“Need you, Brody,” I pant, because I desperately do. I need his body naked and locking me tight before I come apart at the seams.
He moves steady and slow, lowering me back to the counter with another grunt. Released from the tension of holding on, my thighs tremble. Brody steps back, grabbing at the neckline of his shirt and tugging it over his head.
“Hurry,” I urge, though I don’t think he can move faster than he already is.
Brody tugs a condom from his pants pocket, and I’m thankful he’s being smart because I’m too impatient to care. He tears at the little foil packet desperately, fingers fumbling. “Dammit,” he mumbles.
“I need to go on the pill,” I tell him, impatient.
“Do that,” he says, managing to get the condom free. Holding it in one hand, he uses the other to undo the button and zipper on his jeans. Shoving them down his thighs, he pulls his thick cock free of his underwear and rolls it on. “Next week. I’ll come with you.”
I shift forward on the counter, spreading my thighs in invitation. He moves between them. Our breath comes in pants and my gaze drops, settling on the swollen head of his cock pushing inside me. With an agonizingly slow thrust, Brody fills me. Our chests press together, both our hearts thumping a manic beat. Then he stills and bows his head, resting his forehead against my breastbone. I feel his breath on my naked skin, hot and heavy.
He swallows, his voice choked. “Nothing feels better than you, Jordan.”
Without lifting his head, Brody pulls out slowly and thrusts back in, sinking himself deeper.
I rake fingers through his silky hair and whisper his name, my eyes burning with sudden emotion. How could I let this happen? I fly halfway across the world chasing a dream and end up with the hottest, brightest, sweetest love I’ll ever have the chance of knowing. Brody is exciting and turbulent, charming and sexy, and deeply tortured down beneath the surface.
The man buried inside me right now is wildly imperfect, and I want forever with him.
I wake late in the morning. A simple shift of my hips and I’m groaning. I ache everywhere, but it’s a delicious ache. It’s the kind that only two bouts of incredible sex can produce. Drawing in a deep breath of air, my lungs expand as I roll in bed, stretching sore muscles and seeking out Brody.
He’s at my desk, idly swinging in the swivel chair. My laptop sits open. He’s talking to someone in between taking bites of the cold pizza slice resting in his hand. My brow furrows. Is he on the phone? I shift up on one elbow, tugging the covers up with me.
No doubt hearing the sheets rustle, Brody turns and a smug grin lights his face. Instantly, I’m wary.
“Oh, she finally wakes,” he says.
“That must have been one hell of a soccer game,” my brother responds.
Brody stifles a snort.
What in the everloving hell? My eyes snap to the computer screen. Nicky waves. It’s summer time there and the ends of his hair look dipped in gold from the sun—bright and brilliant to my tired gaze.
I rub a hand over my eyes. Have I woken to an alternate universe where my brother and Brody have become best mates overnight? It seems so.
Taking a huge bite of pizza, Brody holds out the slice in my direction. His eyes are wide as he chews, his face overly bright as if he hasn’t slept at all. He swallows. “Want a bite?”
“No,” I croak, though secretly I do. Cold pizza for breakfast is a shameful weakness of mine and I’m starving, but I have no plans to languish naked in bed, eating pepperoni and cheese while my boyfriend and brother chat in the same room together. It’s weird. And wrong. And did I mention weird? “What’s going on?”
“We’re just catching up,” Nicky tells me in his pleasant ‘isn’t this fun’ voice.
My stomach growls. I ignore it as I look between them both. “Yeah? Catching up on what?”
“Surfing,” Nicky says.
“Soccer,” Brody answers at the same time.
My suspicious glare deepens.
“Well. Good chat. Gotta go. Congrats on the win, Barney.” After casually throwing out that horrific childhood nickname as a tactical diversion, Nicky leans in and taps the keyboard, abruptly ending the Skype call.
Brody sputters a laugh, spinning his chair back in my direction after closing the laptop. “Barney?”
My chin juts out and I fold my arms.
