Too Hard to Forget (Romancing the Clarksons Book 3)

by Tessa Bailey

  “I’m not his girlfriend,” Peggy breathed, laying a hand on Tate’s arm, causing the back of Elliott’s neck to tighten as if someone had turned a deadbolt. “We’re just old pals.”

  Elliott’s stomach rebelled at Peggy’s smiling pronouncement that she was available. He still hadn’t wrapped his mind around that fact, so he sure as hell wasn’t ready for everyone else to be aware of it. “Don’t you have a train to catch, Tate?”

  “I do, indeed.” He cleared his throat, giving Elliott what would have been a meaningful look, if he were receptive to such things. “Thank you for everything you tried to do for me, sir. I won’t forget it.”

  Chapter Eight

  Peggy watched the gorgeous athlete move swiftly from the office after just about pouring his bleeding heart out at Elliott’s feet. Outwardly, the rigid man standing behind his desk didn’t appear to have a damn clue, but Peggy knew better. Down deep inside the coach lurked a benevolent soul. What had happened to it?

  “What was that?” Peggy pressed a hand to her chest and slipped through the doorway. “He’s one of your players, isn’t he? Where’s he going?”

  Elliott’s jaw flexed, a sure sign of annoyance, but Peggy couldn’t find it in her to care about his mood this morning. Not when she felt so raw herself after their kiss last night. “Home,” Elliott answered briskly. “He’s going home.” She started to ask why, but the words froze in her throat when Elliott turned away from her, throwing the ball in his hand at top speed, where it ricocheted off the wall behind his desk. “Something I can help you with Peggy?”

  “I’ll get to that,” she murmured, her feet stuck in place thanks to Elliott’s rare display of emotion. Off the field anyway. Three years ago, when they were alone in the dark or stealing moments in the light, Elliott had allowed his barriers to fall. Those glimpses had turned her infatuation into more. So much more. But she’d never expected to see the stripped-down side of him again. And she gravitated toward it now. The man beneath the cool exterior he’d once allowed her to know.

  Unfortunately, Elliott’s shoulders stiffened as Peggy approached. “This is a bad time, Peggy.”

  “Talk to me about it. Like you used to.” She rested a hand on the desk’s corner, gripping the wood to prevent herself from getting too close, possibly making him shut down even more. “Why is he leaving?”

  “His family farm…” Elliott ripped off the baseball cap sitting on his head, tossing it onto the desk and leaving his hair in uncharacteristic disarray. “It’s being repossessed.”

  Peggy trapped a sob in her throat, wishing she’d given the sweet guy with the molasses accent a bear hug. “That’s awful. And…he’s going to go save it?”

  “I don’t know, Peggy.” He whirled on her, closing in until she was forced back onto the desk. “I had an All-American on my squad this morning and now I don’t. That’s all I know.” He pointed a finger toward the window. “I solve problems down on the field. Saving people isn’t my job.”

  Saving people. God, there was such a wealth of regret and pain in those two words. But he couldn’t hear it and she couldn’t address it. Letting him know she saw right through his façade to the hurt beneath might force Elliott to close himself off. “You didn’t always limit yourself. Why are you doing it now?”

  “Accepting things that can’t be changed isn’t a limitation. It’s realistic.”

  “But how will you know if something can’t be changed unless you try?”

  “When it comes to certain things, Peggy, trying leads to losing.” He was in her face now, the mint from his toothpaste familiar and inviting where it slid over her lips. “And I don’t lose.”

  No one ever stood up this man but her, and she wouldn’t be cowed now. “No? You’re out a receiver.” She hitched herself up on his desk. “I’d call that a loss.”

  He gripped the furniture on either side of her hips. “Who do you think you are, little girl? Coming into my office and telling me what I’ve done wrong?” His eyes were brilliant in their vexation, the attraction he was trying so hard to fight. “Where do you get the goddamn bravery?”

  “The bravery is what you liked best about me,” she breathed, heat sizzling in a downward V toward her thighs. “Isn’t it?”

  “No. That bravery is what almost led to my downfall.” His hands found her bottom, jerking her to the edge of the desk. “I resented it. Still do.”

