by Nana Malone
She was screwed.
She had a job to do. And the more time they spent together, the closer they got. She was already starting to recognize the way his eyes dimmed when he was confronted with that older version of himself. Or the way his smile in the candid photos of him partying always seemed…artificial. Pasted on, because smiling was simply what you did when someone pointed a camera your way. Truth be told, there were moments of pleasure or enjoyment for him, but mostly what she saw was exhaustion. Someone who had given up trying because he was too used to having people look through him.
She hadn't missed the underlying tension with his family. His parents were okay. A little on the snobbish side, but okay. But Rory, though. Wow. What a pompous piece of work. He was so full of bluster, he couldn't see that his grandson idolized him. She couldn't blame Dax for not wanting to go home alone.
When she glanced over at him, watching the world pass by the passenger window, she thought he looked…well, not as lonely as he had a few other times when she'd caught glimpses of him through the night. But relaxed, as if the trial was over.
He caught her watching him in the reflection on the glass and a hint of a smile stretched across his lips. She flushed and turned her attention back to the road.
She needed to reevaluate her tactics with him. There was pain there, and an unspoken pressure. From his family. From himself. He would crack if she didn't help him.
The thought of that happening to him cut her deep. And it was all too close to home.
It was her job to prevent that, and she would do it. So maybe Tami had been right, after all. Maybe she did need to be careful with him.
And she knew the first place to start was going to be with an email she'd received before they'd left the country club…
Dax walked Asha through the doors into the hotel lobby, with only about five minutes to spare. One of Coach Mills' assistants was waiting with a clipboard to cross off the names of the players as they filtered in from their abbreviated evenings.
A number of the players were grumbling among themselves as they headed for the elevators, and there were several who decided they would head to their rooms to change before heading back down to the exercise room or the pool, both of which were open until eleven-thirty.
Dax shrugged off invitations to join them. "Dinner with my family was more than enough to wear me out for the night," he said. "I'll be stewing tonight and working things out on the rest of you in practice."
They laughed as they got off on the players' floor to head to their rooms. Dax hesitated long enough for the doors to close. What was he doing? You're being a gentleman. Yeah, right. He just didn't want to leave her side yet.
She didn't say a word as she stepped off the elevator and led the way to her room. They paused in the doorway for a moment before she spoke quietly. "Want a drink?"
"You haven't already demolished your minibar?" he asked with a wry laugh. Fuck yes, he wanted to go in. Hell no, he didn't want a drink.
"Underage, remember? I, uh, have some ideas for you… Marketing-wise," she rushed to add.
The prick of disappointment stung. But of course, she didn't mean she had those kinds of ideas for him. That was a pipe dream. Nevertheless, hanging with her was still a better option than sitting alone in his room. He was more apt to get into his head when he saw his family. And that whole thing with Bryce still clanged around in his brain.
"So, that's your family," Asha said as she crossed to the mini-fridge, slipping off her heels as she walked, and retrieved a can of cola and two plastic cups from the tray on top of the dresser. "What's your poison? Rum? Whiskey?"
"Rum," he answered, looking around for a place to sit before opting for the edge of the bed. There was a single chair wedged into the corner by a small table, but that somehow felt too far away.
"One Cuba Libre coming right up."
She grabbed the little bottle and poured it into his cup before adding soda to both cups.
"Yeah, that's my family. Impressed?"
Asha shrugged. "I thought your grandfather would be bigger and your dad would be taller."
Dax chuckled. "That's what you noticed first? I suppose I should be grateful. I remember how big they seemed when I was little. Then I had a growth spurt when I was fourteen and…then not so much."
She handed him the plastic cup with his drink and sat next to him.
"I can see how it must have been hard growing up Coulter."
He took a large gulp of his drink, buying time to get his rising erection under control. Easy boy. Just a drink and we're out. No one is touching her tonight. "Most people think I lucked out."
