Текст книги "Sacked"
Автор книги: Jen Frederick
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Текущая страница: 20 (всего у книги 21 страниц)
38 Ellie
Post Game: Warriors 13-1
At the knock on the door, I smooth back my hair back and straighten Knox’s home jersey. The Warriors were the away team at tonight’s playoff game. They had easily won their conference title and with the win tonight stood only one game away from the National Championship Title. I check the peephole and a good-looking face—minus the close-set eyes and slightly crooked jaw—grins at me.
“Really?” I drawl as I swing the door open. “You think wearing his tie will confuse me.”
Ty self-consciously adjusts said tie. “Are you going to let me in?”
“Fine.” I leave the door open and walk back to the television, where the commentators talk about Western State’s national championship opponent. Ty doesn’t come over and sit with me on the sofa.
He closes the door and then stands by it, staring at me.
“You’re making me uncomfortable, Ty.” I make a face at him. “Do I have eye liner on my nose or something?”
“You really can tell us apart, can’t you.”
It’s not so much a question as a strange lament. He sounds almost mournful that I can see through his little games and tricks.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“It’s obvious.” I don’t tell him he’s not as attractive as his brother because these boys have big, but tender egos.
“I came too early, didn’t I? None of the team came back, so you knew it was me.”
If that makes you feel better. Actually, no, I’m not letting him off the hook. “Jack came by twenty minutes ago.” I point to the clock. “I figured Knox got cornered in the lobby by some enthusiastic booster.”
Ty gets up and begins to pace. “Is it the way I talk? My time in the South has given me an accent, that it?”
“I think the time in the southern sun has baked your brain silly,” I say. “Why does it matter? Isn’t it a good thing?”
“Not for me.” He frowns.
From the stories Knox has shared about the times they’ve pranked people, from their parents and teachers to girlfriends and coaches, I feel almost relieved I can tell them apart.
It’d be incredibly stressful figuring out who is who. Ty should feel grateful I’m not asking one of them to get a facial tattoo so it’s easier for me to distinguish between the two of them.
“What’s the deal with your names?” I ask, since Ty can’t seem to wrap his head around the fact the two of them look completely different to me.
“What has Knox said?”
“Nothing. Although I’ve never asked. His is somewhat different. Yours is very unusual.”
A dull flush spreads across his cheekbones. “Since you’re part of the family, I’ll tell you, but only if you swear on Knox’s Achilles’s tendon you won’t tell another soul.”
“That’s your vow? On your brother’s Achilles’s tendon?” I roll my eyes. These two…it’s a wonder their beautiful mother isn’t completely gray by now.
“Do you swear it?” Ty presses.
I hold up my hand, palm out. “I, Eliot Anne Campbell, do solemnly swear never to reveal the origins of your names, even on threat of death, or the Achilles’s tendon of my beloved will be desecrated.”
Ty nods in approval. “Nice vow, but you’re Eliot Anne Masters now.” Whoops. That’s still so new I forgot. He threads his fingers together and then stretches his arms fully in front of him, pushing his palms outward, cracking about five knuckles in the process. “So my mom loves romances, specifically Scottish highlander historical ones. I may have even glimpsed a scene with my father wearing a kilt I didn’t know he owned and my mother—” He shudders. “Let’s not speak of it. I’m still traumatized.”
I press my lips together to keep from busting out a laugh at Ty’s wide-eyed horror. “You’re named after authors? Places?”
He mumbles something into his hand.
“What was that? Shmeroes?” Shmeroes? Is that even a word?
“Heroes,” he says. “Heroes. We’re named after brawny fake highlanders that my mom read about before she met my father. Or after. Shit if I know.”
I try not to laugh, but it’s impossible. I fold over and end up falling off the sofa onto the floor, holding my stomach and roaring with glee. I can imagine the locker room talk if that choice tidbit got out.
“I wish you would have put that in your SI profile,” I gasp out. Ty throws a pillow at my head.
I’m only partially composed when another sharp rap against the door rings out. I open it before looking through the peephole, figuring it’s Jack or Knox’s parents.
Instead, it’s Knox wearing his blue wool suit and white shirt with a red and white tie draped around his neck, looking mouthwateringly beautiful.
“Why are you wearing your brother’s tie?”
Knox gives me a slightly abashed look. “It was Ty’s idea.” He holds up his phone as if to show me texting proof Ty initiated this. “He said it’d make me feel good.”
Exasperated, I place my hands on my hips. “And does it?”
He smiles and looks past me into the room where Ty stands. “Yeah, sorry. It really does.”
I throw up my hands and stalk back into the room. I don’t get far before Knox gathers me against him to bury his face in my neck. “God, I’m glad to see you. I thought you weren’t coming.”
