“Your dick is my problem? I wish I had problems that small.”
Penner laughs, and as shitty as I feel, I can’t help but chuckle.
“Fucking smartass. Nah, man, you need to get laid.”
Leave it to Penner to throw it out there. The guy is unapologetically, in-your-face honest. If he weren’t one of my best friends, I’d throat-punch him. I roll my eyes and exhale a long sigh as he carries on about how he thinks we should go out tonight and fix the situation.
“Consider it your civic duty, man. The team is counting on you to bring us to the Super Bowl.”
“And you think me fucking some random is going to fix my game?”
“Can’t hurt.”
I’m not about to tell him that lack of pussy is not my problem. Nor am I going to divulge that the reason I can’t focus for shit is because I’m too busy wondering if Amelia is going to be at my house when I get home tomorrow. Regret twists in my gut like a sharp knife, but even worse is the guilt I’ll live with if she leaves Lily because of me. I need her—more than I want to need anyone right now. I don’t deserve a second chance with Amelia, but if she’d just stay—for Lily—hell, I’d do just about anything to make that happen.
I’ve replayed our fight at least a hundred times, and I feel terrible about it. I wanted to text her last night when I got to Chicago, but a part of me was afraid to find out she’d left. I didn’t think I could handle that before the game. Turns out we lost anyway, but I needed every shred of hope I could cling to. It’s a good sign I haven’t gotten a call from Julia. If Amelia had left, my phone would have blown up with calls telling me what I dumbass I am. No argument there.
I’ve got no excuse, other than I lost my mind. When I saw Stella’s face on that damn TV, and those bastards talking about her and the affair in front of Lily, I snapped. Like, had a serious mental-fucking-breakdown.
“What do ya say? We doin’ this or what?”
Penner pulls me from my thoughts with an elbow jab to the ribs—ribs that are already sore as hell from getting sacked in the third and fourth quarter. I wince and shoot him a scowl. He returns my glower with a knowing smirk. “Fucker, you did that on purpose.”
He doesn’t deny it. “Come out with me and I’ll make it up to you—in the form of squish.” He laughs at his crude joke, and I shake my head.
“Sorry man, I’ve gotta Facetime with my daughter. We’re reading Skippyjon Jones In Mummy Trouble tonight.” I grab my duffle and stand, tapping the side of the bag that has Lily’s book tucked safely inside. “You can come listen if you want.”
“Then we’ll go party after?” he presses.
I’ve got no interest in getting laid. I only want one woman, and unfortunately, I think that ship has sailed. “Can’t.” I tell him, heading out of the locker room.
“It’s the nanny, isn’t it?” he calls to my back, his voice booming off the concrete walls.
I stop, tense. But that’s the only tell Penner needs.
“Oh shit. It is. You’re fucking your nanny, aren’t you? Dude, that is so hot.”
I turn on Penner, giving him a murderous glare. “Would you shut the fuck up? Seriously, man,” I growl. “You’re going to have every goddamn reporter out there crawling up my ass.” I point at the door I’m ready to walk out of. “And who I am, or am not fucking, is none of your business.”
Penner’s hands go up in surrender. He’s laughing, and if I wasn’t in such a shitty mood, I might have found the humor in it, too. As it is, I can only think about what I’ve lost.
Chapter Sixteen
Amelia
“Come on, Lily, we’re going to be late.”
“I can’t find my tights.”
“Which ones?”
“My shiny silver ones.”
“They’re in your dance bag.” I hand it to Brody as he passes by. “Will you please bring this to the car? It’s got all of Lily’s costumes inside it.” He takes the bag from me, and his fingertips graze my wrist. The heat of his touch races up my arm. I glance at him, wondering if he felt it, too, but his gaze quickly diverts from mine, then he heads to the car.
Every time he’s near, my chest tightens painfully. It’s been over a week, and Brody hasn’t tried to touch me. The friendship we forged over these last few months is gone. He treats me like a guest in his home, and I hate it.
