Going Hard: Boys of Fall

by Cari Quinn

  She put her hand on her hip and tapped her purple-polished nail against her abs. She worked hard for them and didn’t have any problem with showing them off. “Suitably picnic-ish?”

  He cleared his throat. “You are aware it’s February, right?”

  “And you are aware it’s Texas, so that means nothing?” She rolled her eyes and grabbed him by the front of his sage-colored shirt to drag him inside. “Let me grab a bottle of wine.”

  “More drinking?”

  “I’m talking about wine with a meal, Rafael, not a kegger. Jeez, loosen the panty strings, would you?”

  Saying nothing, he followed her into the living room. She crouched before the small wine fridge her dad had built into the bar. He wasn’t much of a wine drinker, but she and her mother enjoyed a glass here and there.

  “White or red?”

  “It’s chicken.”

  “White it is.” She pulled one of the bigger bottles out and grabbed two purple plastic glasses from the shelf beside it. Silver lettering announced it was “Wine O’clock” on both of them.

  She twisted to look up at him. Again, his gaze was definitely on a downward trajectory. No matter how hard she tried, her ass would forever fill up the seat of her jeans. Actually a little overfull, but she made up for it with a little waist to go with the other places she wasn’t so stacked. “You’re leering, Mr. Martinez.”

  “Appreciating.”

  She stood. “Is that so?”

  “You know I do, Hol.”

  She nibbled on her lower lip. “Actually, not so much.”

  “You know you’re beautiful.”

  “Beautiful is not the word most use.” She pushed up her glasses on her nose. She’d run out of contacts and forgot to make her usual bi-monthly order.

  “Then they’re idiots.” He teased the ends of her hair. “I’m not sold on the blond, but everything else is…” He cleared his throat. “Yeah, you know you’re beautiful.”

  She grinned up at him. “Compliments will get you all sorts of goodies, Mr. Martinez.”

  His fingers drifted away, skimming her shoulder absently before he curled his fingers into his palm. “I believe I’m the one with the goodies today.”

  His voice was going to end her. Honestly. If her nipples would just calm the freak down, she’d be golden. Barely a touch and she was getting all twisted up again.

  Rafe had always been her ideal. Well, until recent years when he’d turned mostly serious to so intense he had permanent grooves in his forehead. Beyond the fiasco of their hook up, there were other reasons. Gone were the grins she snuck around corners to catch a glimpse of when she was a teenager. Those smiles only seemed to come out when he finally let down his guard, and that only ever seemed to happen around Wade. Since it was so rare for Rafe to truly relax, once he finally did she’d been starstruck. And eager and waiting for the next time.

  That was the Rafe she’d crushed on with the force of a thousand uteruses.

  The man before her wasn’t quite the same. The strong shoulders were, of course, but not from swimming and playing football with the guys. Now they were holding up some serious responsibilities. Ones that had slashed and burned his smiles until they were as rare as tulips in December.

  She itched to smooth the worry lines that had replaced the smile lines she’d craved to trace with her tongue.

  Maybe, just maybe she could make him forget about work for a little while today.

  She waggled the wine and glasses. “Besides these, I also made cookies.”

  “Well, that’s a magical confection that I can get behind.”

  Could he get behind her instead?

  Wow. Yeah, time to shut that down. They weren’t compatible, no matter what her brain kept telling her with him in her general airspace. It was all a lie based on past feelings, that was all.

  She could control herself.

  Hollie grabbed her bag that she’d already packed up. She slid in the tinfoil-topped plate and dropped it on top of her towel. “Ready?”

  “After you.”

  The French doors led to her backyard. She used her elbow to open the lever handle and backed her way outside. As she turned, she caught him quickly averting his gaze.

  He’d been checking out her ass again.

  She hid a smile and sashayed her way across the deck and down the stairs to the hilly patch of grass above the creek. The sun was shining and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. She just might need a second coating of sunscreen even in the lateness of the day.

