Touchdowns and Tiaras: The Complete Boxed Set

by Frost, Sosie

  They looked at me.

  Damn it, was it my turn? I froze. I hadn’t gossiped since med school, and even that was about a sexy patient suffering from an intracranial aneurysm.

  Fortunately, Leah painted the picture for me. “Let me guess—it just happened one day?”

  Close enough. “Yep.”

  “Taking that leap must have been hard. I mean, you knew him since you were kids.”

  “The leap wasn’t the only thing that was hard.” I earned a laugh. So far so good. “It was just passionate.”

  “It’d have to be.” Leah sighed. “Romantic too. No words. No over-thinking it. No hesitations. Just going for it.”

  If only.

  “It’s…scary,” I said. So was honesty. “We had a really great relationship, but he had no idea I’d loved him for years. I never said anything either. Jude was practically a part of my family, and I depended on him for so much. We’d built a friendship based on trust and respect, and I’m afraid—I was afraid—that we’d destroy this amazing bond if we went for it.”

  “But you were brave enough to do it,” Elle said.

  The pretend Rory was.

  The real Rory? She was a coward, spinning lies upon lies. Every day the relationship tangled in yet another series of fibs and half-truths.

  But the greatest lie of all?

  My feelings for Jude.

  I had to do something. No more embarrassment. No more awkwardness.

  It was time to fix what I had broken—if not his nose then the damage I’d caused to our friendship.

  I worked late, but I made it home before dinner. Phillip met me at the door with one of the last lampshades in the house. Jude must have headed straight for the shower when he got back. I traded our decor for a cup of kibbles in Phillip’s bowl and waited for Jude in his bedroom.

  The master bedroom was a bastion of masculinity. The stark white walls were framed by large windows, tinted for his privacy. The minimalist décor suited him. Jude wasn’t a materialistic man, and only his king-sized bed seemed vulgar in its extravagance.

  I sat on the edge of the bed. This was not a productive place for me, not with second trimester whormones swirling inside me.

  This was it. I’d tell him everything. I’d apologize for hiding from this confrontation, and I’d tell him the truth.

  I loved him, and every moment I spent near him tortured me with memories of his touches and kisses and that night when he’d nearly destroyed me with pleasure…and I’d thanked him with a broken nose.

  But he hadn’t cared. He’d forgiven me. Immediately.

  And the words he’d whisper still resonated so deep inside me.

  You’re worth it.

  Why was everything so complicated? Every little flirt promised something more. Every touch sizzled. Every smile hid the truth.

  When Jude had nearly taken me upon the couch, I knew he wanted me as much as I had wanted him.

  So why not do it?

  The thought was…terrifying.

  And liberating.

  And wrong.

  But why not take that chance? Make the mistake. Take what we both wanted.

  It wasn’t like our relationship would get any worse.

  What if we made it into something…better?

  I stood, pushing open his bathroom door. A sliver of light appeared. Once I stepped inside, there was no coming back.

  It was the bravest thing I had done in five months.

  His bathroom was a tiled masterpiece of imported marble and luxury. Steam rolled from the shower, fogging the oversized mirror and double sinks. Jude usually liked to soak in the Jacuzzi tub after practices to soothe his aching joints, but today he relaxed under the stream. I couldn’t blame him. The huge stall came equipped with a dozen different shower heads and settings, each offering a delightful massage inside the curved, stone walls. Soft lighting diffused through the mist, and the patter of the rainshower head was muffled as the droplets struck his body.

  This was foolish.

  Risky and stupid.

  I tugged my shirt off and stepped out of my skirt. My bra and panties fell next.

  Why hide from my desires anymore? Why avoid a chance to feel something magical?

  Why not experience the Jude Owens from my fantasies before the baby came and…

  Our fairy tale was over?

  “Rory?” Jude called. “Everything okay?”

  Yes.

  No.

  I had no idea if it ever would be again.

  I held my breath and stepped into the shower.

