SCORE (Travis Brothers Book 1)

by Juliette Jones

  “Wow. He’s in the army?”

  “Marines.”

  “Sounds like you have a high-achieving family.”

  He doesn’t answer this, but the garage door is opening and he drives the car in. There’s a jet ski, three fancy-looking motorcycles and a new pickup truck parked in the three-car garage.

  The garage door is closing behind us. My heart skips a beat. I’m alone with him. He’s a complete stranger, he probably weighs twice what I do and could crush me like a bug if he ever felt like it, and he’s actually kind of bossy. I shouldn’t feel comfortable with him. Or safe. But from some reason, I do.

  His smile is genuine and there isn’t a shred of anything devious about the way he acts. He seems honest. And the truth is, I feel more comfortable with this hunky quarterback than I have with anyone for a long time. It doesn’t make sense, but it’s true.

  Blake turns off the ignition and we just sit there for a second, as the silence settles. He turns and looks straight into my eyes. Even in the dim interior of his car, his irises gleam blue. He really is stunning.

  “Thank you for coming to have breakfast with me. I’m really glad you’re here. I just wanted to tell you that. I want us to be friends.”

  This almost makes me smile. “That sounds good. Friends.” I can’t think past anything but that, for now. It’s a start. The word makes me think about what it’ll be like to be friends with Blake Travis. Will it be enough? I already have this feeling it won’t be enough, for either of us. But I can’t even go there. Not yet.

  My stomach growls again.

  Blake laughs. “Come on. Let me cook you some breakfast.”

  We climb out of his Mustang and I follow him into his kitchen, which is unbelievable. The countertops are marble and everything is modern and top-of-the-line. The views of the river and the trees look like something out of a home design magazine spread. One that’s been littered with football gear and trophies. It’s a beautiful house but very obviously a bachelor pad.

  Blake opens French doors that lead out onto an expansive deck. Lounge chairs circle a gas fire. There’s an enormous hot tub on a raised platform. The view of the lake is stunning. I’ve never in my life been inside such a beautiful house.

  Blake disappears and for a few seconds I just let myself take it all in. I’m not sure how my life took such a gargantuan U-turn over the past few days but I’m not going to bother analyzing it. Today I’m just going to go with it. It feels too good not to.

  When Blake reappears he’s carrying two glasses of champagne. “I know it’s still early but I think we should celebrate. To the best year yet. Happy birthday, Skye.”

  “Happy birthday, Blake.”

  We clink our glasses and I take a sip.

  “To waiting,” he says.

  I gaze up at him. His blue eyes sparkle and his dark hair is as shiny as mink fur. This is the first time I’ve ever been so in the moment that I don’t want to think about yesterday or tomorrow. All I want is right now. With him. He’s watching me and I blush. I can’t help it: I wonder if his thick hair is as soft as it looks. I wonder how his lips would feel against mine. I wonder what it would feel like to kiss him. I’ve never been kissed. I find myself hoping Blake might be my first.

  He takes my hand and gently pulls me back inside. He pats a raised stool and I sit. “Since we’re going to be friends, while I cook you breakfast I want you to tell me about yourself. I want to know what makes you happy.”

  I put some bacon on and crack a couple of eggs to start the pancake mixture as she watches me, doing that thing again where she twirls a strand of her long hair around her finger absent-mindedly. I can’t wait to weave my fingers through that hair. To hold her close as I kiss every inch of her perfect skin. I’m in a state of raw, blinding lust but it’s more than that. Being close to her is enchanting me. I feel hypnotized and fully addicted to the shape of her mouth, the curl of her eyelashes, the gem-like color of her eyes.

  I knew I would find her and I finally fucking have. And she’s more perfect than anything my lame imagination could have dreamed up. She’s exquisite. And kind. And somewhere, under all that beauty, she’s sad. I’m going to change all that. I’m going to find out what she likes and lavish her with the things that make her happy.

  “What do you want to know?” she says, taking a small sip of her champagne.

  Everything. “Where were you born?”

  “Dallas.”

  “And you lived there your whole life?”

  “No. We lived there until I was six.”