“Your parents convinced me. Called it their late Christmas present to both of us.” The ban remains in existence, so I can’t go to the game. But I can stay in a hotel in the same city as the playoff game and if it just so happens to be the same one where the Western State football players are staying? Well, oops.
“Merry Christmas to me,” he says in a low, throaty voice and turns me around.
“It’s New Year’s Eve,” I remind him.
He ignores this and places a hot, open mouthed kiss against my neck. I shudder as his lips skates against my skin. His mouth crashes against mine and we forget where we are. That we aren’t alone. That the door to the hallway is still open.
Ty’s coughing and banging of doors has us reluctantly separating.
“Hate to break up this love fest, but Mom and Dad expected us about twenty minutes ago.”
Knox’s face is a portrait of disappointment.
I stroke his cheek. “I’m sorry. They wanted to see you tonight too.”
“They did,” he complains. “They were outside the locker room. I already hugged them both.” He slides a leg between mine. “Please say we don’t have to go.”
I swallow a tiny moan at the delicious friction, and for a second, my desire to haul Knox to bed swamps my good manners. Sense prevails at the last minute and I manage to peel myself off of him. “No, we have to go. It’s the least we can do.”
“Fine.” He crosses his arms, clearly unhappy. “You wearing my jersey downstairs?”
“Nope. That was to give you good luck during the game.”
I tug the large sack of fabric over my head, revealing a skintight black dress I found at the thrift store that Riley tailored to fit my body. It’s a gorgeous piece of real silk, formerly about three sizes too big. I had my doubts, but Riley insisted and the results look stunning. Knox’s mouth falls halfway open and even Ty’s eyes have a glazed look to them.
“That’s a real nice dress, baby,” Knox croaks out as I waltz by him to pick up my clutch—also a thrift store find.
“Thanks.” I pat his cheek, thrilled at the possessive, hungry way his eyes eat me up.
Dinner is excruciating. Every touch drives me crazy and it’s the same for Knox. We can’t keep our hands off each other, and yet the only way to make it through the dinner is to stay apart. I nearly cling to his mother while he stands awkwardly by his brother, eating me up with his eyes.
There are dozens of well-wishers here.
Ty’s agent comes by, a brusque, bald man shorter than me. He’s a lawyer, Knox tells me, hard-nosed and no-nonsense. There’s not a whiff of scandal around him.
After what seems like hours later, we escape back to the hotel. We race each other to the bedroom. He sweeps my hair to the side and runs a broad hand down my back.
“Where’s the zipper in this damn thing?” he growls against my neck.
“Side zipper.” I lift my arm and show him the pull.
He tugs it down, running two warm fingers along the skin exposed as the zipper lowers. I don’t quell the shiver that skates across the surface of my body, because I don’t care if he knows how easily I’m seduced by him and his touch.
We have no more secrets between us.
In the crook of my neck, he buries his nose. His chest heaves against me as he inhales. “I started my life the day I met you. Everything before then was practice.”
I clutch him closer. Words are easy for me to write, but so much harder to say. He’s making it easier by loving me so freely.
“I never knew I could feel so happy until you came along. I never knew what it meant to belong...” I swallow hard because I don’t want to cry. This is a time for celebration. I press my own head down against his.
“I know, baby.” His lips curve against the tender spot where the shoulder and neck meet. He loves it when I get emotional. “We didn’t fall for each other. We fell into each other, and now we’re carrying each other forward into our perfect future. I can’t wait to spend every tomorrow with you.” As if he knows that I’ve hit my limit, he pulls back and throws me on the bed. “But right now I can’t wait until I’m inside of you.”
Hairpins, ties, underwear go a million different directions until it’s just Knox and me, skin to skin, mouth to mouth, heart to heart.
“I love you,” he whispers as he moves above me.
His hands roam over my shoulders. The rough pads of his fingers scrape along my collarbone, over the rise of my breasts, pausing to circle my hard nipples. Each touch feels more loving than the last.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says with reverence. “Beautiful and mine.”
I push up against him, ready to be filled. He doesn’t hurry, though. We have all the time in the world. Our whole future lies ahead of us.
He settles between my legs and his big frame pushes my legs farther apart until I’m completely exposed to his look, his touch, his caress. I lick my lips when he takes himself in his hand and positions himself at my entrance.
I curve around him, fitting my body against his in the perfect way we learned suits us best. Into his hard edges, I rub my soft parts. He strokes me with a firm and knowing grip, finding that little spongy flesh that makes my toes curl and elicits a sharp, reedy sound from the back of my throat.
“I know you’ll win next week,” I tell him with a tired and happy smile.
“Doesn’t matter.” He cups my chin tenderly. “I’ve already won the most important game of my life.”
