by Jenna Sutton
They stuck to the path and eventually came upon a headstone that was easily four times larger than the others. Teagan dropped his arm and stepped forward to run her fingers over the dates engraved on the stone.
“Twins,” she murmured. “They were only two years old when they died. How sad. I wonder what happened.”
She turned to face him. As she stepped forward, her heel got caught on a loose piece of stone. She stumbled, dropping her candle as she tried to keep herself from falling.
He threw down his candle and cider to catch her. Grabbing her by the waist, he hauled her against his chest to steady her. She laughed breathlessly, and the sound rasped over his senses to settle in his groin.
Needing to put some space between them, he stepped away from her. His foot sank into a depression in the ground, and he stumbled backward, pulling her with him as he fell.
He landed with a thud on his back with Teagan sprawled on top of him. He lay there for a moment, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist and her hair covering his face. He got a whiff of vanilla and mint from the silky strands before blowing them away from his lips.
She squirmed, and he loosened his arms. Pressing her hands against his chest, she tried to push herself up, but she couldn’t get purchase. She shifted, digging her knee into his thigh only an inch or so from his balls.
“Stop,” he growled, swatting her hard on the ass.
Teagan jerked against him but stilled. After a moment, she scooted down his body like a caterpillar until her legs straddled his waist. She sat up, her ass nestled against his cock. He’d already been revved up before she had fallen on him, and now he was fully erect.
She was trembling, and he settled his hands on her hips, digging his fingers into her jeans. Could she feel his hard-on?
It was completely dark without the candles, so he couldn’t see her face. But he could hear her, and after a couple of seconds, he realized she was laughing softly.
He stared up at the stars. Maybe it was his imagination, but they seemed to be winking at him.
“I warned you this would happen,” she choked out between giggles.
I wish someone had warned me about you.
* * *
Teagan shifted on top of Nick’s strong body, and his erection pressed against her. Even through their jeans, he was long and hard, and she widened her legs to settle more fully against him.
She thought about the conversation she’d had with Bebe. She would never get a better opportunity to find out if Nick was interested in her as more than a friend. His erection suggested that might be the case.
The thought made her breathless. She sucked in a lungful of cold air, providing some much-needed oxygen to her brain.
“Nick, do you have an erection?”
He tensed but didn’t answer her. She wiggled backward so his erection was situated more toward her center than her butt, and he groaned.
“Do you?” she persisted.
“Yes,” he answered, his voice hoarse.
“Is it for me?”
She could hear his breathing in the dark, but she couldn’t see his face. She wiggled again, a little shimmy, and he hissed something inaudible.
His hands clenched her hips hard before sliding toward her behind. He pressed her more firmly to him, and she rocked against his hardness. It felt so good she did it again, and he raised his hips to meet her.
“Is it for me?” she repeated when he didn’t answer.
He cleared his throat. “No,” he replied finally. “It’s just”—he hummed a little—“biology.”
Disappointment flooded her, along with a hefty dose of embarrassment. Of course his erection wasn’t for her. Any normal man would get hard when a female body was plastered against his crotch.
She swung her leg over his body to kneel beside him. He sat up, and she could feel his breath against her face, scented with apple cider.
Teagan wanted to lean over and press her mouth against his. She wanted to lick his lips and suck on his tongue. But she knew he didn’t want that. If he did, he would have rolled her beneath him and put his hands and mouth all over her.
Nick stood up, grabbed her hands, and pulled her to her feet. They were so close the front of her jacket touched his, and she battled the urge to lean against him.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
She was always apologizing to him for doing or saying something stupid. But this was it. She wasn’t going to spend any more time with him. She was only torturing herself.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “Fans would put a hit out on me if you were hurt and unable to play.”
“Not hurt,” he muttered, dropping her hands.
She looked around, trying to spot the candles. The moon provided a little bit of illumination, but only enough to discern large shapes.
“Do you know where we are? How to get back to the entrance?”
She gave him a moment to answer. When he didn’t, she continued.
“Do you have a secret superhero ability that allows you to see in the dark? I wish I had one that would make me disappear.”
He laughed softly, his breath stirring her hair. Her knitted cap had gone missing in the kerfuffle.
He found her elbow in the dark and turned her in the opposite direction. He clasped her hand, linking his fingers through hers, and tugged her along with him as he moved forward. Apparently, he wasn’t lost and blind like she was.
She sighed, quite disheartened by the way the evening had disintegrated. She’d put a lot of thought into planning something fun, and she had been thrilled when Nick had accepted her invitation.
She wished now that she’d never come up with the idea to visit Salem or, at the very least, that she had been smart enough to wear sensible shoes. But she had wanted to look good for Nick. She had wanted to look sexy, and sensible shoes were the opposite of sexy.
When they’d first started hanging out, she hadn’t put a lot of thought into what she wore when she was with him. Now she spent hours agonizing over her clothes and shoes, her hair, even her scented body lotion.
