by Lea Coll
I smirked, leaning back in the chair. “You don’t trust yourself around me, do you?”
“Oh I trust myself. It’s you I don’t trust.”
I held my hands up. “Hey, I was a Boy Scout. I can keep my hands to myself.”
“See that you do.” The look she shot me was full of heat and none of the censure her voice held.
Then she laughed quietly. “You were a Boy Scout?”
“Yeah, why is that so surprising?”
“I would have thought you were more of the athletic jock type, busy in the weight room. Like Noah was.”
I shifted in my chair. “No. Dad had certain ideas about how he wanted us to grow up. Boy Scouts, math club, debate team. I didn’t mind Boy Scouts or any of the outdoor activities. It was the academic ones that were hard.”
“Didn’t you say you had a brother?”
“Yeah, he’s older. Bachelor’s, MBA, a job in finance at a Fortune 500 company. Dad wanted the same for me. I wasn’t smart enough.”
“From what I remember, he thought you could do it. That was my impression.”
“You’re right. He never belittled me when it came to academics.” I was the one telling myself that. In college, I took advantage of the tutors and note takers that were available to the football team. The school did everything they could to keep our grades up so we could play. Without that, I would have been drowning. I doubt I would have made it as far as I did.
“He wanted the best for you.”
“He did.” My stomach tightened.
“The problem is, sometimes what our parents want for us and what we want aren’t the same thing.”
I studied her carefully trying to remember what she’d told me that night about her family. All I could remember was her being stuck in the middle, not pleasing either parent. “I would say they usually aren’t.”
“Is your brother happy with his path?” She turned slightly so she was facing me.
“As far as I know.”
“So, it worked for him, but not you. You’re different people.”
“True.”
“How did your dad react to you going into the draft?”
“He didn’t talk to me for a long time. He wanted me to get a degree, so I had something to fall back on. The problem was I couldn’t guarantee I wouldn’t get hurt before I was drafted. For me, a degree if I stayed wasn’t a guarantee and I couldn’t see myself working a nine to five.”
She nodded. “I get that. How is he now?”
“He’s come to a couple of games over the years.”
“What about your brother? What does he think?”
“Financially, he thinks it’s great. Both of them think I get paid a ton of money to play a game.” I laughed without any humor. “Which I do.”
Her eyes were soft, her expression regretful. “I’m sorry they don’t support you.”
“I have my teammates. I have coaches. It’s not like I don’t have support.”
“Support should come from our family first, don’t you think?”
“Are you talking about yourself?”
She smiled. “I have a little experience in that department. My mom doesn’t want me working in a male-dominated field. She thinks I’m a glorified gym teacher. I think my dad is embarrassed.”
My heart squeezed at her depiction of her father. “Why would you think that?”
“His friends and co-workers say things I guess, that I’m just doing it to meet and marry a player. That I’m a gold digger or hanging on my brother’s coattails. He doesn’t like me working in a field that doesn’t respect me.”
“Would he feel differently if you were a man?”
Her eyes widened as she looked at me. “I think so. That’s kind of been the issue all along. If I was a boy, he would have invested in my sports and interests, but because I was a girl he was all about Noah. It’s not like I could have played most sports professionally, but—”
“It’s still nice to be told you can be and do anything you want to do and your parents will always have your back.”
She blinked, her eyes shiny. “Yeah.”
The server placed Payton’s plate in front of her. She stared at it thoughtfully for a few seconds before she continued. “It’s why I want to work with younger athletes, who might not have the support system. One day I want to help the girl who wants to play football. I want to build her up to make her dream a reality.”
“You could do anything you set your mind to.”
“Maybe. It’s nice to be told that anyway.” She dug into her burger.
While we finished eating, Noah engaged Payton in conversation about strength training. I didn’t listen to what they were saying. Instead, I focused on the excitement in her eyes when she talked about what she was passionate about, the way her hands moved in time to her words. She was beautiful. I was sure everyone in the room could see the kindness and beauty radiating from her.
When we were leaving, Eric and I walked back to our cars together. “You have to think about how your interest will affect her. The guys might not respect her. The coaches might not.”
“I get that.” I hated it. She was in my life but untouchable. I couldn’t have her without sacrificing everything that was important to her. I didn’t want to jeopardize her career, but how was I supposed to stand back and watch her date someone else?
A sliver of uneasiness settled in my gut. It seemed like the things I wanted most, hurt those around me. Going into the draft, not following my dad’s plan for me. Then being attracted to a woman who was off-limits in more ways than one.
I’d have her over for dinner, satisfying my desire to be close to her. I wouldn’t make a move. I’d be her friend. I’d support her, but we couldn’t be anything else.
Chapter 7
Payton
Dinner at Clay’s was a bad idea yet too tempting to pass up. Just the two of us in his personal space. My heart thumped with nerves as I entered his building, telling his doorman where I was going. When he called Clay, saying Payton Axworthy was here to see him, my hair stood up on the back of my neck. I wanted to run away. I wanted to tell him it was a mistake.
“You can go on up. Fifteenth floor.”
