Nixon: A Raleigh Raptors Novel

by Whiskey, Samantha

  “Hey,” I said, glancing up at Nixon. “You roped them into this too?”

  “I may have hijacked your date,” Teagan answered for him. “I love this market, and Rick never wants to go. Plus, Roman is on the hunt for a new art piece for his house. We won’t cramp your love-fest though, promise!”

  I laughed, waving her off. “No, this is perfect! I’m so glad you’re here.” And I meant that. I missed Heather even though we texted every day and saw each other in class. Teagan had become a close friend since entering Nixon’s circle, and I was beyond grateful for her.

  “Someone say love-fest?” Hendrix Malone strolled through the entrance, his blond hair glistening in various shades of gold from the sun. God it was like the Raptors came with their own personal filter. “Cause I’ve only just arrived,” he teased, and Nixon rolled his eyes. The trio did an array of fist bumps by way of greeting.

  “You looking for a new mattress, Hendrix?” Roman joked.

  Hendrix furrowed his brow.

  “Because you burn through them so quickly,” Roman said.

  I bit back a laugh, but Nixon high-fived Roman.

  Hendrix pursed his lips. “Not a lie, man. Is that a crime? I love women. They love me. We have a good time. I’m just full of love.”

  “Yeah, you’re full of something all right.” Roman laughed, and then they proceeded to get into some sort of playful wrestling match that eventually Nixon joined in on.

  It made him look ten times younger and less burdened than the normal weight he carried around with him on a daily basis. I had mad love for these two men who meant so much to Nixon and helped bring him out of himself. Quality of life was directly tied to having the right people and positive influences around you as much as possible. Not a bad family to have been folded into.

  I looped arms with Teagan as we made our way down the rows and rows of vendors, content to let the boys do their bro thing as they trailed behind us. The market was endless and a bit crowded, but I relished the lack of paparazzi on the grounds. I didn’t know if they had an agreement with the owners or what, but I found myself so much more relaxed than on previous dates Nixon and I had gone on before that were a constant glance-over-the-shoulder situation.

  Nixon, Roman, and Hendrix were all incredibly gracious when a fan spotted them and asked them for a selfie or quick autograph, and when the fans asked for all three of them to stand together? God, I think anyone could get pregnant from the sight. The Raptors were in no shortage of gorgeous players, and yet, Roman and Hendrix were genuinely good guys—even with Hendrix’s playboy status. He was kind, thoughtful, funny, and didn’t flinch at his Lothario reputation. No, he owned it to the nth degree with an explanation of the pleasure that came from multiple consenting partners and the fact that not everyone was made to settle down and fall in love.

  I’d seen his type plenty of times, but never someone so at ease in his own skin. Not a scrap of insecurity on that one, but I did find myself wondering what would happen when the love bomb hit him so hard he couldn’t see straight. It would be hilarious as hell to watch and even more fascinating to analyze, not that I’d ever accept him as a patient due to the massive conflict of interest.

  I shook my head, trying to use the physical action to get myself out of my own brain for a second. I had no right to be analyzing Hendrix’s confident personality when it came to matters of the heart, not when I couldn’t even bring myself to admit my true feelings for Nixon—and the true as hell fears that came along with them.

  Smoothing my hand over my belly, I shoved down the doubts about our relationship and tried to throw myself one hundred percent into the beautiful day he’d planned for me. Such a rare thing, to have a day without practice or a game or me working. What would that be like when we brought a baby into the mix?

  Nope. Not going there. Not now.

  I turned to spot Hendrix dangling a pair of handcuffs in front of Roman as they checked out a vintage costume booth, and laughed as Teagan and I headed over to them.

  “You’d need those,” Roman joked. “To keep a woman with you longer than a night.”

  “Ouch,” Hendrix said, returning the handcuffs to their peg on the booth’s wall. “You certainly seem to have it out for me this morning, Roman. My nightly activities especially. Could this be due to a lack of your own exploits lately?”

