He needed an outlet for all of this energy. The party hadn’t been the you’re-amazing celebration he’d expected from his editor and agent. He wasn’t the only author in attendance, of course, and he was grateful they’d all had to spread their attention. He hadn’t wanted to spend the four hours talking about how he’d fucked up the book.
Randi’s hands slid to his back and she pressed closer, and Nolan knew that she was the only thing that could take his mind off of the mess he’d created and wasn’t sure he could fix.
He lifted his head and stared down at her dazed eyes and swollen mouth.
Randi. The only bright spot to all of this. Even if he’d screwed up the book completely, he wouldn’t have traded the two weeks of conversation with her for anything.
“On the bed. Spread out.”
She must have seen something in his eyes because she bit her bottom lip and then did exactly as she’d been told. She walked backward to the edge of the bed, sat down, then lay back, spreading her legs.
And Nolan couldn’t even remember where they’d been ten minutes ago, not to mention the rest of the night before this moment.
He crossed to stand between her knees, drinking in the sight of her. “Damn, Randi.”
“Touch me.” She slid one knee up and let it fall to the side.
“I fully intend to. Over and over. All night long.”
Randi moved her leg against the comforter. “When are you going to start?”
He felt his mouth curl. This woman wanting him was the best thing in his life. “Impatient?”
“I’m naked, spread out on your bed, and you’re fully dressed and just standing there. I don’t think it’s impatient. I think it’s horny.”
He chuckled. And it was such a relief. The humor and the lust and the…love. All of the things that Randi made him feel were such a relief after the anger and resentment that had been balled in his gut all night.
“How about a ‘please, Nolan, I’ll die if you don’t fuck me right now’?” he asked.
“I’m very prepared to stroke you, but I didn’t realize it would be your ego.”
He dragged a finger up her inner thigh. “Let’s start with my ego. But we definitely won’t stop there.”
She gave him a heart-stopping grin. “Please, Nolan. I need you. I never realized how much another person could make me feel. But when I’m with you, I am the best version of myself and I feel like I can do anything.”
His heart turned over in his chest. Holy… That was so much better than what he’d suggested.
“Now, please fuck me. I’ll die if you don’t.”
Okay, it was slightly better. Because hearing her ask him to fuck her was pretty damned amazing too.
He didn’t touch her again as he undressed. He’d planned to make this fast and dirty, something to completely block out the other thoughts and worries the night had stirred up. But he didn’t need dirty. He just needed her. He had no thought in his head except making her feel everything she made him feel. And making her come. Hard.
He tossed his clothes to the side after fishing a condom out of his pocket. He rolled it on slowly, loving the way her pupils dilated and her tongue darted out to wet her lips as she watched.
“You ready for me, Ladybug?” he asked gruffly, giving himself an extra stroke or two.
“So ready.”
Her voice was breathless and made his balls tighten.
“Show me.” He didn’t plan to say some of the things he said. They just came out. But he wanted to see her touch herself suddenly as badly as he needed to breathe.
Randi didn’t hesitate. She never did with him. It was as if she fully trusted him and was as wrapped up in what he was feeling as he was. She slid her hand down over her stomach to her mound, then over her clit. She gave a little moan as she did it. Then she kept going. Nolan had to stroke himself again to ease the ache. This wasn’t going to last long.
Randi slid her middle finger into her pussy, moaning louder as she did it. She stroked in and out as he moved up and down his cock.
“Show me,” he said again, his voice tight.
Her eyes locked on his, Randi pulled her finger out. It was glistening with wetness and his tongue tingled. He grasped her wrist and lifted her hand as he leaned in. He sucked her finger into his mouth, swirling his tongue over the length and taking all the sweetness from it.
“Need you,” she told him huskily.
“Always,” he said honestly. He would always need her.
He lined his cock up with her hot center and pressed forward, sliding into her slowly, his thumb rubbing over her clit. With her lying on the bed and him standing, the angle was excruciatingly perfect and he was able to stroke deep on the first glide.
They groaned together as she took him. He lifted her thighs, spreading her farther as he pulled out and then sank in again. He paused, balls deep, and just breathed.
“This,” he finally said. “This is where I want to be forever.”
“That will make it hard for me to go to work,” she said, her voice catching as he moved in her.
“Don’t care. Just want to be right here.” He stroked deep, harder. “Right. Here.” He thrust again. “Forever.”
She arched her back, trying to get closer, but he had all the leverage. He pulled her against him as he thrust forward.
“Yes.”
“One of my favorite words,” he said, doing it again.
“How about ‘more’?” she asked.
“More? You’ve got all of me.”
She gave him a sweet smile. “Yeah?”
“Absolutely. Every single part of me. Always.”
“Then how about ‘harder’?”
“That I can do.” He thrust harder, deeper, faster.
Her body tightened around him, spurring him on, and her fingers curled into the comforter on either side of her hips.
He kept moving. Her breasts bounced, the noises she made got louder and higher, and he felt his climax coming.
“Play with your nipples, Randi,” he commanded as he moved his thumb back to her clit and circled. “I need to feel you coming.”