He’s too polite, too accommodating. Maybe he thinks I’m still angry at him over what happened before he left, or maybe he’s just trying to give me space. Either way, we’re on uneven ground now, and I need to accept that as much as I want to fix him, I’m not sure that I can.
Lily comes charging down the stairs, her bun wobbling on top of her head. “Hold up there, little ballerina.” I snag her arm as she tries to pirouette past me. “Let me fix your hair.”
“We’re going to be late, Mia.”
“We’re going to be even later if your bun falls out and I have to redo your hair.” I fish a few bobby pins out of my pocket and shove them into her bun as Brody steps back inside.
“Stop squirming,” I scold Lily, mumbling past the bobby pin as I use my tooth to pry it open while holding her loose hairs in place. She prematurely tries to dart away, and I lose my hold on the fine baby hairs at the nape of her neck.
“Lily, hold still for Amelia.” She freezes like a statue as Brody heads toward us with her coat in his hand.
I slip the last pin in place and let her go. “All done.”
She races toward Brody who’s holding her coat open. I smile watching them together. Getting down on one knee so he can reach her easier, he turns Lily toward him and zips her up. “You look very beautiful, Lily pad.”
“As pretty as mommy?”
Something flashes in his expression, but it’s gone so fast I might have imagined it.
“Prettier.”
“Thanks, Daddy.” She gives him a beaming smile and kisses his cheek.
“Now go get in the car.”
I pat my pocket, checking for more bobby pins, just in case, then grab my purse. When I enter the mudroom, Brody is waiting for me. He holds my coat open, and I slip into it. As much as I’d like to read something more into the gesture, I know he’s just being polite.
…
Brody
Lily’s recital is at the elementary school auditorium, a fifteen-minute drive that is filled with her nervous chatter. She always talks fast and rambles when she’s anxious, and tonight will be her first time on stage. For months, I’ve watched her practice her routines. She’s got this.
“Maddie’s dad is taking her for ice cream after the recital. Can we have ice cream, too?” Before I can respond, she continues. “We had ice cream with them before. Maddie likes gummy worms on her ice cream, but I like sprinkles.”
My gaze cuts to Amelia, who’s looking out the window. “You went out with Brad? Coffee shop Brad?” The question is out of my mouth before I can wrestle it back in. It’s none of my business, but the thought of her hanging out with him, even in a parental, supervisory role, makes my gut burn with jealousy.
I knew that fucking guy was moving in on her, and I want to hate him, I want to kick his ass, but the truth is Brad Kent is a good guy. I mean come on, he’s a firefighter for crissake. The guy races into burning buildings and saves women and kittens and shit. I doubt he has emotional meltdowns and snaps at the one person who’s keeping his life glued together.
“I didn’t go out with Brad.” Her tone is soft, as if she doesn’t want Lily to overhear our conversation, but that’s unlikely to happen since she’s still chattering away in the back seat. “I took Lily for ice cream one evening last week, and they showed up. It wasn’t planned.”
Amelia drives a lemon-colored VW Bug. I’m fairly fucking confident that Brad knows that, especially if he’s been bringing Maddie to her playdates. It might not have been planned on Amelia’s part, but I’m not extending Brad the same benefit of the doubt.
I’m saved from having to respond when we reached the sc
hool and I turn into the parking lot full of cars. “I’ll drop you off at the door then find a place to park.” As soon as I stop, the girls pile out. Amelia scoops up Lily’s costume bag and they’re racing for the doors. My gaze fixes on the perfection that is Amelia’s retreating ass. The blare of a horn startles me, and I pull forward, getting out of the way so some other shmuck who can’t tell time can drop off their kid.
I wait at the auditorium entrance for Amelia.
We find a spot close to the front, and I take the seat next to an elderly couple, then promptly wish Amelia and I had switched sides when I hear, “Hey, Amelia.”
I glance past her, and my gaze locks with Brad’s. Jealousy burns my insides to ash when she gives him one of those warm, unguarded smiles she used to give me.
“It’s good to see you, Mia.”
Mia? He’s on a nickname basis with her? As if an afterthought, Brad reaches across her lap and extends his hand to me. “Brody, nice to see ya, man.”
