Текст книги "The End Game"

Автор книги: Kate McCarthy

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 28 страниц)

“We’re just catching up,” Nicky tells me in his pleasant ‘isn’t this fun’ voice.

My stomach growls. I ignore it as I look between them both. “Yeah? Catching up on what?”

“Surfing,” Nicky says.

“Soccer,” Brody answers at the same time.

My suspicious glare deepens.

“Well. Good chat. Gotta go. Congrats on the win, Barney.” After casually throwing out that horrific childhood nickname as a tactical diversion, Nicky leans in and taps the keyboard, abruptly ending the Skype call.

Brody sputters a laugh, spinning his chair back in my direction after closing the laptop. “Barney?”

My chin juts out and I fold my arms.

Without any warning, Brody dives on the bed and I’m smothered beneath an enormous two-hundred-odd-pound mass of delicious man flesh. He draws back and I manage to suck in a quick lungful of air before he attacks. Grabbing both my hands, he pins them above my head. He rips the sheet away with his free hand, exposing my naked torso to the cool air. The rough pads of his fingers glide down my ribcage, deliberately hitting all my ticklish spots.

I shriek and giggle. When they brush over a soft nipple it responds instantly, peaking and sending delicious sparks of pleasure straight to my core. My back arches and my laughter dies out, a moan breaking free of my throat.

“Mmmm …” Brody draws out the sound, his gaze locked on my now hardened nipple. He traces the peak with his finger, teasingly slow, before drawing away. I squirm, my chest rising upwards, chasing more of his touch. “You like that…” he looks up from my breast “…Barney?”

“Brody.” I try to say his name in a stern voice, but the cheeky glint in his eyes sets off another peal of laughter.

“I’m dying to know,” he says before sucking the nipple inside his mouth. His tongue swirls languidly and my breath hitches. It pops free and he finishes his sentence. “How you got that particular nickname.”

Brody frees my arms and instantly I’m covering my breasts with my hands. “I’ll never tell.”

He pouts. “I have ways to make you talk.”

I’m sure he does. In fact, I know he does when the rest of the covers are ripped right off the bed and tossed carelessly to the floor.

“It’s cold,” I complain, yet my body is already beginning to heat as Brody slowly begins to torture me, touching me everywhere, driving me to the peak of orgasm before withdrawing, not letting me reach that lovely crest my body so desperately needs.

“Okay,” I gasp eventually. “I’ll tell you. Just … let me come, damn you.”

He lifts his head from where he’s now licking the crease of my thigh. “Tut tut, Barney. Ask nicely.”

A laugh escapes me. “Please! I’ll do anything you ask. Just stop calling me Barney!”

“Anything? Okay then.” Brody latches onto my clit instantly, sucking with his mouth and swirling his tongue.

From somewhere in the room his phone rings. He ignores it completely. Keeping his relentless rhythm, Brody doesn’t stop until I see bright white spots behind my lids.

“Oh my god,” I cry out on a long, keening moan.

His phone rings again as my legs flop uselessly on the bed. I am so done. “You should get that.”

Brody draws back, his hands scraping down my thighs as he rests back on his heels. He’s shirtless, an impressive erection straining the crotch of the jeans he’s wearing. “It can wait.”

“It sounds important.”

His hands pause in the act of undoing his zipper. “It’s a ringtone. How can it sound important?”

“Because whoever it is already rang twice.” Whenever someone rings like that, it sets off a panicked flutter in my chest that something is wrong. “Just answer it,” I urge.

With a roll of his eyes, Brody climbs off the bed. Lifting up on both elbows, I watch him stride over to my desk. He picks up the phone where it rests beside my laptop and checks the screen. His brow furrows. “It’s my uncle. Professor Draper.”

Being his uncle, the reason for the call could be anything, yet my stomach ties itself in knots. “Are you going to call him back?”

Brody rubs the back of his neck, and I know he’s feeling the same tension I am. “Later. After the game.”

“No.” I shake my head. His next game is two days from now. “You should just do it now. Get it over with.”

