, would payback be sweet.

  Elle

  Groggy and a bit disoriented, I woke with a rush of heat roving across my flesh. Tristan slid his fingertips down to rest on the curve of my hip, and goose bumps traveled the space of bare skin in his wake.

  "Time to get up," he whispered, his chest pressed against my back, chasing the early morning chill away.

  "Five more minutes." I yawned, and Tristan chuckled. Alyssa, Bret's little sister, Tisha, and I stayed out late cleaning up after a Kappa event, which meant no studying. Not as if I wanted to study anyway.

  "Long night?" Tristan's hand on my hip sloped to my stomach, and every thought, other than of him, vanished. Using his palm, Tristan tugged, fitting me firmly against him. I squirmed, and a fire burned away any remaining cold.

  Sleep no longer held me as desire jolted me awake. I loved how eager he was to hold me, kiss me, and make love to me.

  "Tristan," I moaned as he massaged the sensitive mound between my thighs. I spread my legs wider, allowing him full access.

  "Thought you were tired?" His voice dipped low as his lips danced across my skin.

  I wiggled, and Tristan hissed through clenched teeth when I pressed into his hardness. "Changed my mind." I reached behind me and wove my fingers through his thick hair.

  Tristan's teeth nipped at my ear while the rhythm of his hand drove me crazy, adding to the building pleasure between my legs.

  "Tristan, I–"

  "What, Spud?" He slowed his pace, removing his finger from my nub, denying my climax.

  Peeping over my shoulder, I found Tristan wearing a sexy smirk on his face.

  "Tell me what you want," he whispered, pulling his fingers out, leaving my swollen clit throbbing.

  I whimpered at the loss. "I want you." I rolled onto my back to see him clearly. Escaped light filt
ered in through the cracks in the blinds, revealing the desire darkening his golden-brown eyes. "I want you inside me. Plea–"

  Tristan's lips slammed into mine, his tongue claiming my mouth. A shudder ran through me the instant we connected–the moment he possessed my body.

  Half an hour later while lathering my hair with shampoo, my stomach jumped, the euphoric sensation traveling to the soles of my feet. I sighed, hell I hummed, even after the shower, but God, making love to Tristan–the smile, even after all this time–refused to fall way. I'd dreamed of loving Tristan but never expected reality to surpass the love-sick, girlish fantasies. Only they had. He definitely had a way with making mornings worthwhile.

  After getting ready, I rounded the corner to the kitchen, and thanks to Tristan's morning surprise, I was ready to start the long day. Rixon and I had articles to work on later, not to mention the slew of homework I had to finish afterward.

  "Hungry?" Tristan plated two fried eggs with strips of bacon on the side.

  My stomach rumbled, and I beamed up at him. "Starved." I plopped down on the barstool.

  The edge of his mouth tipped up in a grin that had me starved for more than his cooking. However, when Tristan set the food in front of me, I wasted no time digging in.

  He chuckled. "Guess so."

  One egg and a slice of bacon down, my hunger faded enough to speak. "Had an early morning workout." I shrugged with a grin. "Developed an appetite."

  Tristan shook his head, dark hair falling into his eyes when he sipped his black coffee.

  I shifted on my stool, nervous energy kicking in. God, I didn't want to bring up Rixon, but Tristan and I couldn't have secrets, even innocent ones.

  When Tristan had voiced his opinion of Rixon, I asked Alyssa to meet him, see if she thought Tristan's reaction had been exaggerated. Alyssa's exact words after the meeting: "Damn, that man is an instant eyegasm. Elle, you cannot trust him." She warned this while slowly devouring the length of his body, inventorying every curve of lean muscle. Her observation hadn't helped me win the case with my jealous boyfriend.