After a few minutes of wandering the cemetery, they met up with another couple from the group who still had their candles, and the four of them made their way to the entrance. The guide clapped his hands.
“Fabulous! Our stragglers made it back safe and sound. Let’s get going. Our last stop is the tercentennial memorial for the witch trial victims.”
The group made its way to the memorial, which was located next to the cemetery. She and Nick walked side by side, their hands entwined as if they were a couple.
The memorial and the surrounding area were flooded with light, and the two of them read over the names of the people who’d been hanged. Nick pointed out several names on the memorial, and Teagan stepped closer to read them.
“I didn’t know men were accused of witchcraft and hanged. I thought it was only women. The townspeople clearly believed in gender equality,” she noted dryly. “They were equal-opportunity fanatics.”
Nick chuckled, and she wondered if he laughed with any of the women he had sex with. She wondered if he even liked them.
The thought made her sad and angry, and she wanted nothing more than to go back to her condo so she could cry and throw things, maybe at the same time. She let go of his hand and turned to face him.
“Ready to go?” she asked.
He stared at her for a moment before smoothing his hand over her hair. Easing his fingers into the strands, he lightly stroked the back of her head.
“Lost your hat.”
She shrugged. “I have others.”
He found a tight muscle at the base of her skull and pressed his thumb against it, rubbing gently. Moaning a little, she dropped her head against his chest.
“That feels so good,” she mumbled into the front of his bomber jacket, letting her mind
wander as he continued his massage. “I’m too tense. Maybe I should have sex with Marshall. He could probably get me off at least a couple of times if I helped.”
Nick stopped abruptly, and she moaned in protest. He slipped his other hand into her hair until he cupped her head in both palms. He tilted her face until she stared into his eyes.
“Who’s Marshall?”
For a few seconds, his question didn’t register. When it did, she gasped and jerked away from him. He didn’t have time to untangle her hair from his fingers, and he tore several strands from her scalp.
“Oww,” she yelped, tears springing to her eyes.
His eyes widened, and he hastily unwound his fingers from her hair. They stared at each other for several moments before she found her voice.
“How do you know about Marshall?” she asked tremulously.
She was very afraid she already knew the answer. He cocked his head, his dark blond eyebrows arched over his green eyes.
“Please tell me I didn’t say that stuff out loud.” She cleared her throat. “Did I?”
He nodded. She groaned and covered her face with her hands.
I must have a virus, a horrible virus that causes my brain to misfire. And it’s fatal. It kills by humiliation.
“I want to go home now,” she said, dropping her hands.
He shook his head. “Tell me about Marshall.”
Turning on her heel, she started toward the sidewalk as fast as her high-heeled boots would take her. Nick caught up with her in two strides, grabbing her arm and pulling her around to face him.
“Tell me.”
“It’s none of your business,” she snapped, shaking off his hand.
His eyes narrowed. He moved closer, sliding his fingers into one of the belt loops on her jeans to tug her toward him.
“Now,” he demanded, his voice hard.
She huffed in frustration. Why was he so interested? She knew he wasn’t jealous. Did he feel obligated to vet her dates since her brothers weren’t around to protect her?
“He’s just a guy I’ve been dating.”
He frowned. “How long?”
“A few weeks.”
He clenched his jaw, and she wondered what he was thinking. She placed her hand on his chest and looked up at him.
“Nick, I know you think you have to play big brother, since Quinn and Cal aren’t here, but you don’t need to worry.” She patted his chest. “Marshall’s a nice guy. You’d like him. He’s from Texas, and he loves football. He’s a big fan of yours.”
He jerked his fingers from her belt loop and stepped away from her. Propping his hands on his hips, he looked up. She followed his gaze, wondering why they were staring into the night sky. After a long moment, he sighed and dropped his hands to his sides.
Meeting her gaze, he tilted his head toward the sidewalk. “Let’s go.”
He started toward the lot where they’d parked the Escalade, and she trailed after him. The sidewalk wasn’t well lit, and she stumbled, cursing under her breath.
I’m going to burn these boots when I get home.
Nick turned and hurried back to her side. Taking her hand, he curled it over his arm.
“Can’t let you fall,” he said, looking down at her.
It was too late. She’d already fallen.
Hard.
Chapter 13
Chips and guacamole. Check. Chicken wings. Check. Vegetables for the ridiculous people who came to a Super Bowl party and expected to eat healthy. Check.
Teagan shifted the football-shaped plates and napkins closer to the end of the dining room table to make room for the brownies and cupcakes she’d made this morning. She had been too excited to sleep, and she’d jumped out of bed at six and started to bake.
She’d used a football-shaped cookie cutter on the brownies and piped white icing on them in the outline of football laces. She had decorated the cupcakes with green icing and green coconut to mimic grass before topping them with little plastic footballs. The treats were super cute, and she was quite proud of herself.
Bebe came to stand beside Teagan, holding trays in both hands. She handed Teagan the tray with the cheese and fruit and held up one covered with meatballs.
