Touchdowns and Tiaras: The Complete Boxed Set

by Frost, Sosie

  Naked.

  Rory was naked in my bed.

  And she dripped everything sexy and vulgar that either made me hard as a rock or dumb as a bag of them.

  I had no idea how it happened. Why it happened.

  But fuck, I was glad it did.

  I never realized how lonely it was, waking up day after day with only Phillip to greet me. Of course, after today, after watching Rory sleep with her beautiful ebony skin contrasting the cream sheets, her lips parted in a gentle sigh, and her eyes peacefully shut, I’d never want another woman in my bed.

  No one would ever look as lovely. No one would ever please me as much.

  And that was a problem.

  Under the sheets slept an amazing, gorgeous, unbelievable woman…and the blankets hid a bump that swelled a little more each day. It made her all the more irresistible now, but that desire was dangerous for both of us.

  She had wanted me, and I lusted for her. Once she woke, I had no idea what she’d expect.

  I hoped it was breakfast. In bed. Tangled in my sheets for another few hours.

  The room was yet dark, kept in perpetual night with the aid of miracle blackout curtains. They spared my headaches and granted me extra time with Rory. Worth the investment.

  My cock twitched. I nestled against the curve of her ass and brushed a finger over her bare shoulder.

  What sort of magic or fairy godmother did I need to remember this feeling? A camera couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t capture the peace I found in her embrace.

  Christ, I hated myself. Not because I had slept with a friend and spent the night buried within a vulnerable woman, but because I knew how fragile my memories were.

  What would happen first? Would we regret this night…or would the feelings, desires, and pleasures fade from my mind?

  Rory shifted, and her happy sigh teased me like music. She stretched, though one hand cautiously protected her little Genie.

  What had I done to deserve this perfect woman in my bed?

  And how the hell did I get her to stay?

  I kissed her shoulder and grinned. “You realize what you’ve done right?”

  She tensed, her eyes opening only for her eyebrows to furrow with worry. “I know. It’s bad.”

  “I don’t know what came over us.”

  “Jude—”

  “But you can bet I’m gonna sit my ass in the shower every night, hoping you’ll join me again.”

  Rory relaxed. “So I wasn’t imposing?”

  “Consider the trespass forgiven.” I had to know. “Any reason you decided to make me the luckiest man in the world?”

  She didn’t squirm. Didn’t shy away. Didn’t avert her gaze. “I wanted you.”

  “Second trimester?”

  “No…I just wanted a night with you.”

  “Only one night?”

  Rory bit her lip, but her eyes widened as she searched the darkened windows, hidden by the thick curtains.

  “Oh no, what time is it?”

  Hell, after a night like that, I’d be lucky if I remembered my name or what day it was. I reached for my phone, but Rory already slipped from the bed. She ripped the sheet away to cover herself, but I kept a tight ship and a neater bed. The blanket bounced back to the bed. Rory bounced with it.

  I couldn’t laugh. Without the sheet, she bolted for the only covering she could find.

  My curtains.

  The burst of vibrant white-hot morning light seared through my skull.

  Rory gasped. “Oh my God. It’s nine o’clock.”

  And a Tuesday. My day off. Nine was nothing when I needed to heal. Or recover from the best night of sex I’d ever had. Tuesdays were sacrosanct. The league-wide day off. A time to rest. Recover.

  Seduce the beautiful woman frantically searching for her clothes in my bathroom.

  “We have to go in twenty minutes! Can I use your shower?”

  Strange thing to ask someone who had just been fucked every way but sideways in it. “Sure…what are you doing?”

  “The doctor’s appointment. Get ready!”

  Doctor’s appointment? I rubbed my face. The brightness clawing through the windows slowly melted my brain.

  I had no idea what she was talking about.

  I squinted at my phone.

  Nothing. Did I forget to enter a reminder? Damn it. And after a perfect night with Rory?

  I didn’t finally sleep with her to piss her off the morning after. I’d fake it.

  “Don’t worry.” I said. “I’m up.”

  She shouted over the streaming water, but even it couldn’t hide the tremor in her voice. “You’re still taking me, right?”