"With that level of scrutiny? I don't envy you on that front. Your dad seems real understanding, though," she added, lightening her tone. "And your mom."
"They were tough, but fair." He felt like he was just feeding her lines from a script, and he hated himself for it. He forced himself to add more. "Even with all my shit, I know they love me."
"I get the tough part, though I'm not always convinced my parents were entirely fair. Especially Dad," Asha said quietly.
His head snapped up. He hadn't expected her to share anything about herself, and it caught him off guard. "It was just you and Damon, right?"
"Yep," Asha confirmed. "The great Damon Wix and the spare."
"I doubt it's like that."
She sighed. "I shouldn't have said that." There was a pause. "Did you play anything else before deciding on football?" she asked, changing the subject. "Did you ever consider something other than being an athlete? Or was that frowned upon by your family?"
"You know…I don't think it ever occurred to me to do anything other than football," he admitted. "When I was little, I used to ask Gramps if I could see his Super Bowl ring. It was so big I could fit it over two fingers. I wanted to be just like him, and I always had fun playing football. It was something I could do that Echo wasn't allowed."
"For twins you guys don't seem a lot alike. She looks more like Bryce."
"She's always been closer to him, too. But I dunno, we have this vibe. She's my sister and I love her, but being twins… We were always paired up for things, in the family and out. We were in the same class at school, got invited to the same birthday parties and playdates… I couldn't escape her. And she was always applauded for being so well-behaved, so smart, so thoughtful. I mean she deserved it, don't get me wrong. But Bryce was the same way and I was just…me," he muttered. It was the only way to get attention. He was vaguely aware he was oversharing and that he actually didn't mind. But it was nothing he hadn't told to Damon in college after a bit too much to drink.
"Well, it's no picnic being on the other end. Everyone just takes you for granted. And with my dad, all he cared about was football. Not the fact that I'd skipped three grades, or won a science medal, or things like that. Somehow, no matter what, I still didn't live up to expectations."
"Ever?" He asked, surprised as she kept talking.
"Get an A on one assignment, and if you get a B on the next one, they wonder what happened, what's wrong, why didn't you do as good this time as last time?" she spoke quickly. "So you keep pushing yourself, harder and harder, just to keep from disappointing them, to make them proud."
"I can't even imagine."
"Supposedly I was 'gifted,'" she explained with mock reverence. "I did well in school at the lower levels, and the teachers wondered if I was being challenged enough. My parents chose to let me advance two grades. I didn't get to see my friends as much—at least, the few who would still talk to me after that. And when it came to my new classmates… I was the youngest, and they already had their little cliques."
"Why didn't you tell your parents you didn't want to?"
Asha gave him a look that made him bite back laughter. "If you had wanted to stop playing football so you could study to be a dentist, how do you think your parents would have taken it?"
The impulse to laugh vanished. "I think they'd have thought it a sound investment, gi
ven how many times they had to take Fox in because he'd knocked teeth out during a game," he tried to joke. "But my grandfather…"
"He'd have been disappointed," Asha offered, the stiff confidence of her challenging question replaced by soft uncertainty.
Dax shook his head. "I think he'd have been pleased. Maybe even actually relieved. Me continuing in football has been the disappointment. I know I'll never be as good as he was. I mean, look at all he was able to do in his career and when he was doing it. He'll always be one of the pillars of the sport. There's no way to compete with that."
"And that's what you've been forced to do, isn't it?" Asha asked. "Compete with your grandfather's legacy."
"That's what it feels like most of the time," he confessed. "Not on the field as much. Sometimes I can stop thinking about what he would do, or how making a certain catch will bring my stats up. When I can get out of my head, it's still fun."
Asha scooted a little closer to him on the bed.
Shit. Shit. Shit. He swallowed hard as danger flags flew upward.
"Then that's what we'll do."
"What is?" He could smell the sweet soda on her breath—or maybe it was from his own breath, mixing with her perfume. He couldn't think. It was like someone had thrown a blanket of fog over him. He leaned in a little closer, swallowing hard and almost forgetting to listen for her answer. If she just turned her head up a bit, or leaned forward, they'd be kissing.