“Thank you.” I fought the urge to run away as fast as I could. I entered the elevator, pushing the button for the top floor.
I hesitated at his door, wondering if I was doing the right thing. The door opened before I had a chance to knock.
Clay tilted his head to the side, touching the scruff on his chin. He was casual in worn jeans, a gray T-shirt, and his feet bare. I wanted to touch his chest to see if his shirt was as soft as it looked, the muscles underneath hard.
I stepped inside. “I was wondering if this was a good idea.”
He closed the door behind me. “What did you decide?”
“I didn’t. You opened the door.” My heart thumped in my ears as he stepped closer, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
My fingers itched to touch him, but I didn’t. He wasn’t mine.
“I know this is wrong but I can’t stay away from you. I want to get to know you. I want to know if that night was a fluke or if the connection I felt was real.”
“Me too.” The words were out before I could snatch them back. I’d tried to chase the feeling I got with Clay with other men, but I never found anyone I connected with on the same level.
He smiled. “When we’re alone all the other stuff is noise to me, but I’ll understand if you want to leave.”
“I want to be here.” Looking into his eyes, nothing had ever felt more right. The worry, the indecision, the uncertainty faded away until it was him and me.
“Good. Let’s see what happens and not think about everything out there.”
I wanted to point out that out there was my brother, my boss, my career, but I didn’t. I wanted this night as badly as he did.
He grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the couch. “Pretend we’re in a dorm room and we’re getting to know each othe
r, sizing each other up to see if the other one has hookup potential.”
I settled onto the couch, curling my knee underneath me. “Is that what you were doing that night?”
He sat next to me, his arm stretched behind me. “Maybe initially. You were this gorgeous girl, confident and strong. I wanted to be in your orbit for a few hours. When we talked things clicked into place, like everything I’d been searching for my entire life was right in front of me.”
“That’s not possible.” I shook my head, refusing to believe that one night affected him so much, even as warmth spread through my belly, making me ache for things I couldn’t have.
“You don’t think it’s possible for you to have that kind of impression on someone?” He arched a brow.
I licked my lips, thinking of how to word it. “You can’t know that after a few hours. You have to date someone for a while, get to know them to see if you’re a good fit.”
I was grasping at reason and logic, because Clay was coming at me with sweet words which were more potent.
“I don’t know about all of that. All I know is that I’ve never felt that way about anyone else. When you walked out of my room that morning without leaving a phone number, I was crushed. I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again.
I don’t want to pass up this opportunity. I don’t want you to walk out of my life again without seeing where it goes.”
“Even when you know we can’t be together?” My words were slow, cautious. I had to know what he was thinking. I came over hoping for restraint. If he had none, I was in trouble.
“There’s no rule against you dating a player.”
“That may be true, but there’s still the issue of my reputation. Respect is important to me.”
“What if we enjoy whatever’s happening between us, taking one day at a time. Stop focusing on everything out there and focus on the only things that matter—us.”
“That sounds amazing.” Yet too good to be true. Could we do that? Could we live in our little bubble, not letting anyone in?
“Why not? You’re interning. Who knows where you’ll be working after the season ends? We might play this weekend and lose. Even if we go to the championship game, it’s only a few weeks away.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
His hand drifted lower, twirling my hair, sending tingles down my spine. “It doesn’t have to be complicated. It’s just you and me.”
And all of the sexual tension coiled tight in my belly. I found myself nodding in agreement as he leaned closer.
“The one thing I regret is that I had anything to drink the night we met. My memory of kissing you, touching you is a little hazy. I want to remember—.”
He closed the distance between our lips, lightly touching my lips once, twice, before angling my head, and delving deeper. I opened for him, desperate to know if we’d imagined that night, made it bigger in our heads. Both of his hands cupped my face, his arms bracketing me, as he leaned closer. I felt surrounded by him as he explored my mouth, making me forget everything except him.
I braced my hands on his chest, feeling his pecs flex through the soft cotton of his T-shirt. I wanted to feel his skin under my fingertips. Bracing one hand on his jean-clad thigh, I slid the other under his shirt, his abs jumping at my touch. Emboldened, I shifted closer to him.
His hands drifted down my arms, to my hips, then cupped my ass, lifting me easily to straddle him. His mouth broke from mine. “Is this okay?”
I adjusted myself on his lap until I rested over his hard cock. “It’s more than okay.”
He paused, his hand pushing my hair back from my face, his eyes reverent. “You’re beautiful.”
The heat that swirled in my belly from his kisses dropped lower as I rocked against him. I pushed out any thoughts of my ex saying I was too big, too muscular, out of my head. With Clay, I felt beautiful. I was beautiful.
His grip tightened as our lips met again. I wanted more. I wanted to know if being with him now would be the same.
Now we were adults, Clay was even larger and more solid than back then. My body hummed with need for him. He stood, as my legs wrapped naturally around his waist.
“Are you sure I’m not too heavy?” I couldn’t stop the old insecurities from creeping in.
He chuckled as he continued to walk through his condo. “Are you joking?”
