"I'm… I'm…" I squeezed my thighs.
Tristan rocked into me once more and my lower abdomen clenched, contracting around his length.
Together we fell.
Tristan
My pocket vibrated, and I grabbed my phone to open the text from Elle.
Please be smart. You're better than he is. I love you!
I clenched my eyes shut, frustrated. Another text popped up. Think of your career. Please…
I'd hurried out of the house, making sure to get away before Elle had a chance to stop me. I nailed it at combine, but still, I hadn't planned to screw up my chances with the NFL. But her please hit me hard. Even after everything–Rixon, football, and agents–protecting Elle would always come first.
Another text dinged. I love you. I'll stand by you, whatever happens.
I sent a reply back. I'll be fine. Just gonna let him know where I stand and make sure he understands his boundaries. Promise. I hit send and tucked the device back in my front pocket. It didn't go off again.
Since Elle slapped Rixon, the punk had kept a low profile. Lucky for him, looking after Elle while she was sick took priority. However, today I'd be clearing up any confusion he may have had when I told him to stay the fuck away from my girl. Rixon's blatant disrespect for Elle wasn't cool.
En route to the communications building, I noticed students hanging out near the front doors. Good to have eyewitnesses in case shit got real. A few feet past the group of people, I spotted Rixon. He talked with Bridget, a party girl who enjoyed the majority of the football team–aside from me.
"Hey, Bridget."
The blond vixen didn't hide her regard, eating me up with her eyes. I laughed.
"Long time, handsome." Her eyes darkened. "You decide to play the field yet? Sow more oats before that girlfriend of yours ties you down for good?" The woman didn't hold back.
"Nah, I'm a happily taken man."
Bridget tossed her blond hair over a shoulder. "A damn shame." She shrugged. "You're too tame now for me anyway." She gave Rixon her full attention. "Call me." Bridget sashayed past.
Rixon followed her as she strolled away, ignoring my presence. "Take it you and Richards haven't called it quits."
The fucker had balls.
"Nope."
He turned, mimicking the arms-across-chest stance I greeted him with. "She deserves someone better. Someone who gets her."
He may have balls, but lacked brains. "What? Like you?"
"No, not me either," he admitted, surprising me.
I sighed, not wanting to play mind games. After the incident with Robbie, beating the shit out of him, I had no intentions of losing it with Rixon.
"Man, stay away from Elle. Make another move, and though I'm pretty sure she'll kick your ass before I get a chance, I have no problem making good on my earlier promise. Career or not, Elle will always be my first priority."
He rubbed the stubble on his cheek with a frown. "You're not here to pulverize me, mate?"
Rixon wanted a story to sell, but he'd be sorely disappointed. "Back off, man." I stood close, catching a trace of peanuts and chocolate on his breath. "We clear?"
"Scared of a little competition?"
The sun beat down on the back of my neck, and a few droplets of sweat rolled down my temple. "You're not competition, and I'd love to stand here and explain the reasons, and there are many, why you're not her type, but that'd mean you were a threat."
He tucked his hands in his pockets.
I chuckled. "Give it up, man." I shouldered past him, leaving with a sense of closure. If he were stupid enough to try shit with Elle a third time, I'd risk losing my chances of playing in the NFL. I headed back to my car, ready to release the pent-up energy buzzing through me. I sent Elle a message to keep her calm.
Headed to the gym. Everything is good.
Elle's text scrolled across in seconds. Patience is so damn sexy. Love you <3
I smiled with fucking elation from ear to ear. Another reminder of how complete my life was, because hearing "love you" fall from her lips, as well as reading them, brought a sense of wholeness over me. I sent her a fast reply and went on my way to the gym.
Inside the weight room, Bret waved me over. "Spot me."
"All right," I agreed, helping him position the bar.
I whistled. "You sure you want to push this much?"
"Yup," he said, clenching his teeth. "So,"–Bret blew out a breath–"what's up with this Paul guy?"
My fingertips slid from the barbell. Bret grunted, struggling to keep the hefty weight steady. "Shit, sorry, man. You threw me." I helped him bench the bar.