"We stop marketing you based on your name," she answered quietly. "We make an effort to differentiate you from your grandfather. Let you stand out on your own. They've been expecting and encouraging me to get on board with pushing the Coulter brand on the fans…but I'll tell them no. I'll tell them it would be better, for you and for the team, to put some distance from the name. Smack down the comparisons and tell everyone you won't stand for it. Make it about Dax, not Dax Coulter." She paused. "Oh, and I have a surprise for you."
"What's that?"
"Come here." She stood and pulled him to the table.
He focused on her delicate feet as she padded across the carpet. Damn, he even thought her feet were hot. He needed help. Serious help.
"What's this all about?"
Asha rolled her eyes. "I swear. You must ruin presents all the time." She scrolled to her email and then handed over her iPad.
Dax frowned as he looked at the email. "I don't get it. What am I looking at?"
"I swear." She shook her head and pointed to the lines that mattered, and he scanned them again.
"Thanks so much for bringing Dax Coulter to our attention," he said, reading the email message aloud. "I spoke to my team, and they'd absolutely love to talk to him regarding an endorsement. He's an amazing athlete, and in line with the Powerfuture brand. Just put us in contact with his agent."
He stared for several minutes, unable to process the information. An endorsement? He'd heard of Powerfuture. They did some cool robotics projects. They'd even had a huge Kickstarter campaign for a personal robot. "I don't understand; they want to do a deal with me? They want me to endorse their products? But I'm not technical."
She shook her head. "Doesn't matter. You're edgy, but intelligent. Like them." She shrugged. "I know what happened to the last endorsement. The day I met you, I got to work right away, calling all my contacts to see if anyone had anything that would be mutually beneficial to the both of us. A friend of mine from college came through. She's the director of technology there."
That burning in his chest that had been dogging him for weeks flared sharply. But now, it was accompanied by a well of something. Emotion? Whatever the hell it was, he wasn't sure he liked it. "You did that for me?"
"Well, yeah," she laughed. "It's my job." She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "And as a bonus, they want you. Not the Coulter name. It's sort of a detriment. To them Coulter is stodgy, old guard. But Dax? Dax is new school."
"You managed to do something my agent couldn't."
"It's no big deal, Dax. It's my—"
His brain stuttered. She was saying something about Dax Coulter… His senses were flooded with her, and her scent and her lips and her hair. The only way to make the roaring stop was to let himself drown.
Twelve
Danger, Will Robinson! Danger! Asha couldn't move. Dax's hooded gaze was trained on her lips, and for the life of her, she couldn't think. She liked him looking at her like that. Like he could eat her up in one swallow and still want more. Heat radiated from his body, enveloping her, soothing and coaxing through nothing but proximity.
She had a plan. She loved plans. Too bad her body had a whole other, unintended plan. She felt like one giant raw nerve. She'd seriously done more talking than she'd planned. The good news was he'd opened up. Mission accomplished. The bad news was, she'd opened up, too, and now she was vulnerable.
Her name was a whispered caress, and when she tipped her head up to meet his gaze, his lips brushed over hers.
The first kiss was tentative, a whispered question. He drew back a little, waiting, asking.
A shiver ran through her, and she had no choice but to chase his kiss with one of her own, twining their fingers together as she did. His free hand came up to cup the back of her head, his fingers aligning with the bones on the back of her neck before slipping down under the collar of her blouse.
His kisses missed their mark, landing on the corner of her mouth and cheek, while his fingers traced the skin beneath her satin collar, moving along the seam toward the front of her blouse, where the buttons began just below the hollow at the base of her throat.
She couldn't breathe. She couldn't slow her heart rate. She couldn't think. In those moments, all she knew was him. His touch. His mouth.
Dax’s finger hovered at the top button, waiting.
