Fraternize

by Rachel Van Dyken

  “Yum.” Sanchez licked his lips and then sucked on one finger. “I can almost taste the chocolate now.”

  “It melts . . .” Miller’s eyes flashed. “All the way down to your—”

  “Guys!” I threw one hand in the air. “Come on! Do you really want your teammates to see me in a towel?”

  Sanchez scowled while Miller huffed out a “Fuck no.”

  “I’ll make you cookies! Tonight, promise!”

  “Nice doing business with you.” Sanchez took the bag from Miller and handed it over to me. “Now run!”

  The door opened. “Shit, she’s not going to make it.” Miller’s voice sounded, and then he was yelling at Sanchez, “Distract them!”

  “Don’t come in!” Sanchez did a small circle. “I . . . um, I’m naked?”

  “Dude, they see you naked all the time! Think of something better!”

  “I’m trying! It’s a lot of pressure!”

  “Hurry!”

  I was behind Miller waiting when Sanchez shouted, “I puked all over the floor! It’s green!”

  I burst out laughing while Sanchez sent me a glare that would have normally made me flinch.

  “Go!” He motioned us out the other door.

  Miller grabbed my hand and jerked me all the way across the hall and back into the girls’ locker room in less than two minutes.

  The lights were off.

  Our chests were heaving.

  And I could have sworn I heard my own heartbeat as the heat from his body spread into my space, wrapping itself around me.

  “You okay?” His gruff question was like lighting a match in the darkness, making me lean into him when I knew I had no business doing it.

  “Yeah,” I croaked. “Thanks.”

  He ran a hand down my bare shoulder and then toyed with the front of my towel. I held my breath as his fingers tugged the material. “You don’t want to know what I’m thinking right now.”

  He shuddered.

  I gulped, too afraid to move.

  His voice lowered. “You have no idea how badly I want to rip this off.”

  “It wouldn’t matter. You can’t see me in the dark.”

  “I have a very vivid memory.”

  I sucked in a breath.

  He exhaled a curse and stepped away. “I’ll see you tonight, Em.”

  “Okay.” Disappointment slammed into me and then guilt. “Tonight.”

  “Bring my moist cookies, friend.”

  I laughed. “Say moist again, and I’m giving back that necklace.”

  “Deal.”

  I waited for him to leave. And in the darkness, closed my eyes and tried to calm my breathing before finally flipping on the switch.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  MILLER

  My fingers buzzed with a prickling sensation the rest of the day—from a damn towel. I tried to rein it in, only to lose it all over again when I went over to Sanchez’s apartment, let myself in, and saw the most gorgeous ass in the air, directly in front of the oven.

  It swayed back and forth as music pumped through the sound system, and the scent of cookies filled the air.

  I almost had a heart attack when Emerson stood, oven mitts and all, and did another little shimmy before sliding the cookie tray onto the granite countertop.

  “Enjoying the show?” she called over her shoulder.

  I froze, pissed that I felt my cheeks heating. “You knew I was watching?”

  “You walk loud.”

  “Bullshit. I’m a panther!”

  “Sure.” She still wasn’t looking at me. “A two-hundred-and-fifty-pound panther with size fourteen shoes. It’s amazing how you glide into the room.” With a laugh, she started fanning the cookies with her hands. “You think you float into rooms. You stomp. Trust me. I could feel the vibrations through the floor.”

  I rolled my eyes and reached for a cookie. She smacked me with the spatula and glared, and pieces of her blonde hair fell across her flour-caked cheeks.

  “What the hell, woman!” I rubbed my hand. It didn’t hurt, but still.

  “No.” She thrust the spatula in my face. “Not until Sanchez gets back from the store. He only had enough for me to make one batch of cookies.”

  I tried sliding my hand near the cookie sheet again; my fingers almost came into contact with the chocolate before I earned another smack. “Shit, that stung!”

  “Miller, I mean it!”