Without any warning, Brody dives on the bed and I’m smothered beneath an enormous two-hundred-odd-pound mass of delicious man flesh. He draws back and I manage to suck in a quick lungful of air before he attacks. Grabbing both my hands, he pins them above my head. He rips the sheet away with his free hand, exposing my naked torso to the cool air. The rough pads of his fingers glide down my ribcage, deliberately hitting all my ticklish spots.
I shriek and giggle. When they brush over a soft nipple it responds instantly, peaking and sending delicious sparks of pleasure straight to my core. My back arches and my laughter dies out, a moan breaking free of my throat.
“Mmmm …” Brody draws out the sound, his gaze locked on my now hardened nipple. He traces the peak with his finger, teasingly slow, before drawing away. I squirm, my chest rising upwards, chasing more of his touch. “You like that…” he looks up from my breast “…Barney?”
“Brody.” I try to say his name in a stern voice, but the cheeky glint in his eyes sets off another peal of laughter.
“I’m dying to know,” he says before sucking the nipple inside his mouth. His tongue swirls languidly and my breath hitches. It pops free and he finishes his sentence. “How you got that particular nickname.”
Brody frees my arms and instantly I’m covering my breasts with my hands. “I’ll never tell.”
He pouts. “I have ways to make you talk.”
I’m sure he does. In fact, I know he does when the rest of the covers are ripped right off the bed and tossed carelessly to the floor.
“It’s cold,” I complain, yet my body is already beginning to heat as Brody slowly begins to torture me, touching me everywhere, driving me to the peak of orgasm before withdrawing, not letting me reach that lovely crest my body so desperately needs.
“Okay,” I gasp eventually. “I’ll tell you. Just … let me come, damn you.”
He lifts his head from where he’s now licking the crease of my thigh. “Tut tut, Barney. Ask nicely.”
A laugh escapes me. “Please! I’ll do anything you ask. Just stop calling me Barney!”
“Anything? Okay then.” Brody latches onto my clit instantly, sucking with his mouth and swirling his tongue.
From somewhere in the room his phone rings. He ignores it completely. Keeping his relentless rhythm, Brody doesn’t stop until I see bright white spots behind my lids.
“Oh my god,” I cry out on a long, keening moan.
His phone rings again as my legs flop uselessly on the bed. I am so done. “You should get that.”
Brody draws back, his hands scraping down my thighs as he rests back on his heels. He’s shirtless, an impressive erection straining the crotch of the jeans he’s wearing. “It can wait.”
“It sounds important.”
His hands pause in the act of undoing his zipper. “It’s a ringtone. How can it sound important?”
“Because whoever it is already rang twice.” Whenever someone rings like that, it sets off a panicked flutter in my chest that something is wrong. “Just answer it,” I urge.
With a roll of his eyes, Brody climbs off the bed. Lifting up on both elbows, I watch him stride over to my desk. He picks up the phone where it rests beside my laptop and checks the screen. His brow furrows. “It’s my uncle. Professor Draper.”
Being his uncle, the reason for the call could be anything, yet my stomach ties itself in knots. “Are you going to call him back?”
Brody rubs the back of his neck, and I know he’s feeling the same tension I am. “Later. After the game.”
“No.” I shake my head. His next game is two days from now. “You should just do
it now. Get it over with.”
When he just stares unhappily at the screen, I scoot off the bed and quietly pad over. Coming up behind him, I rub his shoulders and he lets out a deep sigh.
“If it was anything urgent he would’ve left a message,” he reasons.
Taking the decision out of Brody’s hands, his uncle rings again.
“Answer it.”
Brody grits his teeth, but he hits the little green button and puts it to his ear. “Hello?”
I can’t hear the professor talking. Instead I turn my head to the side and rest it against his back. My hands move from his shoulders and down, sliding around his waist until I’m hugging him from behind. He settles into my hold as if he likes it, his free hand coming to rest on mine, his way of telling me to stay put.
“What about it?” Brody asks, his body going tight.