  It sounded like something I’d promise to do. “Of course.”

  Besides, I wasn’t letting her get away. The last time I had that pussy, she’d broken my nose and hid for a week. This time, we had a great night, and she broke my mind.

  I just needed coffee. My body wasn’t moving right after a night of endless passion, and my head usually took an hour or two to warm up. I rolled from the mattress and regretted it.

  Damn. Thirty-three years old and I couldn’t handle all-nighters anymore. My knees ached. Back hurt. Head throbbed. Hands cramped.

  Sleep repaired a body battered on the field. Caffeine masked the pain.

  Phillip waited by his dish. He somehow managed a severely judgmental look, despite the multitude of cute spots that patterned over his eyes and muzzle.

  “I know,” I said. He lifted his head, but his tail didn’t wag. I deserved that. “I know what you’re thinking.”

  He grumbled.

  “I haven’t had my mind blown like that since Cole Hawthorne dropped me on my head. Whatever it was, it wasn’t a mistake.”

  Phillip padded to his plastic kibble container—an eyesore, but it was visible and less likely for me to forget. He waited while I scooped a healthy cup into his bowl. No lamps were harmed in the making of this breakfast, but it hadn’t been on time. I tossed a decimated toilet paper roll into the garbage. Ripped right off the holder from the guest bathroom.

  Great. Phillip had learned how to open doors while I slept.

  “I should teach you something useful,” I said. “Like how to make coffee.”

  He had no interest in such things.

  I popped the grounds into the machine and poured in the water. Phillip whined, but I left him to go brush my teeth. Rory occupied my bathroom, but I had my travel bag packed for the away games. I rooted through and found my kit. Toothbrush. Razor. Aftershave.

  Spare pain-killers. Icy Hot. Disposable ice packs.

  I washed my face and blinked against the cold water. That helped wake me up. I smeared a line of toothpaste on my toothbrush and gnawed on the end while I took inventory of what ached this morning.

  Shoulders, knees, back, calves, hands.

  Everything but my cock. That was mighty pleased.

  I lathered a dollop of Icy Hot onto my hands and smeared it into my lower back. Phillip yipped, sniffing my hand. I brushed him away, but I should have listened to the damn dog.

  The patch of Icy Hot on my back didn’t get hot. My mouth sure as hell did.

  The lotion skipped the icy and burned, like I woke up just to deep throat a ghost pepper. I spat it out, but the Icy Hot foamed in my mouth, fizzled in my throat, and choked me on bubbles of liquid fire. The paste dissolved into every corner of my mouth, went icy to dull the pain, then hot to destroy me from within. Nothing like a hell-spawn’s cinnamon jizz to brighten my smile.

  Fuck. If I had that in my mouth…

  I reached around. Yeah. Colgate on my ass.

  At least part of me would be minty fresh for Rory.

  My eyes watered. I flushed my mouth as best I could, but a quick check of the poison control center website was part of my morning routine now. If it wasn’t Icy Hot on my tooth brush, it was shaving cream or cortisone lotion or hair gel. My brain was misfiring too damn often. I’d toss a full bottle of soda in the garbage and return to t
he living room with the empty. I’d hand cashiers the rest of the money in my hand instead of taking the change. I’d forget when a play was run to the right or left.

  I wasn’t hurt, and it wasn’t brain damage. I just had no focus. After the injury, even the simplest tasks required more concentration to do right. It took discipline. A set schedule. A solid routine and daily expectations.

  Sleeping with one of my best friends was not a key to my recovery.

  I showered off the toothpaste in the guest bath so Rory could have a couple moments of privacy.

  And so she wouldn’t realize how fucked up my head had gotten.

  The time apart was good. It gave me a chance to think. Away from her scent. Her warmth. The memory of her panted breaths, whispered words, and whimpered pleasure.

  No matter how beautiful she was, no matter how great the night, I couldn’t take advantage of a friend in need. She came to me once. I wasn’t going to ask for another gift like last night.

  Not unless she asked me first.

  Rory rushed to get dressed and dried her hair. She made a pony tail and met me at the door, gnawing at her lip as I grabbed the keys.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Any man, even those cleared of head injuries, would have been cautious with his response. “For what?”

