Going Hard: Boys of Fall

by Cari Quinn

  The breadth of his shoulders and whip-lean hips certainly said so to her. Gone was any resemblance to the boy she’d known. He was harsher, more focused, more intense.

  And Rafe Martinez had always been pretty damn intense. So serious all the time. Now the tiny laugh lines she remembered had been replaced with frown lines on his forehead.

  What did it say that she wanted to smooth them away?

  It said she needed to get laid. And while these two college guys were definitely not doing it for her, she didn’t want to picture Rafe in that role.

  At all.

  Why did she have to keep reminding herself of that?

  Perhaps it was exhibit A on the pool table right now? Rafe with his long tanned fingers caging the pool stick for a smooth return. The smack of balls and two more solids sinking into the pocket made her groan.

  He was about to run the table.

  The concentration on his face was the first clue; the tension in his shoulders was the next. Bobby watched in awe as each angle was meticulously measured by Rafe’s keen eye and perfect form.

  When he stretched across the table for a difficult shot, she let her gaze linger over the muscular length of his thigh and perfect ass. She’d been cozied up alongside that entire length of hard male perfection.

  Her nipples tightened under the uncomfortable material of her bra. Stupid thing had shifted and twisted in the last game. She desperately wanted to tug it down, but there were far too many eyes on her.

  She wiggled against the post beside the table. Rafe’s hair fell forward as he lined up the shot, but he must have noticed her gyrations. He frowned at her before scratching the next shot.

  Thank God.

  She took back the next two shots and prayed as Todd actually managed to sink the next one. Damn well better have, since she’d completely set him up.

  The last shot of the table, however, was nearly impossible. “Thanks, Todd.”

  College boy folded his arms. “These shots are crazy.”

  She was short and needed to crawl across the damn table to take aim. She could use the extender stick, but memories of the guys taunting her about using it made her leave it in its rack under the table.

  There was no way she was going to listen to that ridicule tonight.

  She hopped onto the table to twist herself for the shot. Rafe came up to her and laid a hand on her hip. “Try something?”

  She looked up at him. “What can you do that I can’t?”

  His raven-black eyebrow arched under the adorable curl of hair hanging onto his forehead. She had the worst urge to push it back and feel the coarse silk sift between her fingers.

  He lifted her off the table and led her around to the other side, where she could actually reach. “Try from behind.” He lifted her onto the table rail. “Reach around here.”

  She dragged in a breath as his arm brushed along the side of her breast.

  “Keep your stick straight.”

  She peeked up through her eyelashes. “You keep your stick straight, pal.”

  “Oh, it is.”

  Her lips curved up at the corners. “Uh-huh.”

  “Be serious here.”

  “Do you have any other gear, Mr. Martinez?”

  His nostrils flared as he helped her draw back and the balls smacked and spun. The last stripe dropped into the corner pocket.

  “What the hell are you wearing?” he asked into her ear.

  “Eau de bar.”

  He drew in a deep breath. “I don’t mean that. And I distinctly smell pineapples, not bar.” He brushed his arm against her breast again. “That.”

  “It’s this newfangled invention called the bra. It was first designed in 1890-ish.”

  “Smartass.”

  She laughed. “No. Not me.”

  Bobby backed away.

  “Where are you guys going?”

  “Yeah, you two don’t need us here.”

  She huffed as Todd lifted his beer in a faux toast and they both disappeared into the crowd. “We scared them away.” She punched Rafe in the arm. “You did.”

  “I did not.”

  “All macho teacher.”

  “You’re just trying to change the subject.”

  She dropped her stick on the table. “Cripes, Rafe. It’s a bra. Women wear them to make their tits perky and pretty.”

  “That’s not a bra. I don’t know what it is.” He looked down at her chest. “They’re wrong.”

  “I think I know my own boobs.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ve had my mouth and hands on them and I know they’re not that size.”

