…
Brody
I don’t blame Amelia for having reservations. Hell, I’ve got them, and this was my idea. There’s a very good chance this could blow up in my face, but the one thing I’m certain of is that I’ve got to try. I care too much about Amelia to lose her without a fight. That became glaringly evident to me when I saw the way Brad looked at her tonight. That was when I decided I had two choices, I could sit back, do nothing, and lose her, or I could stop lying to myself, own up to my feelings, and take a risk by telling her how I feel.
I was on my way to do just that when she intercepted me, but instead of talking, I ended up making love to her.
Making love. I consider those words. Is that what this was? I can’t deny that this time it felt different, like I was connecting with her on a deeper level than before. But am I in love with Amelia? I study her, waiting for her to say something. “Your silence is making me nervous.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to. It’s just…” The intensity with which she’s staring at me kicks my heart into overdrive. “Are you telling me you want a relationship? Outside of the bedroom?”
I’m ashamed that I’ve made her think she’s irrelevant. She deserves better, and I’m going to try like hell to be the man worthy of her. “Yeah. I kiss her softly, savoring the taste of her lips. “I want us to be together. But fair warning, I might not be very good at this. I haven’t dated anyone in a really long time.”
Amelia slips her arms around my neck, grinding her soft curves against me, and I’m instantly hard for her.
“Oh, Brody,” she whispers against my mouth. “You’re going to be fantastic at it.” Amelia presses her lips to mine as she climbs on top of me. I grab her hips and lower her onto my shaft, swallowing her breathy sigh as I gently enter her.
This is the one thing I’m fantastic at—making her come.
Chapter Seventeen
Amelia
“Hey, babe, I’m taking off.”
Strong arms circle me from behind. Brody kisses my neck and draws a deep breath as he hugs me close. I drop the laundry I’m folding and lean into him, closing my eyes and enjoying the stolen moment.
“I wish you didn’t have to go,” I whisper, turning and slipping my arms around his waist. “We haven’t spent the whole day together since the zoo.”
“I know. I’ll see if I can slip out of practice a little early. Maybe we can take Lily to a movie or something.”
“That would be great.” I raise to my tiptoes and kiss the underside of his jaw. It’s all I can reach until he bends down, giving me a kiss that tingles all the way to my toes.
“Where’s Lily?” he asks between kisses.
“Ava’s mom picked her up a few minutes ago while you were in the shower.”
I slip my hands up his shirt, tracing the roadmap of muscle across those incredible abs, then follow the goody trail down the front of his gym shorts. Taking his erection in my hand, I give him a firm squeeze. His husky groan is drowned out by the sound of my cell ringing. Ignoring it, I work Brody’s shorts down his lean hips.
“Aren’t you going to get that?” he asks between fevered kisses over my neck.
“I’d rather get you off.” Dropping to my knees, I take him in hand and slowly circle the tip of him with my tongue.
He exhales a startled curse and his hands slip into my hair, gripping tight. “You’re going to make me late.”
“Not if you come fast.” I part my lips and take him to the back of my throat.
“Fuck it,” he growls. “I’ll pay the fine for being late.” Using his grip on my hair, he sets the pace with slow, deep thrusts. “No way in hell am I rushing through this.”
I slide my hand up the inside of his thigh and gently grasp the twin weights hanging heavy between his legs as I increase the suction of my mouth. His tortured moan is throaty and masculine, turning the ache between my legs into a throb. A needy whimper passes my lips, mewled around a mouthful of his cock.
Brody tenses, and I glance up to see him staring at me. Raw lust blazes in those sapphire eyes. It’s almost enough to push me over the edge. I need him inside me. He sees my pleading look and knows exactly what I want. He growls another curse, and with his hand fisted tightly in my hair, he hauls me to my feet and crushes his mouth to mine. His kiss is aggressive, and I love it. It’s like throwing fuel on a fire that’s already burning out of control. He abruptly breaks away and turns me toward the bed, marching me to the edge.