  She’s hesitant so I treat her with care. I ask her gently. “Tell me more, if you want to. I’d like to hear it.”

  She’s quiet for a few seconds and I don’t push her. “My parents were really young when I was born. My father was studying to be an architect and my mother’s dream was to become an actress. She used to go to auditions and dream of moving to New York but then, one night, my father was riding his motorcycle home from a class. It had been raining. He took a corner too fast. The motorcycle lost traction and slid under a truck. He was killed instantly.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  “Things got very hard for my mother. She didn’t have any money. We stayed for a while with a friend of hers but she couldn’t work because she had to take care of me. She had an audition for a t.v. commercial that would have paid good money. But then, as she was driving back to me, her car was slammed by a drunk driver. Or at least that’s the story they told me. I later learned she didn’t get that part.” She pauses. “So I was put into foster care when I was seven. After that … I was on my own.”

  A shiny tear paints a line down her cheek. I drop the spatula I’m holding and I take her in my arms. She lets me. She leans her head against my chest and her pain spears into me like a sharp, twisting blade. I can’t take it. I want to rip her pain away. To take it into me so I can bear it instead of her. I just hold her in my arms and smooth her hair, hoping I can absorb some of her sorrow.

  After a while, she looks up at me as though just realizing I’m still here. Her eyes are red and her hair’s messed up and she’s the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen. “I’m sorry,” she says, sniffling. “About the pity party. It’s been a long time since I talked about any of that stuff.”

  I hold her face in my hands. Her green eyes are bright. “You don’t have to be sorry with me. I’m sorry, for dredging up these painful memories. But I’m glad you told me. Because I’m going to make you feel better. I’m going to do everything I can think of to make you smile.”

  A hint of a smile plays at the corner of her perfect mouth. She shakes her head as she wipes her eyes with her fingers. “You’re crazy. Why would you even want to do that? I’m a shy hermit who’s spent half my life as a transient. You’d be better off having breakfast with a happy-go-lucky cheerleader from your own neighborhood.”

  I start serving up our plates. “I’m not interested in the cheerleaders.”

  We sit at the breakfast bar with its views of the lake and eat our food. She eats like she hasn’t eaten in a long time. It makes me happy, knowing she’s getting some good nutrition. She looks thin.

  Now that she’s cried and shared a small piece of her story, she seems better. “I guess all the cheerleaders want to win the star quarterback, right?”

  I don’t answer at first, but I want to be honest with her, like she has been with me. “They seem to. But I aspired to something more than a quickie with a girl who was only interested in me because I can throw a football.”

  “Throwing a football’s not that easy to do.”

  “Have you tried it?”

  “No. But it looks hard. You make it look easy, but it’s pretty obvious you have a gift for that kind of thing.”

  “I don’t know if it’s a gift or just ten thousand hours of throwing the damn thing.”

  She bites her lip and looks up at me. My heart hurts because she’s just so incredibly pretty, even though now that I look more closely, there’s
a little scar through one of her eyebrows, like she cut herself once. And her sprinkling of freckles is uneven. There are more on her right cheek than her left. These little imperfections – if they could even be called such a thing – make me fall even harder. “I think it’s cool that you waited. To honor your parents. I think they’d be proud of you.”

  Fuck. And now she’s gone and done it again. Speared me with deep, heart-wrenching emotion. I feel so choked up I’m lost for words. Right now, I wish my parents were still alive so I could show her to them. Look what I found. I found what you had. That’s how crazily head-over-heels I am for her, already. I know it. I can feel it.

  We finish eating and I carefully take her hand and start leading her out to the deck.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Let’s sit in the hot tub.”

  “Blake,” she says, as though I’ve lost my mind. I’d never noticed it before but her eyelashes are long, dark at the roots and almost blond at the curled ends. “I don’t have a bathing suit.”

  “It’d be a shame to let that stop you. On a perfect day like this. With views of the lake and riveting company like myself.”

  “For someone who’s supposedly new to this whole seduction thing, you’re pretty good at it.”

  I laugh a little, powerless. “I guess with you, I’m a natural. I won’t look, I promise. And once you’re in, the bubbles are very concealing.”