“Where do you want these?” Bebe asked.
“Anywhere you can find room,” Teagan answered as she deposited her tray on the table.
Bebe nodded, squeezing the meatball tray next to the salsa. Teagan stepped back from the table to give it one final look and tweaked the banner that read “Super Bowl: The Big Game.”
“You went to a lot of trouble to make this party perfect,” Bebe mused. “At the very least Nick should have agreed to stop by. Oh, wait, he can’t. He’s busy . . . in Miami.”
Teagan scowled at Bebe. “Very funny.”
Nick was in Miami because he’d taken the Boston Colonials all the way to the Super Bowl. In less than thirty minutes, he would be playing for the Lombardi Trophy.
Bostonians were in a frenzy because it was the first time their football team had made it to the Super Bowl in several years. Nick was their hero, for today at least. Tomorrow he might be the most despised man in the city.
“You need to relax, kanya.”
“I can’t. I’m too excited.”
“I know. You’ve been excited since Nick showed up on your doorstep last summer.”
“Shut up.”
Bebe laughed. “You have no sense of humor where Nick is concerned.”
“A sense of humor?” Teagan repeated. “What is there to laugh about?”
“Oh, I thought it was pretty funny that you accidentally kissed him, spilled wine on his lap, and tripped him in a graveyard. Not to mention closing your scarf in the door of his SUV and almost hanging yourself when he dropped you off.” She arched a dark eyebrow. “Were you trying to reenact a scene from the Salem witch trials since you’d just been there?”
“Bebe,” Teagan groaned. “Please, please, don’t remind me.”
Her best friend, the wretch, giggled. “Tell me again what he said.”
“No.”
“Come on,” Bebe cajoled. “I love it when you say it out loud.”
“No.”
“I’ll help you with your org behavior project if you say it.”
Teagan eyed the other woman. Her organizational behavior project was going to be a bitch to complete, and she’d love to have Bebe’s help.
“He said: ‘Hanging is too good for you.’”
Bebe convulsed into laughter. “He’s right,” she said between giggles.
The expression on Nick’s face had been a combination of incredulity, exasperation, and laughter. Teagan wished that, just once, he would be the one who was embarrassed in front of her.
“Why are we still talking about this when it happened months ago?”
“Because it’s hilarious. Hilarious.”
“A true friend wouldn’t find such joy in my misfortune.”
“Then I’m definitely not your true friend because I do find joy in your misfortune,” Bebe quipped. “And speaking of misfortune, I wish I had been there to see Nick’s face when you had your mental lapse.”
“Mental lapse? It was like my brain imploded.”
She placed her palms against her hot cheeks. She was still embarrassed she’d blurted out such private thoughts about Marshall, and it was even worse that Nick had been the one to hear them.
Bebe leaned her hip against the table and crossed her arms. Thin gold rings covered her slender fingers, kind of like a fortune teller. Teagan didn’t know why her best friend wore them, but she knew they had some kind of special meaning to her.
“Why do you think you’re such a hot mess around Nick? Does he make you nervous?”
Teagan considered Bebe’s question. She felt a mix of emotions when she was with Nic
k, but nervous usually was not one of them.
“Actually, I think it’s the opposite. I’m too comfortable around him, so I don’t watch what I’m doing or where I’m going or what I’m saying. It’s like I forget everything, and I’m just there, in the moment, with Nick.”
“Have you heard from him today?”
She nodded. She’d sent Nick a text earlier this morning: Good luck. I’m cheering for you. A few minutes later, she had received his reply: Are you wearing my jersey?
Nick had sent her an official Boston Colonials jersey with his name and number on it for Christmas. It had been waiting for her under the tree at her parents’ house when she’d flown home to San Francisco.
The jersey had been a surprise, but it wasn’t the first time Nick had bought something for her. After their trip to Salem, he had sent her a knitted cap to replace the one she’d lost.
That one had been light pink, but he’d sent her a cap that was a deep bluish-purple, similar to the color of delphiniums. He had included a note: Matches your eyes. After she’d read it, she had hugged it and the cap to her chest, just like a love-struck teen.
I’m pathetic.
She hadn’t seen Nick since their trip to Salem, which had been in mid-November. She’d texted him a couple of times to wish him a Happy Thanksgiving and to thank him for the jersey.
She had also texted him to wish him luck for all his playoff games. He’d responded every time but with short answers—exactly the way he talked.
Earlier today, she’d asked Bebe to take a picture of her wearing the jersey, and she had sent it to Nick. In reply, he’d texted: Looks good.
He was lying. It was too long and baggy, but she loved it because he’d given it to her. Sometimes she even slept in it.
I’m pathetic.
A knock sounded on her front door. Her guests had arrived.
“Party time,” Teagan announced, heading toward the door.
“How many people are you expecting?” Bebe asked, trailing after her.
“Thirty or so.”
“I’m going to run to the bathroom before everyone gets here,” Bebe said.