There’s a pause where his uncle speaks again. As he listens, Brody’s body locks tighter, his chest beginning to rise and fall in a heavy rhythm.
“Fuck,” he bites out.
My eyes flutter closed. Whatever it is, it’s not good. I knew it wouldn’t be, and Brody’s physical reaction confirms it.
“I can’t. I have training all day. In case you might have missed it, we have an important game in two days.”
Another pause.
“Fine,” Brody grounds out. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
He hangs up the phone and tosses it back on the desk.
Sighing deeply, I draw away, letting my arms fall as I take a step back. He turns, his expression pained as he faces me. “I failed the course.”
My indrawn breath is audible. “Brody.”
Brody shrugs, but I can see the slight tremor in his lips. He’s struggling to hold back the wave of frustration. One step forward, two steps back. He casts his gaze down, blinking hard as he chokes out the next words. “I passed the final, but the midterm and casework grades weren’t enough. It’s going to lower my GPA and I’ll lose my eligibility to play football.”
Taking hold of his arms, I tug them toward me, wrapping them around me. “So what do we do now?”
Brody huffs a bitter laugh and shakes his head, somehow holding it together. “Never say die. That’s your motto, right?” His hands glide down, setting off shivers as he cups my bare ass. “You should have that tattooed right here.” He squeezes firmly.
I moan. I can’t help it. Even now, with this devastating bit of news, my body can’t get enough of him.
Brody responds by dropping his head to my neck, planting kisses along the line of my throat. “I need you,” he rasps, ignoring my question about where we go from here. “Right now.”
He trips me backwards toward the bed and pushes me down. I fall back on it with relief. I would’ve expected Brody to push me away with anger, but instead he’s pulling me closer, his need so palpable it makes me ache.
“Yes,” I tell him. “Now.”
He tears his zipper down. A bare second later Brody’s lifting my legs. Curling me into a ball; my lower half rises up and he pushes his thick cock inside me. It’s not sweet or intimate, but rough, and it feels good. He pumps hard and fast, driven by an animalistic need. All too soon, he’s groaning my name, his hips slamming against my ass. I don’t come, but I don’t care. Brody took care of me earlier. This is his turn.
Brody lets go of my shins and my legs fall open. He drops down between them, his skin sticky as he lands on top of me. My hands run down the damp skin of his back, soothing and gentle as he sucks in air. “I’m sorry.”
“No more apologies.”
He shakes his head. Planting his palms flat on the bed above me, Brody pulls out with a regretful groan and steps back off the bed. “I have to go.” Tugging up his pants, he yanks the zipper closed.
“You never answered me before. What do we do?”
“I have to do extra credit, make up the grade before he turns them in to the college.”
It makes sense. Brody’s lucky the professor is his uncle and willing to extend the offer. But we’re in the middle of championships. There’s no time to do what I know he has to. I sit up on the edge of the bed. “What can I do?”
After tugging his shirt down and into place, he leans over and smacks a loud kiss on my lips. “Baby.” He draws back and looks at me, his hands on my knees. His cheeks are tinged pink, but the exhaustion in his eyes worries me. “I’ve got this. All I need is to hold you at night. Can I do that?”
I have to fight to keep the waver from my voice. “I’m all yours.”
When he leaves, I make for the shower, my anger rising steadily. If Brody hadn’t failed that midterm, he would’ve passed the course. All I can think right now is that this is on Kyle, and I need to put my plan into action. Tonight.
Brody
After leaving Jordan’s apartment, I head straight for my uncle’s office, eager to get this meeting over with. After passing the final, I hadn’t even considered failing the course. The news was a monumental blow, but right now I’m calm. It’s at odds with the way my temper has been raging out of control of late. I need to track down Damien and ask him about the side effects of these pills. Something I didn’t even think about before I started chewing them down like candy.
My knuckles rap sharply on his door.
“Come in,” Patrick calls out.
After taking a deep breath, I turn the handle and step inside. My uncle looks up from his desk, pulling his glasses off and tossing them on top of a pile of papers. He stares at me for a long, hard moment. “You look like crap.”