Bret sat up, his head bent while catching his breath. Sweat dripped down the bridge of his nose and sides of his face. Other than the few guys in the small room next door, we were alone.
Something dark lurked behind Bret's question about Paul, my best friend since grade school, and I honestly didn't know what to think about it. I mean, why the sudden interest?
"Ah, we pretty much grew up together. Best friends through school. We still talk but mostly through email since he enlisted in the Marines."
We both grew quiet.
Bret shouldn't worry about an old, whatever the hell Paul was to Alyssa. If anything, he should worry about his girl. The woman had a better bag-n-sack-'em record than I ever did. Figured her promiscuity had something to do with the shit she went through the summer before our senior year of high school. To be honest, I never asked.
Elle kept quiet about Alyssa and Paul hooking up, but they'd definitely grown close during that time–which I was grateful for. Admittedly, Alyssa saved Paul's stupid ass from a life of drugs and fights and other messed-up shit. Paul sobered up, but Alyssa continued to party pretty hardcore until we moved away for college.
"Not sure what you want to know, man."
Bret cursed under his breath, rising from the bench seat. "Give me something more than that." He bowed his chest, glaring.
I held my hands up in the air. "They had a thing back in high school, but not sure how serious." I shrugged. "All I know is Paul took off after graduation. The next day, to be exact."
"Were they close?"
I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed before answering. "Listen, you and Amazon have been together longer than she was with Paul. I don't think what happened back in high school is relevant now."
He walked to the dumbbells. No words, just pushed out reps like his life depended on it.
Fuck me. "You wanna grab a beer?"
Bret paused mid-air, considering my offer, then looked away. I waited. Dude screamed, give me a beer–hell, his vibe screamed straight-up liquor.
"Give me ten," he said.
"Aight, I'll get my shit together and meet you outside."
Since Elle–not that I regretted the decision–the party days had slowed. I enjoyed hanging with the guys, too, and we played golf or whatever, but the straight-out drunken days were over. Something told me tonight would be like the old days of stumbling to bed. Ready or not, I followed Bret back to the frat house.
As soon as I stepped in the room, the loud atmosphere inside settled the tension from dealing with Rixon earlier, but not so much for Bret. He hadn't eased up at all, face scrunched up like he'd been kicked in the balls a few times.
The guys were scattered, some in the living room, while others hung out upstairs in the game room. Out back, Jarred stood over the grill flipping burgers.
Bret and I played a few rounds of pool. The poor bastard nursed the same beer for twenty minutes. So much for a shit-faced, drunken night.
"What the fuck's up, man?" How the hell did I turn into a therapist?
"Side pocket, nine-ball." Bret leaned across the green felt. He reared back, ramming the end of his stick so hard his ball jumped off the edge of the table. The cue ball rolled under the couch against the wall.
"Dude, what the hell?" Trey, another brother, muttered on the way down to grab more beer. I looked between Bret and the table.
He tossed the stick on the top.
"You wanna go a few rounds in the ring, or you want to tell me what's eating you?"
My cell buzzed in my pocket. While fishing it out, Bret tossed back the warm beer in a long gulp.
I messaged Elle back. Hanging with Bret. Be home late.
Okay. I'll wait up for you…
I grinned, tucking the phone in my front jeans pocket.
"She says his name in her sleep." Bret raked his fingers through his hair, yanking at the ends. "I try waking her up sometimes, but the times I do, she freezes me out."
Son of a bitch. Alyssa hadn't told him anything about her past. "Listen, it's not my place to say her business."
He seethed. "So much for friendship, huh?"
I raised my hands in peace. "It's her story to tell, but know that Paul helped her work through some pretty messed up shit."
"Got it." His phone buzzed, and by the tic in his jaw, I assumed Alyssa put the glint of pain in his eyes.
"Shots," Trey said, handing us a round. I held the plastic cup up to Bret, and with reluctance, he raised his, too.
"To getting laid." Trey clanked the cup with ours. "And to chicks who fuck hard and leave before the sun comes up."