When he just stares unhappily at the screen, I scoot off the bed and quietly pad over. Coming up behind him, I rub his shoulders and he lets out a deep sigh.

“If it was anything urgent he would’ve left a message,” he reasons.

Taking the decision out of Brody’s hands, his uncle rings again.

“Answer it.”

Brody grits his teeth, but he hits the little green button and puts it to his ear. “Hello?”

I can’t hear the professor talking. Instead I turn my head to the side and rest it against his back. My hands move from his shoulders and down, sliding around his waist until I’m hugging him from behind. He settles into my hold as if he likes it, his free hand coming to rest on mine, his way of telling me to stay put.

“What about it?” Brody asks, his body going tight.

There’s a pause where his uncle speaks again. As he listens, Brody’s body locks tighter, his chest beginning to rise and fall in a heavy rhythm.

“Fuck,” he bites out.

My eyes flutter closed. Whatever it is, it’s not good. I knew it wouldn’t be, and Brody’s physical reaction confirms it.

“I can’t. I have training all day. In case you might have missed it, we have an important game in two days.”

Another pause.

“Fine,” Brody grounds out. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

He hangs up the phone and tosses it back on the desk.

Sighing deeply, I draw away, letting my arms fall as I take a step back. He turns, his expression pained as he faces me. “I failed the course.”

My indrawn breath is audible. “Brody.”

Brody shrugs, but I can see the slight tremor in his lips. He’s struggling to hold back the wave of frustration. One step forward, two steps back. He casts his gaze down, blinking hard as he chokes out the next words. “I passed the final, but the midterm and casework grades weren’t enough. It’s going to lower my GPA and I’ll lose my eligibility to play football.”

Taking hold of his arms, I tug them toward me, wrapping them around me. “So what do we do now?”

Brody huffs a bitter laugh and shakes his head, somehow holding it together. “Never say die. That’s your motto, right?” His hands glide down, setting off shivers as he cups my bare ass. “You should have that tattooed right here.” He squeezes firmly.

I moan. I can’t help it. Even now, with this devastating bit of news, my body can’t get enough of him.

Brody responds by dropping his head to my neck, planting kisses along the line of my throat. “I need you,” he rasps, ignoring my question about where we go from here. “Right now.”

He trips me backwards toward the bed and pushes me down. I fall back on it with relief. I would’ve expected Brody to push me away with anger, but instead he’s pulling me closer, his need so palpable it makes me ache.

“Yes,” I tell him. “Now.”

He tears his zipper down. A bare second later Brody’s lifting my legs. Curling me into a ball; my lower half rises up and he pushes his thick cock inside me. It’s not sweet or intimate, but rough, and it feels good. He pumps hard and fast, driven by an animalistic need. All too soon, he’s groaning my name, his hips slamming against my ass. I don’t come, but I don’t care. Brody took care of me earlier. This is his turn.

Brody lets go of my shins and my legs fall open. He drops down between them, his skin sticky as he lands on top of me. My hands run down the damp skin of his back, soothing and gentle as he sucks in air. “I’m sorry.”

“No more apologies.”

He shakes his head. Planting his palms flat on the bed above me, Brody pulls out with a regretful groan and steps back off the bed. “I have to go.” Tugging up his pants, he yanks the zipper closed.

“You never answered me before. What do we do?”

“I have to do extra credit, make up the grade before he turns them in to the college.”

It makes sense. Brody’s lucky the professor is his uncle and willing to extend the offer. But we’re in the middle of championships. There’s no time to do what I know he has to. I sit up on the edge of the bed. “What can I do?”

After tugging his shirt down and into place, he leans over and smacks a loud kiss on my lips. “Baby.” He draws back and looks at me, his hands on my knees. His cheeks are tinged pink, but the exhaustion in his eyes worries me. “I’ve got this. All I need is to hold you at night. Can I do that?”

I have to fight to keep the waver from my voice. “I’m all yours.”

When he leaves, I make for the shower, my anger rising steadily. If Brody hadn’t failed that midterm, he would’ve passed the course. All I can think right now is that this is on Kyle, and I need to put my plan into action. Tonight.