“We’ll see who comes first,” he whispers behind me, then yanks my top off and grabs my breast, trapping my nipple between his fingers and squeezing until I gasp from the electrical zing shooting between my legs. He grips the back of my neck and bends me over the mattress. Holding me down, he yanks my shorts to my ankles and wedges his foot between mine, knocking my feet apart.
This rough, dominant side of him thrills me, heightening my senses and stoking my need. “Fuck, I love this ass,” he growls, and I let out a startled yelp when his palm unexpectedly connects with one of my cheeks.
The sting is sharp, the burn intense as his hand massages the pain away. I’ve never been spanked before, but I feel kind of dirty because I like it. I want him to do it again. I lean back into his hand and exhale a soft moan. His hand gripping the back of my neck holds me down; my heart races with anticipation of what he’ll do next. His fingertips flex, digging into my fleshy bottom.
“You like that,” he chuckles, his voice a deep, throaty rasp full of satisfaction. He doesn’t wait for me to confirm or deny before his open palm connects with my bottom again. I don’t yelp this time—it’s all breathy groan as that big palm caresses my sensitive backside before slipping between my legs.
“You’re so wet,” he croons, his fingers deftly parting my folds and circling my desire around my clit. He presses firmly as he works his finger over my bundle of nerves until a shiver shudders through my core. I can’t hold back my whimper. I’m going to come, to shamelessly orgasm, and he isn’t even inside me yet.
“Please,” I beg.
“Please what? I want to hear you say it, Mia.”
I’m not a dirty talker, but the filthy things he says turns me on. He’s probably just as aural as I am. “Fuck me. I want you to fuck me, Brody.”
He leans over me, chest pressing against my back as he whispers near my ear, “You know this ass is going to be mine soon.”
It takes my lust-drunk mind a moment to comprehend what he’s saying, to understand what he wants to do to me. I’m partially shocked and a little curious. Is there any part of myself I’d hold back from him? He’s never done anything to me before that I haven’t enjoyed. Could I trust him with that? “Okay,” I pant, desperate for release.
The hand he’s got between my legs stills, as if he can’t believe I said yes. “Fuck me,” he groans. His fingers dip inside me, playing, pumping, driving my need higher as he collects my arousal and then slowly slides that wetness between my cheeks. I flinch when he touches that part of me. It’s secret, forbidden, and yet intimate in an entirely different way.
He kisses my neck, my shoulder, whispering sweet words of praise as he takes his time desensitizing me to his presence. His erection slips between my slick, sensitive folds, filling where I ache for him the most as his thumb gently presses inside the place I never expected to feel a man’s touch. The invasion is a unique sensation. It’s not painful, not unpleasant, but oddly filling.
The pleasure doesn’t come until he starts to move. Slow at first, he begins to fuck me, his grip on me invading and intimate, fingers splayed across my ass, tips biting into my cheeks. The added pressure is a new sensation down there and makes everything he’s doing so much more intense. Every thrust sets off little explosions of pleasure that keep building inside me. It’s so powerful, I’m coming apart in the sweetest way. He moves his thumb, pressing in deeper, caressing his shaft in a way that strokes my channel, and I’m lost.
My orgasm tears through me in euphoric waves, and I t
urn my face into the mattress to muffle my scream as the intensity of it overwhelms me. His fingers slide down, rubbing over my clit and drawing out my release as a rush of heat fills me. He comes hard with a groan that sounds more like a curse and presses his lips between my shoulder blades, kissing his way down my spine. His teeth graze the top of my ass and he nips me just hard enough to leave a mark, making me gasp.
“I thought—I thought you were going to—” I let my voice trail off, too embarrassed to say it. I’m still caught up in the ecstasy he’s given me.
Brody chuckles; that deep, throaty sound rolls through me. “You thought what?” he teases. “That I was going to fuck you in the ass? Sweetheart, this beautiful bottom deserves more than a quickie. But I got you thinking about it, didn’t I?” He gives my ass one last slap, then hikes up his shorts.
