by Jenna Sutton
Teagan nodded and went to welcome her first guest. It was Marshall, and when he saw that no one else was around, he backed her against the wall in the foyer and kissed her until they were both breathless.
He pulled back and met her eyes. “Hi.”
She smiled. “Hi.”
She and Marshall had been dating for nearly four months. They weren’t exclusive, although she wasn’t dating anyone else, and neither was he. He’d dropped hints that he wanted them to be, but she had ignored them.
They weren’t having sex, either. They kissed, and she allowed him to cop a feel every now and then, but he hadn’t put his mouth anywhere other than her lips nor had his hands strayed below her waist.
It wasn’t because she was a good girl. It was because she refused to have sex with one man while she was in love with another.
She was in love with Nick Priest. A man who would never love her back. A man who’d never had a relationship with a woman based on anything other than sex.
She’d downplayed her feelings for him as a crush because that had made it easier to pretend they would go away. But they hadn’t gone away.
What had started out as friendship and a little bit of lust had turned into something deep and intense. When she was with him, she felt like she mattered—like her thoughts and her feelings were important. She had never felt that way before.
But she knew loving Nick would bring her nothing but heartache, and that was why she continued to date Marshall. She wanted to give herself a chance to fall in love with someone who would love her back. Someone who could commit.
She wasn’t in any hurry to get married and start a family, but she wanted those things eventually. Marshall was a good man, and she could tell he’d be a good husband and father.
Marshall bent down to kiss her again. He was a good kisser with firm lips and nice technique, and it was no hardship to spend a few minutes with his mouth on hers. He curled his hands around her hips and pulled her closer until his erection pressed against her stomach. She drew back, and he groaned.
“What am I doing wrong, honey?”
“Nothing.” She stared into his dark brown eyes. “You’re not doing anything wrong.”
You’re just the wrong man.
“Then why did you pull away?” he asked, his voice filled with concern and confusion.
“We’re not alone. Bebe’s in the bathroom.”
It was the truth, but it also was an excuse. For some reason, she had no problem kissing Marshall, but the moment she noticed he had an erection, she felt like she was cheating on Nick.
It was ridiculous because she and Nick weren’t a couple. They were friends. And she had no doubt that Nick had an active sex life. He wasn’t thinking about her when he was with other women.
Another knock sounded, and she moved to open the door. Marshall stopped her and pointed to his crotch, where an erection tented his khakis.
“I need a place to hide out for a few minutes.”
She smiled. It might make her feel guilty, but it also was nice to know at least one man got an erection because of her and not just simple biology.
“Down the hall. My bedroom’s on the left, study on the right.”
He gave her a quick kiss before jogging toward the hallway. Bebe peeked her head around the bathroom door.
“All clear?”
Teagan laughed and waved her into the room before opening the door to let in a group of people she and Bebe knew from school. Within minutes, her condo was packed with people wearing Colonials gear. The big-screen TV was on but muted until the game started so people could chat while they filled their plates with party food.
Marshall made sure everyone had drinks, and when she caught his eye from across the room, she mouthed, “Thank you.” He winked at her, and in return she gave him a big smile.
“You’re leading him on, kanya.”
The smile slipped from her face. She turned to face Bebe.
“I’m not,” she protested. “I really like him.”
“I know you do. But as long as Nick is in your life, there’s no room for anyone else.”
Teagan worried that Bebe was right. Nick filled her mind, whether she was awake or asleep, and her heart overflowed with love for him.
“You think I need to cut Nick completely out of my life?”
The thought of it made her chest tight. But then she reminded herself it was inevitable. She was moving back to San Francisco when she graduated in four months, and his life was wherever football took him.
Bebe hesitated, but before she could answer Teagan’s question, someone yelled out the game was starting. Teagan rushed to the living area to turn on the volume.
Four hours later, the party had quieted down. Everyone was focused on the television because the Colonials were down by three points with only thirty-five seconds left in the game.
The Colonials quarterback tried to run the ball on the first down, but the opposing team stopped the running back from gaining any yards. The quarterback was sacked on the second down.
It wasn’t looking good for the Colonials, and Teagan wondered what Nick felt in that exact moment. Even though she knew it was foolish, she closed her eyes and sent him a message with her heart: I’m with you no matter if you win or lose.
The teams lined up for the third down, and the center snapped the football to the quarterback. The quarterback let loose with a long spiral intended for Nick, but it was obvious that he’d overshot it. The ball was too high.
Teagan held her breath as Nick jumped, his arm reaching toward the sky, his right hand outstretched. The ball ricocheted off his fingers, and it hurtled toward the ground until he scooped it from the air with his left hand. He pulled it down toward his side and landed with a slight stumble right in the middle of the end zone.
Touchdown Colonials!
Teagan pressed her fingers against her mouth, tears springing to her eyes. The man she loved had just won his first Super Bowl.
She wished she was there so she could . . . do what exactly? Hug him and pretend that all she felt was friendship? Watch him celebrate by drinking too much and then stand by and smile as he took a strange woman back to his hotel room to screw her?