  “We aren’t monsters. It’s not like we’re going to eat one full batch.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Really? Because in high school I distinctly remember you eating two dozen by yourself and then hiding the rest of them in your pillow.”

  “Okay, first of all . . .” I leaned my hands on the counter. “I was a growing boy, and I needed protein.”

  “Totally not protein, but continue.” She waved the spatula at me.

  I jerked it from her hand and pointed it in her face. “Second, you know I used to get hungry in the middle of the night, and why walk all the way downstairs when my pillow had special places for hiding food?”

  She shoved the spatula away from her face and put her hands on her gorgeous hips. “Miller! You had your mom sew a snack pouch in your pillow! That’s not how they really make them!”

  I grinned smugly. “Best idea I ever had.”

  “She was just tired of you waking everyone up with your loud walking up and down the stairs . . . up and down the stairs . . . whining, ‘Mom, I’m hungry!’”

  She did my voice perfect.

  “You done yet?” I crossed my arms.

  “‘Ma! Where’s my chicken!’” She giggled. “‘Ma! We’re out of milk again!’”

  Slowly, Em backed away. She knew what was coming.

  I eyed her and silently held up one finger, then two, then three.

  She squealed.

  And I chased.

  I always chased.

  With a roar, I had my arms wrapped around her body and was carrying her back into the kitchen, ready to do whatever necessary to get a taste.

  Of the cookie.

  Not her.

  Oh hell, maybe both.

  A very vivid image of Emerson covered in chocolate flashed through my brain as I set her on her feet and pinned her against the counter, “Cookie me.”

  “No.” Her chest heaved.

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  “I can do this all day, Em.”

  “One.” She held up a finger. “You can have ONE taste, but that’s it, and don’t tell Sanchez because I swore up and down that we’d wait for him. The poor guy sprinted down the hall, Miller. He nearly broke the button to the elevator.”

  “Man must love his cookies,” I rasped.

  “I never thought there’d be two guys so equally obsessed in existence,” she said breathlessly.

  “Are you just going to stare at me or taste?” Her smile fell as her eyes darted to my mouth and back again.

  “Taste,” I whispered, slowly grazing her ass as I reached around her body and grabbed a warm cookie. I lifted it to my lips and took a bite then held it to hers.

  She shook her head. “I think I get more pleasure from watching you eat than actually eating them.”

  “Then watch away.” I finished off the cookie and was licking my fingers, and then her thumb was brushing the side of my mouth.

  My tongue met her thumb.

  She didn’t jerk back.

  Even her skin tasted amazing.

  “You, um, had chocolate.” She gulped and looked away.

  It took every ounce of control in my body to keep from kissing her, slamming my mouth against hers and giving her a real taste.

  “If either of you ate cookies, you’re dead to me!” Sanchez’s voice boomed, before the door opened.

  I destroyed all evidence by rearranging cookies on the sheet and winked at Em before Sanchez made his way into the kitchen.

  He eyed the sheet, then me, then the sheet. “You moved one.”

 
; “I did.” I gulped. “And then I was smacked with a spatula. Careful about this one.” I jabbed a finger in Em’s direction. “She’s violent as hell.”

  “Aw, my woman got her panties in a bunch over one stolen cookie?” Sanchez teased, pulling her into his arms.

  My chest cracked.

  Stomach heaved.

  I clenched my fists and tried to look away, but it was impossible. They were right in front of me. He touched her lips with his, then sighed against her body and proved to me yet again that she wasn’t mine.

  And the sick part was that I was pretty sure he wasn’t doing it on purpose—he just couldn’t help himself.

  I knew the feeling, man. It haunted me every second of every day.

  “Are we going to eat cookies, or do I need to leave you guys alone for a bit?” I teased.

  “Cookies first. Sex second.” Sanchez nodded.

  Emerson gasped.

  “A man with priorities.” I nodded, trying to forget the sick feeling in my stomach. “I like it.”

  He held out his hand for a shake.