  She flushed. He’d had them on her precisely once. And she didn’t remember him paying attention.

  She pushed him back and hopped down. “Are you kidding me? You’re going to bring that up here?” she whispered furiously.

  She was so not having this conversation. She made a beeline for the bathrooms, but he caught her hand and dragged her toward the lonely jukebox in the far corner.

  “Rafe,” she said with a startled glare.

  He hauled her into the darkened space. She was actually surprised there was one in this place. Everything seemed neon and bright, not to mention filled to the brim with people.

  Though it was a weeknight and had to be heading toward eleven. And huh…sometime between game three and four, the pool area had cleared out.

  He braced his arm against the wall beside her head and used the rest of his body to block her into the corner. “Why the fuck are you wearing a padded bra?”

  Shock muted her for a moment before she managed to sputter out a laugh. “It’s none of your damn business.”

  “Take it off.”

  “What?”

  “Take it off right now. Your tits are fucking perfect. You don’t need to be wearing that crap.”

  “My…what?” Shock moved into exasperation.

  He pulled at the tie of her shirt.

  She slapped his hands. “Rafe!” she gasped.

  “If you don’t take it off, I will.”

  “Of all the high-handed macho stunts—”

  She yelped mid-sentence as her shirt gaped open and cool air hit her.

  “Are you kidding me?” She darted her gaze around the room, but no one was paying a bit of attention to them.

  Which could be a good or bad thing if the situation wasn’t so laughable.

  He tucked his finger into the small rosette between her breasts. “Fucking ugly.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Not you. This thing. What’s in it?” He molded his hand over her breast and she dragged in a breath. Her nipple went diamond hard. Damn sensitive things. It couldn’t be from Rafe touching her.

  They’d been over this.

  Actually, if memory served, the first time she’d really gotten revved with him had been very similar. Rafe had taken his time to taste her and pinch them deliciously just before he’d veered off to regions south—and things had fallen apart.

  He brought both hands between her breasts and tugged hard and the bra snapped open, as did her freaking mouth.

  “That was a forty-dollar bra, dammit!”

  “I’ll buy you three others that suit these perfect breasts. It should enhance, not augment. Because these,” he cupped her gently, “do not need augmenting.”

  She honestly didn’t know what to say to that. His chest was rising and falling as he looked down at her. “Rafe,” she whispered.

  “Don’t fucking talk.” He pressed his forehead to the wall beside her neck. “You have no idea how perfect you are.”

  “I…” She swallowed.

  She was perfect? Since when? All those years he’d never so much as glanced her way when she’d been dying for the smallest crumb from him…a wink, a smile, a teasing remark. All the things other guys gave out so easily that somehow made her feel nothing at all unless they were from Rafe.

  Rafe, who never did any of them. But she knew, just knew, that if he did? She’d feel everything.

&nbs
p; He swiped his thumb over one tip, then rolled it until she arched under him.

  “Fuck,” he muttered—and lowered his mouth to her other breast and covered her nipple with his lips. He tugged and laved around the tight tip before dragging his teeth over her skin and finally right where she wanted him. Tugging at her nipple with a flash of bright white teeth in the dark.

  Her fingers went right for his hair and held him there. Not that she had to worry about it, because he didn’t seem inclined to move. He tugged the other, rolling it between two fingers as he sucked strongly on the first.

  Her entire body lit up like the jukebox next to them.

  No way.

  She rolled her hips against him as a restless hunger built in her lower belly. He slid his knee between her legs and she moaned when the seam of her jeans brushed her clit.

  His hot breath fanned over her chest and along her ribs as he licked a path under her breast to the one he’d neglected and tasted that one, too. “Can you come from this?” he asked.

  “I never have before.” Was that her voice? It was needy and dark, just like she felt.

  His knee rose higher and he rocked against her, his cock hard against her belly.

  “God.” She gripped his hair harder and felt the rumble of his growl against her skin. His sucking intensified and she rocked faster, rolling her hips just how she needed to when she was alone.

