by Mariah Dietz
When my breaths quicken, so do his movements. Moving inside of me and reading my reactions until I can’t keep my eyes open. I fist the comforter as his fingers glide over my clit, matching each of his thrusts until pleasure rolls through me like a violent wave that has Paxton’s movements increasing and becoming harder, drawing out my orgasm until he finds his release.
My muscles feel weak and sated, my entire body heavy as Pax stretches out beside me, his Henley still on. I place a hand on his chest, feeling each of his labored breaths and the quick rhythm of his heart. He pulls me closer, and I oblige, laying my head on his shoulder. He traces lazy circles across my back while I breathe him in, prolonging this moment of perfection where my thoughts are still and my heart is so full I can’t remember what pain or regret feel like.
“We have twenty house guests,” I murmur when the realization catches up to me.
Pax nods. “It’s going to be a great week.” Ever the optimist. “And we’ll be able to steal away and no one will notice because there’s going to be a hell of a lot of noise and commotion. It was the perfect plan.”
I smile against his shoulder. “We should probably get back out there.”
He presses a kiss to the top of my head. “Five more minutes.” He releases a sigh and I know his eyes are closed. He’s tired, but he still never admits it.
“I’m glad Arlo and Olivia are moving back,” I say.
Another kiss, this one to my forehead as I tilt my head back to look at him. “Me, too. With him and Olivia’s three kids, and the twins, and our two, and Caleb and Julie’s four, and Chloe and Tyler’s daughter and Ros and Ian’s son, we have enough for a football team.”
I grin, my fingers tangling in his shirt. “Is that what you and Lincoln were working on outside? Creating a football field?”
His eyebrows dance. “No, we were trying to pick a spot to build a big enough treehouse for the kids.”
“A tree house?”
He nods. “Dylan’s idea. He said every kid needs a tree house, and he wants to build one that will fit all four of the kids.”
My brother recently began working with my dad after my grandfather retired last year. The idea that he wants to build it has a warmth traveling through my chest. “That’s a great idea,” I say.
Pax grins. “Are you ready to get back out to see everyone?”
“Yeah. It’s so nice to have everyone here and together all at the same time. I’ve missed this.”
“Maybe you can convince Chloe and Ty to move back stateside,” Pax says, leaning forward and reaching for his pants.
“I don’t think so. She likes living in England and with Nessie and Cooper spending half of their time over there, I think they’ve resigned to visiting. We might be able to convince Ian and Rose to move back though now that Arlo’s taking the head coaching position at Brighton.”
“I don’t know. They like California.” Pax frees my underwear and holds them out for me to thread my legs through. He slides them up my legs, dotting kisses on my bare legs as he goes then kisses me on the mouth.
“Maybe it’s good that we’re a little spread out. It gives us a good excuse to go see them and earn some more airline miles.”
“Rose said Ian’s considering retiring next year, though. So it’s possible.”
Pax nods. “I bet they try and keep him so he can train some of the rookies. Ian’s a great teacher. He knows how to mellow guys out and make them play smarter instead of harder.”
“At least we know Rae and Lincoln are stuck here,” I say, glancing toward the window like I can see the house they’re building four acres away. It’s supposed to be finished in the next year and then we really will see them every day, and I can’t wait.
“Do you regret that you didn’t become a teacher?” Pax asks, sitting beside me.
I shake my head. “I actually like working with my mom way more than I could have expected. I feel like we’re helping and I’m grateful I get to be here with the kids. I never knew what I wanted to do but now I do. I love being a mom.”
Pax kisses my temple. “You’re an amazing mother.” He stands, stretching his arms high above his head. “I’m going to go make sure Arlo’s not convincing the other guys to make a slide down the stairs like that time in Vegas. You take your time and I’ll see you downstairs.” He kisses me again and then crosses the room and closes the door softly behind him. I scoot back on the bed, leaning against the mountain of pillows and reach for my journal.
Dear Diary,
Seeing everyone and sharing these stories from college has left me feeling so nostalgic. I think of how I believed that Mike Rio had received several firsts from me. I realize now that wasn’t true. They were my firsts, solely mine. And my firsts seem so inconsequential now, millions of kisses later. I don’t regret my past, not a single part of it-with the exception of the two times my hair dresser convinced me to cut bangs. Because our pasts are what drove us together. Each wrong turn and delay Pax and I took was just another lesson we learned that made our relationship so strong, our attraction undeniable, and our trust the foundation of something so significant that I’ve realized there are way more than three things that I’m good at and at the very top of that list is being with Paxton because with him by my side the list of things I’m good at and capable of is infinite.
I miss all of our friends and not seeing them all of the time, but I’m eternally grateful to have Pax and Rae still constants in this crazy and wonderful life of mine. I still have doubts, I’m still a true introvert, and I still overthink almost everything except I know that I gave my heart to Paxton in small chunks, dating back to when I was five. I’m sure of this. He’s the first guy I ever loved and without a doubt, he’s my last.