  I took it.

  And tried not to puke as I snatched another cookie and stuffed it in my mouth to keep myself busy. To keep myself sane.

  It was either eat all the food—or do something stupid like stake my claim based on the fact that I had put more years in than he had.

  But the present didn’t account for the past.

  Not anymore.

  And we’d agreed to forget it.

  And I knew I had two choices. I could avoid them like the plague and lose her forever.

  I locked eyes with Em as she returned his bear hug.

  Choices sucked.

  Avoid.

  Or live the lie?

  I chose to live the lie.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  EMERSON

  My chest hurt.

  I’d been able to down a half of a cookie with a gulp of milk, and that was it. We watched Jason Bourne. I sat between two of the hottest guys on the planet while they argued over cyber terrorism and threw cookies at the TV.

  It was perfect.

  And it was hell.

  How was it possible to feel such conflicting emotions? Sanchez had put his arm around me and held me close, but a part of my thigh still touched Miller’s, and I knew he knew it, because every once in a while he’d shift, and the torture would start all over again.

  Whether it was feeling his muscled thigh through his jeans . . .

  Or the graze of his fingers as he handed me the blanket . . .

  But he stayed true to his word to be my friend; if anything, I was the one having a nervous breakdown, while he was having completely casual conversations with us while Sanchez held my hand and played with my hair.

  And I’d be lying if I said having Sanchez’s attention didn’t feel good. It did. He wasn’t what I expected. I mean he was cocky as hell, but after watching him play, and seeing the way he commanded a room, it made sense. There really wasn’t a chance for him to be any other way.

  And it worked.

  It was endearing and, at least with me, I knew while he teased, there was still always a line he wasn’t willing to cross, at least not yet.

  If anything, it felt like he was proving to me, or maybe just himself, that he was capable of more than a one-night stand. I still hadn’t asked him about Jacki, wasn’t sure I even wanted to know, besides it wasn’t my business right?

  Once the movie ended, Miller gave Sanchez a fist bump and then gave me a high five because, in his book, I was too blonde to make a fist bump look cool.

  Really, it was just because his hands were so big and mine were so small it hurt my knuckles! Which I, of course, said defensively, only to have both guys tease me for the next ten minutes while I stood there and took it.

  The cleanup was minimal and took me only about thirty minutes. I was exhausted trying to keep my feelings in check and my focus on the guy that actually cared for me, the guy that didn’t just want me because he’d had me first. I frowned. It was a potentially unfair assessment of Miller, but it’s all I had.

  “Emerson?” Sanchez padded down the hall in nothing but low-slung jeans and a smile reserved for the only other person left in the room: me. His muscled body was so thickly corded with golden muscles that I was afraid I was going to start hyperventilating.

  He had a few tattoos wrapped around his right arm and one that stretched across his taut abs.

  I licked my lips.

  “Careful, Curves.” His tone was warning. “If you lick it, you have to keep it.”

  “Who says I’m not keeping you?” I walked slowly toward him.

  His eyes narrowed. “Some say I can’t be tamed.”

  “Who said anything about taming?”

  His gaze softened. “I don’t deserve you.”

  “Don’t say things like that, please.” I had to look away so he didn’t see the shame in my eyes. The shame I lived with. The guilt that crushed me. I wanted to be his. I wanted to jump into his arms and give him everything, but it would be a lie.

  And I wondered if even he was perceptive enough to know that.

  “Walk with me.” He grabbed my hand and led me to the master bedroom then softly shoved me in.

  Awareness washed over me as he gripped my hips from behind and pulled me against his clearly aroused body.

  “I want you. In that bed.” He whispered in my ear, then his teeth tugged my lobe while his tongue swirled in and out before he spoke again. “But I want you to come to me, alright? None of this bullshit seduction on my part. So hear me now, Curves. You walk into this room, that means you’re mine. No sharing.”

  I nodded, not trusting my voice.