  It felt weird to do it with this man. Weird and hot and wonderful all at the same time. He plucked at her nipple and she moaned his name.

  Just as she was going to beg him to touch her, to rub something, the jukebox flared to life next to them and Garth Brooks twanged about friends in low places.

  Coincidentally, since her low places were crying a bitter tune.

  Rafe jerked away from her, his dark eyes bright with shock and heavy-lidded with lust. She’d never seen that look on him. He’d been so contained that night with her.

  The night she’d never forget, even if in the end it had been disappointing. Probably because reality could never compete with the fantasies she’d had of him since she was a teenager.

  Shoulders heaving, he stared at her. All she could see was his mouth, pink from going to town on her. He brushed his knuckles over her skin once and the lust shuttered away.

  “Rafe?”

  He swallowed. “We can’t do this.”

  She sagged against the wall. “Who said?”

  “I did.” He snapped the straps—which shouldn’t have been hot, but oh God, so was—and swiped the bra off and away before his nimble fingers buttoned her shirt as quickly as he’d undone it.

  Of course, now the shirt fit—a little too well without the extra padding, actually. Her nipples were tight and pushed against the flimsy material. He tried to tie the bottom, but she pushed his hand away and did it herself.

  There were a few scratches on her skin from his evening’s scruff, but otherwise she was back to normal. Regular Hollie Bennett in the flesh.

  And he could resist her as usual.

  Whatever momentary insanity had infiltrated his brain had slipped away just as quickly, and she was left as she always was—frustrated, unfulfilled, and just a tad violent.

  Okay, more than just a tad.

  Disappointment warred with embarrassment as she pushed him back. “Can we go?”

  “Hol—”

  “Just don’t.” She’d been on the verge of the orgasm that could break her orgasmless streak of days in the best way possible, and as usual, he’d ripped it away from her. Freaking typical.

  He dropped his hand from her hip and the wall and stepped back. She’d been so close to reading him and now he was the impenetrable Rafe all over again. Mr. Serious.

  She wanted the other guy back. The one who was going to give her an orgasm with just his mouth and a little pressure. Did he have any idea how rare that was?

  “Hollie…” He tried to hold his hand at the small of her back, but she jerked away from him.

  “Can we just go?” she asked again.

  His jaw flexed. “Yes.”

  “Good.” She strode through the aisles of pool tables to the front, where a few stragglers were still hanging at the bar. Evidently “Friends in Low Places” was the closer for this place.

  For her, it was Rafe’s stupid brain turning back on.

  Denied again.

  The story of her life.

  5

  “I’m not sure this is the best idea, Rafe.” Big blue eyes beamed into his, just a little blurry around the edges. “I’ve had a little to drink…”

  “But you came here looking for something.” He gave in to the urge to stroke a finger along her swingy dark hair. So soft. Would the hair between her legs be that dark and soft? Or would she be paler down there, or maybe bare and just pink…so fucking pink.

  “I did. But it wasn’t this. You.” She shut her eyes for a second. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “I know what you meant.”

  No one saw him as the one to have a wild night with, least of all a sexy girl just out for a good time.

  “Rafe, look, I know you just want to look out for me, and really, that’s nice and all, but I need—” She blew out a breath. “I just need, and if you can’t help me out with that, then you should just go. No hard feelings.”

  “You’re wrong there.” He swallowed hard and shifted to try to alleviate the persistent heaviness between his thighs. But there was no changing it. She was the only one who could do that. With those glossy bubblegum-pink lips, or that slick cleft at the apex of her legs.

  Christ, he was so tired of never letting loose. Of always playing it safe and doing the right thing. Worst of all, always sleeping alone.

  She frowned, her tiny cute nose wrinkling. “You’d have hard feelings toward me?”

  Giving in to instinct, he grabbed her hand and pressed it to his groin. Her wide eyes were worth the crude gesture and then some. “So fucking hard.”