“I’m so close,” she panted, moving a hand to her breast.
She took a tip between her thumb and finger, rolling, tugging, and he felt her inner muscles clench around him.
“Come on, Ladybug. Let me feel it. Let me see it.”
Her breathing grew faster and he thrust harder. She continued playing with her nipple as he thumbed her clit and they climbed together toward their climaxes.
Finally he felt her pussy grab on and begin milking him as she cried out, his name on her lips. Nolan let go, pumping deep, filling her, and the moment after she broke, he felt his orgasm roar from the base of his spine, through his body and into hers.
He stood, making his lungs expand for a few moments before pulling her up and into his arms. He held her tight, his lips against her hair. “I love you, Randi. Love you so much.”
She hugged him back, her face against his throat. “I love you too. No matter what.”
Twenty minutes later, Randi was asleep, curled on her side with her sweet ass pressed against his hip.
Nolan was on his back, his arm under her, listening to her soft breathing, absorbing everything about the feeling of being with her like this. It could only be more perfect if they were in her bed in Quinn. And if he wasn’t going to have to leave her.
Fuck.
His editor’s words wouldn’t leave him alone. What the hell was that? Nolan gritted his teeth as Brad’s voice replayed in his head. This is supposed to be about football, not Mayberry. Hard-hitting, mud and guts and glory football. Remember? Those were your words.
That was what Nolan had pitched when he’d pitched the book. That was what he’d intended to write. Sure, there was going to be inspiration and maybe some humor mixed in. This was Coach Carr after all. But the backbone of the book was supposed to be the hard work and the sacrifice and the digging deep that the game took—on th
e part of the Coach and the players.
Now the backbone of the book was Quinn. The town, the people, the history.
Nolan loved it. He’d brought all of that to life, because of Randi.
And his editor hated it.
His agent was ticked off too. Typically, Mike had Nolan’s back. But this time he agreed with Brad. Neither thought the book was bad. In fact, they liked it. For a book about football in small-town Texas, it was excellent. But it wasn’t the book they wanted. It wasn’t the book they’d paid him a hundred thousand dollar advance for.
What got into you? Those had been Mike’s first words to him.
Then Mike had gotten caught up in the story Randi was telling their little group about how the football mamas in Quinn had suited up and played a game of flag football to raise money for the youth league—and how flag football had somehow resulted in a bloody nose, a sprained wrist and a lot of muddy uniforms. Everyone had laughed, including Randi, the sound light and happy, her face glowing and absolutely gorgeous.
Mike had turned to Nolan with an eyebrow up and said, “Oh, I see what got into you.”
Nolan felt his arm tense under Randi. She had gotten into him. He’d gone to her for help with the book and she’d given him exactly what he’d asked for—an appreciation for the game. He hadn’t even realized he was looking forward to that first game in the fall until Mike had said that. But yeah, she’d gotten into him.
So now…
Brad wanted the original book back. He wanted to go back to those first chapters and for Nolan to keep going. And he had one month. That was the last of the deadline extensions Brad was willing to give.
Mike’s advice had been, “Fucking write the book.”
Nolan didn’t want to write that book. He liked the new chapters. Hell, he liked all of the new chapters. But he recognized what was happening. His love for the new book was about his love for Randi. She was in every word, on every page. When he read over what he’d written, he could hear and see her in all of the stories.
So, he needed to leave her in Quinn tomorrow—and head back to San Antonio and his apartment and his computer and block everything about her and Quinn out and finish the fucking book.
Their wake-up call came at seven a.m. Randi rolled and stretched as Nolan grabbed the bedside phone, lifted the receiver and set it back down to stop the ringing.
He groaned.
She smiled.
It had been a late night, but it had been worth every milligram of caffeine she was going to need to mainline today. New York City was amazing. She was happy she’d gotten to see it. She’d been amazed by the buildings and lights and people. She’d watched a half dozen street performers, given nearly fifty dollars away to homeless people, and been propositioned by two prostitutes, at the same time.
It was a fun, crazy, exciting place to be.
And she couldn’t wait to get home. She loved seeing the city, dressing up, trying new things. But she was already ready to be home where nighttime was fully dark, where you could see farther than a city block at a time and where there was such a thing as quiet.
In fact, tonight she intended to sit on her back deck with a cold beer and look at the stars and listen to…absolutely nothing.
In her bare feet.
That was another thing she wasn’t going to miss—it was damned cold in New York in February.
“You going to join me?” she asked Nolan from the doorway to the bathroom. She needed to take a shower, but it didn’t have to be a fast shower.
He glanced at her and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Uh, no. You go ahead.”
She frowned. He seemed distracted, and very tired. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” He stood. “I’ll order breakfast from room service.”
“Okay, great.” Randi couldn’t explain it, but she felt cold all of a sudden.
But that was ridiculous. Everything was fine. He was tired and they’d had a big night last night. She knew he’d had a quick meeting with his editor when they’d first arrived. He probably just had a lot on his mind.