Brody

After leaving Jordan’s apartment, I head straight for my uncle’s office, eager to get this meeting over with. After passing the final, I hadn’t even considered failing the course. The news was a monumental blow, but right now I’m calm. It’s at odds with the way my temper has been raging out of control of late. I need to track down Damien and ask him about the side effects of these pills. Something I didn’t even think about before I started chewing them down like candy.

My knuckles rap sharply on his door.

“Come in,” Patrick calls out.

After taking a deep breath, I turn the handle and step inside. My uncle looks up from his desk, pulling his glasses off and tossing them on top of a pile of papers. He stares at me for a long, hard moment. “You look like crap.”

I’m sure I do. I haven’t slept a single wink in over twenty-four hours. I don’t feel tired though. It’s like I’ve had a solid eight hours already. My body isn’t giving me any signs that its sleep deprived, and that’s a huge positive. I have training all day and we’re down to the wire. Every minute has to count, but I know I’ve got it covered now thanks to Damien.

I smile lazily, taking a seat opposite my uncle. “Well I feel great.”

His eyes narrow as they look me over. My body shifts uncomfortably beneath the scrutiny. “What the hell are you taking, Brody?”

Fuck. How does he know? My knuckles turn white as my grip tightens on the arms of the chair. I force a confused furrow to my brow. “What do you mean?”

Patrick pushes back his chair. Getting to his feet, my eyes follow as he stalks around the desk. Stopping in front of me, he leans down and gets right in my face. “You think I don’t recognize the signs of drug abuse? You look exhausted, and yet you’re wound up tighter than a spring. I’ve been through law school, Brody. I’ve seen it all, and everything I’ve seen?” He leans in further, eyes flaring hard and fierce. “It never ends well.”

A huff of laughter escapes me and I roll my eyes. “Seriously. Drugs? I don’t—”

My uncle pushes back, his voice a harsh command, veins straining his neck. “Shut the fuck up!”

I sit back in stunned silence as angry tension forms in the room. Patrick swipes a hand down his face, shaking his head. “What are you taking, Brody?”

My jaw tightens. “I’m not.”

“Don’t argue with me. You’re my nephew. I know you better than your own damn father does. I know you’re taking something. Whatever it is, you need to stop. Taking pills not medically prescribed for you is wrong.” Disappointment radiates from him in waves. “It makes you a cheater, Brody. Is that how you want to get ahead? By cheating?”

My lips press together. Patrick is making a mountain out of a molehill. A couple of pills is not drug abuse, nor is it cheating. Not when I’m behind the eight ball to start with. All Adderall has ever done is offer me the fair chance that being dyslexic never did.

“Damn it all to hell, Brody!” he growls when I remain tightlipped. “You’re a college athlete. A football star. Hundreds of thousands of fans think you walk on goddamn water. What would they think if they knew?”

“It was just a couple of pills,” I tell him. But it wasn’t just a couple. My hands shook when I opened the bottle this morning and found it almost empty. I don’t even remember taking that many. “For study. That’s all. No more.”

My uncle returns to his seat, his sigh deep and heavy. He looks at me, and judging by his expression I know he wants to believe in me, to give me the benefit of the doubt that I simply don’t deserve. “Promise me that’s it.”

I look him in the eye and I lie. I don’t have a choice. I won’t get through the next few days without taking more, not now with this extra case work to deal with. It lets me see everything in color, get shit done, and feel great while doing it. Right now it’s my savior. My ace in the hole. My motherfucking touchdown.

I need it.

After a full day of training and watching play, I slide inside my SUV, my body bruised and aching. I toss my phone onto the passenger seat. It lands on the folder my uncle gave me this morning. Two case assignments. Both will take multiple hours each to research and complete. I know I’m lucky being given the chance to make up my grade, but bitterness fills me anyway. What comes easy for everyone else is ten times harder for me. I want it to be over, but I have one more semester to complete before I can graduate. And I have to graduate. My father prides himself on being a man who always follows through with his threats.