She let go of his other hand and reached for the loose fabric of his shirt where it was tucked into his pants, tugging it free. Dax eagerly unbuttoned her blouse, pausing so she could pull his shirt up and over his head before she shrugged out of her own.
She pulled him with her onto the bed, lying back while he buried his face in her chest. He reached up and pulled aside the silky fabric of her bra. Cupping her breasts in his warm hands, he moaned. Her breath hitched. Oh, God. Oh, God. Need pulled at her core. Her skin tingled and every synapse in her brain fired. Holy hell. Was this what she'd been missing out on?
Her hands traced the lines of muscle along his arms and abdomen, pressing lightly into his skin like a sculptor molding clay. She drew one of them slowly down Dax's arm to the hand cupping her breast and pressed it firmer to her. Yes. That felt so damn— His thumb teased her nipple, raising it to a peak. Holy shit. She rocked her hips into his, seeking…
She arched toward him, and his hand slipped to her back, first unhooking her bra, then trying to find a way down the back of her skirt. She laughed as the high waist of the skirt proved to be too difficult an obstacle for Dax to manage one-handed. Her laughter stopped abruptly when he bent his head to kiss her again, and ran that hand over the curve of her buttock, using it to pull her tight against him to feel the full extent of his arousal. Oh, wow.
She reached for Dax's hand once more, tugging it away from her ass and guiding it to the hem of her skirt. He shifted his weight and moved his body down hers, leaving a trail of kisses along her neck, clavicle, and breasts, and over her stomach just where the lightly tanned skin disappeared beneath the tightly woven grey cotton of her pencil skirt.
Her heart hammered as he discarded her bra. Dax's hands slid up her calves to massage the soft spot at the back of her knee. Hell. She wanted to open her legs to him but the skirt had no give. Before she could reach down to hike the constrictive fabric out of the way herself, his hand slid up the back of her thigh, pushing the skirt up and out of his path. More. Hell, she needed more.
"God…taste so good…soft…I can't…" Dax whispered against her skin as he kissed, sucked, licked. He covered her nipple completely with his lips, his warm breath a tease and caress all in one.<
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When he retreated and then leaned in again, she held her breath. Oh, God. "Dax. Ple—"
Her name was a whisper on his lips, before he laved her nipple and sucked her deep. With a moan, Asha arched her back and slid her hands into his hair. She tugged him close as he pulled deep. There was something she was supposed to remember. Some line she was supposed to think about. But all that mattered to her in this moment, in his arms, was how she felt. How he could make her feel.
Dax rocked his hips into her, the rigid length of him pressing into her, making her so slick, so, so hot.
With a frustrated growl, he released her, turned her to her side, yanked down her zipper, and then tugged off her skirt. When he turned her back over, his eyes burned. The dim light of the room made his beautiful features seem more pronounced. "You are so beautiful."
His soft words were punctuated with a tender kiss. One that quickly morphed into a flaming wildfire. He was going to burn her up with his touch alone, and she wouldn't survive it. But like a moth to a flame, she craved his heat. She wanted the promised incineration.
His hand traced over her breast and his eyes locked on hers as it swept over her belly. When he teased his finger at the juncture of her thighs, just under the elastic of her panties, she clung to him as if her hips took on a life of their own, begging for his touch. Begging him to touch her where she needed. He teased the elastic gently, before slipping underneath, and running his finger over her smooth skin.
He dropped his forehead to hers. "You are so fucking wet. All I want to do is bury myself right here." His finger pressed into her, oh-so-gently, and she stiffened.
"Oh, my God, Dax."
"Shh, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you. Tell me what you like. I just want to make you feel good…" He stroked his finger over her slit then gently teased her clit. He licked his bottom lip then whispered, "So, so good. Show me, Asha. How do I do that?"
She reached for that clawing desire, the need that’d had her body humming for the last couple of weeks, but the more she reached for it, the more it eluded her. She didn't know what to tell him. "Dax, I—"