"You're an asshole," I said, laughing at the dumb bastard. The liquid sloshed the rim, landing on my hand.
"Truth, baby. Just speaking the truth." In one fast motion, we tossed back the liquor. The familiar hot burn rushed down my throat, numbing it in the process.
Bret's phone rang, but he silenced the call. "Let's do another round."
"Hell, yeah!" Trey yelled, rushing down the stairs to the kitchen.
I frowned. Bret drinking to let loose was one thing, but drinking to numb the obvious hurt he's going through led to a path full of more hurt and pain. "You sure you wanna go down this road?"
Bret clenched his jaw. "Either I get shit-faced here and pass out on the couch, or head home and fight with the woman who refuses to love me back."
I ground my teeth so hard my jaw locked. Before I could respond, Trey made it back with a platter full of shots.
Damn. The night just got complicated.
Elle
Tristan pulled back the shower curtain and stepped inside. Dark rings gathered under his eyes, changing the normal golden-brown color to a darker syrupy tone. However, the exhaustion I'd found didn't quell the instant desire when he stepped inside.
"Hey, stranger." A tingle spread between my legs. "Late night, huh? What time you end up crawling into bed?" I finished rinsing conditioner from my hair.
Tristan scratched at the stubble on his cheek. "Late." He shifted us so he stood under the water. "Around four, I think," he said, voice scratchy with sleep.
"Really?" I must have been out cold; I didn't remember moving at all.
Tristan grabbed the shampoo and rubbed a dollop in his hair. "Bret was wasted." He dipped his head under the stream, rinsing the suds out. The muscles in his arms bulged as suds washed over his broad shoulders and down his chest.
"Everything okay?" I worried my bottom lip between my teeth, momentarily killing my budding desire for him. Alyssa hadn't called or texted. God, I hoped she hadn't done something crazy like leave Bret or worse. Guilt punched me in the gut because I hadn't known. Her and Bret's fight, or whatever happened between them, hurt a little. I'd call her, make her talk if she refused.
Tristan swiped a hand down his face, sloshing water on my chest. "Bret asked about Paul."
"Oh." Shit. "What did you tell him?"
Tristan lathered soap on his hands, cleaning his chest. Damn. Too bad my morning started late. "Just that they had a thing back in high school."
My stomach flipped watching the bubbles run down his chest, and more so when the muscles in his abdomen tightened.
"Bret said she wakes up sometimes calling out Paul's name and tells him not to leave her."
Naked Tristan thoughts paused. "The nightmares are back?"
Tristan ran a hand over his face. "Guess so."
"I should probably check on her before I head to class."
He nodded. "You feeling better?" There it was, the crooked smile, the one driving me insane with improper thoughts while sitting in a long lecture or standing in line at the grocery store.
"Yeah, much. I finished my antibiotics."
He stepped back, eyes roaming my body. "Hmm, better give you a full-body check-up. Make sure you're up for class today."
"Really?" My breathing increased, nipples perked and ready for his tongue to flick over and his mouth to suckle.
Tristan nodded, tracing a nipple with his thumb. He slipped his other hand around my waist, pressing against the small of my back.
I rolled my head back, giving his lips access to devour the base of my neck with soft kisses.
"Tristan," I pleaded when his erection pressed into my stomach. The man had barely touched me, and I was already crazy wet for him.
"Spud, you okay?" He nuzzled up my neck till he reached my ear. "Not feeling too weak, are you?"
"Yes." I licked my lips. "I mean, no." The vibration of his deep-chested laughter set my body on fire.
"Not sure you're up for more. You seem a bit wobbly." Tristan backed away, his cock springing loose. My legs did go weak, but I threaded my fingers through his soaked hair, pulling him to me to keep steady.
"If you don't take me to our bed now," I said, my tone unrecognizably husky, "I'll cut you off for a month."
"Yes, ma'am."
Being late for my presentation sucked. Good thing my professor liked me, or I'd be toast. I texted Alyssa asking her to meet for lunch. She sent a thumbs up, so I texted her back where to meet.