Jamming the keys in the ignition, I start the engine. Now that I’m physically sitting down, exhaustion overwhelms me. It’s been thirty-six hours since I last slept. My body is crashing hard. I tip my head back and close my eyes, just for a minute.

A rap on my window rouses me with a jolt. Swiping a hand across my face, I use the other to depress the button. Cool air rushes in, doing its best to wake me and failing.

“Coach,” I slur, my voice too weak to say more.

“Madden.” His brow furrows as he ducks his head, looking in at me. “You okay, son?”

“Fine. Just tired.”

“Good.” Coach nods. He knows he’s been pushing us beyond hard. For him our fatigue is a badge of honor. “You’re on curfew. Get home.”

My phone buzzes as I pull out of the parking lot. I ignore it. My calls and messages of late are all junk: sponsors wanting to talk brands, agents providing unsolicited advice on my future career in the NFL. It should get me excited, but I don’t have time to appreciate the position I’m in right now, nor sit back and appreciate how far I’ve come. All I can do is focus on each day as it comes, and maybe, hopefully, I’ll come out unscathed on the other side.

After packing a bag, I take one more pill before shoving the bottle inside it, hiding it beneath a pile of gym gear. Done, I head back to my car, tugging my phone out as I jog down the stairwell to let Jordan know I’m on my way.

A message from Jax sits on the screen. It lists the address of a frat house well-known for it’s back-to-back to parties.

Jax: Dude. You need to get here, pronto.

I shake my head, not bothering to reply. Instead I turn my phone on silent. My cousin knows I’m on curfew. He also knows I’m back with Jordan, so why would I want to be partying the night before a big game?

Beeping the locks, I open the passenger door of my SUV and dump my bag. My phone vibrates with another message as I walk around the front to the driver’s side.

Cursing under my breath, I check the screen, my brow furrowing. Jax again, sending a photo. Keys jangling in my hand, I pause by the door and flick it open. My eyes strain, making out the dark figures. The moment I realize what I’m seeing, my heart begins to pound a furious beat, slamming so hard against my ribcage it hurts.

I reach breakneck speed getting to the party, taking corners too fast, tires squealing. Leaving my car double-parked, I make my way inside, silently fuming. I move through partygoers, guys giving me backslaps left and right, hitting me with advice on how they think I can improve my game. I dodge them all as I search for my cousin.

When my eyes find Jax, he’s leaving the kitchen for the backyard, Damien right behind him. I shout his name, pushing through people to reach him. He turns, relief lighting his face like neon when he sees me. It only ties my stomach in tighter knots.

“Where is she?” I ask when I get close, my voice harsh.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. They both disappeared.”

They.

My stomach churns. The image of her and Kyle, heads bent close together, so intimate, is burned on my brain. The faint smile on her face is soft and tempting, and one that should be meant only for me.

Jordan

After checking two previous parties, I find Kyle at the third one, drunk off his face.

Good. This is going to be a walk in the park.

Angling myself in his line of sight, I wait for him to notice me. He does. His eyes lift and scan the room, doing a double-take and coming back to me. He looks around, seeking out Brody. When he doesn’t see him, his eyes shift back to me with purpose, and he makes his way toward me. I knew he would. Any opportunity to get me onside and piss off Brody is one he’s going to take.

“Jordan,” he says, reaching my side. I force a smile to my lips. “You’re off leash tonight I see.”

Har, har, you tool.

Knowing I need to keep this believable, I roll my eyes. It would rouse suspicion if I suddenly began fawning over whatever it is he thinks makes him so much better than everyone else.

“Drink?”

I shrug. “Sure, okay.”

Kyle tips his head toward the kitchen. “Follow me.”

After handing me a cup of beer, he grins, swaying slightly. “So where’s Brody tonight? Is he sitting at home waiting for you, or did you finally see the light and ditch the dumb fuck?”

Oh, I am going to nail your goddamn ass to the wall.

“We’re on a break.”

Kyle’s brows rise as he leans back against the counter behind him, using it to prop him upright. “Well, I sure am sorry to hear that,” he replies, his expression telling me he’s anything but.