  “Liar,” Peggy whispered, easing her thighs wider. “You’re dying for an excuse to head for another downfall.” When her legs were as open as she could spread them, she leaned up to Elliott’s ear and let her breath shake loose. “One thrust.”

  Elliott’s right hand came up out of nowhere, molding over Peggy’s mouth as his hips crowded into the notch of her legs. With a quick maneuver to recline her halfway back, Elliott’s erection found the apex of her thighs, delivering an aggressive pump against her underwear that sent a scream climbing up Peggy’s throat, only to be trapped by his hand. Knees jerking up out of reflex over the rush of sensation, an orgasm almost—almost— broke past the surface, sending her waters rippling out on all sides. Her legs wanted to hug Elliott’s waist, her voice wanted to beg for one more, one more, one more, but he shook his head, denying her, even though his gaze was hot, a low groan issuing from his harshly masculine mouth.

  He leaned in and nipped the lobe of her ear. “Next time, ask for two.”

  “God, you can be an asshole,” she managed, dropping her trembling legs as Elliott moved away. “I guess that was payback for daring to enter your office without swearing fealty to the Kingmaker.”

  Elliott’s hands were on his hips, sweat beading his brow, offering Peggy some consolation that she wasn’t the only one affected. “No? I could have sworn that’s what you were doing.” His gaze roamed over her rucked-up skirt. “If not, tell me why you’re really here.”

  Peggy wanted nothing more than to sail out of the office, casting aspersions on his manhood and firing off a T-shirt cannon into an imaginary crowd, but that would have been too easy. Elliott achieving his desired result would only justify his asshole behavior and nothing was less acceptable than that.

  But his regret over the meeting with Kyler was palpable, fatigue showing at the corners of his eyes. If she hadn’t met the receiver, maybe she could have stowed Elliott’s struggle in the back of her mind and gotten on with her own plans for closure. Timing was everything, though, and she couldn’t forget the way that young man had looked at Elliott, begging for more.

  “I was elected as the sacrificial lamb to come ask if you would lend your players to a good cause at the alumni banquet Saturday night.”

  “No.”

  “Well, that was easy.” Peggy hopped off the desk, smiling over her shoulder as she headed for the door. “I’ll go ask that young, new basketball coach. He seems… friendly.”

  “Wait.” She turned to find Elliott glowering at her beneath raised brows. “On Sunday night, my players will either be reflecting on a loss or preparing for the next win. There’s no room for anything else.” He picked up a folder on his desk and threw it back down. “The basketball coach is a buffoon.”

  She continued to back out of the office. “I’ll have to verify for myself.”

  “Peggy. Dammit.” He jerked on the collar of his shirt. “We’re not finished here.”

  “Tell me about it,” she muttered, staring pointedly at the desk where he’d delivered enough sexual frustration to light the stadium. “No finishing last night. None this morning. Nonfinishing is a definite theme with you.”

  A muscle jumped in Elliott’s cheek. “If you ask to auction off my players—”

  “Just their jerseys. Signed.” Peggy peeked out at the older receptionist, who was humming along to the classical music station, then discreetly shut the door, a move which narrowed Elliott’s eyes. Seduction was a valuable weapon, and she never ruled it out, but the need for privacy was for a different reason. Peggy had an idea and didn’t want anyone to overhear, because…p
eople didn’t take her seriously. She’s lucky she’s pretty. How many times had she heard that?

  But she couldn’t get Kyler’s dejection out of her mind…or Elliott’s doubt that he could make a legitimate difference. Maybe this time, this one time, she could be the glue in a situation. “Actually, Elliott…” She took a few steps toward the desk, her fingers smoothing over the covered outline of her necklace. “I have an idea to help Kyler. I don’t know if we have time or what his family owes, or if it’ll even work, but—”

  “Peggy, it’s not your fight.”

  “Maybe it is. Don’t you believe in being in the right place at the right time? Could be I was meant to walk in on this meeting.” When Elliott only allowed her to see his skepticism, Peggy squared her shoulders and continued on. “The proceeds from this jersey auction would have benefitted the Bearcats cheer squad, but if they knew about Kyler and his family farm, I know they would want to help.”