I hope you enjoyed this epic story! If you’ve read all six of the books in The Dating Playbook series, I truly hope you’ve loved each couple and adventure. Brighton has been a wild and fun ride that I’ll always love.
If you have a few moments, please consider leaving an honest review on Amazon. I would greatly appreciate it.
Not Ready to Say Good-Bye?
Start reading the Dating Playbook Series with Lincoln Beckett’s story in Bending the Rules Read the first chapter on the next page!
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Bending the Rules
Chapter 1
I’ve never considered myself much of a rule breaker. I’m not a follower or a leader, either. I’m just me, Raegan, queen of naps, lover of sweatpants, and obsessive reader. I’m simple, and I like simple. This is why I constructed a set of rules this year to ensure that my freshman year of college goes smoothly and without any complications, while I work toward earning my degree as a cetologist so I can get my dream job, studying whales and dolphins.
The only problem is that my rules become difficult to remember when I hear his name.
Everyone has one of these name hot buttons, I’m convinced. A combination of vowels and consonants that when strung together and spoken, creates an entire web of memories and thoughts. For me, those letters spell Lincoln Beckett. And like trying to convince myself that the two-year crush I’ve been harboring for him is over, I try to pretend his name doesn’t cast a spell over me. That I can hear his name and not work to listen to what news follows; after all, thinking about Lincoln is the very worst of bad ideas.
Why?
Simply put, there are at least ten rules against dating your brother’s best friend, beginning with the very fact that he’s your brother’s best friend. Secondly, he’s guaranteed to know way too much about your life, your family, and your brother’s illustrious decisions. The only thing that might be worse would be dating your best friend’s brother—thankfully for me, my best friend’s brother is eleven.
Therefore, universal laws, fate, karma, sibling code, and every other fictional or otherwise belief ought to ensure my brother’s best friend look okay-ish at worst
and troll-ish at best. This was my experience for the first sixteen years of my life. My brother, Paxton, is two years older than me, and his childhood best friend, Caleb, has a red Brillo Pad for hair, two-million freckles, and is so painfully awkward it’s endearing.
Then, Paxton started at Brighton University in Seattle, Washington, where our dad is the Dean of Business, and he was quickly deemed a God because of his skills as a quarterback on the football field. And my world went to hell.
Fate stuck her big, ugly middle finger up and has been saluting me with it since. Maybe it’s because I lied to my mom about the dent in the back of her car that actually did happen when I’d borrowed it and illegally drove my best friend, Poppy Anderson, to the mall. Maybe it was because I'd pierced my naval when I was thirteen after paying a stranger twenty bucks to sign the release form. Or, maybe it was because fate had taken it easy on me for the first sixteen years of my life and decided I hadn’t shown enough appreciation. Because the day Paxton brought Lincoln Beckett over to our family’s house for the first time, fate waved her ‘fuck you, Raegan’ flag so high you could see it across the Pacific.
Lincoln, AKA the President, was well over six-feet with broad shoulders and corded biceps. That night, his dark hair was mussed in the most mesmerizing way, and his dark eyes were intense and watchful as Pax introduced him to. As though his shockingly good looks weren’t enough, it turned out Lincoln was also armed with a quick smile and sharp wit that made his brown eyes shine with humor.
Meeting him had me forgetting I’d been crushing on senior Michael Porter for three months—hell, it had me forgetting my own name.
To add injury to insult, I’d begun my period, and my skin was breaking out. I’d already switched my contacts for glasses, my face was scrubbed clean, and I was wearing baggy sweats to complete my homeless appearance. Had it been Caleb, I wouldn’t have even blinked, but the sight of Lincoln standing in the kitchen where I was helping mom finish dinner had me wishing I had an invisibility cloak or at least an excuse to leave.
Paxton and Lincoln moved out together a month later, and though Pax returned home frequently for hot meals and laundry, Lincoln only came by a few times, leaving me to lust after him mostly by memory and occasionally seeing him when I’d stop by the house the two of them rented along with Caleb and Arlo, another teammate who I’d also be fine by Pax being best friends with.
But, this year, things are going to change. Because this year, I’m a freshman at Brighton University, and gone are the days of me fantasizing about Lincoln Beckett, the starting wide receiver and highly acclaimed football player with a killer smile. The man who’s so frequently on the news that he’s amassed zillions of fans and admirers, my parents included. This year, I’m sticking to the rules.
“Maybe I should have worn the pink shirt.” Poppy tugs on her pale blue blouse for the tenth time.
“This is awkward,” I say, ignoring her comment because I’ve already assured my best friend that she looks great a hundred times to no avail. It's obviously not my validation she’s seeking. “We’re so early.” Poppy’s my number one reason for attending Brighton, a university acclaimed for its football and its law programs. It’s prestigious and expensive and thankfully has a strong marine biology program for me to earn my cetology degree.
“People hang out all the time.” Poppy looks around at the other students as though to prove her point. “Do you think any members of the rugby team will be in our classes?”
“The rugby team?”