  “No takebacks.” He gripped my ass until pain mixed with pleasure as his fingers dug in, and then with his other hand, he pulled my ponytail until my head was tilted back enough for him to press a punishing kiss to my mouth. “Got me?”

  I whimpered against his kiss, and my tongue slid against his.

  With a growl, he pulled back and swore.

  I felt his hands imprinted on my body everywhere.

  And in that moment, I did want more. I wanted to be that girl he was talking about, the one who could step over the threshold and freely give what he wanted.

  I wasn’t that girl. Not yet. I wanted to be. And maybe that was my first baby step toward finally being free of the past, of the damage done years ago when I had called Miller and his number had changed. I’d meant to tell him my suspicions were correct.

  I was pregnant with his child.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  MILLER

  Game 1

  Pilots vs. Bucks

  Home Turf

  Favored Team: Bellevue Bucks

  “You got us?” Jax yelled in the middle of the circle.

  He was talking to me. I knew it. The team knew it. The Pilots were the very first team that drafted me, but nothing could have prepared me for the brotherhood I felt with the Bucks. It was home. And I’d battle until the death. Incredible what good coaching and a hardworking team got you. I was excited to play my old team only because I knew that I was on the better team, not just because they had the money to buy good players, but because the players worked their asses off to stay the best, and didn’t quit.

  “You know I got you!” I yelled back.

  “Bucks, Bucks, Bucks, Bucks!” We chanted as Sanchez stood in the middle of the huddle, tossing his helmet in the air one last time before we ended with a cry of “Buck you!”

  Adrenaline pumped so hard through my system I was nearly dizzy with it as I followed my teammates onto the field.

  The stadium was packed. Lights flashed from every direction, and to my right, a familiar face.

  Emerson, dressed in the sexiest cheerleading outfit I’d ever seen. I looked away. I had to.

  Because I had a quarterback to protect . . .

  A crowd that I had to prove myself to . . .

  And a game I needed to win.
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br />   “You nervous?” Sanchez jogged next to me and smacked me with his helmet.

  We’d gotten to the stadium earlier that morning. I’d walked the field as usual with my music on, felt the grass between my fingers, and closed my eyes as I mentally rehearsed every damn play in the book.

  I was ready.

  “Our fans are breaking the sound barrier,” I joked.

  The Bucks fans were notorious for their loudness, causing so many visiting teams to go offside or have false starts it was almost comical. It hadn’t been funny last year when it happened to us as the opposing team, but now I was thankful that my new home crowd felt it was their job to be a part of our game plan.

  Like an extra player on the field.

  That’s how loyal they were.

  And I was finally a part of that.

  “Nah.” I grinned at the screaming fans with their painted faces and colorful signs. “Not one bit.”

  “Good.” Sanchez nodded his approval. “Because those preseason games were child’s play compared to this.” He closed his eyes and then opened them and a look of complete determination crossed his features. “Ready to war?”

  “I’ve been ready for weeks.”

  And it was true.

  I’d hung out with Emerson and Sanchez most days and every weekend during preseason. But ever since movie night with them, I’d done my best to keep my focus solely on football.

  That was three weeks ago.

  And it finally felt like I had control over some of my emotions.

  When he kissed her, I didn’t flinch.

  When she hugged him, I didn’t feel like throwing up or running him over with my car.

  And at night, I only thought about her until I fell asleep, but I’d stopped dreaming about her. Progress?

  It helped that Kinsey had started coming around with Em, but not enough to fully take the longing away. Don’t get me wrong. Kinsey was hot, but she wasn’t Em.

  More than once I’d seen Sanchez and her arguing in the kitchen over something stupid like the salt, but I figured that was just Kinsey’s way of lashing out—and getting him to notice her, despite the fact that he’d had two years to hook up with her and still had gone for her new friend.

  I had to give it to her, though. Kinsey was tough as shit and kept her jealousy at bay; the only reason I even noticed it was because I was dealing with the same damn thing.