She’d fallen in love with Nick Priest, and it was the stupidest thing she had ever done.
Chapter 14
“Priest, you are a fucking god,” Quinn proclaimed, slapping Nick on the back and giving him a one-armed hug.
“Agreed,” Cal said and duplicated Quinn’s actions when his brother stepped away.
Nick laughed at their exuberance. He’d invited Quinn and Cal to Miami to attend the Super Bowl and, depending on the outcome of the game, help him celebrate a win or mourn a loss.
He hadn’t seen the brothers since he’d moved to Boston, and he was excited to hang out with them. The three of them planned to have a few drinks in the hotel bar before stopping by a couple of parties. Tomorrow morning, they’d probably wake up with pain in their heads and strange women in their beds.
The bar was closed to the public for exclusive team use, and the three of them settled into one of the circular booths in the corner. The server came by a minute later to take their order, and once she’d left, Nick slouched against the booth.
He was still hyped up from the game, but he also was exhausted. The season was over. His team had won it all, and he’d caught the winning touchdown. He couldn’t believe it. It was something every pro football player dreamed of . . . the pinnacle of success.
For a heartbeat, when the ball had bounced off his fingers, he’d been sure it was over. He still didn’t know how he had caught it as it had plummeted toward the turf. It had been a once-in-a-lifetime kind of catch.
The server delivered their beers, and he took a swallow of his Blue Moon. He’d had a few beers in his suite, and he already had a nice buzz going on.
He usually avoided over-imbibing because a few of his Denver teammates had told him he talked a lot when he was drunk. No one mentioned his stutter, and he figured that was because they expected a drunk to trip over his words. But tonight he was with friends, and he didn’t have to be so careful.
A group of women walked by, all hotter than hell. They wore short dresses and stilettos, and he enjoyed the view along with Quinn and Cal.
“The women in Miami are so . . .” Cal hesitated, clearly trying to find the right word. “Fuckable,” he concluded.
Nick laughed. They were indeed.
“Did you see that tall redhead?” Cal asked, nudging Quinn’s arm.
“I’m not a fan of redheads,” Quinn responded, his lip curling with distaste. “They’re pale and freckly.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing,” Cal said, waggling his eyebrows. “They’ve got freckles in some very interesting places.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Quinn replied dryly before turning to Nick and holding up his beer bottle. “To an incredible catch.”
Cal raised his bottle. “To an incredible catch,” he repeated.
The three of them tapped their bottles. Nick laughed and shook his head.
“I still can’t believe I caught that goddamn ball.”
“Neither can I,” Quinn stated emphatically. “It’s going to go down in the history books as the most amazing catch ever made in a Super Bowl game. I guarantee it.”
“How do you feel now that you’ve won your first Super Bowl?” Cal asked, sounding remarkably like a sports reporter.
“Might be the only one.”
“Bullshit,” Quinn countered. “You’re at the top of your game.”
Nick smiled. He felt pretty amazing. The only thing that would make him happier was if Teagan were there to celebrate with him.
The smile slid from his face. Teagan.
He was supposed to be over her by now. He hadn’t seen her in months, but apparently the phrase “out of sight, out of mind” didn’t apply to her.
Today, the thought of Teagan had prevented his humiliation in front of the whole world. He had tried to make his way off the field as soon as the game ended, knowing he’d be swarmed with people, but a cute little blond reporter from ESPN had caught him right before he’d reached the tunnel.
Shoving a mic in his face, she’d asked: “How do you feel about winning the Super Bowl your first season with the Colonials?”
As he had stared into the unblinking black eye of the camera, he’d thought about Teagan. He’d imagined they were eating takeout in her condo, and she’d asked him how his day had been. He pretended that he was talking to her, and by some miracle, he managed to squeeze out “Good” without stuttering.
After that, he’d practically sprinted back to the locker room. He had skipped the post-game press conference, and he knew everyone would have plenty to say about that. The media would probably blast him, and fans would think he was an asshole.
He had already been fined by the NFL commissioner for not attending the pre-Super Bowl media events. All team members were required to attend at least one pregame press conference or pay a hefty fine. But Nick was more than happy to pay it as long as he didn’t have to open his mouth in public.
“Did your dad come to the game?” Quinn asked.
“He said he w-w-w-was going to. Haven’t seen him, though.”
Nick shrugged, trying not to show how much it hurt that his only living parent couldn’t bother to show up for the single most important game of his pro career. He hadn’t received a text or a phone call from his dad to congratulate him on the win, either.
He’d called Simon after the Colonials had won the division playoffs. The conversation had been awkward even though he used all of his speech techniques to avoid stuttering as much as possible.
He had offered to send his dad a ticket to the Super Bowl, and Simon had agreed to attend. But he’d warned Nick that he couldn’t stay in Miami to visit, since he had to catch a plane to Abu Dhabi for an economic summit. Apparently, he’d decided to bypass the game and go directly to the conference.