  “For all we know, they owe six figures on the land. A few jerseys aren’t going to bring in that kind of cash.”

  “No, but you can.” She braced her hands on his desk and leaned forward. “All those players you sent to the NFL would be happy to donate signed memorabilia, especially for one of their own who might not get his chance to go pro.” He tapped a finger on his desk, a move she knew from experience meant he was thinking, considering. “It would only take some phone calls and e-mails. What athlete doesn’t love hearing from a cheerleader, right?”

  There was a flicker of warmth in his eyes. “You would spearhead this whole thing?”

  That fleeting glimpse of the Elliott beneath the surface set her chest on fire. There you are. I see you. “Once upon a time, you would have helped me or thought of a way to help on your own. You weren’t always such a pessimist.”

  “You’re the only one who ever saw the optimist.”

  Breathe. In, out. Her internal instructions were hard to follow when he’d just hinted that they’d been good together. A bone-deep feeling she’d always kept, no matter the pain. Part of Peggy resented him for the hint, when he’d been the one to let her go. The other part wanted to throw herself across his desk and ask for more acknowledgment that they’d worked. More. “Um. Yes, I’ll be the quarterback on this one. The other girls will help, too.” A lightbulb crackled to life over her head. “My friend, Sage, is traveling with me and she can plan the crap out of anything. I can ask her for help.”

  Elliott tucked his tongue into his cheek, regarding her for a heavy beat. “Where are you traveling to, Peggy?”

  “New York City. To stay,” she said without hesitating, trying desperately not to analyze his quick glimmer of panic afterward. “You’ll be rid of me soon enough. I promise to get out of town even faster if you say yes to the banquet auction idea. Please. Someone has to help this kid out.”

  It took him some time to speak, and when he did, he avoided her gaze by rummaging through some paperwork. “You’re as much a kid as he is.”

  Epithets collided in her throat, but she managed to swallow them down. No, her brand of rejoinder was far more effective. It would bruise his pride the same way his words bruised hers. Trailing a finger along the edge of Elliott’s desk, she sauntered her way around the expensive, but scarred, piece of furniture. The sound of shuffling paperwork ceased, his big body tensing when Peggy slipped between him and the desk, gliding her palms over his pecs. “Can I ask your receptionist for some contact information?”

  “If it gets you out of here, yes,” he growled. But his attention roamed over her breasts, his Adam’s apple shifting in his throat. “You have the answer you wanted, now leave me in peace.”

  “You’re never at peace,” she whispered, letting her fingertips trail down his chest and stomach to his belt buckle, unlooping the leather and lowering his zipper in a few deft moves. “I can help with that for a little while.”

  “Peggy.” Elliott’s tone was one of warning, but he didn’t stop her from reaching into the opening of his pants, slowly, while he held his breath. Through the cotton material of his briefs, she molded a hand over his erection, riding the hard flesh with her palm. “Fuck,” he ground out on an exhale. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

  Peggy hummed. “Will you make a speech, Elliott?”

  “No.” He widened his stance by an almost unnoticeable margin, pushing his erection into her hand, groaning behind clenched teeth when she stroked him faster. “I’ve made too many…concessions this morning already.”

  “For me.” Her heart sped up despite the warning in the back of her mind chanting, Don’t ask. “Why?”

  “You think I like seeing you disappointed?” His mouth brushed against hers, his urgent, tortured energy making her inner thigh muscles spasm. “You think I ever liked being the one who let you down? I fucking don’t. I hate it.”

  Peggy’s blood reversed direction and she experienced the sensation of floating. He’d never once voiced regret over how he’d dealt with their breakup. How badly he’d hurt her when she’d been prepared to go all in on their relationship. And she could already see his expression clouding over, could see him wanting to take back the telling—they were telling, weren’t they?—words. But she wouldn’t let him. She couldn’t.

  Sinking her teeth into Elliott’s lower lip, she tugged his head down for a kiss borne of elation and frustration, all at once. Within her hand, she felt his length swell and elongate, proof of her mouth’s bad influence. Or good. She didn’t know anymore. Had he admitted to making a mistake? A man like Elliott didn’t apologize outright; he hinted at an apology and let others draw their own conclusions. Maybe she was getting ahead of herself. Maybe. But when he opened his mouth on top of hers and feasted, hope rose like a hot air balloon above a lush, green valley.