A great place not too far from campus served hot sandwiches. We usually studied there between classes. So not only was it the best amount of food for the dollar, but we didn't have to go far. At the moment, I was up for anything related to food. My stomach growled the entire morning after I'd messaged Alyssa.
Damn Tristan and his distractions. Had he not joined me in the shower I would've eaten real food.
At the small dive, Alyssa sat in the back corner alone. Her cheeks were tinged pink, eyes puffy from crying, but makeup covered most of the signs of upset from anyone who didn't know her.
"I ordered your favorite," she said without looking up from her computer.
"Great, I'm starved."
"Yup." Alyssa typed away, ignoring the obvious problem between her and Bret. Our order came out a minute after I sat down, and when the waiter walked off, I pounced.
"So what's up with you and Bret?"
"Nothing."
I contemplated asking more questions or shoving food in my face. My concern for my best friend won. "Are you having nightmares again?" Then I stuffed a big bite in my mouth, swallowing melted cheese and fresh turkey.
Alyssa froze, fingers mid-type. She pulled her shoulders up to her ears. "Drop it, Elle." Her body relaxed slightly, though she fidgeted in her seat.
I took another bite, working on what to say next when nausea hit. Something I'd eaten didn't settle well, so I pushed the sandwich away and gave Alyssa my full attention. "You know you can talk to me, any time you need. Don't you?"
Water filled her eyes as she slowly nodded.
My heart broke for her. I wanted to destroy the monster who stole my best friend away all those years ago. "Does Bret know?"
"No," she whispered, swiping at the tears before they had a chance to run down her cheeks.
"You think it'd be a good idea to tell him?" Of all people, Alyssa deserved a Prince Charming. I thought Paul was her fairytale knight, but now she had Bret.
"I'm scared." Alyssa folded her napkin with shaky fingers. Seeing her so distraught and scared hurt almost as much as seeing my sister lying in bed motionless while machines breathed for her.
I grabbed her hand, stilling the tremble, secretly hoping to stop the terror she lived with on the inside. "I'm here. Any time you need me."
Alyssa nodded, wiping und
er her eyes with her free hand when more tears fell. "Can we not talk about it, please?" Her voice cracked.
"You want to know what I think?"
She glared. "Something tells me that's a rhetorical question."
"Smart, you are."
"Yoda, you're not."
"Ha!" I smiled, and so did Alyssa, which warmed my heart. "So hear me out for a minute. I promise to drop the subject if you agree to listen."
Her shoulders rose with the deep breath she took. "Okay," she blew out, and I jumped in.
"Bret's here. He's kind and loving, and you seem to be compatible in the bedroom." My face heated, but I didn't care. Alyssa needed to know what she felt, or denied feeling rather, for Bret was okay.
"He won't run if you tell him what happened." I squeezed her hand. "Maybe if you talk to him you'd be able to admit you have real feelings for him."
Her chest stuttered when she sighed. "I don't want him to be part of that time. He's something new." She shook her head, catching more escaped tears.
"I get that, but you don't want to push him away because you're scared of blending the past in with your future."
She thought about what I said for a minute. "Maybe you're right." She met my gaze. Her depressed blues spoke volumes. "But I'm not ready." She cut me off when I tried talking around her. "Some days I almost tell him, but then I get these crazy ideas popping in my head, and I freeze." She looked away, out the window facing the street as cars drove past.
"I'll tell him, one day, but not now." She met my gaze full on. "I'll get there, promise." She smiled, not the cocky grin or asshole lip tug she typically wore. No, this was innocent and sweet. Honest.
"Okay, I'll drop it." I grinned. "For now."
"Ass."
"Someone's gotta be," I said, turning her words back at her. The seat vibrated. I grabbed my purse, digging through junk to find my phone.
"Tristan keeping tabs?" Irritation flowed in her voice.
"Shut it, it's Mom." My cell rang again, stopped, then started up again. I answered. "Mom, hey."
"So you're too busy to talk to your mom these days?"
I rolled my eyes.
"Don't roll your eyes," she confirmed.
Interception (Distraction #3) Page 6