  Jude turned. His voice dropped to a low rumble. “Oh.”

  “Hi,” I whispered.

  “Hi.”

  I ducked under the water—naked, breathless, untangling knot after knot in my stomach.

  No more talking. No more questions.

  No more worrying about the future or the past or anything beyond what we felt in this moment.

  I stared into the silvered heat of his eyes. Jude didn’t move. The water trickled over his shoulders and back, dripping on the rough tribal tattoos spanning his left arm—a cover for the surgical scar from when he’d torn his rotator cuff. The scar, the ink, the muscles bred power. Raw and strong.

  Intimidating.

  I stood on the tips of my toes to press against his body. My swelling tummy bumped against the rigid tightness of his abs. It was wrong to do this, to want him, while I carried another man’s baby, but I ignored the implications and consequences.

  I waited for a kiss.

  And one terrifying moment passed as Jude hesitated. My heart pounded, suffocating me with the sudden and terrible fear of rejection, humiliation, foolishness—

  But his hand brushed my cheek.

  And his lips lowered to mine.

  And I was his.

  I melded into his body, gripping his shoulders, the fierce knot of muscles and strength that forged this perfect man. The bruises and abrasions from the games were fiercer than his tattoo. Proof of his strength. A living, breathing, healing testament to the sacrifices he made to the sport and his teammates.

  I nibbled his lip before pulling back. The heat wove over me, trapping me in a cocoon of my own desire. Jude’s body rippled with strength and masculinity. I’d never before let my gaze drift where only my mind had wandered. I vowed to memorize every inch of him.

  I didn’t know when I’d have this chance again.

  I followed a single droplet of water as it crested from his shoulders. It rolled over the hardened, tensed flesh of his chest, dipping low into the valleys created from the pack of flexing muscles. His abs and core narrowed into a trim waist, but he wasn’t a small man. Lean, but impressively strong. Every inch of him throbbed with power.

  Including the part of him straining against his own desire.

  His thick cock jetted out. Straight and humbling, his flesh didn’t curve or bend. It pointed, aimed for me, dripping with the striking droplets of the shower. He didn’t touch it, though the heated shaft struck against me as I reached for another kiss.

  This man was perfect.

  Just as I had imagined.

  Fierce and strong, stacked with muscles, and even hiding a tinge of gray in the trail of hair leading from his navel. Jude had no physical imperfections. Only daunting strength. A curious smirk. Roaming hands.

  He kissed me again. My groan excited him. He twisted me, plunging me under the water and against the wall.

  So much for slow. We were beyond timid exploration.

  I hadn’t wanted to make love—nothing could make me fall harder for him than I already had.

  We touched. We kissed. We groaned within the comfort of each other’s lips as desire tangled us tighter than our embrace.

  This wasn’t passion—it was freedom. Permission. A moment of weakness that hid us from our own thoughts and fears and regrets.

  We weren’t wasting this mistake.

  His kiss broke so he could savor my neck. A quick bite made me gasp. A second nearly pudd
led me in the heat of the shower. Our bodies collided, and my swollen breasts pressed against his chest. I wiggled against him, striking my pebbled nipples against his hard muscle.

  The sensation rocked me—far better than any imagined touch in the darkest of nights and most fantastic of fantasies.

  My hands tickled down. Jude watched me. His eyes narrowed with an intensity I hardly recognized. My dark fingers contrasted with his pale skin, but something about the blending seemed so perfect.

  My trembling was hardly seductive, but the brush of my hand shocked him. The closer I grazed to his cock, the harder it twitched.

  I reached for him just as he kissed me, and my fingers curled over his hardened shaft. I took the chance to steal a deeper kiss as my tongue flicked over his.

  I squeezed.

  God, he was big. Far bigger than anyone I had been with before, including the fateful night when my life had dramatically changed. Jude’s cock hardened in my hand, but the skin stayed soft, velvety. His growl centered deep in my tummy.