  Maybe Rafe would want to help her out. She dropped her bag, and rescued the corkscrew from the bottom. When Rafe snapped out the blanket, she settled in the center, with the magnum of white between her legs.

  “Do you want me to take care of that?”

  She grinned up at him. His face was in shadow thanks to the sun streaming behind his head. She couldn’t quite tell if that was a playful tone or if he was serious.

  “I got it.” She tightened her thighs around the bottle and hissed at the chill.

  “Hol, just let me.” He knelt in front of her and held on to the neck of the bottle. That damn lock of dark hair fell forward on his forehead again. His long fingers took up real estate on the bottle and slid along the condensation already forming.

  She laughed as the cork popped free and his hand glanced off the slippery side to her bare thigh. She drew the cork in front of his nose. “Like?”

  “Jesus, Hol.”

  She rocked up against the bottle, resisting the urge to shiver. Nothing about this little predicament was smart, but she couldn’t stop herself from reaching up to drag his sunglasses off.

  His dark eyes were nearly black and his lips were pinched. Little bits of that carefree man kept bleeding through. She leaned into him, her breath stalling when the widest part of the bottle bumped against her pussy.

  His lips were right there. He was staring at her mouth. She could feel the want rolling off of him. She might be a few steps away from innocent, but there was no denying he was attracted.

  Then why didn’t he lean in just a little bit? His lips were usually so supple and sexy, but right now they were in a grim line.

  So goddamn confusing.

  He drew his hand back and dropped onto the blanket so there was an entire length of leg between them.

  No wonder she’d been so churned up that night they’d spent together. He was right there, right in the moment with her, then he held himself back.

  Confusing meet confounded.

  Fuck.

  Rafe settled the basket between them like a freaking wall. She allowed herself to get distracted by sandwiches and potato salad for a moment. Why not? Nothing else was happening. Besides, Rafe’s mother made the best salads.

  It was safer to eat and enjoy the sunshine anyway.

  Shoving seduction aside for salad wasn’t exactly on her new-and-improved Hollie list, but it would have to do for now. Rafe obviously had some bug up his butt about the gooey strings of attraction that kept forming whenever they were in the same space.

  If he wanted to ignore it, then that’s what she’d do too.

  For now.

  “No one makes sandwiches like your mom.” She sighed and tucked a mayonnaise-slathered chunk of chicken and celery between her lips.

  He tapped his sandwich against hers. “Damn straight.”

  They ate in silence, bumping hands and arms as they spread out the food. She drained her glass twice before scraping the bottom of her plate.

  Conversation was stilted. She didn’t know how to talk to him anymore. It wasn’t like they’d ever lost touch. They’d lived in the same town except for their respective years at college.

  They hadn’t been in the same class, so it simply felt like Rafe had never left. He didn’t wander far. Instead, he’d gotten a degree when many of the other guys had reached out for the dreams of the NFL, or Nashville, or just anywhere but Quinn.

  Not Rafe.

  He’d quietly finished with college an
d worked his way up to having his own architectural firm. Quinn was growing, expanding every day. He was a part of that expansion, and he also helped design some of the high-rises in nearby Sweetwater. He’d submersed himself in his plans and his designs, and she had to wonder if they were starting to drown him.

  If he was drowning in responsibilities, period.

  She shook her head. It really wasn’t her problem that Rafe had forgotten how to have a good time. His sheen of respectability had snuffed out the flashes of recklessness that had occasionally emerged from the sexy, usually too serious boy she remembered. But every now and then, usually when Wade goaded him into mischief, he’d made her think he had a streak of naughty stuffed down deep. That had been a long time ago, and she hadn’t seen that boy in a long time.

  Even if he did fill out a pair of cargo shorts a little too well.

  No, don’t look at those powerful thighs that should be perfect for optimum thrusting power.

  The rhythm of Christina Aguilera’s “Ain’t No Other Man” boomed out of her little speaker. So not helpful. Stupid summer playlist.