Nick didn’t want to talk about his dad anymore, so he directed his attention back to Quinn and Cal. He was eager to catch up on their lives.
“Anything new?” he asked.
“I bought a house,” Quinn replied. “It’s a big Victorian in Laurel Heights.”
“W-w-w-with your trust fund?” Nick queried, smirking a little.
He loved to rag the O’Brien boys about their cushy, trust-fund lifestyle. But it was a joke because they were two of the hardest-working men he knew.
“Priest, you don’t have any room to talk. Your bank account has more zeroes than mine,” Quinn said. “But my dick is still bigger.”
Nick chuckled, ignoring the slur. He didn’t have any insecurities about the size of his penis or what he could do with it.
“I w-w-w-work for my money,” he reminded them.
“You call strutting around with no shirt for a deodorant commercial ‘work’?” Quinn sneered. Cal laughed and fist-bumped his brother.
“Are you living in the house?” Nick asked Cal. The brothers had lived together in a condo in San Francisco’s Cow Hollow neighborhood for the past several years.
“Hell, no. You know Quinn is a slob. I couldn’t handle his mess anymore.”
They had finished their beers and ordered another round. Nick spotted several of his teammates in the bar, and all of them were just as buzzed as he was. Some were already plastered.
“What are you going to do now that you’ve won the big game?” Quinn asked.
“Relax.”
“So you’re going to have sex,” Cal quipped. “That’s how I relax.”
Cal’s comment made him think about Teagan and her claim that she was too tense. He ground his teeth, wondering if she had gone ahead with her plans to have sex with Marshall, the nice guy from Texas who loved football.
When she had told him she’d been dating Marshall, a wave of jealously unlike any he’d ever felt had crashed over him, and he had acted like a caveman. It was irrational, but he hated to think of her with another man.
He hated to think of someone else finding pleasure inside her luscious body. He knew he couldn’t touch her, but he didn’t want anyone else to, either.
“What’s the matter, Priest?” Cal asked. “You have a weird look on your face.”
Nick stared at him, wondering what Cal would do if Nick admitted he wanted to have sex with Teagan. He imagined Cal would smash his beer bottle over Nick’s head before trying to gut him with the broken glass.
And when Cal was done with him, Quinn would step in. Nick winced at the thought because the older O’Brien brother had an upper cut to rival Mike Tyson.
“He’s probably thinking about a woman he’d like to have sex with,” Quinn said. “Am I right?”
Nick jerked toward Quinn, who had a speculative glint in his blue eyes. They looked so much like Teagan’s he had a hard time tearing his gaze from them.
“No,” he answered, lying straight to their faces.
There was a woman: their little sister. Their beautiful, brainy, fuckable little sister.
“There’s always a woman, Priest,” Cal scoffed. “You’re a dog.”
Yeah, he was a dog. But he had managed to keep his hands off Teagan, even when she’d sat right on top of his dick. True, he hadn’t been able to resist a tiny bump and grind, but ultimately he had held on to his self-control.
Obviously, he’d lied when he had told her that his erection wasn’t for her. But he couldn’t risk losing her friendship and the friendship of the rest of her family.
Nick had considered the situation from every angle, and he’d had a breakthrough while eating a piece of Letty’s chocolate cake. She had told him that sh
e’d had to make two cakes because she had messed up the icing for the first one. Apparently, the bad icing had soaked the cake, making the entire dessert inedible.
As he’d sat there enjoying devil’s food cake with cherry vanilla icing, he had realized the situation with Teagan was just like Letty’s ruined dessert. The cake was his friendship with Teagan and her family, and the icing was sex with Teagan.
Cake was better with icing, but there was always a chance the icing would turn rancid, ruining the cake, too. And Nick would rather eat cake with no icing than not have any dessert at all.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he fished it out to read the text. It was from Teagan. I’m so proud of you!! Come see me when you get home.
He closed the screen and placed his phone facedown on the table. He wanted nothing more than to see her. He’d been tempted to send her a ticket so she could be there with him, but ultimately decided not to because she was too much of a distraction. And he didn’t want to explain to her brothers why he wanted her there.
He didn’t understand it himself. He didn’t want to want Teagan, and he knew they couldn’t be together, yet he couldn’t stay away from her. And it drove him crazy that she saw him as a surrogate big brother.
“One of your women?” Cal asked, arching an eyebrow toward Nick’s phone.
Nick shook his head. “Your sister.”
Who definitely is not one of my “women.”
Quinn took a long pull on his beer before placing it between his palms. Rolling it back and forth, he stared at Nick.
“Do you see Teagan very often?” Quinn asked.
“No.”
It wasn’t a lie, not exactly. The word “very” was subjective.
Nick didn’t want Quinn and Cal to know just how much time he spent with their sister, although he had no reason to feel guilty. Not really.
But they were smart guys, and they would find it strange that Nick chose to hang out with Teagan when he could be with other women—women he could fuck and forget.
“Have you met this guy Marshall?” Cal asked.