  I couldn’t believe I was doing this.

  I couldn’t believe I hadn’t done it before.

  The moment wasn’t mine to take, but I stole it anyway. I had to experience it. To feel him. Taste him. I’d thought the single orgasm he’d given me would be enough to sate my desires.

  God, was I wrong.

  Nothing would ease that crackling, burning, ache inside me…except for him.

  Jude shook his head when I lowered to my knees, but his protests silenced as I knelt before his cock. I couldn’t imagine how I looked. Breasts full and swollen, tummy showing with a baby bump. The water drenched me in heat, and yet I shivered before him.

  I had to prove to him how I felt, even if I never had the courage to say it.

  I held him tight, stroking the long shaft. Jude groaned as I kissed the very tip. If he was impressed by my bravery, it was nothing compared to the surge of confidence—or insanity—created by my desire. I parted my lips and welcomed him into my mouth.

  There was no coming back from this. No retreating. No giggles and awkward glances after one friend decided to help another.

  This was real.

  And it was the least I could do for him, especially after he took me in, especially when his offered pleasure had ended a broken nose.

  The salty heat of his cock nearly suffocated me.

  I licked against the soft underside of his cock, teasing the head. Jude’s growl echoed against the shower, and he tangled his fingers in my hair. One stroke was all it took before he tensed and murmured a profanity. I sucked harder, quicker. He liked that. Jude slammed his hands against the wall and purred my name.

  I was pinned, but still free. He leaned over me, his thick arms bracing the wall, offering more of his cock for my mouth. I’d take as much as he wanted.

  I forgot to breathe. To think. To swallow. Every bob of my head focused on him and him alone.

  As if I had any practice at this. As if I knew what I was doing.

  But it wasn’t hard to learn what he preferred. I strained to hear his muffled grunts and studied the tensing of his legs. He liked when I took his cock deep, and so I perfected it. I learned it right then and there. I’d give this man exactly what he wanted.

  Because he was everything I had ever wanted.

  “Fuck…”

  I loved Jude’s groan, but he pulled back before I could cause it once more. He grabbed my arms and hoisted me to my feet. His thick cock poked my tummy. We both liked that. I held him tight, parting my lips.

  This wouldn’t end with a kiss.

  His eyes brightened—the strike of steel against steel and a flash of warning sparks. His hand traced over my breasts, along my hips, to my slit.

  Wet.

  I was ready. I had been ready for so long. Just for him.

  And now he knew it.

  I don’t know if I turned first, or if he guided me to the wall. Within moments, I faced the tile and shuddered as he crept behind me. Our hips touched, and his fingers wove under my breasts. He held me still with a tease. His free hand traced a path to my waiting slit.

  He flicked over my clit.

  Once. Twice.

  It was safer than using his tongue, but he tightened his grip just in case I lurched, twitched, or tried to get away.

  I wasn’t going to escape.

  Not when I finally got this close.

  “Please…”

  My words might have mewed in silence, but Jude hardened more as my hips rubbed against him. I held my breath.

  The head of his cock glided across the softness of my slit. I hadn’t imagined he’d be so hot, so big, so overwhelming. I leaned against the wall and offered all of me.

  And nothing in this world had ever felt as perfect as the instant our hips met.

  Perfect height. Perfect angle. Perfect us.

  I didn’t have a chance to think or question or fear any part of the mistake.

  His cock thrust hard against my entrance. My heat welcomed him deep.

  And I exposed every secret feeling I’d once hid.

  It freed me.

  I held my breath as he slid inside, fearing if I moved or breathed or even moaned, the moment would end and the most amazing sensations of my life would be lost to a fading memory.

  But it didn’t end. It only got better.

  I stretched over his bare length. It was the first time I had ever taken a man without any protection—even when I’d gotten pregnant. Every inch of him burned with a raw, throbbing heat, and the thick veins and smoothed skin delighted me with an amazing fullness.

  Everything changed.