  Okay, so it wasn’t technically summer, but the day certainly reminded her of the lazy days of her childhood. Colt, Wade, and Rafe playing a pickup game with a few other guys from the team on the huge expanse of lawn next to their farmhouse. This was a shirts-and-skins kind of game day. Her favorite.

  Rafe’s golden skin had been distracting as hell.

  He’d been leaner back then. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him now, but he’d filled out into a man’s body. Wide shoulders and a tapered waist.

  Flashes of their night together hit her. Greedy hands on supple skin. Dammit, her nipples perked again. What the hell was up with that? Just thinking about Rafe without a shirt had her on edge.

  She refilled her glass of wine and poured another for him.

  He seemed to be emptying his glass as quickly as she was. Because of the heat of the day? Or because his mouth was as dry as her own?

  She rolled onto her knees and packed away the leftovers onto the chiller packs at the bottom of the basket. Mrs. Martinez was ever the organized soul, just like her son.

  “Cookie?”

  His nostrils flared, but he said nothing. Instead, he drained his glass.

  “What the hell is your problem, Rafe? It’s a gorgeous day and you’re sitting there seething about something or other. What did I do this time?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Then would you please pull out that tree branch from your ass and relax? You are harshing my buzz again big time.”

  “I’m terribly sorry. All you care about are bars and clubs. I thought this would be a nice change of pace.”

  “For me or for you?”

  He frowned.

  She stood. “You don’t need to watch after me. I can take care of myself.”

  “Really? I seem to remember a pair of handcuffs in your immediate past.”

  “Nothing wrong with a pair of handcuffs, Rafe.”

  His jaw snapped shut. “That is not what I meant.”

  “Of course it isn’t. You would have to have an imagination to think about using a pair of cuffs on a woman.”

  He rolled to his feet fast. Superfast. Holy crap.

  She stumbled back and he grabbed her. “Be careful.”

  She shook off his hands. “I’m tired of being careful. Don’t you get it? I’ve been careful every damn day of my life whether I wanted to be or not. Between my brothers and you freaking guys on the team, I never had a chance to have fun.”

  He reeled back. “That’s not true.”

  “Oh really? I’ve always been Wade or Colt’s little sister, who needs to be protected. Guess what?” She opened her arms. “I’m a full-grown woman and I don’t need protection!”

  She was so freaking tired of safety.

  She twisted her arm behind her back and tugged at the bow of her bikini top.

  He frowned. His eyebrows were going to be permanently trapped in that position. “What are you doing?”

  The strings loosened and the cups of her bikini dangled over her nipples. The light breeze caressed every inch. God, it was freeing. She whipped her top over her head and tossed it in Rafe’s shocked face.

  “What now, Rafael?”

  7

  Rafael. Why had she started calling him that again? Was she trying to remind him in spectacular fashion of all the days she’d thrown his full name in his face as a teenager, and made him think all kinds of inappropriate thoughts about his best buddy’s much younger sister?

  She’d been fourteen to his eighteen, for God’s sake. For a little while, she’d been thirteen. Full of sass and snark and everything else that had made him want to put her in her place—beneath him.

  But she’d been too young. He’d always had his principles. Just like he did right now.

  Charli had asked him for help on Wade’s behalf, not to have sex with his obviously revving-hard sister-in-law.

  But now she was standing in front of him, her perfect body on display, and all he could hear in his head was her saying his full name, over and over, while he slammed into her again and again and made her scream.

  “Hol, what are you doing?”

  He was not going to look at the bikini now snagged on the toe of his sneakers.

  “Hmm, not certain, but pretty sure this is called undressing.” She shucked her cutoffs and tossed them aside, then hooked her thumb in the knot on her hip.

  He should tell her no. Don’t do it. She might catch a chill, or an indecency charge, or find herself with an extremely hard dick trying to make a home between her creamy thighs.

