by Nana Malone
The first hit made Ryan double over. Ryan swung wildly, just grazing Fox’s cheek. Fox’s second hit, though--that was the money shot. Fox didn’t hit him hard enough to break his nose, but there was enough power behind it to make blood pour over Ryan’s lip and into his mouth, staining his teeth and chin. Ryan groaned and clutched his hands to his face. “Son of a bitch! I should sue you for this!”
“No one’s suing anyone, Ryan,” Sasha said, stepping between the two of them. “Now get the hell out of my apartment. I’ll pack your things and leave the boxes outside the door for you to pick up later. Let me get you a cloth for your nose and then you can be on your way. I’m sure Jeff will let you crash with him until you find a place of your own.”
Sasha didn’t even leave the entryway. Instead, she reached through the pass through window into the kitchen and grabbed a dishrag off the faucet, holding it for Ryan to press to his nose.
Ryan cursed as he continued to swipe and smear the blood coating the lower half of his face.
Fox slunk behind Sasha, out of the way but ready to back her up or force Ryan through the door if she needed him. She didn’t. Ryan glared at her as he hovered in the open door.
“Fucking slut,” he muttered, as she slammed the door in his face.
Sasha shook her head and leaned against the door.
“Congratulations on getting rid of the douche,” Fox said with a smug grin. “Care to toast with that vodka I brought? Hitting that bastard sobered me up a bit, and I’m not ready to be sober yet.”
“What the hell are you doing here, Fox?” she asked in a gentle voice that included a hint of annoyance but also gratitude for having helped with Ryan. She took a few steps into the kitchen to retrieve the vodka bottle and set it on the counter.
“I blew it, Sasha. Like I always do,” he said as he moved to her couch and dropped onto the overstuffed cushions.
She sighed. “I’m sure you didn’t blow it. They were just looking for something different.”
“No. I choked. Again.” He groaned and leaned his head onto the back of the couch, looking up at her ceiling.
She felt bad for him. But she’d never tell him that. He was struggling. He wasn’t the only athlete she’d met like this. So many of her father’s and grandfather’s friends had been through the same thing. Watching him over the years had given her the idea for her story.
Now seeing Fox on the couch with little flecks of Ryan’s blood splattered on his shirt, bits of peanut shells stuck to his shoes, and reeking of booze, she wondered again at the long-term psychological impact on professional athletes who’d been trained for nothing else since they were children. Especially those who failed to succeed. She could help people with a story like this—focusing on those who never seemed to reach their promised potential. She slid a glance at her friend. Maybe even help Fox.
She hated seeing him like this. And she knew there was no reasoning with him.
“I’m sorry if I caused a problem with ass-face,” Fox said, pushing himself into a more upright position.
“Don’t be. I was in the process of breaking up with him when you showed up,” she said, crossing the room to drop onto the couch next to him. She put her feet up on the coffee table and turned toward Fox. A wave of alcohol fumes wafted over her, making her eyes water, and she cringed away from him. “Ugh,” she groaned, leaning as far away from him as she could. “God, did you spill your beer in the toilet and then roll around in it?”
Fox looked down at his sweatshirt, pinched it between his fingers, and raised the fabric toward his nose to take a sniff. He shrugged and let it drop down again. “It smells like my career, is all.”
Sasha laughed wryly. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.” She stood and reached out a hand to pull him to his feet.
“I’m the only one left, you know,” he said. “All my friends on the team—they’re all getting their shot.” He snorted. “I guess it makes sense I wouldn’t get mine. That’s my job as a goalie, to block the shots. Wish I was better in the other direction.”
“You’re not making any sense,” Sasha muttered as she tugged him in the direction of the bathroom. “You need to sober up. Then you’ll realize that there’s no way you’re the only one left from your team. I know you can’t play hockey with just a goalie. Someone’s gotta score the goals on the other team.”
“I’ve scored on myself before,” he mumbled. “Does that count?”
She pushed him through the bathroom door. He sat on the toilet fully clothed, and leaned his head against the wall.
“Are you looking to me for an ego boost?” she asked, bending down to pull off his shoes and socks. “If you are, I’m afraid I’m all out.” She tossed the shoes back out the bathroom door and into the hallway. “I’ve been busy stroking Ryan’s ego for far too long.”
“Is that the only thing his you’ve been stroking?” Fox teased.
“God, you’re as crude as he is.” Sasha rolled her eyes and moved to pull Fox’s sweatshirt up and over his head. He offered no resistance to her stripping him. It wasn’t the first time she’d helped him when he was drunk. Though usually he was sober enough to get into the shower on his own.
“I’m drunk,” he stated. “He was a sober prick. Never liked that asshole.”
“Yes, you said that before. I don’t know how, but I always manage to find them, don’t I?” She shook her head at herself as Fox pulled his arms through the sleeves of his T-shirt and tossed it to the floor with his sweatshirt. He wasn’t dirty or sweaty. He’d probably showered in the locker room after his tryout.
Her eyes flicked quickly over the lean muscles of his torso, arms, and chest. Jesus, he’d always been hot, but damn. Was that a new tattoo? She studied the small eagle on his shoulder and was careful not to touch it, even if she sort of wanted to.
She swallowed hard as she ran her arm around his waist. Fox fell somewhere between his brothers in body type. Dax wasn’t as bulky as most football players, but he was still the most massive of the Coulter boys. Bryce and Gage were both lean, though Gage had several inches in height on both Bryce and Fox. But Fox had built up noticeable muscle mass while carrying around the weight of his goalie pads. Her eyes drifted down to his thighs, which were snug in his jeans. Skating had definitely given him powerful legs.
Fox caught her looking and grinned. “See something you like?”
She ducked her head. “Be serious, Fox.”
“Did you want to help me with my pants, as well, or do you think I can manage those on my own?” He asked with a lazy smirk.
She flushed as he laughed. “I was just making sure you hadn’t pissed yourself,” she shot back. “Now do you think you can stand without falling over?” She hoped he could because it was one thing to ogle his strong chest, but the full monty might give her a view she didn’t bargain on. Her stomach flipped at the thought.
He used the towel bar to help pull himself up, knocking the hand towels off in the process. Looking Sasha square in the eye, he reached down to unbutton his jeans and unzip his fly. With a hard swallow, she kept her eyes on his while he eased his jeans over his hips. He slipped the denim down his legs and stepped out of them, kicking them into the hallway with the rest of his clothes. His boxers stayed on. Holy hell. Her mouth watered.
“What is it that cops have drunk people do again? When they pull them over and make them get out of the car?” His gaze wandered from her to the frosted glass of her shower door.
“I don’t have any personal experience with that one, and as far as I’m aware, you don’t, either. And I’m certainly not going to let you risk changing that tonight,” she said as she turned away to reach the small linen closet next to the shower. She pulled out an oversized towel and handed it to Fox. “You’ll sleep on the couch tonight. I think I’ve got some of your clothes tucked in the back of my closet from the last time you pulled a stunt like this. I’ll go see if I can dig them out for you.”
“Wait,” he said, reaching for her. He missed and
crashed against the door of the shower.
“What the hell, Fox?” Sasha muttered, grabbing him by his upper arms to help steady him. “You’re supposed to open the door before you try to go through it,” she teased when she was certain he hadn’t broken anything on either himself or the shower.
“I don’t know how this shower works. Hard to do when drunk.”
Sasha rolled her eyes and gave him a little push so she could slide past him enough to reach in and turn the water on. “Left is hot, right is cold. Do you think you can remember that?”
He muttered and laughed. “Got it.”
She let out a low, breathy laugh. “I’ll go find your clothes.” Sasha brushed past him and closed the bathroom door behind her, letting out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding.
The clothes weren’t in the closet where Sasha thought they’d be. Instead, she found the box in question in the spare room that Ryan had promised to help her turn into an office. So far, it only held a beanbag chair, a folding table, cartons filled with some of Ryan’s vintage gaming systems, and the box she was searching for.
The box contained all of Fox’s things she’d acquired over the years, the miscellaneous articles of clothing and accessories he’d left at the various places she’d lived. She knew he had a similar box at his place for all of the things she’d forgotten to take home with her, too.
Every year or two, they swapped boxes to return each other’s stuff and laughed over how long they’d been looking for the contents. As she looked at the box tucked away in the corner next to the gaming systems Ryan said he was going to sell on eBay, she realized just how much she’d had to adjust to accommodate Ryan and his petty jealousies.
She should have known better than to start dating him in the first place. She was already swamped with her schoolwork and working at the restaurant. She knew she didn’t have the time to devote to a relationship. But he had been so encouraging in the beginning, hadn’t he? It was difficult to remember just how things had been in those early days. He was the one with the internship at the station, getting ready to graduate in just a few months.
He’d had a few credits left to take, and was due to graduate in the winter. He had seemed impressed by the fact that she was applying for the same internship the following spring semester. When the station offered him a job, it had just been easier to let things progress since they’d be able to see one another whenever she was on site for her internship.
Sasha laughed humorlessly. That was her pattern, then. She got involved with him because he was going to be around anyway. He was a constant, and she didn’t have to think. And shit, he’d paid a lot of attention to her. She’d moved in with him so they’d have more time together because just working together wasn’t enough for Ryan. Her focus had always been on the work, and his focus had always been on her and having as much of her as she would let him take. And still, it wasn’t enough for him.
As she hefted the box of Fox’s belongings into her arms and carried it down the hall to their bedroom—her bedroom—to put back in her closet, she glanced at Ryan’s things scattered about and wondered if she would feel anything with him gone. They’d been together for almost a year. There had been moments of fun, but lately it was like her relationship was the distraction and her work was where she was enjoying herself. Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around? What she felt was relief, pure and simple.
She should feel bad about Fox punching Ryan. That would be the adult thing to do. But she found it oddly amusing. And butterflies fluttered low in her belly when she thought about the look on Fox’s face when he’d hit him. Ryan had been hurting her, and there was no way Fox would ever let that happen.
She knocked on the bathroom door with a set of clothes for Fox tucked under her arm. “Fox?” she called. “I’m going to leave your clean clothes on the floor just outside the door. Okay?”
There was no response from inside.
“Fox?” she called again. “Just say, ‘okay’ and I’ll leave you alone. I need you to let me know you’re all right.”
There was still no answer.
Given how drunk he was, she didn’t want to take any chances on him doing damage to himself or her bathroom. She was counting on that security deposit.
The doorknob turned—he hadn’t locked it when she left. When she saw that he was in the shower with his boxers on, she was both relieved and amused. She stepped into the bathroom and set his clothes on the counter next to the sink.
He was sitting on the floor of the shower with his back to the water. She didn’t think he was crying, but he was hanging his head.
“Can you stand up?” she asked, banging her hand lightly on the frosted glass.
His head jerked up, and he looked completely broken. He looked terrible, having slipped from his jolly drunken state into a self-pitying condition that he generally had a difficult time escaping without help.
“Christ,” she said under her breath. Impulsively, she pulled off her own shirt and pants. She opened the door to the shower and climbed in, turning the water temperature up a bit higher. She gave herself a moment to get used to the water and let it soak her hair and underwear before she crouched carefully beside Fox and reached out to touch him.
“Come on,” she said gently. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Can you turn around a bit? Come on, up you go.” Sasha tried to hide the concern in her voice.
She tried not to pay any attention to the expanse of muscle in front of her, trying to ignore the colorful tattoos that wound around Fox’s arms and chest, the light fuzz that dusted his pecs, and the trail of dark hair from his belly button to— she glanced down.
Oh, holy hell.
The cotton fabric of his boxer briefs clung to him. And there was no mistaking the outline of his—. She swallowed hard. This was not why she was here. She was here to help him.
Once she had him on his feet, she turned around and reached for the shower gel and sponge. Gently, she lathered him up from shoulder to shoulder and down his pecs to the expanse of his abs.
Jesus, that really is a damn washboard.
When most of the blood was gone, she turned him again and lifted the showerhead to help rinse him off. She watched as the soap trails ran off of his perfect body, licking her lips nervously.
No. You are not here to ogle him. You are here to get him clean, to sober him up.
She added more gel to the sponge and moved to his face, gently wiping away the blood cresting his nose and upper lip.
“You know you didn’t have to do that,” she said softly.
Fox’s lips turned up in a weak, lopsided smile. “Yes, I did. He put his hands on you. I had to make sure he remembered to never do that again.”
“I don’t like you fighting over me,” Sasha said.
He shook his head, “One-time deal, I promise. It’s just, when I saw his hand on you, I wasn’t exactly thinking straight.”
“Yeah, well, I hate to see you hurt.”
He grinned. “You should see the other guy.”
Sasha shook her head. “Let me rephrase that. I hate to see you hurting anyone on my behalf. You and I both know I can take care of myself.”
His gaze locked on her lips for a moment. “I know that. Still, I’m never going to be okay with him putting his hands on you like that. There has to be some benefit from having a friend as big as me. That way, you get to walk softly and carry a big stick.”
Oh, shit. He said stick.
This made her mind immediately drift to the length of his erection pressing into her hip. It was as if he knew she was thinking about it. Resolutely, she kept her gaze on his eyes. She saw the flicker of mischievousness in them. She also saw something else. Was it interest? No, this was Fox. He was a flirt. He had swaths of women lined up for him. His last name played a big part in that because he had money, but the main reason women lined up for Fox Coulter was his damn face. The guy could easily be a movie star with his full lips, high cheekbones, and that straight, regal
nose. His deep-set eyes burned a bright blue every time he gazed at her.
I’m going to combust.
Then there was his body. He had a ridiculous build, the kind you had to work hard for, but not overly done. He was tall and muscular, but lean at the same time.
“Just go ahead and ignore that big stick. I’ve had a lot to drink, and as far as he’s concerned, you’re a warm, available female. Don’t mind him.”
She tried to deflect. “What is this stick you speak of?”
The thick length of him twitched again, almost causing her to moan. When was the last time she had a good, old-fashioned, toe-curling orgasm?
Hell, when was the last time I even had the opportunity?
Ryan didn’t like kissing. He thought it was weird, so for over a year no one had even kissed her properly. The kind of kisses that made the panties wet, the hair wild, and the belly buzz and flip around. Man, she missed those kinds of kisses.
Fox licked his bottom lip. As he leaned in closer, Sasha held her ground and kept her gaze locked on his.
“Sash—” the way he said her name was more of a question. As if he were trying to determine what was happening. Trying to decide if he should give in to their tension. Trying to figure out what the hell they were doing.
Sasha took a deliberate step back. She reminded herself that she had no desire to be yet another notch on Fox Coulter’s bedpost. The Coulter boys were notorious, from Bryce all the way down to Gage. Fox was no different from his brothers. His exploits were legendary. He’d told Sasha about most of them himself.
Do you really want to be one of those girls, one of those groupies?
Hell, yes! Her libido screamed even as her mind tried to talk her out of it. Regardless, she still had no desire to be another notch.
Sasha purposefully positioned the showerhead between them, rinsing him off. By gently cupping some water, she began washing away the soap that was on his face. He looked normal with all the blood washed away, back to her Fox. The spell had been broken, and the two best friends hadn’t crossed any lines they couldn’t come back from. Everything was just about back to normal.