  My fears—gone.

  My hesitations—vanished.

  My body—his.

  I lived this moment in pure fantasy a hundred times, but the reality felt more like a dream. The pleasure rolled through me, blending with the pump of his hips and the heated water that rained over us. The steaming shower protected our shuddering bodies from the cold, the unknown, the isolation that was every minute we had ever lived apart from each other.

  I gasped with every thrust, even the smallest of movements an absolute crush of excitement and danger and lust. The water soothed my fraying nerves, and Jude possessed the rest. He held me tight, and his cock overwhelmed me with fullness.

  How had I ever gone so long without his touch?

  His embrace possessed my body, pleasure, and soul. He thrust completely within me, his hand snaking beneath my hips to flick my clit once more. I groaned his name.

  It was lucky that was all I revealed.

  “Again.” He whispered. “Again.”

  I’d never stop saying his name. Never stop trembling. Never stop drowning while standing, suffocating while moaning, and aching while he sliced through me with the most delirious pleasure.

  This was what sex should have been. A loving, tender, passionate moment of trust. His gentle thrusts quickened, and I pushed against him as every slam teased me with a mounting peak.

  I’d never been taken with such force, such determination before, such…

  Comfort?

  Security?

  Desire?

  The feelings I had for Jude were no mere infatuation, and I knew the disaster that this could bring. But even if I was left ruined, even if this mistake crushed me and rendered me heart-broken, this moment was ours. This connection, our bond, fueled every thrust and delighted us both with cresting desperation.

  And he must have felt it too. He must have known.

  Jude gripped my hips and pulled me closer. I clutched at the stone wall, my groans turning to whimpers as the slam of his cock filled me beyond fullness. The strike of the water punished and caressed. I panted a breath, and the first trembles of my core struck everything inside me.

  Too fast. Too intense.

  Jude’s movements rocked harder, but his growled words weren’t meant for me. He held me, took me, fucked me, and every movement connected us in shared passion. The overwhelming power of his cock cripp
led me from the inside, and I cried his name.

  His hands slipped. One fell to my hip.

  The other caressed my bump.

  And I was lost.

  The swell of his cock blended with my own orgasm. He pumped hard, and I clenched over him, falling against his protective chest as my mind blinked, my legs weakened, and my body broke with the forbidden and perfect pleasure.

  Nothing prepared me for the blitz of heat that Jude drove within my core. The jet of his seed coated me from the inside. A moment of shocked pleasure stole my voice.

  No one had ever come inside me before.

  This was how my baby should have been made. Not in a rushed minute of nervous sex with a man who fumbled through to his own needs. I wished I had been in the arms of a man who’d cared for me, desired me, and delivered me to a moment of perfection that only he could create.

  Jude shuddered, but he hadn’t pulled from me. I fought instinct and desire and every weepy feeling that demanded I explain and share and reveal everything to him.

  But I couldn’t risk anything more. Not now. Not after crossing the line so far I tripped right into his arms.

  I bit my lip to hide my pleased moan. His cock stayed hard, and my core punished me with emptiness. I edged away, attempting to escape from the shower.

  I didn’t get far.

  Jude’s words rasped with heavy desire. “Where are you going?”

  He grabbed me. I gasped as my back struck the shower wall once more, but he crashed over me—holding me, touching me, drifting to my slit to feel the mess that he had made.

  Or had I made this mess?

  If it was even a mess.

  “Don’t leave,” he whispered. “Don’t go.”

  He didn’t have to ask. It wasn’t this mistake that worried me.

  The only thing I feared was losing him.

  But first I’d have to escape his arms.

  And I didn’t leave his bed all night.

  13

  Jude

  I hadn’t slept. I passed out.

  And I woke a very happy man.

  A sweaty, sticky, shamefully erect man, but that was the way nature intended. At least if my head had finally cracked and I lost my mind, I could rely on primal instinct to satisfy the woman resting next to me in bed.