I take Brody’s hand and we head back to the car. “I’m sorry about your parents,” he says, looking over at me.
“I’m sorry about yours.”
Brody shrugs my comment away. “How long ago?”
I swallow. “Five years.”
“And here you are.”
“It’s what I’d always planned for. They wouldn’t want me giving up just because they aren’t around to see it.”
I’m so close to blubbering. I hate talking about them being gone. Brody must feel it because he changes the subject, his tone lighter. “So dating isn’t as easy as it looks.”
“Perhaps it takes practice.”
“What are you saying?” Beeping the locks on the car, Brody grins and the somber mood we had going earlier lightens further. “We can call that our warm-up?”
“Maybe we can.”
He opens the passenger door for me to climb in. “I like your thinking, Elliott.”
Brody drives us beyond the city outskirts. We start passing open fields of tall grass. A light breeze is bending it all sideways in a silent symphony. It’s pretty and peaceful. “Where are we going?”
“Here,” he says, jerking his chin toward an empty paddock that he turns onto. The road isn’t smooth and we bounce in our seats as he turns off it and directly on the field. We reach the crest of a hill where he parks and turns off the ignition.
I stare out the front windscreen. There’s nothing out there. Just a rolling valley covered in grass and trees that stretch as far as the eye can see.
Shutting the door, I walk up the slight incline behind Brody. He sits down at the top of the crest and pats the grassy spot beside him.
“You didn’t mention this part when you explained our date.”
“I can’t give away all my secrets now, can I?”
The grass is a thick blanket on the ground and when I stretch out flat, the rich, earthy scent of soil sweeps over me. My eyes lift to the sky and that’s when I get it. It’s perfectly clear and millions of stars are scattered diamonds twinkling above us—bright and magical.
“Besides,” Brody adds as he lies down beside me and sweeps out his arm, encompassing all of it. “How do you explain that?”
He’s right. You can’t. “It’s beautiful.”
“Is this what the stars are like for you back home?”
“No. Back home it’s different.”
“Different how?”
Homesickness swamps me. As beautiful as Texas is, it’s not Australia. Somehow the stars are always brighter where you belong. “Because there’s no place like home.”
“You’re wrong.”
I turn my head and stare at Brody. He’s not looking at me. His head is tilted toward the sky, eyes riveted on the beauty above him. My gaze follows the line of his profile. From the curl of his hair to the perfect line of his nose, down to the mouth I want kissing me right this very instant.
“Home’s not a place where you live. It’s a feeling.” His hand nudges my own. An invitation. I twine my fingers with his and he squeezes them lightly. “Whether it’s where you are, like the football field, or who you’re with.” Brody turns his head, looking at me when he says that. It’s comforting because it unites us somehow, like it’s slowly becoming us against the world. “You can be anywhere, Jordan. Home will follow you if you follow your heart.”
My breath hitches from the beautiful simplicity of his words. Before I can talk myself out of it, I roll over and straddle him. My knees hug his hips, and he stares up at me from my seated position. My pulse pounds a heavy beat in the silence. Thump, thump, thump. It’s so loud in my ears I’m sure he can hear it.
“Show me,” I breathe. A gleam lights his dark eyes, and he sucks his lower lip inside his mouth. He knows what I’m asking, but I spell it out anyway. “Show me one of those wicked things.”
In a move that steals the air from my lungs, he takes both my hands and pulls me down against the broad width of his chest. I’m rolled over and underneath him before I can blink. The squirm in my hips is instinctive, the ache between my thighs relentless.
“Careful what you ask for,” Brody says roughly, every exquisite inch of his body pressing down on mine.
“Why?”
His lips curve. “Because when I give it to you, it won’t be enough.”
My fingers trail down the side of his face, grazing the firm jaw, cupping his cheek in my palm. Foreboding swamps me. I’m falling hard into uncharted territory, and all I see is a broken mess at the end. How is this going to end well for either of us?
“You’re an arrogant man, Brody Madden,” I whisper.