Randi showered and dressed and joined Nolan for breakfast at the little table in their room. But she’d just picked up a piece of bacon when he got to his feet and headed for the bathroom.
“Gonna shower.”
She nodded and watched him go. Trepidation made the bacon not taste as good. Which was serious.
Nolan was quiet on the way to the airport and pulled out his laptop as soon as they were settled in the gate area.
Finally, she couldn’t take it any longer. “What’s going on?”
He looked up. “What?”
“You’re quiet and distant. What happened? I thought the trip was good.”
He looked back at his laptop. “I just have a lot of work to do.”
“That’s fine. I get it. But I don’t love the silent treatment. Why not just say that?”
“I just have a lot on my mind.”
She put a hand on top of his on the keyboard. “Talk to me. What happened at the party?”
He looked up, finally meeting her eyes. “I messed up the book. I didn’t do the job. So I’m heading back to San Antonio tonight. I need to put my head down and work my ass off.”
She frowned. He was leaving? Going back to San Antonio?
Of course he was. She’d known he would eventually. But she’d…yeah, maybe she’d been hoping that he would stick around awhile longer. He could write in Quinn. He had been. He’d told her he’d gotten a lot done.
“I thought you were almost done with it,” she said.
“I thought so too.”
“Nolan, what happened?”
He sighed. “The book’s not what they want.”
“They don’t want a book about Coach?”
“They want a book about Coach and football. What I gave them was a sappy book about a small town obsessed with football.”
Randi felt the cold from earlier intensify. All the stories she’d told him. That’s what they didn’t like. “Oh. And staying in Quinn—”
“Will make it worse.”
Her throat tightened. “Oh.”
“Clearly,” he said with a frustrated sigh. “I let myself get all wrapped up in everything there, everything you told me about—in you—and I started to do my own thing and…” He shook his head. “I need to go home and get focused and get this done.”
Randi felt her heart squeeze painfully. “Right. Sorry. I guess that was kind of my fault. I didn’t stay on topic. Let me know if you need any help with the stuff you rewrite.”
“Yeah.” He looked like he was about to say more, but in the end he just said, “Okay.”
“I’m—” She stopped and swallowed, rethinking her words for a moment. But then she went on. “I’m sorry that I distracted you from your work these past couple of weeks. You’d be a lot further ahead if you hadn’t come home.”
She’d said it to hear him deny it. She knew that. She also knew, looking into his eyes after she said it, that she should have kept her mouth shut. Because if he didn’t deny it, it was going to hurt.
“Yeah, I would have.”
Ouch.
“But It’s my own fault. I didn’t come to Quinn to work on the book. And I should have left it alone. I should have gone home after a few days. I was the one who stuck around and started rewriting.”
“You didn’t come to Quinn to work on the book?” she asked with a frown.
He gave yet another heavy sigh and shut his computer. “No, Randi, I came to Quinn for you.”
That sounded like something that should make her feel good. But it didn’t. Everything about the way Nolan said that indicated he regretted it all.
She had nothing more to say. She nodded and stood. “I’m going to get some coffee.”
She didn’t come back to the gate until it was time to board. Nolan was typing furiously and he stopped only long enough to get on the plane. Randi took the window seat and stared out at the clouds, listening to the sound of
Nolan’s fingers on his keyboard all the way back to San Antonio.
She didn’t let the tears fall until she was on the road back to Quinn.
Nolan hadn’t even argued with her about her plan to just rent a car to get home rather than having him drive her to Quinn and then turn around to go back to San Antonio.
At least he’d kissed her goodbye.
Chapter Nine
Everything sucked.
Everything.
Even tequila. Maybe especially tequila. Because it reminded her of Nolan, and when she thought of Nolan, she got sad. And lonely. And horny.
It was not okay that tequila sucked.
The last time she’d been truly sad for several days at a time, it had been after the football team lost in district play. The last time she’d been lonely was…she couldn’t even remember. The last time she’d been horny for days…had been after Nolan had kissed her at Coach’s party.
She really wanted some tequila.
“What can I do?” Annabelle asked.
Randi felt the sting of tears as Annabelle took a seat on the overturned bucket where Nolan had spent so much time. That was so stupid. It was a bucket. She should have thrown it out. She should at least turn it over so people stopped sitting on it. Because every time they did, she had the urge to make them get up. It was Nolan’s bucket. Which was definitely stupid. But it was also the reason she hadn’t gotten rid of it.
“There’s nothing. My life is over. I can’t drink. I can’t even part with a plastic bucket.”
“Okay. A good attitude is everything,” Annabelle said with a grin.
“My good attitude often comes from a glass bottle that says tequila on it. And now that makes me want to cry.”
“You could talk to him.”
Randi sighed. She couldn’t. “Talking to him was what distracted him before. I’m trying to let him get his work done.” And the thing was, she didn’t really want to.
She understood he’d been stressed about the book and his editor not liking it. She got it. She understood getting caught up in work. There were times when she lost hours when she was under a car. But she hadn’t heard from him in three weeks. Nothing. Not even an email. And that pissed her off.
Full Coverage: Boys of Fall Page 15