  Roman flashed him a severe look that screamed we were dangerously close to the not joking territory. I glanced at Teagan, who made herself occupied on the opposite side of the booth where the fedora hats rested. Nixon shook his head at Hendrix, who gave him an innocent look.

  “I’m only playing,” Hendrix said, jerking Roman into a headlock. “I know he doesn’t kiss and tell.”

  Roman easily escaped the hold, landing a light punch to Hendrix’s hard stomach. “Yeah, not everyone wants to broadcast their dates on Insta.”

  I arched a brow at Hendrix, who shrugged. “She wanted the followers. Who was I to say no?” I laughed again, sighing happily as we returned to our hunt.

  Two hours later, Nixon snaked his arms around me from behind while I gazed longingly at an old leather trunk full of vintage maps. “You haven’t bought a single thing today,” he said into my ear and chills erupted over my skin.

  “I don’t need anything,” I said, but my eyes kept snagging on an ancient map that had been expertly preserved—the blues and reds and greens still pristine as they popped from the thin beige paper. I held the plastic covering over the map, my finger grazing over the teal of the Atlantic Ocean bordering Brazil.

  “Just because you don’t need anything doesn’t mean you don’t want anything,” he said.

  I set the map back down, spinning to grin up at him. “You don’t have to buy my lo—” I cleared my throat, cutting myself off as quickly as possible. “My attention,” I tried miserably to recover. Nixon visibly swallowed, and I hurried to change the subject. “You know I’m not attached to material things,” I said, guiding us away from the booth. “If I buy something, it’s because I can’t live without it. And there isn’t much I can’t live without these days.”

  Soon that would change. There would be things the baby needed, and I’d have to figure out a way to buy them—not that Nixon wouldn’t help me. I knew he would. But I didn’t want it to all fall on him. He needed a partner, someone who challenged him as much as helped him, not a free-loader looking for a handout.

  “Am I on that list yet?” Nixon asked so casually I almost missed the weight to the question.

  I glanced up at him as we walked, squeezing his hand. “After a treat like this, I’m likely to put you on whatever list you want.”

  Nixon chuckled, shaking his head.

  “What?” I asked when he didn’t let me in on the joke.

  “It’s just funny,” he said. “That this is your treat.” He motioned to the bustling market. “When most girls in the past only wanted me to take them to Fendi or Louie for a day trip.”

  I scrunched my nose. “Everyone has different tastes.”

  He nodded. “True,” he said. “I don’t mind the finer things. But I don’t live for them either.”

  “You do wear the hell out of an Armani suit,” I said. “But, I prefer you in Raptor purple and gold.”

  Nixon pinched my hip. “You prefer the tights.”

  I squealed at his play-assault, and smacked his butt like I was telling him to have a good game. “Who doesn’t love the tights?”

  Nixon tucked me in close as we continued to peruse the market, and I leaned my head against his chest as we walked. “There is no way I’m going to top this tonight,” I said, sighing slightly.

  “What?” he asked. “You were so sure it would beat my date earlier.”

  “Well, yeah,” I said. “That was before you got all perceptive on me and nailed my happy place.”

  A wide grin stretched across his mouth. “I’ll love whatever you have planned tonight.”

  “We’ll see,” was all I could say.

  An
other hour at the market, and we’d left—me with nothing, Teagan with some new fabric for curtains, Roman with a vintage abstract canvas Teagan had helped him select, and Hendrix…well, Hendrix left with a brunette bombshell, and we hadn’t heard from him since.

  Roman took Teagan back to her place, and Nixon and I went home, showered and changed, and were back on the road after a quick dinner, heading toward the date I’d had planned for him. After this morning, though, I worried it wouldn’t compare.

  The outdoor venue was already packed, hundreds of locals covering the wide expanse of lush green grass spread before a massive stage.

  “No way,” he said as we found a place near the back that was less crowded but offered a perfect view of the stage. “Royal Tusk,” he said, his eyes wide as he gazed down at me. “How did you know I loved them?”

  I blew out a breath. “You’re always blaring it during your workouts. Especially that one song…” I chewed on my lower lip, searching my brain for the name of the song. “Aftermath?”