He brings his face to mine, so close I see the brilliant gold in his eyes, like flecks of light in the dark. “And you, Jordan Elliott, will be the woman who brings me to my knees,” he whispers against my lips.
“Show me,” I beg on a shaky breath.
Brody’s lashes lower and he presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth. I tilt my chin upwards, inviting more. Rather than take my lips like I ache for him to do, he shifts sideways and begins nipping at my jaw. His breath is a rasp when he reaches my earlobe, taking it between his teeth. A sharp pinch from his bite forces a whimper from my throat.
“More?” he asks, drawing back to look at me.
“Is that even a real question?”
Brody chuckles as I slide my hand up and around his nape, dragging his mouth down to mine. He groans and kisses me gently, once, and then twice.
“Brody,” I whisper, and he kisses me again, forcing my mouth open hard like he can’t hold himself in check anymore. My hair is loose and he fists chunks of it in both hands while his tongue rubs against mine, hot and aggressive. It’s almost too much, and when I jerk away I’m left gasping.
Brody doesn’t pause. He ducks his head to my neck, his tongue tasting its way down. He finds my pulse point and sucks. It’s fierce and my back arches involuntarily. His mouth shifts further down, moving on before he leaves a mark.
Sitting up, he takes the neckline of my dress in both hands. Five dainty buttons hold it together. A single wrench will rip the flimsy fabric in two. He pauses and looks at me, inhaling raggedly. “Jordan … I don’t want to ruin it.”
My brow furrows. I glance to the hands poised on my dress. They’re tense, veins straining under his skin. My head is lost in a fog when my gaze returns to his face. “Ruin my dress?”
Brody groans, a deep sound of regret and frustration. “Us.”
“You don’t want to ruin us?”
He draws his hands away from the neckline of my dress. “No.”
“How would you do that?”
“I don’t know. I just get this feeling I’m going to.” He shifts away, moving off me and rolling to his back. I turn my head. Brody’s gaze is back on the stars. I watch his throat work as he swallows, the pulse in his neck pounding visibly. “All I’ve ever wanted is to be the best. Whatever it takes. I’ll do anything. That’s how I’ll ruin us, Jordan. How can something so sweet survive a sentiment so dark?”
I roll to my side, holding my head in my hand. Cupping his face with the other, I nudge gently until he’s looking at me. “I won’t let you.”
Brody’s voice is urgent, his eyes fierce. “Promise me.”
I can’t shake the apprehension. It’s set in my bones and when I speak it feels like a lie. “I promise.”
Brody
“One more,” Jordan commands.
“Nooooo!” The word comes out sounding close to a girlish wail, but I don’t care. My brain hurts. It’s so full of ethical case law it’s going to explode if I squeeze any more in.
I roll over on her bed and bury my head beneath her pillow. It’s warm and soft and deliciously fragrant. My whole body shudders and I grit my teeth. I’m denying it what it wants most of all. What the fuck is wrong with me? Right now, I’ll gladly ruin everything for one whole night of sinking my cock inside her. After our date we decided to take things slow, but now it’s killing me.
/> “It fucking sucks,” I mumble to myself, my breath coming in pants because my air is swiftly running out. Maybe I’ll pass out and she’ll take pity on me.
“What did you say?”
I tilt my head slightly so Jordan can hear me from under her pillow. “I said all work and no play makes Brody a dull boy.”
“We’ve barely started!” I shrink from her exasperated tone. My girl is a cruel and unforgiving dragon. On the field it’s a sight to behold. Majestic and fierce. Here, in the study arena, it’s a harrowing and torturous experience. All hellfire and brimstone. My head is buried, yet she keeps talking. “You know if you don’t go over this particular case, it’ll be the one that ends up in the midterm.”
Her warning is unfair, as if I’m sealing my own downfall simply by taking a well-deserved break.
“When we’ve finished with that,” she continues, “we need to focus on your other subjects. I think we’ve covered a lot of ground on those, but—”
“Nooooo!” I wail from beneath the pillow. I lift it from my face and squint one eye open. Jordan’s seated in her chair by the desk facing me. A heavy text rests on her lap and her arms are folded. She’s silent now, her blue eyes narrowed in a cold-hearted glare. It’s one that makes me want to apologize even when I’ve done nothing wrong. “You should teach fifth grade.”