Thinking about it, indeed. He tantalized me with the secret pleasure, and now he’s leaving? Brody kneels in front of me and presses a kiss just above my neatly trimmed thatch of curls and then pulls my shorts back up, helping to put me back to rights. Snagging my top off the floor, he stands and hands it to me, then drops a kiss on my mouth.
“Best five-grand I’ve ever spent.”
“You’re kidding me. That’s how much they’re going to fine you for being late?” The teams are strict, but come on.
“You’re worth every penny.” He gives me a parting kiss and then heads out the door.
…
Brody
“Evans, you’re late.” Coach barks down the hall. “That’s gonna cost you. Better have been worth it.”
I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face. Shaking my head, I chuckle. If he only knew.
“Step into my office before you hit the gym.”
I was hoping to get in an hour of lifting before we start studying plays, but Coach has other plans. I take the detour into his office and drop into the chair across from his desk.
“You want the good news or the bad news first?”
“Bad,” I tell him. “That way I’ll have something to look forward to.”
He doesn’t respond right away, which makes me wonder—how fucking bad is it?
“ESN wants an interview with you.”
“And you told them to go fuck themselves, right?” I cross my arms over my chest and stare Coach down, daring him to tell me otherwise. No fucking way is he going to ask me to do an interview with NFL LIVE. I don’t give a shit if their show is the highest-rated, most-watched sports program in the nation. They’ve exploited my tragedy, smeared my name, tarnished my reputation, and I’ll be damned if I’ll let them use me to boost their ratings.
“It wasn’t up to me. If it was, then hell yes, I would have told them to fuck off. They contacted Collin. The deal was made, and the interview was scheduled before I knew anything about it.”
“That’s fucking bullshit.”
“I’m sorry, Brody, but there’s nothing I can do. Interviews are a part of your contract—”
“That was before my life became a goddamn soap opera.”
“Fair enough, but that doesn’t change the fact that this is happening, and Collin is going to want to meet with you to prep.”
There’s nothing Coach can do, but he’s willing to weather my wrath, and that is one of the many reasons I admire this guy.
“Are you ready for the good news?”
I lean forward, bracing my forearms on my thighs. “Yeah…and it better be awesome.” I grumble, channeling my inner petulant child. I doubt there’s anything he can tell me right now that would turn my shitty mood around.
“I got Williams traded to the Chargers.”
My gaze snaps up and locks on Coach. This man rarely smiles, and right now, he’s grinning at me like the cat that ate the goddamn canary. He fucking did it. A mid-season trade—that’s nearly unheard of.
“It had to happen. I’ve wanted that fucker gone since the night of the accident. Would have done it sooner, but my hands were tied. No one would touch him while he was healing from an injury.”
I’ve never heard Coach speak so frankly about another player before.
“You gonna tell me who that woman was wearing your jersey at the Patriots game, or are you just going to leave me in suspense?”
I start to give him the same rhetoric I do everyone else who asks about Amelia, but the lie sticks in my throat. “She’s…ah—” I scrub my hand over the back of my neck, suddenly fidgety as fuck. “She’s a woman I’m seeing.”
Coach steeples his fingers, his expression unchanged as he eyes me across his desk. “That so? Just some woman?”
He knows more than he’s letting on, and I see Penner all over this. Payback’s a bitch. “She’s Lily’s nanny, all right? I’m screwing my daughter’s nanny.” Yeah, I could have said that with a bit more tact, but I’m not comfortable having this conversation.
Coach cracks a grin and nods his approval. “‘Bout time you got back on the proverbial horse, son. You like her?”
I consider his question. Talking about my feelings doesn’t come easy, but this is Coach. The man has seen me at my lowest and supported me when I made the unpopular decision that arguably cost the team a shot at the Super Bowl. “Yeah, it’s still new but—I like her. I like her a lot.”
“Excellent. I can’t wait to meet her.”
Wait. What?
“Bring her to the charity auction. Better yet, dinner. My place. Tomorrow night. I’ll have Mary make something special.”