  Yeah, the last one was practically a certainty at this point.

  But her fingers were on the move, tugging on the silky fabric that was hiding her from his gaze.

  And then it wasn’t there anymore, and he couldn’t breathe thanks to the fist that had reached right into his chest and stopped his heart.

  She was gorgeous.

  He’d seen her naked before, of course, but not like this. That had been in the dark, shadows cloaking every part of her that he’d been so hungry to devour with his eyes. Learning her with his mouth and hands hadn’t begun to take off the edge created by his need to see.

  Now he could take in every stunning detail, including the ones that were new.

  Like the tiny words tattooed right above her pubic bone that he’d somehow missed before, probably because he’d tried so hard to focus on her face. Well, screw that.

  He was focusing on the rest of her right now, and her tattoo said in script lucky you.

  He choked out a laugh. “Really, Hol?”

  She scowled at him and reached up to cover her magnificent tits with her arm. Her other hand cradled her crotch. “You’re laughing at me.”

  “No.” He sobered instantly. “I would never. I couldn’t.” Ignoring every warning bell clanging in his brain, he stepped forward to trace the script words so freaking low on her belly. “Lucky you, huh?” he murmured, raising his gaze to hers. “Not gonna argue with that.”

  “It’s temporary. I don’t have any real tattoos. Yet. Well, you can see that, can’t you?” She bit her lower lip. “Fake it until you make it, right? So I’m pretending I have confidence.”

  “How’s that working out for you?”

  “Gotta say it seemed easier when I didn’t feel a breeze up my ass crack.”

  He chuckled and reached up to cup her chin, lifting until their eyes were close to level. “You’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen, Hollie Bennett.”

  Shuddering, she held his glance. “You don’t get out much, do ya, Martinez?”

  Another dig, but funny how much less it stung when she was offering him…well, everything. Despite her reasons for initiating things, he couldn’t deny being flattered. Touched.

  Oh, and horny as fucking hell and nearly drowning in want.

  For her. For Hollie. Always Hollie.

  “I’m not a virgin. I’ve had a
few lovers. All were lovely.”

  “Pfft. Yeah, okay. I liked it better when I could pretend you were a sexless shut-in.”

  Her annoyance made him chuckle again as he stroked his thumb along the pulse thrumming so strongly in her throat. “Drop your arms, Hol. Let me see you in the sunlight.”

  She inhaled and obliged him, turning her toes into the grass. That was the only tell of her nerves, other than the absolute terror in her huge blue eyes.

  Eyes he’d happily swim in for the rest of his life without moving from this very spot.

  He shifted, barely resisting the urge to adjust his hard-on. All right, so he’d save the poetry for after he’d worked out this frustration.

  “Beautiful,” he repeated, letting his gaze wander from her flushed cheeks to her freckled pale shoulders. Sunblock. She needed more sunblock. Skin that delicate couldn’t handle the sun. And Jesus, imagining that creamy softness sliding against the darker tones of his own skin nearly had him busting out of his pants.

  Keep it together, man. Try not to come in your pants like the fumbling guy she already thinks you are.

  His gaze skimmed down her arms, and he studied each of the freckles there too. Some large, some as tiny as the drops of sweat clinging to the tops of her breasts.

  Her breasts. God. He should be getting closer to used to them by now. He’d seen them a couple times, but it didn’t seem to matter. Their innocent swells capped by those dusky pink nipples that seemed to grow and tighten under his focus, were his undoing every damn time.

  He made himself keep going, though he wouldn’t have minded fixating on those twin mounds of perfection for a good long while.

  Oh, but he would. He would. Just not quite yet.

  He continued on to her narrow waist, so at odds with her full ass. And lower to the dark tuft of hair over her slit, those wispy curls a more effective tease than if she’d been bare. He didn’t want her bare. He wanted to have to work for the secrets she kept beneath, under those sexy curls he intended to tug on with his teeth to make her squirm.