  She stares down at the water as though gauging its transparency.

  I turn around and put my hand over my eyes. “See? I’m not looking.”

  “Oh, what the hell,” she says and I hear the rustle of her t-shirt and shorts as she drops them, then the splash of water as she climbs into the hot tub.

  “Is it safe now?” I say.

  She laughs.

  I turn around, slowly losing my mind. My girl, the one I’ve been waiting for, is in my hot tub, wearing only a lacy little bra and her panties. So far this is turning out to be the best goddamn birthday of my life. I fill her champagne glass and hand it to her.

  “Are you trying to get me drunk?” She’s smiling. Something in her has shifted. Like the tears she cried earlier have freed her in a way she wasn’t expecting. Maybe no one has listened to her like that before.

  “I’m just the bearer of gifts,” I say. “Only take what you want. Nothing you don’t.”

  “You’re not having any more?”

  “Better not. I’m driving you back to your dorm when you ask me to.”

  She smiles.

  “Now, I don’t mind either way but unless you want to witness first hand exactly how happy I am that you’re here with me, you might want to avert your eyes. Or not. Up to you.”

  Her eyes go wide. Then she claps her hands over them. “Oh, my gosh. Are you getting in?”

  “Of course I’m getting in. You look lonely in there.” I strip off my jeans and pull my shirt over my head. I leave my boxers on. Her hands are still over her eyes, which is probably a good thing. My cock is harder than a goddamn rock. Ten inches of pure agony. Now that I’ve finally found her, all those years of going without are literally about to drive me mad. I climb into the hot tub still holding the bottle of champagne and I slide in next to her. She doesn’t move away. I try to relax against the jets of the hot tub. She’s watching me. Her blue-green gaze wanders across my face and my chest. I close my eyes, giving her time. She can check me out as much as she wants. She can take as much time as she needs. Even if it kills me, I’m going to wait for her. To let her come to me.

  Come to me, baby. Please. Come to me …

  Blake Travis is not what I was expecting. He’s kind. Patient. And possibly more perceptive than anyone I’ve ever met. No one has asked me the kind of questions he did, spearing right to the heart of everything painful. It feels good to have told someone all that. I feel lighter than I have in years.

  Talking to Blake isn’t scary; it’s comforting, and cathartic, like he’s taking what you tell him on board, owning some of it and making it easier to bear.

  I’m watching him laze against the side of the tub. His eyes are closed. His lips are wet with champagne. His skin is tanned and his chest is muscled and strong-looking.

  I want him to open his eyes. I miss the color of them. The intensity of his fascination.

  I take another sip of my champagne. “Tell me more about your brothers.”

  He smiles and opens his eyes, like he’s glad I asked. “Gabe is twenty-six. He started his own investment company a few years ago and lives in Dallas. He’s made a lot of money which hasn’t helped shrink his oversized ego. But he’s a good guy. He’s got a good heart.”

  “And your brother in the Marines?”

  “Ethan. He’s been away for more than a year. This is his second tour. I think it’s been hard on him. He hasn’t sounded too good lately when we’ve been in touch. I think it’ll be good for him to get home and start to get his life back. I worry about him.”

  “You must get lonely,” I say. It’s a big house. It must feel empty sometimes, with the memories of his parents and the absence of his brothers. “Living by yourself.”

  “I do. It’s why I spend so much time at the gym, and at practice. When I’m playing football I don’t think about anything else. I can forget about the loneliness for a while.” For a second, he looks so sad it makes me feel sad right along with him. Like he took some of my baggage on board, I can do this for him to. Share his pain and make it easier to bear. But then he smiles at me. A shy smile, like he’s not used to showing this part of himself.

  I wonder what it would feel like to kiss him. To touch him. It’s been so long since I’ve felt the affectionate touch of another human being, I suddenly feel starved for it. I want to hold him, and treat him carefully.

  So I do something I would never have dared, even hours ago. I reach up and smooth back a strand of his dark hair.

  “I’m so glad you’re here with me.” His voice is rasped, like he’s choked up a little.