  “You had to remind me I haven’t finished you,” Elliott pulled away to murmur at her lips, dragging the bottom one forward between his teeth. “Had to put your hand on my cock and remind me I left you hungry and wet last night. You and that body God uses to play a cruel joke on me by curving it for my pleasure.” He gave a low, frustrated groan. “I’d agree to anything right now up against the crime of leaving you unsatisfied. For wanting to bite all your fingers to prevent you from doing it yourself.”

  Holy smokes. They blazed back into the kiss, Peggy whimpering and squeezing her legs together until Elliott shoved them apart and stepped into the space he’d created. She attempted to slide her hand inside Elliott’s briefs, but he snagged her wrist, holding it out at the side. A power struggle ensued as they bruised each other’s lips with a brutal, angry, starving kiss.

  “Elliott,” Peggy said hoarsely, using her feet, her knees to draw his body closer. “Please, I need the way you do it. So bad. So bad. Please.”

  Still restraining her right hand, he stooped down to suck on the flesh of her neck, showing no mercy. “How do I do it?” His teeth dug into her shoulder. “How do I fuck you?”

  “Like you hate me. I need that. I deserve it.” Peggy sobbed, about a split second before her body—along with Elliott’s—went rigid. He released her manacled hand and she cupped it over her mouth, every cell in her body screeching with humiliation.

  Where had that come from?

  Elliott lifted his head, looking equally horrified in his own stoic way. And for once, she didn’t want to hear his response. At all. She wanted to get far away from that confusing confession and fast.

  Elliott went to grab her arm, but Peggy performed some kind of genius swim move and danced out of his reach, laughing in a shrill manner that would make her cringe for the rest of her life. “So I guess that’s a yes to the fund-raiser and s-speech? The alumni committee is going to be thrilled.”

  “I don’t give a fuck about the committee.” Elliott was still breathing heavy as he fixed his pants, buckling his belt while keeping his attention zeroed in on her. “What did you mean? Like I hate you? Like you deserve—”

  “Just drop it.” Heat seared the insides of Peggy’s throat, fanning out i
nto her entire body. She didn’t know what she’d meant. It had come out of her mouth without warning, but there was no shaking a new sense of almost…clarity. Almost. But right now her embarrassment took center stage, not allowing her room to think. Aware of Elliott’s close scrutiny, she managed a smile. “Has it been so long, you forgot how we like it?”

  The accusation she’d intended to be playful sounded so incredibly lame to her own ears, but the shittiness was only amplified when Elliott appeared to buy it. She should have been relieved to escape with her dignity intact, but she wasn’t. Get in my face. Demand an explanation, she silently begged. I need one myself. But he only watched her in that inscrutable way she still saw in her dreams. Or nightmares, rather.

  “Thank you for agreeing to help,” she said. “If you can manage to put a speech together, I’ll make the fund-raiser for Kyler as little work for you and the team as possible.”

  “Peggy.”

  “Yes?”

  A long silence passed where hope lifted and shattered a dozen times. “It’s not a bad idea. If you can pull it off.”

  “Well, you certainly know how to flatter a girl,” she responded in her best Blanche impression, waggling her eyebrows as she opened the office door. “Have a great day, Coach.”

  Chapter Nine

  This way lies madness.

  Elliott pulled the ball cap lower on his forehead, turning his back as two students fell out of the dormitory on a fit of laughter. Look at him. Prowling around campus in the middle of the night, trying to prevent anyone from seeing his face. A relationship with a student would lead to a scandal the likes of which would reverberate for years to come. Maybe decades.

  Yet not even the threat of being fired could keep him away any longer.

  The need for Peggy had been building without his consent for months. Building so high it towered over everything else now, swallowing his common sense in its shadow.

  God forgive him, he hadn’t felt anything like this…this yearning in his life. Even before he’d sunk into the sweetest home he’d ever known between Peggy’s thighs, the way she’d spoken to him—seen right through him—had been like two charged surgical paddles slapping down on his chest, jerking him a foot off the operating table. Human. You can be human with her.