Epilogue Ellie
Eve of Draft
“So my agent says I’ll be drafted by the New York Cobras.” Knox gets off the phone and happily lays it on the table. He’s not at all perturbed that he’ll be the third pick in the draft instead of the first. “He should be here in about ten minutes.”
Knox’s agent arranged for us to have a dinner together with the family before the draft tomorrow. Knox and I arrived early for once. Usually we’re late because we’re too busy being newlyweds. Secretly I think his agent may have lied about the time we needed to be at dinner.
If it has to do with football, Knox is on time. Any other obligation, and he’s more interested in keeping me in bed with him.
“That's so wrong. You should be number one.” I’m upset on his behalf. He’s the best player in college football despite being a junior, and despite not being a quarterback or left tackle.
He shrugs, clearly not disappointed. “I'm happy. I'm playing with a contender. They have Oliver Graham and he’s got a rocket for an arm. If he can get his interception ratio down, the team will have a real chance at a title.” He rubs his hands together. “Besides, the difference in signing bonus for the first and third picks is barely a million. Seventeen versus sixteen. I'm really not broken up about that.”
“I don’t care about the money,” I tell him. “I just think you deserve first.”
“As long as I’m first to you, baby.” He winks. “There's a shit ton of good schools in New York City. Like Columbia. If you move with me, we can set up residency, and you'd get in-state tuition to SUNY if you still insist on paying your own way.”
This last bit comes out a little disgruntled. We’ve had some arguments about money. Even though we’re married, I want to work and pay my way through college. I only have a year and a half left, and I know I can do it.
“So I should move with you to New York?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Yes.”
“All right.” I pick up my wine glass and take a hefty swallow.
“But if you don't—wait. What?” He tilts his head as if not quite sure he’s heard me.
“I'll move.”
“You will?”
After we’d gotten married, I told Knox I planned to stay in school, but as the semester wore on, with me waiting tables while Knox cooled his heels in classes and worked out every spare minute, I realized I didn’t want to be separated from him.
“I don't want to live without you. And I think flying to all your games would be impossible, so I'm willing to move to New York. I’m sure I can get a job somewhere, and I’ll save more money given the higher wages. Granted, that will be easier because I'm living with you.” His mouth hangs slightly open. I frown. “You going to say anything?”
In a slightly peevish tone he replies, “I've been working on my argument and you've kind of ruined it.”
Laughing, I lean over and kiss him on the cheek. “You can fill me in later at the hotel room, and I'll be in the proper position to say yes.”
“What's that position?” His voice deepens.
“Whichever one you'd like,” I reply saucily and squeeze my legs together at the thought of what positions he likes best.
“Do we have to finish this dinner?” he whines.
“Yes.” I smooth my napkin over my lap. “Your agent is coming, along with your parents and Ty.”
Knox drums his fingers against the white tablecloth. “No, I don't think I can wait.” He takes my hand and places it between his legs. My fingers curl reflexively around the quickly thickening shaft. He groans. "You know what's on my list? Bathroom sex."
"We've had that,” I respond primly but I don’t remove my hand. It feels too good around his hard length. “We did it in the second floor bathroom in Walker Hall and the basement bathroom in Carter along with the nightclub in Miami that your agent took us to."
"Mmm." He looks upward. "That was a good night. Real good."
I blush because it’s actually one of my favorite memories too. Knox and I clung to each other on the dance floor of this incredibly posh nightclub and then found out the bathrooms in the VIP section were individual rooms. Knox made good use of that privacy. He pushed me over the sink, ripped my panties down, and hammered into me so hard I worried the sink would break off. That is, I worried until I couldn't focus on anything but his hard cock driving into my—
“Stop thinking about that night,” he growls in my ear. I jolt to attention.
“How do you know what I’m thinking?”
He grunts. “Your eyes are all glazed and your cheeks flushed. Your hand is glued to my dick. It's like you want me to throw you down on the table.”
I don't want that…do I? I look at the table and then at the surrounding patrons. It’s very crowded but the pulse between my legs begins to throb uncomfortably.
“Ahem.”
Knox and I look up to see Ty rolling his eyes. I pull my hand off Knox’s dick. Knox and I look at Ty and then at each other.
“Ty, you look very nice in your suit,” I say and pull the napkin off my lap to set it on the table.
His eyes narrow. “Um, thanks.”
Knox and I stand as one.
“So, here's the deal,” Knox says. “I need to go back to the hotel. Ellie's not feeling well.”
I place a limp, maidenly wrist to my forehead and moan in what I hope is a sickly, not sexy, way.
“Right,” Ty snorts.
Knox thrusts his napkin against Ty’s chest. “You’re me tonight. Don't sign anything and text me if the deal gets close.”
“Bye!” I wave to Ty as Knox drags me away.
Not even the entrance of his parents or his agent slows him.