Before I can respond, Coach comes around the desk and offers me his hand. When I take it, he yanks me into a back-slapping hug. “It’s settled, then. I’m looking forward to meeting her.”
Awesome. I haven’t even officially taken Amelia on a date yet. What’s she going to think about accompanying me to Coach’s for dinner? No pressure there. Nope. None at all.
I turn to leave and am almost out the door when Coach stops me.
“Oh—and set up a time to meet with Collin.”
Chapter Eighteen
Amelia
Got out of practice early. Where are my girls? Let’s go out for pizza.
His girls. My heart melts when I read Brody’s text.
Pizza sounds great. At the park. Lily and Maddie are playing.
They don’t have playdates on Thursday.
Not usually. Brad had a fire call and no one to watch Maddie, so I offered to help, but then it got cancelled.
Three floating bubbles pop up on the screen, then disappear. They pop up again. Gone. Several minutes pass, and I try to pay attention to what Brad is telling me while I wait for Brody’s response.
“How about you?”
“What about me?” I glance up from my cell and stuff it in my purse, not wanting to be rude.
“Hiking,” he laughs. “I’m on call this weekend, but I was thinking maybe next Saturday I’d take the girls. Do you want to come with us?”
I can’t recall Brody’s schedule off the top of my head. If he has an away game, he’ll be flying out early. I guess I probably could go… Before I can respond, a black Range Rover pulls up and parks behind my Bug. My heart does a little flip and then beats faster. “Excuse me a minute,” I tell Brad, getting up to meet Brody.
His long legs eat up the distance between us as I weave through the playground equipment. I give him a little wave, and he smiles, that dimple waking the butterflies in my stomach.
“Hi, Daddy,” Lily calls from the top of the monkey bars and waves furiously for his attention.
“Hey, Lily pad. Be careful up there.”
I meet Brody where the grass ends and the sand begins. “Hey, you didn’t text me back.”
He shrugs, a negligent lift of his wide, muscular shoulders. “I was in the area. Thought I’d sit with you a while.” His gaze flickers past me to Brad. “You know, if you and I are going to do this, you’re going to have to quit dating Great Value Channing Tatum over there.”
I shoot a quick glance over my shoulder to make sure Brad hasn’
t heard us and accidentally make eye contact with him.
“Shh—keep your voice down,” I hiss under my breath. “I already told you, I’m not dating Brad.”
His brows rise to challenge my claim, lips curling into a grin, but it doesn’t meet his eyes. He’s jealous. And I like it. I know, it’s terrible, but if feels good to be wanted.
“Oh yeah? He divorced?”
“Yes. You know that. It proves nothing.”
“How many kids does he have?”
“Just Maddie.”
“What does he like to do for fun?”
“Mountain biking, kayaking, hiking, and rock climbing. He’s taking the girls hiking next Saturday and—” I almost start to tell Brody that he invited me to go with them then clap my hand over my mouth. “Oh my God, you’re right,” I yell-whisper. “I’m on a date with this guy.”
Brody laughs and gives me a grin that says I told you so. “Welcome to the world of single-parent dating, also known as ‘playdates.’” He air-quotes the last words. “It used to happen to me all the time. Took a month before I realized I was dating Evie Erickson’s mom.”
I start laughing. “You’re joking.”
“I wish I was. Don’t worry, babe. You and Brad are about to break up.”
Before I realize what Brody’s doing, he steps closer, slips his hand behind my neck, and dips his head, crushing his mouth against mine. The kiss is possessive and demanding and far too hot for public viewing. I’m a little embarrassed because I have no doubt we’re going to become the talk of the playground.
Everyone will be gossiping about how Lily’s nanny made out with her dad in front of everyone. I can’t believe Brody doesn’t care he’s causing a scene, especially considering how private he is. I can feel Brad’s eyes on me. I can feel everyone’s eyes on me—including Lily’s. Had I any doubt, her excited squeal from the top of the jungle gym confirms it.
“Daddy and Mia sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”
Our kiss is interrupted by Brody’s laughter, and it tastes so freaking good.
The Nanny Rules Page 12