I cast my eyes down because I can’t stand looking at him. Not that he notices. With Kyle drunk, it’s easy to engage him in meaningless conversation, slowly drawing it around to the teacher aide work he does with Professor Draper. A subtle ego stroke never hurts. “The professor’s a busy man. You must do a lot of hard work for him.”

“I do.” Kyle cocks his head. “Hey, I have to use the bathroom.” His eyes scan the room slowly. “It’s a bit wild in here tonight. Come with me?” He winks. “I’ll keep you safe.”

In hindsight, it’s the exact moment the player became the played, but my mind doesn’t register anything except what I came to do. All I want is to catch Kyle in his web of deceit and fix the grade he sabotaged. “Okay. Thanks.”

Setting my empty cup on the bench, I follow him up the stairs. Knowing I might not get another chance, I use it to hit the record button on my phone before tucking it back in the pocket of my skirt. The bathrooms have queues, so I think nothing of it when I’m led to the third floor. He opens the door and I step inside, halting when I realize it’s a study and not a bathroom.

I spin around as Kyle shuts the door behind us. His smile is slow and lazy. It sets my heart thumping with rapid beats of apprehension. “What are you playing at, Jordan?”

God I must suck at this. Show no fear, I command myself.

“Playing at?” I cock a brow coolly, folding my arms. “What are you playing at, Kyle?”

“It’s not what I’m playing at, but who. And it’s Brody, babe. Who else?”

Annoyance rips through me and I shake my head. “Why?”

Kyle takes a step toward me, eyes glinting. I stand my ground, forcing myself not to take a step back. “Did you know Brody and I go way back? We went to primary school together. We even ended up in the same peewee league. And even then he was always so damn entitled. In that big fancy house with his mom and dad, his nice clothes, always wearing the best of everything. Nothing secondhand for him, only high-end brand-named football equipment would ever do.” He takes another step. “As if that wasn’t enough, his coach, and all his teachers, gave him a free ride through school while I had to work my ass off. Bumping up grades faster then a fat kid eats candy. No doubt getting paid off. You know what that made me?”

Kyle is right in my face now, a smile on his lips. Hate and bitterness ooze from it like black tar, raising the hair on the back of my neck.

I glare, my voice a scathing attack. “A resentful, jealous little dick?”

He chuckles. “Pretty much, but who cares?” Kyle’s expression is modest when he shrugs. “I’m just the guy making sure Brody gets what he deserves, or in this case, doesn’t deserve.”

“And he didn’t deserve to pass the midterm?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? What a coup, earning that teacher’s aide position for the same course Brody’s taking. I couldn’t let an opportunity slip by to fuck with his grade.”

My heart pounds so hard I fear I can hear it. “You fudged his answers?”

He shrugs. “Honestly? I would have. Sadly, I didn’t need to do a single thing. Brody failed all by himself.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Kyle laughs. “Come on, Jordan. I wouldn’t lie to you.” He leans down, putting his face right near mine. “I like you.”

“Well I don’t like you.”

This whole idea of mine is a complete bust. My bicep is grabbed when I brush past.

“Where do you think you’re going?” His fingers dig into the soft flesh of my upper arm and I cry out, trying to yank free. Kyle twists the arm around behind my back. White spots dance behind my eyelids, the pain so excruciating my voice fails. I’m spun around, my feet tripping over each other as he shoves me face first into the couch.

“I think hanging around dumb assholes has rubbed off on you.” He grabs my other arm, clamping them both together behind my back, leaving me incapacitated. His hands begin roving over my skirt. Patting at my pockets, he reaches inside and grabs my phone. He checks the screen, hitting the stop button before tossing it away. It hits the floor and skates across the sleek timber, out of reach. “I’m a bit smarter than the average guy, in case you haven’t noticed. And yes, I did fuck with his grade.” He smirks. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Fuck you!” I shriek, panting and trying to kick out with my legs.

Kyle grunts when I catch his shin, but the effect is that of a pesky mosquito and does nothing. His hand slides up my leg and underneath my skirt, grabbing at my panties. “Get off me you sick fuck!”