  Her eyes darted away, the dark mystery a puzzle for another day. She looked towards my bedroom.

  “For this,” she said.

  “No problem, doc.”

  She followed me to the elevator, her voice low. “It’s a little…scary.”

  I tensed. “What’s so scary?”

  “I know what can go wrong.”

  I didn’t know what we were talking about, but it didn’t matter. “Nothing will go wrong as long as I’m here. Got me?”

  “I just always get nervous to hear the heartbeat. I can’t imagine what we’re gonna see.”

  Heartbeat?

  The memory faded back in.

  Her sonogram.

  How the hell did I forget something so important?

  I took her hand, holding it until I had to let her go to get into the Jeep. “Nothing is wrong. You’re doing great. Everyone is perfectly healthy.”

  She rubbed her tummy as I started the Jeep and pulled from the garage. Her hand fit over the tiny bump, and it rested there for most of the ride.

  “What are you wishing for now?” I asked.

  “What?”

  “You’re rubbing the lamp again,” I said. “First wish was to keep your fellowship. That came true. What’s the next wish?”

  She looked away, a sweet, shy smile tracing her features. “I can’t say.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it already came true.”

  “What did?”

  “Last night.”

  This woman would be the death of me.

  “Those are some powerful wishes,” I said. “Better be careful.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I might make one too.”

  “You won’t have to.”

  “Why not?”

  Rory curled her hand in mine. “I don’t think my wish is over yet.”

  I liked hearing it, but this wasn’t right. I wanted Rory, but the baby, her family, Eric’s reaction, and my feelings made everything harder than it had to be. She was beautiful. Sweet. Such a perfect companion that ever minute she shared with me in my home only made me realize how lonely I’d become.

  I didn’t think our pretend arrangement would get this out of control. The riskier it became, the simpler the solution—stay away.

  But it’d be easier to walk away from football than Rory.

  Rory’s appointment was in the clinic attached to the hospital. We waited a few minutes before the nurse called her back.

  She stood. I didn’t.

  And her eyes widened with a hint of fear.

  Who could leave her in a time like this?

  “Want me there?” I asked.

  “Only if you want to.”

  That wasn’t the answer I wanted, but I knew what I had to do. I took her hand. “Lead the way.”

  And that’s when my day went from great to fucking weird.

  I’d woken up next to a naked woman, but the examination room had more vaginas than a strip club after a playoff victory.

  Some were dissected. Some models. Some were pushing things out that didn’t seem physically possible.

  This wasn’t a miracle of life—it was a freak show that made Alien look like a documentary.

  “What’s the matter?” Rory folded and unfolded her hands over her bump. “Uncomfortable?”

  “No. This is…beautiful.”

  Did that mannequin’s pussy have real hair? What kind of Stephen King mutant bullshit where they hiding in these offices?

  “You look uncomfortable,” Rory said.

  “No, I’m just…not used to all these…” I didn’t mean to smack the wayward mannequin’s cut-away breasts. “Glands.”

  “I really appreciate you waiting with me.”

  “And I’ll thank you to never, ever tell me exactly what is happening…” I pointed to the plastic mold of ovaries or tentacles or something equally horrifying. “Inside there. Let me think pregnancy is gumdrops and fairies and storks.”

  “It’s more mucus, fluids, and smooshed organs.”

  “That’s…” I shuddered. “Fantastic.”

  Rory’s mood swung the wrong way. Her lip trembled. “I’m sorry if my insides are freaking you out…”

  “No.” I answered quickly. “No, no. Your insides are amazing.”

  “Really?”

  “They should be making the models out of you.”

  “That’s so sweet.”

  Was it?

  Crisis averted, but I was still on high alert. Doctors’ offices made me nervous enough. At least my specialists never came at me with stirrups, a moving table, and sterilized artifacts waiting for a procedure that looked a hell of a lot more invasive than memorization puzzles and balance checks.

  Everything was so sterile. I felt like a big blundering ball of dirt and grass barging into such a quiet place.

  Rory watched with a raised eyebrow as I reached for the hand sanitizer. “Jude, what are you—”

  “Just trying to clean up.”