  “Rafe?”

  He glanced up at the guys gathered around the stables at Coach’s and scratched a hand over the back of his neck. He remembered parking his truck behind Wade’s and making his way back, but a slant of sunshine and the smell of hay and he’d been tossed right back to that summer night with Hollie.

  A night that had loomed so much larger in his mind than it had obviously in Hol’s. To her, it had been a colossal mistake with a dude without any sexual capabilities whatsoever. To him, he’d had his first forbidden taste of something he’d fought not to want since he was a teenager.

  Because of Wade. Because of Hollie’s parents, who trusted him with their only daughter. Hell, even because of his own mother, who’d warned him more than a few times that the best protection was abstinence. He didn’t want to end up like his cousins, now did he? Raising kids he couldn’t support way too young, with his life cut short.

  So he’d steered clear of women in general, and Hollie in particular. Even when he’d grown older and wiser, it had just been easier to work and deal with his responsibilities than to date.

  How did someone date anyway? He had no idea. It wasn’t like he’d taken any time to learn, even back in high school. True, he hadn’t been a monk, but close enough. His number of lovers barely ranked higher than Hollie’s.

  He sucked at small talk, and he had no game.

  Less than none. The little bit he’d thought he had, she’d squashed with her assessment of his lovemaking skills. Definitely made a guy want to run right out and sign up for match.com.

  Jesus. Like hell.

  “Yeah. Hey guys.” He smiled at Wade and Jackson and Tucker, who were all clustered at the mouth of the stables, staring at him as if he’d gotten lost. Joel and Oakley were there too, just farther back.

  So he didn’t come to Coach’s all that often. He was trying to make more time for it. God knows it was hard to drag himself away from the stack of paperwork waiting for him on his coffee table at home, but he couldn’t just stay inside all day. He’d left work ear
ly on a Friday afternoon because he needed some fresh air and sunshine.

  Not brooding about Hol would help too.

  He picked up a hoe and stared at it. Manual work. Right. He could do that. It had been a few years since he’d mucked out a stall, since he usually helped out with some of the bookkeeping type-stuff at the ranch rather than the physical side. He was no accountant, but he’d taken some classes in college and he knew his gifts definitely weren’t in ranching. But he could figure it out.

  Sure he could. Just like he could figure out how to pleasure a woman so she didn’t have to tell her girlfriends that he couldn’t even make her come.

  Rafe’s eyes widened. Fuck, had Hollie told her friends that?

  “Whatcha doing here, man?” Wade clapped him on the shoulder. “Not that it’s not damn good to see you, but we don’t get a lot of alligator shoes back here.”

  Rafe scowled. “What do my shoes have to do with anything?” And yeah, he should’ve gone for boots.

  “Just saying, they’re kind of fancy for mucking back here. Unless you’re here to work on Lorelie’s books?”

  “I can do more than just designing buildings and tabulating figures.”

  “Never said you couldn’t.” Wade exchanged a glance with the other guys and cleared his throat. “Just that you usually tend to ride a desk more than you tackle the more glamorous jobs back here. But hey, we’re happy to have the help, now that Colt, Char and Hol headed in to—”

  Rafe heard one name and one name only. “Hollie’s here?”

  “Yeah. Seems like a lot of our schedules just converged today. Me, at loose ends while working on a song. School’s out today, so Jackson had a few hours, and Tucker decided to swing by too.” Wade grinned. “It’s just like old times, skipping out on a Friday with these morons. Not that you ever skipped, brownnoser.”

  Rafe ignored the taunt. “Charlene should be at work. Why isn’t she?”

  “She took an early dinner. She’ll head back in later. Got us some good news.”

  Rafe smiled and let the hoe tip against the wall. Good news. He’d just love some. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

  “New single’s rocketing up the charts. It’s looking like I might actually be able to spring for that new dining room set your sister’s been eyeing.”