I bit my lip, not wanting to hurt him before the playoffs.
His brow furrowed.
I wanted to smooth the lines on his forehead with my fingers.
“You’re not heavy. You’re just right.”
He lowered me onto his bed, following me so he hovered over me, his forearms braced on either side of my head. He kissed my lips. “You’re beautiful.”
He kissed my neck. “You’re strong and capable.”
He slid my shirt up, kissing my belly then drifting lower to unbutton my jeans. “I want to see you naked. I want to know if my memory of your gorgeous body is accurate.”
His words had me shoving off my boots and socks, wiggling out of my skintight jeans. He pulled my shirt over my head, unsnapping my bra, pushing me back on the bed.
He stood while I lie on the bed, open and vulnerable to his perusal. I worked out more since we’d met, so every muscle was more defined than back then. Would he feel the same way or would he be disgusted? I closed my eyes, wishing I was softer, more feminine for him.
“Your body is unreal.” He knelt on the bed, his hands everywhere, skating over my breasts, my abs, before his mouth latched on my nipple.
Feeling sexy, I arched into his mouth, holding his head to me. I didn’t want him to stop. I widened my legs, letting him drop down between, his jeans rubbing against my core. He switched to my other nipple, his finger separating my folds before sliding inside.
I whimpered. I bit my lip to stop the sound.
He lifted his head, letting go of my nipple. His thumb pulled my lip out from under my teeth. “Don’t hide your reactions. I want to know what you like. I want to know how I affect you. The one thing I remember is how responsive you were that night. How you practically melted into me.”
“It’s you. Your words, your hands.” Your acceptance. Whatever he was doing, was easing the fears, the worry, the ice that formed inside when my ex hurled his hateful words at me.
He cupped my breasts, sliding his thumbs over my nipples. He slid to the floor, pulling me to the edge of the bed.
“You’re absolutely stunning.” He held me open, my nipples pebbled and wet from his mouth, my clit begging for his attention.
He hadn’t gone down on me last time.
My body tensed in anticipation as his eyes darkened with desire.
He slid a finger inside, his tongue circling my clit.
My hands fisted the comforter at all of the sensations swirling inside my body, threatening to erupt. He added another finger, sucking hard on my clit. My orgasm built quickly, crashing over me in wave after wave. I saw everything he was feeling in his eyes—beautiful, sexy, desirable.
He stood, gaze on me as he pulled his shirt over his head, then pushed down his jeans and boxer briefs. His cock jutted out. I licked my lips, wanting to taste it.
“Not this time.” He leaned over me to pull a condom from the nightstand.
He placed an arm under my back lifting me further up the bed. He leaned over to pull a condom from the nightstand. He ripped it with his teeth before sheathing himself. “I can’t wait another minute to be inside you.”
My hands gripped his thighs which flexed as he gripped his cock, guiding it to my slick entrance. When he slid inside, my hands drifted to his ass, pulling him deeper. I wanted to feel connected to this man. I wanted the world to disappear so that nothing was left except for us, this.
He slid all the way inside, filling me completely as he leaned onto his forearms. I wrapped my legs around his waist, welcoming him inside my body deeper than before. He kissed me as he slowly pulled out to the tip, then pushed inside.
He lifted his hips slightly, his cock hitting a spot inside that had the need building again. I’d never orgasmed twice with a man. The way this man made me feel was indescribable. It was as if he was pushing me to the edge, wanting us to fall over the cliff together. “Please don’t stop. Right there.”
He increased his thrusts, his gaze concentrated on the spot where his cock was disappearing inside my body. He wanted me. It was so hot. I cried out as the orgasm washed over me. Lowering himself over me, he thrust through my aftershocks until he groaned his release into my neck, biting my shoulder lightly. It was real. It was raw. It was eye-opening to push out the insecurities, the doubts, the questions and be in the moment with someone.
I closed my eyes, reveling in the weight of his body on mine. I kissed his broad shoulder, silently thanking him for the way he made me feel cherished and beautiful.
He pulled out, kissing me once on the mouth before heading to the bathroom. Sated, I lie there taking in his room, the large sliders with a view of downtown, the lights of the city reflected on the bed. I heard him washing up before he came back out, sliding onto the bed next to me.
He braced on his elbow looking down on me.
I hadn’t covered myself, and his gaze slowly perused my body. “Want to tell me why you’re worried about being too heavy for me?”
I shrugged, uncomfortable with his scrutiny. “I think all women worry about those things.”
His eyes narrowed. “You realize I’m an offensive lineman.”
I wanted to cover myself, look away from the intensity I saw in his eyes. “Women who are bigger like me think about these things.”
“What do you mean, bigger like me?” His voice was lower and dangerous.
I gestured at my body. “I’m tall for a woman. I work out.”
“So?”
“I’m muscular. I weigh more. Look, I get it. My sister is tiny and petite. I’m the exact opposite.” The old insecurities from childhood, from my ex, washed over me, making me want to cover myself with a sheet, pretend I hadn’t admitted my deepest insecurities.
