by Tessa Bailey
Too Hard to Forget
Romancing the Clarksons, Book 3
by Tessa Bailey
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This time, she's calling the shots.
Peggy Clarkson is returning to her alma mater with one goal in mind: confront Elliott Brooks, the man who ruined her for all others, and remind him of what he's been missing. Even after three years, seeing him again is like a punch in the gut, but Peggy's determined to stick to her plan. Maybe then, once she has the upper hand, she'll finally be able to move on.
In the years since Peggy left Cincinnati, Elliott has kept his focus on football. No distractions and no complications. But when Peggy walks back onto his practice field and into his life, he knows she could unravel everything in his carefully controlled world. Because the girl who was hard to forget is now a woman impossible to resist.
* * * *
Peggy couldn’t pinpoint what drew her toward the tunnel. The football game was going to start in just fifteen minutes, and she was supposed to be leading the Bearcat cheerleading squad’s warm-ups. But just like always, she was aware of his absence. On the field, pacing the sideline, terse instructions being delivered into his headset, while eagle eyes watched the team stretch and prepare. And in the same way she never failed to sense him nearby, his absence was having the opposite effect now. Instead of feeling hot and full, her stomach was cold and empty.
Pompoms in hand, Peggy walked on the balls of her feet down the silent, airless hall leading to the football team’s locker room. She had no authorization to be there but couldn’t ignore the pull. She’d find him back there. The man who watched her as if she were the Promised Land one moment, hell the next.
Elliott Brooks. Head coach of the Bearcats. Two-time recipient of the Coach of the Year award. Uncompromising hard ass known for demanding perfection not only from his team, but himself. Devout Catholic. They called him the Kingmaker, because so many of his players had gone on to be first round NFL draft picks. That man. The one who visited her bed nightly.
Well. In her dreams, anyway. In real life, they’d never exchanged a single word. Their long, secretive glances were a language all their own, though. When cheerleading and football practices intersected, his burning coal eyes moved over her like a brush fire.
What are you looking at? His gaze seemed to ask. But in the same glance, she could read the contradicting subtext. Don’t you dare look at anyone on this field but me.
Give me one good reason, she would blink back, cocking a hip.
And he would. Commanding the field with a whip crack command, stalking the sidelines like a predatory creature, seeing all, commenting only when strictly necessary. Those eyes would sneak back to her, though. Without fail. Their message would read, I’m a man among boys. There’s your reason.
Or she’d imagined everything and the telepathic communication was in her head alone. A scary possibility…and one she couldn’t bring herself to believe. Was it finally time to find out?
The crowd’s excitement followed Peggy down the long tunnel, fading the closer she came to the locker room. That’s when she heard the heavy, measured breaths. The forceful clearing of a man’s throat.
His throat.
Before she could second-guess her sanity, Peggy stepped into the off-limits room, dropping her pompoms and slamming back against the wall under the weight of his attention. It snapped against her skin like an open hand. God, he was gorgeous, even in his sudden fury. Hard bodied, golden from the sun and righteously male, all stubbled and tall and full of might. The muscles of her abdomen squeezed—squeezed—along with her thighs as he stormed over, his words being directed at her for the very first time.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing here?”
Don’t lose your nerve now. Years. She’d been watching him for years. Since she’d entered the university as a freshman. Watched his triumphs from afar. And the horrible tragedy, still so recent. So fresh. “You should be on the field.”
Elliott’s crack of masculine laugher held no humor. “And you thought it was your job to come get me, cheerleader?”
So condescending. But accompanied by his raking glance down her thighs and belly…she couldn’t help but be turned on by it. She loved him addressing her at all. Finally. “Yeah. I did. Everyone else is probably too scared of you.”
Dark eyes narrowing, he stepped closer. So close, she almost whimpered, the fantasies having taken such a deep hold, her longing was on a hair-trigger. “Well, you were wrong. It’s not your job. So pick up your sparkly bullshit and move out.”
“They’re called pompoms and I’ll leave when I’m good and ready.” With an incredulous expression, Elliott started to move away, telling Peggy she needed to work fast. Toward what goal? She’d come with no plan. Had never expected to actually speak to this man in her life. “I’ve seen you watching me.”
He froze, a muscle leaping in his cheek. “You were mistaken.”
“No. I wasn’t. I’m not.” She wet her lips, gaining confidence when his eyes followed the movement and she saw the hunger. The same hunger she’d watched grow, even while he begrudged it, over the course of the last few months. Since the tragedy. “You don’t have to feel ashamed about it. Not now.”
His fists planted on either side of her head with a bash, shaking the lockers, then his face hovered mere inches away. “What would you know about shame?”
Wetness rushed between Peggy’s thighs as his apples and mint scent took hold of her throat like a giant metal hook. “I know the last six months were awful for you. They would be so hard for anyone. But especially you, because you carry everyone on your back. The whole school lives for Saturdays. If you’ll win or lose.” His brow furrowed, his scrutiny so intense, she wondered how her legs kept from giving out. They must have moved closer without realizing, because the tips of Peggy’s breasts grazed Elliott’s chest and he groaned. A harsh, guttural sound that might as well have been a symphony, it was so welcome to her ears.
“You…” His throat flexed. “You don’t know anything about me, Peggy.”
Her pulse went haywire. The wordless communication hadn’t been imaginary. Those hard eyes really had been speaking to her. It was the way he said Peggy. As though he’d tested her name on his tongue a million times. “You know my name.”
On behalf of 1001 Dark Nights,
Liz Berry and M.J. Rose would like to thank ~
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Jillian Stein
InkSlinger PR
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Table of Contents
Book Description
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue