Hard Tackle (A Stepbrother Warriors Novel)

by Loren, Celia

  Jack's hands move under my back, pulling me up against him as my hands release the bed post. I open and close my fingers, feeling their stiffness as I collapse against him. He slowly pulls me up and drops me back on the bed behind me. I hear him walk softly into the bathroom and he returns a minute later.

  "Come on," he whispers. I moan, wanting to stay where I am, but he takes my hand and pulls me up, turning off the bedside lamp as he guides me toward the balcony doors. As we step outside, I feel the late summer humidity envelop my naked body as though I'm submerged in water. I sink back against him as I wonder why he brought me out here. Suddenly the sky lights up grey and yellow above the ocean and I giggle in happiness. He brought me out to see the lightning.

  "Wait, I'll be right back," I murmur, suddenly alert. I slip back inside the room for a moment and then return, kissing the slightly salty, sweaty skin at the base of his sternum. "You know what I've never done?" I murmur, as another bolt of lightning strikes. "Had sex in a lightning storm," I say, revealing the condom in my palm.

  The whites of his teeth glow in the night as he smiles, and I push him back against the lounge chair behind him. He sinks down into it, and I kneel, spreading his knees apart. His cock quickly hardens again as I wrap my fingers around his shaft. I bend my head down, taking his tip in my mouth and swirling my tongue around it. I tuck my lips over my teeth and take him into my mouth, my eyes watering at his girth as he hits the back wall of my mouth. I bob my head up and down his shaft a few times, enjoying his taste and his satisfied groans.

  I pull my head up and back, carefully ripping open the condom. I hold it against his tip and unwrap it downward as I've seen him do, and then stand up and straddle him. Just as I'm about to sink down on top of him, he reaches his hand forward, running his fingers over my clit. I suck in a breath of air between my teeth as my body throbs in response to his touch. His deft fingers circle my clit before he slides one up inside me. I don't have to look down at his face to know that he's watching my every response.

  I can't take it anymore. I lean forward, pressing my hands against his wide shoulders. He drops his hand, and I sink down. I feel his cock hard and ready against me. He reaches down and holds it steady as he slowly enters me. A flash of lightning illuminates the sky and Jack's incredible body in front of me. I laugh in abandon, feeling amazed at the beauty of the night and my desire for the man in between my legs.

  I rise up on my knees, excited by how in control I am of what's happening. Jack's hand moves back against me, and I feel his thumb circle against my clit, moving with me as I rise up and down on his cock. I move faster, and feel Jack's hips rise up to meet me. I pause to circle my hips around, wanting to feel him at every angle inside me, then begin to move up and down again. As the storm moves closer, I can see more clearly his expression, lips parted, eyes on my body, taking me in.

  "Oh, Jack, you feel so good," I whisper, leaning back and resting my hands on top of his legs as I pump up and down. His hands move around to my ass, pulling me with more force down onto his lap. My pleasure crests and spills over as he groans and empties himself inside me. I continue up and down a couple more times, and then collapse over him, resting my head on his shoulders as my breasts pillow against his bare chest.

  I drowsily open my eyes to watch the lightning strikes over the water, and think about how I watched a storm like this by myself, on the balcony below us, just a few months earlier. I could never have imagined I'd end up here.

  Jack's lips brush my cheek. "Where'd you go?" he murmurs.

  "Just thinking that I'm glad you're here. And I'm glad I'm here," I reply, unable to put into words exactly what I'm feeling. His arms wrap around my back, pulling me more tightly against him.

  A drop of rain falls against the back of my neck, and I giggle. A few more splats of water, and we both look up at the dark sky. The clouds break, and rain starts pelting down on us. Jack begins to laugh, a deep sound emanating from his belly, and stands up, taking me with him.

  He leans forward, kissing me hard on the lips, before reaching for the balcony door. "Come on, let's get you dried off."

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  I freeze in front of Jack's open bedroom door as a woman's voice filters out. Definitely not my mom's.

  "I don't know yet, but soon, I promise," she says.

  "You say that all the time. I want you to see at least one of my games this year, Lex. In person, I mean," Jack replies, and I shake my head at myself. Lex. That's his sister.

  I poke my head in and Jack looks over at me from the couch, where he has the phone resting on his leg on speaker. He waves me in.

  "Well, you sound good," Lex says. "Happy." Her voice is deep and throaty, and I wonder if she smokes.

  "I am," Jack says, meeting my eyes as I sit on the couch next to him. He wraps an arm around my shoulders.

  "I would like to meet Anne. And her daughter—what's her name again?"

  "Bree," Jack answers, and I cover my mouth to keep from laughing.

  "You like her?"

  "Yeah, she's OK," Jack replies with a grin, and I nudge him in the ribs.

  "Hey, I gotta go. They just made an announcement for my train." In the background, I can hear the sounds of a voice crackling over a loudspeaker.

  "Wait, where are you?"

  "Talk to you soon!" she calls out, and hangs up. Jacks sighs.

  "She can be a little flighty. So, you ready?" I nod, and we stand up. He takes a rolling suitcase and a duffel, and I shoulder a smaller bag. In the garage, we throw the bags in the back seat, and then hop in the front.

  As we drive over to his penthouse apartment, the one he abandoned for the summer to stay at home, I can't help but feel nostalgic. The last several weeks together have felt idyllic, and now he's moving out. I just wish everything could stay the same.

  "We'll still see each other," he says, reaching out to hold my hand.

  "I guess so. But it'll be suspicious for me to be out all the time, and forget about anything overnight."

  "I've been thinking…what about Miles?"

  "What about him?"

  "Maybe you could, um, rekindle things with him. I mean, not really!" he adds hastily. "I mean you used it as an excuse with me—"

  "And you were super pissed about that," I remind him.

  "True, but it could explain why you would be out of the house. And your mom would be OK with you spending the night elsewhere if it were with a boyfriend right?"

  "I suppose. Poor Miles. He has no idea our relationship has gone on so long! Maybe I should send him a gift basket to thank him."

  Jack turns up the music on the radio and I open my window slightly to feel the breeze in my hair. Not all the way, because the tinting on his windows helps him from being recognized. My worries about the logistics of seeing each other melt away as we enjoy a little time of feeling like a normal couple, cruising along while the radio blasts. I hold his hand a little tighter, feeling the rough callouses on his palm.

  We pull up outside a modern high-rise in downtown Tampa, and Jack pulls around to the side, flashing an electronic key card to open the metal door leading to the underground garage. My eyes take a second to adjust to the sudden darkness as we pull in and the gates shut behind us. Jack turns into a numbered spot and hops out. I glance around. The lot is full of expensive-looking cars, all belonging to residents of the tony building.

  We grab the bags from the back and Jack leads the way over to an elevator. Another key card, and then a number to punch into a keypad inside to make the thing move. He presses a button labeled "P" and the elevator shoots up. It quickly opens to a lavish foyer, and I step back in surprise.

  "What's wrong?" he asks, as he walks out, holding an arm against the doors to keep them from opening.

  "I was expecting a hallway, that's all," I murmur as I follow him.

  "So, this is my place," he says over his shoulder as he walks through a modern living room and down a hallway. I hurry after him. At the end of it, he pushes op
en a door and tosses his bags on the floor.

  "Nice," I say, looking around. The walls are painted gray, with dark curtains currently pulled apart to offer sweeping views of the city and the ocean beyond. The furniture is all sleek, dark wood, a modern bachelor pad. "So it's the whole floor then?"

  "Yeah, but hopefully when the people downstairs sell I can snap up their place, too, and connect them."

  "Naturally."

  "Bree…"

  "Sorry, I guess I just got used the whole mansion thing, and now this…it was easy to forget how, you know, wealthy and famous you are. But not so much now."

  "What does it matter?" he asks, coming over to wrap his arms around my waist.

  "It doesn't really," I murmur, resting my head on his chest. "I guess I just feel a little…" I want to say inadequate, but don't want to sound needy. "It doesn't matter. You're right," I say instead.

  "Opening day is next week," he says, leaning back and tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

  "Uh-huh."

  "And your mom and my dad are going…"

  "Jack…"

  "Please. No one will know who you are."

  "We'll be in the family section?"

  "Of course."

  "I guess all the wives who would have known my mom are gone now. I can't believe you got her to go. At least the Bucs don't play at the same stadium anymore."

  "You ever been to the new one?"

  "No," I admit.

  "It would mean a lot to me if you came, but I know there's a lot of baggage there for you."

  I sigh. "Alright. If it would—" I break off as he lifts me into his arms, squeezing me so hard my breath leaves my lungs.

  "Sorry, sorry," he says as I gasp.

  "Well, you better win," I grumble, and he laughs.

  "Just for you, I will," he jokes and bends down, softly kissing me. I forget my concern about the game as his tongue snakes into my mouth. He walks forward, forcing me to walk backward, until my legs hit the bed and I tumble backward. The crisp bedspread feels unfamiliar against my neck as I wrap my legs around him and pull him close.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  "You sure you're alright, Bree?" my mom whispers to me. We're walking through a tunnel from the private parking lot to the stadium used by the people in the Buccaneers' organization and their families.

  "Yeah," I murmur back with a shrug, though I feel odd. I can't even pin down what I'm feeling because my system shut down this morning on our drive over. Jack has been so busy with practices that I haven't seen him since we brought his things back over to his apartment, though I've used the time to build back up my fake relationship with Miles.

  We enter a cavernous area under a section of the stands. Ray shakes a bunch of hands; he's a familiar face at his son's games, and a well-known business man in his own right. I hear the hum of the crowd grow louder as we're escorted into the stadium. The game hasn't started yet, but it's opening day, so the excitement in the air is palpable.

  The crowd is awash in red, white, and black, with hardly any Falcons colors or jerseys visible. I accepted a red Bucs hat from Jack, and have it pulled low over my face. The Jolly Roger symbol looks a little different than I remember it. I wish my mom were wearing a hat, too. People are far more likely to recognize her than me, and what if word gets out that Sonny Bosko's family was here? The fans will probably start throwing things at us and boo us out of the stadium. Maybe the death threats would start again.

  I look around nervously as we're shown to aisle seats on the Buc's side of the field, right at the fifty yard line. It's exactly where my mom, Carter, and I would sit at the old stadium when we'd watch my dad play. I can practically hear the chants now: Bos-KO, Bos-KO, Bos-KO!

  I realize as I look around that I should have been more worried about the players' parents than the players' wives. The wives are all much closer to my age even if their husbands are some of the oldest on the team. They all greet my mom cheerfully, their huge wedding rings glinting in the sunlight as they shake my mom's hand.

  The crowd claps politely as the Ravens take the field, but burst into a stomping, clapping mob as the Bucs burst from the tunnel out of their locker room. I spot Jack's number forty-one in front of us as he leans in to talk to one of his coaches. I know he's too focused to talk to us right now, but I'd feel so much less anxious if I could just see his smile. His picture and stats splash across the Jumbotron, but it's just not quite the same.

  The Bucs win the coin toss and Jack takes the field with the rest of the offensive line. Their QB targets Jack on his first throw, and Jack bypasses a defender as he heads for a first down. Just after he makes it, he's taken down by a huge Ravens defensive back. If I thought Jack was big, he's dwarfed by some of these other players. My dad always played defensive line, so I never had to watch him get tackled in quite the same way, with both players running at full speed. I cover my eyes with my hands, wincing as Jack is laid flat on his back. But he quickly bounces back up, and I take a deep, relieved breath.

  "It's OK, honey!" my mom says cheerfully, taking a second to rub my back. "You looked so scared for a second there!"

  "I guess I'm just not used to this. I forgot what it was like to see it so up close."

  "I always loved the games," my mom confesses. "It's so exciting! So many people gathered in one place to cheer on their team!" she practically squeals. I smile at her. She's like a little kid here. I guess it's not too surprising that she fell for a pro football player, even one with such questionable morals.

  I watch Jack get tackled again and again, though always after he's taken the ball much further down field. He's on fire today. He and his QB seem to be thinking with one mind, completely aware of the other's positioning. Every time he gets up without being hurt, I relax a little. It's like I have to learn that he really can take a tackle without dying before I can actually start to enjoy the game.

  At the one-yard line, the quarterback hands the ball off to a member of his offensive line that charges through the Ravens' players for a touchdown. After an extra point, the score remains seven to nothing through halftime. The Ravens come back for a field goal to end their next drive, and the Bucs return the kickoff to the thirty-five yard line. The safety hikes the ball, and Jack sprints by our place in midfield. The crowd stands as the throw goes deep, hitting Jack square in the chest. He stiff-arms his defender and the crowd goes wild as he runs the rest of the way to the end zone unencumbered.

  I don't realize how loudly I'm cheering at first. Not that anyone else would notice, they're all doing the same, but I'm surprised by how proud and excited I feel. I wish I could tell him right now, but that's an impossibility for so many reasons. After another successful extra point, the score stays at fourteen to three until the game ends with the Ravens stranded on their own forty-yard line.

  The field is swarmed by the Bucs as they congratulate each other and shake the other team's hands. I crane my neck to catch a glimpse of Jack, but the mass is too thick and spotted everywhere with reporters and bright camera lights. The crowd begins to filter out, with the family section emptying back into their exclusive area.

  "So where do we meet Jack?" I ask, looking around.

  "He's going to meet us at the party," Ray tells me, leading the way back through the tunnel to his car.

  "What party?" I ask frowning.

  "The one the Glazers throw every year," my mom replies nonchalantly. "Eliot started the tradition, and now his sons throw it."

  "Oh," I reply, vaguely recognizing the owners' names.

  "I thought I told you," my mom says.

  "I don't think so. Is it OK to wear this?" I ask, indicating my t-shirt and jeans.

  "I'm sure that's fine," she assures me. We drive over to a hotel on the waterfront, and have to check in at the garage just to be able to park. I start to get nervous when I see Ray pull out a blazer from the backseat. My mom's wearing black pants and a blouse, and besides, she didn't stuff a baseball cap down over her head all afternoon. I s
hake my hair out, doing my best to ruffle away my hat hair with my fingers.

  We check in again outside the elevators, and I look down at the floor as cameras flash our way as we head into the ballroom. I look around, and grimace as I see all the well-dressed players' wives happily posing for the cameras. They're all wearing heels and skin tight jeans or dresses. When we get inside, I quickly head for a tray of appetizers, nervously parking myself in the corner while my mom and Ray schmooze.

  Large numbers of women start pouring in, too many to just be the players' wives. Groupies, hoping to meet one of the single players, like Jack. I suppose they're regulars, and the security knows to let them in. Gotta keep the players happy. I start to wish I could fade into the walls. Messy hair, flat-chested, no makeup…I don't look like the rest of these women. These are the kind of women I'm sure Jack was used to dating…or sleeping with, rather. A sick thought reaches my brain: maybe he has slept with some of these women. The more I think about it, the more sure I am.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  I head over to the massive buffet. There's a ton of food, which isn't surprising. I'm sure an entire NFL team that just played will quickly devour everything here. I grab a plate and fill up a plate of lasagna. No one else is really eating, but I could use some comfort food right now.

  I park myself at a table and begin to wolf it down. I picked a seat away from the crowd, but as it begins to grow I'm surrounded. Two women sit across the table from me, tucking their long, straight hair carefully in front of their shoulders. They're both wearing tight cocktail dresses, with a fabric that crisscrosses over their bodies like bandages. I can just overhear their conversation