Nostrils flare. “Hmmph.”
Distracting Jordan is my best shot. “Offer me an incentive and I’ll do it.”
She fights it, but I see a small twitch in her lips. “You mean like a dog?”
“Sure.” I reposition her pillow behind my head, happier now because it’s already working. “Like a dog. I do something you ask me to do, you reward me.”
Jordan’s brow lowers in a deliberating expression. Her mind is ticking over while she works out what she’s going to do with me. Eager to help her along, I drop my hand to the hem of my tee shirt. Sliding it underneath, I run it up over my abs toward my chest. The cotton rides up along with my hand, bunching up near my pecs. They flex as I scratch idly at bare skin, pretending an itch. I look up at her from lowered lashes and swallow the satisfied chuckle. Her eyes are following my every move.
As though arriving at a decision, Jordan slams the text shut with a heavy thump and swivels in her chair, setting it on the desk.
When she turns back around, she pulls the band from the knot of hair on top of her head. It spills down, a cascade of honey over toned, golden shoulders. “What do you want?”
“What do I want?” It’s a wonder my voice doesn’t crack in two.
“Mmm hmm. What do you want?” she repeats, her voice low and full lips curved.
Jordan yielded too easily. A warning alert issues. It’s impossible to heed. My mind is already out of control, racing from so many options I don’t even know where to start. “Dealer’s choice.”
I want everything, so it’s better for Jordan to set the pace.
She stands and my chest tightens. “You want me to choose your reward?”
“I do.”
Her chin lifts in acceptance of my challenge. Reaching the end of her bed, she bends and climbs on. She lifts her eyes and the frosty blue is gone. In its place is a rich, dark lure as she stalks toward me on her hands and knees. Anticipation builds and I lick my lips.
Reaching my hips, Jordan draws back and sits. I wait, my blood a pounding roar in my ears.
“What reward could I possibly give Brody Madden that he’s never had before? I’m sure everyone you’ve ever known has bent over backwards to give you everything you ever wanted.”
Her words hit a nerve. All I’ve ever wanted is to prove I’m worth something, but no one can give me that. Worth can’t be bought, it has to be earned. “I don’t care about everyone giving me everything I want.”
“What do you care about?”
“You giving me what I want,” I quip, keeping it light because there are parts of me I’m not ready to expose.
Jordan lifts an eyebrow. “Is that all?”
“I care about football too.”
“Nothing else?” she asks me carefully.
I sit up, resting the backs of my hands on the bed behind me. It brings my face close to Jordan’s. Our chests align and her breath puffs softly against my lips. “I care about being the best.”
Jordan ducks her head and nips my bottom lip. It’s sharp and sweet, and I feel it everywhere. When she pulls back there’s a teasing light in her eyes. “The best at what?”
A grin tugs at the corners of my mouth. “Why the best at fucking you, sweet Jordan Matilda. I care about being so good you’ll never have anyone better.”
It’s a conceited declaration, and she tilts back her head and laughs, exposing the long line of her throat. “One day soon I want you to prove that. But not right now. You need to focus on midterms. Come on,” she says and grabs both my hands. Getting off the bed, she tugs at me, trying to pull me off.
My bottom lip pokes out. “What about my reward?”
She tugs again. “You said dealer’s choice and I’m hungry. So your reward is me cooking you dinner.”
“I thought you were going to give me something I’ve never had before?”
“I am. All we have in the cupboard is stale bread, so tonight I’m serving vegemite toast. You ever had that?”
I haven’t. And when we reach the kitchen, I seat myself up on the counter and watch while she takes a dark jar with a bright yellow label from the cupboard.
“Here.”
She hands it over. While I’m unscrewing the lid, she takes out a toaster and loaf of bread. With the lid off, I bring the jar to my nose and take a sniff. My lips curl with distaste. It’s foul. A black paste that looks dredged from the bottom of a sewer. It smells worse. My stomach rolls over with a slow, queasy thump when the stench sticks to the insides of my nostrils.