  “Me, too.” I let my fingers curl around the wet silk of his hair. I’ve never touched a man like this. I’ve never been close enough to a man to touch them. Especially not a man like Blake Travis. His blue eyes are dazzling me. “This is a lot more fun than waiting outside the art building.”

  “You were going to be waiting quite a while.”

  Very gently, I tug lightly on Blake’s hair. He follows my lead, until his face is close to mine. He’s looking at me in the gentlest, most tender way. His outrageous beauty makes me feel even bolder. Beauty this luminous should be appreciated. It should be savored.

  “Blake?” I whisper.

  “Skye,” he whispers back.

  “Can I – ” I don’t know how to say this. I don’t even know what to do. Or how.

  “Yes,” he says. “You can.”

  Then I do something I would never have dreamed of doing, before Blake.

  I lean closer.

  He blinks at me and his lips part, like he’s having trouble breathing in enough air.

  Very, very softly, I touch my lips to his lips.

  He lets out a low sound, something between a gasp and a groan. I pull back. The blue of his eyes is hypnotic and, somewhere under the surface, blistering with heat. He stays still, waiting. Challenging me with his eyes.

  I kiss him again. When his tongue touches mine, something happens to me. A wild, uncontrollable craving takes hold. Our tongues tangle and slide. My mouth feels hungry to taste him. My whole body is soft and slippery. Every time Blake sucks gently on my tongue, a wave of pleasure ripples through my body. I feel crazy. I want to taste more of him. My hands weave into the wet strands of his thick hair.

  He’s murmuring my name, dipping his tongue into my mouth like I’m the sweetest fruit he’s ever tasted. He tastes so good. We can’t get enough. Blake’s fingers slowly brush along the skin of my stomach and I don’t stop him. Then his hands are on my hips, gripping me. He’s being gentle but there’s a brimming power to him that’s unmis
takable. The realization of how strong he is, instead of scaring me, has the opposite effect. The grip of his fingers feeds a current of lust straight to the low pit of my stomach. And lower. A warm pulse takes hold inside me. Each sweet throb makes me crazier. Because it’s not enough, not nearly enough.

  I’ve crossed over some threshold. I don’t want to be afraid, or hide, or be alone. I want to get closer to him. I want to feel him because he feels so damn good.

  Blake’s hands slide up my body. He plays with the clasp of my bra. “Skye?” he whispers. He wants my permission.

  “Do it,” I whisper in his ear.

  He unhooks my top and it falls away. I wrap my arms around his neck as he kisses me. My nipples brush against the hair-roughened surface of his chest. He holds my face in his hands. “I’ve been waiting all this time for someone, baby – for you – to walk into my life and to just know. That you’re the one I want. Suddenly there you were. I wasn’t expecting it to be so sudden and so … real. So I just wanted to say that I’ll never hurt you or scare you, Skye. I want to deserve you.”

  I kiss his face softly. I let my fingers weave into his hair.

  Our kisses get bolder, deeper.

  You’re so fucking beautiful, Skye. I can’t believe how beautiful you are. I’ve waited so long for you. I want you so much. I need you so much. Do you want me?

  Yes, Blake. Yes.

  He’s as delirious as I am. We’re too far gone to hold back.

  Blake lifts me up. I keep kissing him as he carries me to the double lounge chairs next to the hot tub. They have thick cushions and are easily big enough to hold us both. Like a bed. He lays me onto it and we’re lying side by side, still kissing. Our slippery bodies slide against each other. Our suddenly-ravenous need has sunk its teeth into both of us. My whole body is melting. I’m warm and wet. I suck on Blake’s tongue and he groans. I lick my tongue into his mouth and he takes my offering like he’s starved for me. His fingers find my breasts and he rolls my nipples tenderly, until I moan with pleasure. Blake starts kissing a line down my neck, tasting me, sucking my nipple into his mouth. He feeds on me in lusty, rhythmic pulls. It’s the most intimate thing that’s ever happened to me. Each tug of his mouth sends a dart of sensation straight to my pussy, which feels soft and tingly. I’ve never felt anything like this. Not even close. I feel like I might die if he stops or pulls away. All I can comprehend through my lust-drowsed pleasure is how much I want him. How much I need to get closer.