  Nixon nodded before he scooped me up, lifting me off the ground to bring me to his level. “You’re incredible,” he said and crushed his lips on mine. “I didn’t know you were paying that much attention.”

  I raked my fingers through his hair, never losing his gaze. “I want to know you, Nixon. In every way I can. Of course, I’m paying attention.”

  Something heavy churned in his eyes, and emotion clogged my throat. His mention earlier today of the women in his past wanting to go to expensive places or use him for a status on a social media page or his ex trying to trap him with a baby that wasn’t real. Was that all he’d known? No wonder he’d been so harsh and distant when I’d first came to him.

  “Thank you,” he said, his voice a whisper between us as he slid me down his body and faced us toward the stage.

  I squeezed his hand as the opening act fired up, and I only let it go when Royal Tusk finally took the stage, and Nixon went wild with cheering. He nodded his head to the beat, mouthed the words to the songs, and constantly made sure we were touching in some way as we lost ourselves to the music.

  And by the time we made it back to the car, my head was buzzing—that state between excitement and exhaustion. Before I knew it, Nixon was hauling me out of the car, cradling me to his chest as he walked us into his home.

  “I’m sorry,” I said through a yawn as he laid me on the bed.

  “For what?” he whispered.

  “Falling asleep. I didn’t mean to.”

  “Not only did we go all day at the market this morning, and all night at the concert, but you’re growing a human inside you, Lib. I’m pretty sure you’re entitled to fall asleep wherever you want.”

  I reached for him, too tired to push off the luscious bed he’d dropped me on. He hurried out of his clothes, stripping down to nothing but a pair of tight but soft boxer briefs, and suddenly I was very much awake.

  I did the same with my clothes as he came around to settle behind me, his usual spot for the night. “No T-shirt tonight?” he asked as I tossed my clothes on the floor, leaving me in nothing but my bra and panties.

  I shook my head. “Too tired to get up for one,” I said, though grabbing one of his tees did sound tempting. I’d taken to sleeping in nothing but that, relishing the feel of the softest cotton against my skin. The fact that the shirts were drenched in his scent was an added bonus.

  “I’d get one for you,” he said, nuzzling the back of my neck with his nose. His hand slid over my hip to pull my spine against his chest, and I reached behind me to grip his neck.

  “Don’t you dare move,” I said.

  He planted soft kisses along the seam of my neck, and I arched against him, shuddering slightly at the hard feel of him against my backside.

  “Liberty,” he whispered. “You can go back to sleep.”

  “Like hell,” I teased and arched again.

  He hissed but pulsed against me as his fingers trailed lower, slipping beneath the slick fabric covering me. I shifted slightly to give him better access, my heart ratcheting up the more he swept his fingers so close to where I wanted him but just missing it. On purpose. The cocky man knew how quickly I was ready for him, how instantly I melted for him.

  Two could play that game. I moved my hand from his neck, shifting so I could grip his hard length behind me. His cock twitched as I teased him lightly with sweet scraps of my nails along his head.

  “Liberty,” he growled, then plunged his fingers between my thighs. Right where I wanted him, the sensitive flesh aching for his warmth, his strength. “You’re drenched for me,” he said, and I squeezed his cock in answer.

  “Looks like we’re on the same page,” I whispered, my breaths quick as he pumped his fingers inside me. I rocked on his hand, seeking out the pressure he kept just out of reach. Teasing me, winding me up until my entire body ached for him. He kissed up my neck, along the edge of my jaw, and back down over my bare shoulder, his lips warm and hungry and blazing a trail of flames along my skin.

  I moaned as he continued to tease me like we had all the time in the world, and I suppose, right now, we did. But I wanted him. Now.

  I shifted away from him enough to slide my panties down and toss them on the floor. Then I turned on my knees for a moment to rid him of his as well. He watched me take off his briefs with a contented sort of smirk, and I threw them over my shoulder. I returned to my original position, my back to his chest, and guided his hand back to my center.