I look at Jordan, disbelieving. “You guys really eat this stuff?”
Popping bread in the toaster, she nods. “Yep. All the time.”
My eyes return to the sludge in the jar.
Jordan laughs. It’s a mocking sound. A dare. “It’s not going to bite you,” she chides. “Have a taste.”
I dip my finger in. The texture is firmer then it looks. Swiping up a decent sized amount, I bring it to my mouth and lick it off. My eyes water instantly and I screw them shut while I choke it down.
“Arrghhh.” The sound comes out guttural, the bitter paste killing off all my taste buds along with the ability to speak.
Jordan’s cackle is loud and evil. She takes the jar from my hand and replaces it with a glass of water. I snatch it up, water sloshing the rim as I gulp it down. “You’re not supposed to eat that much.”
Drawing the empty glass from my lips, I rasp, “You tell me that now?”
The toast pops. Jordan gets it out and starts spreading butter all the way to the corners. Done, she picks up the abandoned jar of vegemite.
I shake my head, watching her scrape it on like she’s creating a piece of art. “I’m not hungry.”
She puts the toast on a plate and offers it to me. “Don’t be a baby.”
“I’m not,” I tell her and take it from her hands. “I just don’t know why you’re trying to break my spirit. Between all the study and now this, I’m starting to think you have a sadistic side, and I don’t like it.”
Picking up her own piece of toast, Jordan takes a huge bite and chews slowly as if savoring the flavor. I’d rather she savor me. My legs are spread slightly where I sit on the counter and she steps in between them. Swallowing down her mouthful, she licks away the crumbs and leans in. The plate in my hands stops her from pressing too close. I discard it quickly and it hits the counter with a clatter. Now free to touch, I grab her hips in both hands and drag her in. She kisses me. I taste the vegemite on her lips and I don’t care.
Drawing back, Jordan looks me in the eye. “You’ve improved so much already, Brody. I don’t want to be the distraction that sets you back.” She sets her toast d
own and with both hands free, places them on my thighs, sliding them up slowly. I steal another kiss, this time swiping my tongue across her lips. A moan escapes and I’m not sure if it comes from her or me. “Let’s focus on midterms. When they’re done, whatever reward you want is yours.”
For weeks I put my faith in Jordan and focus like she asks. I study until I can’t think straight, reading late into the night until my brain bleeds. When I’m not hitting the books, I’m on the field, training myself to exhaustion. We become ships passing in the night and our away games alternate. On the weekends Jordan is home, I’m not, and vice versa. My need for her doesn’t diminish with the prolonged absences, it only grows hotter.
Jordan has more drive and determination then anyone I know. I feed from it. She makes me stronger and smarter, her faith giving me more confidence then I’ve ever had before. At our next home game I’m an unstoppable force, and it’s contagious. My energy spreads through the team, fueling them. The crowd feels it. It crackles through the hundred thousand spectators like a thousand volts of electricity. When the clock counts down its final minutes, our victory is almost sealed. Feet stomp fast and hard around the stadium, building to a thunderous crescendo that boosts us to greater heights.
“Hut!” Carter roars above the noise, his voice harsh and forceful, veins straining in his throat.
Sweat streams down my face, red from heat and exertion. It drips in my eyes. I don’t notice. I’m already moving when Carter takes possession of the ball. My teammates are battering rams, clearing my path. My cleats sink hard into the ground, turf flying up behind me when it rips from the field. Close to goal, I turn for the pass, my lungs screaming for air.
Carter doesn’t disappoint. It barrels toward me, high and curved as I run backwards. Using the last of my energy, I reach up, feet lifting off the ground as I make contact with the ball. It slides into my outstretched hands right where it belongs.
Before I find solid ground, I’m slammed from out of nowhere. The power of it rattles my bones and blurs my vision. Crushed sideways into the ground, my head hits hard. The crowd roars its approval because the hit came too late. The touchdown was made. I’m home. Fucking home.
The End Game Page 18