It’s all I can do not to punch him in the face, but I settle for gripping his a little tighter than is polite. “Likewise,” I obligingly reply. Thankfully, I’m saved from any further conversation when the auditorium dims and the stage lights up. The recital is about to begin.
…
Amelia
Lily danced her little heart out. She performed a tap and ballet set, and I don’t think she even missed a step. Within minutes of heading home, she was fast asleep. Good thing we didn’t stop for ice cream, after all. Brad seemed disappointed we wouldn’t be joining them, but I could tell by the furtive glances Brody sent his way every time Brad leaned over to whisper something in my ear that putting those two together for any length of time was probably a bad idea.
He said maybe a handful of words on the way home, his introspective silence fueling the restlessness churning in my gut. I retreat to my room as soon as we get back and Brody tucks Lily into bed. This awkward tension between us has got to stop.
I hear Lily’s door close softly and footsteps across the hall coming closer. They stop outside my door, and my pulse quickens. Butterflies flitter in my stomach as I wait for him to knock, wait for him to bridge this distance he’s put between us.
Disappointment swamps me when I hear him move past my door and continue down the hall. How long are we going to remain at this impasse? I miss him. I miss his kiss, his touch. With a frustrated sigh, I throw back the covers. Screw it. If he won’t make the first move, then I will.
I change into his Evans jersey and slip on my red lace thong. When I reach Brody’s door, I enter without knocking and almost run into him walking out.
“Amelia.” He abruptly stops and takes a step back, giving me room to enter. “Is everything okay?”
I close the door behind me, not sure how I should answer because, no, things aren’t okay.
I lift the hem of his jersey and pull it over my head, dropping it on the floor. His eyes flare with hunger as they feast on my breasts, and my nipples harden. Slipping my thumbs into the lace of my panties, I slowly tug them down and take a step toward him.
Tension fills his body, muscles straining as desire battles his restraint. Brody’s gaze devours me, his arousal tenting the low-riding lounge pants he’s changed into. But apprehension and something else I can’t describe seem to win whatever war that rages inside him. I can see the defeat in his expression, sense it in his fight-or-flight stance.
“Amelia.” He takes another step back. His voice is deep and husky, as if he hadn’t used it enough today. “You shouldn’t do this.”
I walk up to him and tip my head back to look him in the eyes. Lord, he’s tall. “Why not?” I challenge.
“Because… You know why.” He casts his gaze to the floor, takes a deep breath, and roughly drags his hands through his hair before reluctantly meeting my eyes. The intensity I see staring back at me takes my breath away. “I didn’t mean it, Amelia. What Lily saw, it wasn’t your fault.”
I know he didn’t, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.
“I’m so fucking sorry.” He bends down and wraps his arms around me, squeezing tight while he buries his face in the side of my neck. I wasn’t expecting an apology when I came to his room, but I think he needed to give it, and deep down, maybe I needed to hear it.
Maybe I was holding onto some hurt. But isn’t love all about forgiveness? I forgive Brody for lashing out. That behavior isn’t characteristic of him.
I turn my head and kiss his cheek, pulling his spicy, masculine scent into my lungs. I kiss him again and again, each time lightly brushing my lips closer to the corner of his mouth until he finally turns his head and kisses me back. It’s soft at first, almost tentative. This is different than when he’s kissed me before. There’s an emotion deeper than lust driving him. Something about this feels more intimate, more…real.
His hand slides up the side of my neck, fingers threading into my hair as he deepens the kiss but doesn’t quicken the pace. It’s slow and savory—languid. A soft moan escapes me as I melt into him. With the arm he has around my waist, Brody lifts me against him and carries me across the room.
His body covers mine as he crawls onto the bed, bearing the brunt of his weight on one arm as his lips leave mine and graze the corner of my jaw. “I missed you,” he whispers near my ear. Goose bumps prickle my flesh, my nipples hardening to sensitive buds that light up with tingling pleasure when Brody’s chest drags over them as he slowly inches his way down my body.