  He picked up where he’d left off, teasing me into oblivion. I pushed backward, arching my hips, and guiding his hard length with my hand to my entrance.

  “Fuck,” he hissed as I teased the head of his cock with my wetness. “Liberty,” he growled, his hips thrusting gently until I no longer needed my hand. I reached behind me to grip his neck again, arching my back as Nixon slid into the hilt behind me. I moaned, my body buzzing at the feel of him inside me, and turned just enough to catch his gaze as he slowly pumped and thrust, his fingers working my clit with light strokes that made me shake.

  I flicked my tongue over his lips, and he moved enough to slant his mouth over mine, drinking in my moans as he pulled all the way out only to drive home again.

  “God, Nixon,” I whined, breathless as he took his time with my body, my soul. Working me with agonizingly long strokes and teasing pressures until I was sure I’d combust from need.

  “You’re fucking beautiful,” he whispered against my ear as I threw my head back, a gasp ripping from my lips each time we rocked together. His fingers rolled over my clit again, the touch so light I groaned.

  “Nixon,” I gasped, rocking against him. “Please.”

  “Please what?” he teased, his teeth grazing my earlobe.

  I trembled, my entire body a tight coil of heat hovering near the edge of explosion. The feel of him deep inside me, I couldn’t think around it, couldn’t breathe around that primal need to be claimed by this man.

  “Please, come with me,” I practically keened my answer, pushing back against him when he thrust.

  “You’re so close,” he said, a half-growl as he upped his pace. “I can feel it. So fucking tight. Perfect.”

  I tightened my grip on his neck as his thrusts came harder, deeper, pushing me toward that sweet edge, my free hand tangled in the sheets as I held on, breathless and whimpering. His fingers played between my thighs as he claimed my body over and over again until I trembled around him. And then he thrust home at the same time his fingers pressed down right on that bundle of nerves, and I exploded.

  Shattered with his name on my lips.

  A million tiny stars shook my vision as I came again and again, his own release barreling another orgasm down my spine. Nixon gently worked me through the aftershocks, his strokes shifting from teasing to soothing as we caught our breath.

  “Nixon,” I sighed, my head heavy against the pillow, his body warm behind mine. “You’re amazing.”

  He smoothed his hand over my belly, settling it there
for the night. “You are,” he said and planted a kiss on my neck. “We are.”

  Exhaustion settled over me like a heavy blanket, Nixon having wrung every last drop of energy I possessed from my body. And as sleep claimed me, I was certain there was no other way I wanted to end a day.

  I wanted Nixon…

  And it was quickly turning into a forever kind of want.

  15

  Nixon

  “I’m coming down there after Christmas, Nixon Noble. There’s nothing you can do to stop me. I deserve to meet this miraculous woman who’s strong enough to put up with your bull spit,” Mom finished her tirade via speakerphone.

  “I never said you couldn’t meet her,” I argued as I organized my supplement cabinet. “I just asked that you give me enough time to get to know her myself before I let you scare her off,” I teased.

  “It’s not fair that Nathan and Harper met her,” she pointed out. I could almost see her crossing her arms all the way from Minnesota.

  “Mom, they met her on the flight to Vegas. And Nate’s not…” I struggled for a word.

  “What? Overbearing? Needy? Doting on a granddaughter that isn’t even here yet?”

  I flat-out laughed. “You, Mom. He’s not you. And you’re acting like you’ve never even talked to Liberty on the phone.” I rotated the oldest package forward, making sure I neither ran out of it nor let a canister expire.

  Routine and structure were what made my life flow seamlessly.

  At least…they had been.

  “It’s not the same. I mean, have you guys thought of names yet?”

  “No, Mom.” I closed the cabinet doors and sighed. “We’re just taking it one day at a time over here, and we’re both okay with that, so you should be, too.”

  A second passed by in silence. Then two. Then five.

  “Mom?”

  “Nixon, honey, taking it one day at a time is great, but eventually those days are going to catch up to you, and your daughter will be here. For someone as organized as you are, I was certain you’d have the nursery done, a trust fund started, and identity theft protection already started on her name.”