  “But that’s—”

  The gel squirted like hand sanitizer, but it slipped like a girl after three drinks and a peek at my jersey. She snorted.

  “That would be lube,” Rory said.

  “Thanks, Doc.” I rubbed my hands. “This stuff doesn’t come off.”

  “Kinda the point…”

  I didn’t make it to the sink. The door opened, and a sprite of a doctor waltzed in, arms a-flutter with a smile that practically spat sunshine. She was greying, but that didn’t slow her down.

  “Rory Merriweather.” She gasped and danced to me. “And this must be Daddy! Finally, I get a good look at you.”

  “I—”

  We hadn’t discussed if we were pretending to be a couple with the doctors too. Rory’s eyes went wide, but she spoke quick.

  “Jude, this is Doctor Fawna. She’s friends with my step-mother…”

  I reflexively extended my hand but pulled it back as it shimmered with lubricant. I nodded instead. “Jude Owens. I’m the daddy-to-be.”

  “Always fun to put a face on Daddy. You two make a darling couple.” She pointed at Rory. “I just saw your mother in the cafeteria.”

  This wasn’t good news.

  “Did you…tell her I was coming in today?”

  “Of course. I told her we were getting our first look at her newest grandbaby.”

  Rory’s face fell. “Great.”

  “Now, before we start…Do you and Daddy want to know the gender?”

  Doctor Fawna looked at me, and, in a moment of stupidity, I answered for Rory. “Yeah! That’d be fun.”

  “No!” Rory practically leapt from the bed-chair-table-thing. She accidentally kicked a stirrup,
and the foot petal spun quick in a creaky circle. “Jude, honey, I thought we agreed? We didn’t want to know the gender.”

  Well that seemed like a waste of modern technology. “Okay. Fine by me.”

  “Oh, a surprise is always fun,” Doctor Fawna said. “Momma and Daddy are thrilled either way, but it’s just another little adrenaline rush on the big day.”

  “Looking forward to it,” I said.

  Rory glanced at me, but I shrugged. Just another aspect of this relationship we hadn’t discussed.

  I didn’t know what would happen or what she wanted when she went into labor.

  And we hadn’t talked about what would happen when she came home with the baby either. The baby’s gender wouldn’t be the only surprise.

  Doctor Fawna wheeled the sonogram machine to the bed and let Rory relax. She tucked her shirt up and pulled the waistband of her pants down, but that was as much of a show as I was likely to get.

  Rory gave a cute little squeal as the doctor squirted what I’d discovered to be some sort of lube onto her belly. I waited in the corner, but Rory extended her hand.

  “Jude?” She swallowed. “I’m nervous.”

  I took her hand and squeezed. “Nothing to be nervous about. Everything’s fine.”

  Rory grimaced. Her fingers slipped out of mine, and she rubbed the lube away. She held my wrist instead.

  Doctor Fawna prepared the machine. “You’re drinking your water, right?”

  Rory nodded. “Extra since I’m outside on the field with the players.”

  “Good. And taking your vitamins?”

  “Like clockwork.”

  “Any more nausea?”

  “No. I’m loving the second trimester.”

  So was I.

  Doctor Fawna pushed the wand into Rory’s belly. “And are you having sex?”

  Rory froze.

  Jesus? Could she tell from the ultrasound?

  “Oh, shit. Did I hurt the baby?” I clutched at the nearest table for support, missed, and punched straight through a cut-away woman. Her breast clattered to the floor, her uterus frisbee’d into the sink, and I leapt for the Barbie sized baby before it dropped on its head. The woman exploded into various organs, but the kid was safe.

  Rory covered her face. She couldn’t look at me. “Yes. There’s sex. But it was only once and—”

  Doctor Fawna stopped us. “That’s a good thing. Don’t be afraid of some intimacy. This is a difficult time, and the months ahead are going to be stressful, especially once the baby comes and you’re up all night changing diapers and feeding the little bugger. Do everything you can to improve your bond with Daddy.” She waved at me. “And…no, you won’t hurt the baby if you have sex with Rory. You will hurt the baby if you punch through Momma like you did my mannequins.”