I’m sure I do. I haven’t slept a single wink in over twenty-four hours. I don’t feel tired though. It’s like I’ve had a solid eight hours already. My body isn’t giving me any signs that its sleep deprived, and that’s a huge positive. I have training all day and we’re down to the wire. Every minute has to count, but I know I’ve got it covered now thanks to Damien.
I smile lazily, taking a seat opposite my uncle. “Well I feel great.”
His eyes narrow as they look me over. My body shifts uncomfortably beneath the scrutiny. “What the hell are you taking, Brody?”
Fuck. How does he know? My knuckles turn white as my grip tightens on the arms of the chair. I force a confused furrow to my brow. “What do you mean?”
Patrick pushes back his chair. Getting to his feet, my eyes follow as he stalks around the desk. Stopping in front of me, he leans down and gets right in my face. “You think I don’t recognize the signs of drug abuse? You look exhausted, and yet you’re wound up tighter than a spring. I’ve been through law school, Brody. I’ve seen it all, and everything I’ve seen?” He leans in further, eyes flaring hard and fierce. “It never ends well.”
A huff of laughter escapes me and I roll my eyes. “Seriously. Drugs? I don’t—”
My uncle pushes back, his voice a harsh command, veins straining his neck. “Shut the fuck up!”
I sit back in stunned silence as angry tension forms in the room. Patrick swipes a hand down his face, shaking his head. “What are you taking, Brody?”
My jaw tightens. “I’m not.”
“Don’t argue with me. You’re my nephew. I know you better than your own damn father does. I know you’re taking something. Whatever it is, you need to stop. Taking pills not medically prescribed for you is wrong.” Disappointment radiates from him in waves. “It makes you a cheater, Brody. Is that how you want to get ahead? By cheating?”
My lips press together. Patrick is making a mountain out of a molehill. A couple of pills is not drug abuse, nor is it cheating. Not when I’m behind the eight ball to start with. All Adderall has ever done is offer me the fair chance that being dyslexic never did.
“Damn it all to hell, Brody!” he growls when I remain tightlipped. “You’re a college athlete. A football star. Hundreds of thousands of fans think you walk on goddamn water. What would they think if they knew?”
“It was just a couple of pills,” I tell him. But it wasn’t just a couple. My hands shoo
k when I opened the bottle this morning and found it almost empty. I don’t even remember taking that many. “For study. That’s all. No more.”
My uncle returns to his seat, his sigh deep and heavy. He looks at me, and judging by his expression I know he wants to believe in me, to give me the benefit of the doubt that I simply don’t deserve. “Promise me that’s it.”
I look him in the eye and I lie. I don’t have a choice. I won’t get through the next few days without taking more, not now with this extra case work to deal with. It lets me see everything in color, get shit done, and feel great while doing it. Right now it’s my savior. My ace in the hole. My motherfucking touchdown.
I need it.
After a full day of training and watching play, I slide inside my SUV, my body bruised and aching. I toss my phone onto the passenger seat. It lands on the folder my uncle gave me this morning. Two case assignments. Both will take multiple hours each to research and complete. I know I’m lucky being given the chance to make up my grade, but bitterness fills me anyway. What comes easy for everyone else is ten times harder for me. I want it to be over, but I have one more semester to complete before I can graduate. And I have to graduate. My father prides himself on being a man who always follows through with his threats.
Jamming the keys in the ignition, I start the engine. Now that I’m physically sitting down, exhaustion overwhelms me. It’s been thirty-six hours since I last slept. My body is crashing hard. I tip my head back and close my eyes, just for a minute.
A rap on my window rouses me with a jolt. Swiping a hand across my face, I use the other to depress the button. Cool air rushes in, doing its best to wake me and failing.
“Coach,” I slur, my voice too weak to say more.
“Madden.” His brow furrows as he ducks his head, looking in at me. “You okay, son?”
The End Game Page 26