Poppy grins, tucking her copper-red hair behind one ear. “I told you, if you want to get over Lincoln, the rugby team is going to be your ticket. One look at Blaine Campbell or Nick Carrol, and you're going to be like Lincoln who?”
I laugh. “You've already memorized their names?”
“Trust me, once you see these guys, you won’t even remember Lincoln.”
I stare at her for a moment, waiting for sense to catch up to my best friend.
“We now have the entire University at our fingertips.” She flexes her fingers, her hot pink polish shining in the bright morning sunlight. “This year is going to be epic.”
I don't voice my doubts. I don’t want to have them. I want to believe that my crush on Lincoln will soon be filed away as an embarrassing memory.
We pass a couple of guys who turn as we walk by. One whistles and makes a comment about about our backsides. The other asks for our phone numbers.
I scrunch my nose. This may be harder than I expected.
Poppy and I stop near the Pratt Building, where my first class is. “You remember where you’re going?” I ask her.
She nods. “I’ll text you when my class is over, and we can go to lunch.”
Before I can respond, someone slides their arm around my shoulders. “What's up, ladies?” Arlo says.
“Are all guys creeps?” I ask, ducking out from under the weight of his arm.
“Us? Creeps?” Arlo laughs. “Hold up, Pax and the Pres are behind me. They're just chasing a skirt. Fresh meat on campus.” He whoops.
My heart stutters—a standard reaction to hearing his name. I turn, trying to catch sight of them, working to remain calm. Then, I straighten my back, remembering my rules.
“Don’t make me kill you, Kostas.” Pax appears with Lincoln at his side, pulling my attention like a magnet.
“My hands remained out of the end zone at all times.” Arlo raises his large hands as though to prove a point.
“Paws off,” Paxton declares. “Otherwise, you're going to be trying to catch the ball with your teeth this season.”
“Man, you're going to have your work cut out for you,” Arlo says, smiling. “Freshmen are the flames, and we’re the moths. You know how it works.”
Pax shakes his head. “Poppy and Raegan are off-limits. You guys hear anyone on the team or anyone else saying something, you kick their ass.” Pax’s blue eyes that match mine in both shape and color peer around us.
“Easy, caveman. Remember, you've evolved a few hundred centuries. Lower your stick, and remember that times have changed. Also, we’ll kick your ass if you meddle with who we date.”
Pax throws his arm over my shoulder, folding his arm, so he has me in what likely looks like a loose headlock. It’s something he's done since we were young. “Don't get all huffy. Trust me, you aren’t interested in anyone on the team. They’re all just looking to get laid.”
I shrug. “Maybe we are, too?”
Arlo cheers again to push Pax off the thin ledge his sanity was stacked upon.
Pax sputters, tightening his grip around my neck. “I did not just hear that.”
“No shaming!” Arlo says. “How many girls did you sleep with your freshman year?” he poses the question to Paxton.
I raise my hands to cover my ears. “La, la, la, la, la. I don’t want to know. La. La. La. La.”
Paxton pulls my hands free. “Probably less than half the number of girls The President banged.”
I cringe at the reminder of the third rule I have for dating—never date a player.
Lincoln makes no attempt to argue the point. Instead, his full lips pull into a delicious smile that makes my stomach tingle. Good God, I love his smile. Everyone does. And to make matters worse, he knows it and uses it to his advantage, wielding it like a weapon.
Poppy grins. “Don't worry, we don’t plan to bother with the football team. You guys can stick to your cleat chasers. We're interested in the rugby team. Did you know they don't wear any pads?” She raises her eyebrows to let the insinuation sink in. “Talk about real men.”
The three of them automatically reply, throwing insults and jabs at the sport and the players.
“Real men, “Arlo scoffs and grabs himself through his jeans. “I'll show you—”
Lincoln smacks the bill of Arlo’s baseball hat, sending it flying.
“You guys are better than asshole jocks,” Pax adds.
“Wait. So, you do know you're all a bunch of assholes?” I ask, feign
ing surprise.
Pax grins. “You should find a nice guy. Maybe a tech geek or a book nerd like you?”
“Watch it. I know where you sleep, and I still have your spare key,” I warn him.
“Want to use it tonight?” Arlo waggles his eyebrows.
“Don’t push me, Kostas,” Pax warns. “Your ass will be doing lines today for practice.”
Arlo only laughs, undeterred. I'm fairly certain he only flirts with me to irritate my brother.
Poppy giggles. I duck out from under Pax and veer to the left in the direction of my first class. “I have to get to class.”
“We still have twenty minutes!” Poppy protests.
“I know, but I want to get a good seat.”
She frowns, her shoulders sagging. “Soak it up while you can because, after this week, you’re going to be a normal college student, slipping into class with five seconds to spare.”
I don’t even attempt to remind her that won’t ever happen. She already knows my aspiration to become a cetologist can’t be rivaled with.
“My fingers are crossed that you have a rugby player in your class!” Poppy yells.
I laugh. “You, too!”
Paxton shakes his head. “At least spare me the details.”