“Missed the scent of your skin.” He inhales deeply, the tip of his nose brushing between my breasts. He teases my nipple, circling it with his tongue, then traps it gently between his teeth, sending a jolt of pleasure shooting through me. I gasp at the intensity of the desire that floods me as he takes his time worshiping my breasts, kneading, nipping, sucking until they’re so sensitive and tender even the cool air is sweet torture.
“Missed the needy little sounds you make when you’re impatient for me to touch you.” His hand slides up my thigh, his thumb sweeping achingly close to my center as he kisses his way down my stomach. I do, indeed, make that noise. I can’t help it. His touch is driving me mad.
“I’ve missed your taste,” he whispers, his breath teasing over my sensitive folds.
My heart races, the fire inside me is burning out of control. When he sets his mouth on me, I’m lost. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. I can only feel, and I’m drowning in pleasure. My release tears through me without warning, Brody’s name a broken cry of surrender.
Waves of pleasure shudder through my core, and he’s relentless in his pursuit to wring every last bit of it from me. It’s too much. I’m too sensitive. I reach between my legs to push him away, and his throaty chuckle lights up my nerve endings as he kisses his way up my stomach, pausing to lave each breast. Then his mouth is on mine. I can taste myself on his tongue, and it reignites the fire he’s temporarily quenched, this new one burning hotter than the last.
Brody uses his knee to part my legs wider and without hesitation, he pushes inside me. I gasp at the sweet invasion and inhale his groan of pure bliss. He fills me to the point where pleasure blurs with pain, until I can’t tell where I end and he begins.
“I didn’t think I’d ever know this feeling again,” he confesses softly against my lips, setting a slow, gentle pace as I adjust to the size of him. “The perfect way your body grips mine.” He seats himself deep and stops. He’s touching the most secret part of me, and the intimacy makes my pulse quicken. His eyes lock on mine, and my heart momentarily stutters. “You make me want things I never thought I would. You give me hope that just maybe I’m not a lost cause after all.”
Emotion swells in my throat, and I swallow back tears. “Brody, I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. Maybe then you’d believe in love again.” It’s the closest I dare come to telling him how I feel.
He doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he kisses me and begins to move, a gentle thrust at first, but the tempo quickly builds. Soon we’re com
ing together, and the jetting heat of Brody’s release increases the intensity of mine. I cling to him and the pleasure only he can give me. I missed him. I missed this. I missed us.
Brody rolls onto his back and gathers me in his arms. Comfortable silence settles between us as we slowly descend back to reality. When I catch myself drifting off to sleep, I stir against him, reluctantly sitting up. I prefer the pleasure of Brody’s arms and would rather stay here, but it’s getting late. He’s got early practice in the morning and needs his sleep.
I lay my hand on Brody’s chest and lean in to give him a kiss. His heart is still beating at a chaotic pace, and I smile at the effect I have on this athlete’s incredible body. I turn to get up, but his arm loops around my waist, dragging me back across the sheets. He tucks my backside tight against his front.
“Where do you think you’re going?” His husky whisper sends a shiver of goose bumps over my flesh as he nuzzles the side of my neck.
“Back to bed. It’s getting late.” We agreed when this started there would be no sleepovers when Lily was in the house.
“Stay with me.”
His arm cinches around my side, and he drapes his leg over my hip. I don’t think I could move if I wanted to. His breath teases my shoulder as it settles into a slow, regular pattern. After several minutes, I wonder if he’s fallen asleep, but then his voice is a soft throaty rumble beside my ear.
“I want to try, Mia.”
He doesn’t use my nickname often, but every time he does, it sounds like an endearment. I grow still, my breath a hesitant exhale.
“With you. I want to try to make this work.”
I turn in his arms to face him, studying the sincerity staring back at me.
“This last week has been miserable. Being around you, wanting you, and knowing I can’t have you. But I can’t make you any promises. I’m really fucked up in here.” He makes a fist and bumps it against his chest. “Sometimes it takes everything I’ve got to make it seem like I’m not. But I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about the things I would do differently if I had a second chance with you. And I promised myself that I would try to be the man you deserved.”
The Nanny Rules Page 11