“Knox is back at the table. Ellie's not feeling well, so I, Ty, am taking her home,” he announces to his parents. “Nice to see you again, Randolph.”
Knox, pretending to be Ty, shakes Randolph’s hand. His agent has no idea that he’s greeting the wrong brother, but Knox’s mom’s eyes drop immediately to his left hand. Knox shoves it into his pants pocket to hide the ring.
His parents watch with suspicious eyes as Knox drags me outside. They might not tell the twins apart all the time, but they know their boys well enough to recognize shenanigans when they see it.
Outside Knox throws money at the valet. “We need a cab, please. My wife—” I jab him in the waist—“My brother’s wife,” he inserts awkwardly, “isn't feeling well.”
“Sure, no problem. Aren’t you Knox Masters?” the attendant asks.
“No. His brother. I play at MU.”
“Tell your brother congrats and that we’re rooting for him to go high.”
“I will.”
A cab pulls to a stop and Knox nearly shoves me inside. He clambers in. “The Warwick. At Fifty Fourth and—” He looks at me.
“Sixth Avenue,” I finish.
He gives me a grateful wink and then reaches for me. I bat his hand away. “No.”
“What?” He reaches for me again.
“You’re Ty,” I hiss in an undertone. I can see the cab driver watching us in the rear view mirror.
Knox rears back. “I’m who?”
“I mean you're pretending to be Ty so you can't touch me. What if someone sees us and they think I'm cheating on you?”
“But you're not,” he argues.
“You told the valet you were Ty. He could tell some gossip rag that he saw you, Ty, get into a cab with Knox’s wife.”
“You want me to die don't you?” He runs a hand down the front of his pants.
I force myself to look out the window.
The cab ride takes forever.
I force him to stand at the other side of the elevator. He sticks his hands in his pockets and stares at the ceiling. I shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other, growing wetter by the second.
We nearly run from the elevator car to our hotel room. Knox must really have been dying because he has me bent over the sofa in the suite before the door behind us fully latches. My panties drop to my ankles before I can take a full breath. Before I can take another, he’s shoving himself inside me. The expensive dress he insisted on buying me gets crumpled between us as he takes me relentlessly, with one merciless thrust after another.
The wool of his pants abrades the backs of my thighs. He tangles a hand in my hair and roughly pulls my head back so he can kiss me.
I love it.
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“You feel so fucking good right now.” He bites my ear. “If we’d have stayed in that restaurant, swear to God, I would have bent you over the table and taken you in front of all those people.”
“You have untreated exhibitionist fantasies,” I gasp.
He shifts his hips and effortlessly lifts me higher so he can drive into me even harder. “No, I just want you 24/7.”
His fingers dig into my butt and I know I’ll have bruises there tomorrow. Bruises that he’ll kiss and smile evilly about later when we’re waiting for his name to be called by the commissioner.
And then he shuts up, because neither of us is in any condition to talk. I plead for him to take me harder and he tells me he’s going to fuck me into the next room.
I come so hard I see stars.
“You have to carry me,” I tell him when I come down off my high.
“Yes, ma'am.”
He picks me up as if I weigh nothing and carts me over to the bed. His erection brushes against my butt.
“Already?” I ask.
“I know. Even I’m amazed at my greatness sometimes,” he says smugly. Then he throws me on the bed for round two.
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Acknowledgments
When I was growing up, I watched football every Sunday with my dad and brothers. I was raised on the Green Bay Packers, the wisdom of Vince Lombardi and the hallowedness of “frozen tundra.” (Yes, I know that’s redundant but everyone calls it that!) My paternal grandmother watched the team religiously until her death at the ripe age of 101. Football has been a constant in my family and for all it’s scandals and problems, it’s a game that brings us together every fall. For that reason, I will always love the game and this is my ode to it.
Thank you to my sweet daughter who is growing up too fast and my wonderful husband who is a true life romance hero.
Thank you to my editor who went through this book countless times and pushed me hard to make this story the very best that I could produce.
Thank you to my beta readers: Elle Kennedy (I love your brutal and straight forward critiques. I know I can trust you to tell me that my underwear is showing or that I have toilet paper on my shoe!), Kristen Callihan (You write the best sexual tension!), Elyssa Patrick (Your input is incredibly valuable.), Lou (Your emails make me smile.) Meljean Brook, Jessica Clare (the best and prettiest writing partner in existence), and Michelle Kannan (can you believe we met through someone else’s dating story!!), and Lisa Schilling Hintz.
Special thanks to the world’s okayest bloggers but best friends: Melissa King and Lea Robinson and the world’s okayest friends: Jessica Rupp and Jeannette Mancine. You four made my birthday in 2015 one I will never forget.
Thanks to Robin and Sunita for your endless email support. I would not be able to go from one week to the next without you.
Go Pack Go!
