Chapter 14
Sam
“TELL ME YOU don’t want it.” Colin’s voice is low and sexy.
“I don’t want it.”
“Liar.” He pulls my lower lip down, and my teeth open with the movement. I’m ready when he pushes his thumb into my mouth, wrapping my lips over it and hollowing out my cheeks, swirling my tongue around his flesh.
His eyes darken.
My hands are on his waistband in seconds, and I take the briefest of moments to appreciate the unapologetic nerdiness of his woven leather belt before unbuttoning the khaki pants he insists on wearing.
We groan together as my hand wraps around his cock.
The thin cotton of the boxers does nothing to hide the unmistakable thickness of him.
Finally. I wanted to do this in Vegas but I think I passed out instead. But now, it’s happening. Now, I’m getting my mouth on that thick dick of his.
I release his thumb and fall to my knees, pulling the khakis with me. In another second I’m tucking my fingers into his boxers, my breath coming in hot, fast pants as I start to pull them down.
Bang, bang, bang!
The knock on my apartment door is loud and insistent, waking me instantly.
I growl in frustration and wipe the literal drool from my mouth. Even my own dreams are traitors at this point.
Bang, bang, bang! “Sam, sis, come on!” Ollie’s voice is muffled. “Open up!”
I mutter and roll over, burying my face in the mattress and pulling the pillow over my head. But it’s no use. He’s got a key and he’ll use it if I don’t answer.
“I’m putting the key in the lock!” he yells.
See?
“Hold on!” I call back, unsure if he can hear me over the racket he’s making on his own. Covers hit the floor as I thrash out of bed, stomp to the door and yank it open right as he’s turning the knob. I glare up, squinting at the cheery daylight that envelops him as the cool air hits my legs.
“There she is!” he gushes, then turns his head. “Told you she was here.”
I can feel my face morph into something like sheer panic. “You brought someone here?” I hiss.
He looks back at me. “Coach and I were about to go on a run – I was bragging about the pond we run around – and I suggested we see if you wanted to join us.”
Colin is here? Colin is here. Colin is outside my apartment. “You brought your coach to my apartment at…what time is it?”
He beams, his blond hair shining in the sun that is, I swear, as bright as a nuclear explosion. Not that I’d know how bright that is, but let’s not dwell on the details. “Eight.”
I drop my head and scrub at my face. I never get to sleep this late. “I’m going to kill you,” I mumble into my palms.
“Let’s leave her here,” Colin says, still hidden from view. “If she can’t handle a measly five-mile run with us, then it’s probably best we get a move on.”
“That’s not what I’m saying,” I shoot back, indignation coursing through me. I step forward and shove Ollie out of the doorway, looking left to find the source of my anger.
He’s…hell. He’s in training shorts, showing off those thighs that remain just as thick as they probably were when he played.
Thighs that I’ve seen before. Thighs that aren’t nearly as sculpted as the players on his team.
Thighs that I have never had a thing about until now, when I’m fresh off a dream where my hands were on them mere minutes ago.
He’s in a ratty T-shirt, which tells me he’s probably going to pull it off when it’s time to run, and he’s wearing a black Granite baseball cap…
backwards. A move I would not have bet on, and it’s doing things to the lower parts of my body that I’d rather not admit.
His blue-green eyes are practically twinkling with mirth when I meet them, as though he knows precisely what he’s done by saying those words.
Then I step farther out of my apartment, giving him a show of my own. Because two can play at this game, and all I’m wearing are hipster underwear and a camisole so old that I’m certain it’s see-through in the exact right spots it needs to be.
Immediately, his cheeks flush and he coughs.
Ha. Take that, you gorgeous asshole.
“Then what are you saying?” he chokes out.
“I’m saying give me a few minutes to get dressed.” I whirl around and walk away, leaving the two of them to come inside. Dimly it occurs to be that my husband is in my apartment, but I shut that thought down.
I check the temperature on my phone before shutting my bedroom door, then fly around my room, throwing on a sports bra and running shorts before plucking a pair of socks from my drawer and pulling them on.
It may be the first week of December, but it’s sixty-five degrees outside.
I pull my hair into a ponytail as I shove my feet into my runners, then I give my teeth a perfunctory brush and swipe deodorant on.
Letting my hips sway as I waltz back into the living room, I don’t miss the way Colin’s jaw clenches as his eyes sweep the length of me.
“Ready?” I chirp.
“You missing a shirt there, sis?” Ollie asks.
I level a look at him. “I’ve got on a sports bra.”
“Right. And it’s not that hot outside. So…shirt?”
“I’ve got on a sports bra,” I repeat, my voice cold.
“But you nev –”
“Ollie,” I warn. “Do not test me with your fragile masculinity right now.”
His jaw drops. “Fragile masculinity?”
I open my front door, knowing they’ll follow. “I know it’s a big boy phrase, Ollie. Try to understand. Are you so insecure with yourself that you need to have me covered up in order to feel like you’re in control?”
“What the hell, Sam?” he sputters, utterly thrown off.
“Let’s go.” I wave them to go in front of me, and Ollie leads the way, grumbling the whole time.
Colin’s eyes crinkle as he smiles at me. “Good morning,” he murmurs, too low for Ollie to hear.
My stomach does a flip, but I tamp it down. “It was,” I grit out. “And then you showed up.”
He chuckles. “In my defense, I told him to leave you alone. But his admiration for you knows no bounds.”
“His idiocy, you mean.”
He stops halfway down the stairs and turns back to me, his expression earnest. “No, Sam. I mean his admiration. His love for you. He’s a great kid.”
My throat thickens with emotion. I wasn’t ready for such…honesty. Especially from him.
He turns his ball cap around, shielding his eyes with the move. “And I gotta say, I’ll be thinking of the way you answered the door today for months.” He lifts his gaze so I can see the saucy wink he gives me, then he turns to jog down the stairs.
Of course. God forbid he be sincere for more than two seconds.
“Let’s do this, Ollie,” he calls, pulling his shirt off and tossing it onto the hood of my car to join my brother’s. “Nice, easy pace.”
My mouth dries at the sight of his muscular back, but I manage to keep my shit together. Also, ‘nice, easy pace,’ my foot. If I’m being dragged out here in seventy percent humidity on a morning I’d been sleeping in, then we’re fucking doing this.
I give them the half-mile jog to the pond before I kick into gear. I might be shorter than these arseholes, but I also ran track in high school.
Ollie’s laugh echoes behind me. “Come on, Sam! Give us a break!”
I lift my middle finger and increase my speed, leaving the sound of his laughter behind. But in seconds, I hear the sound of someone else gaining on me.
“Gotta say, I’d rather run behind you and enjoy the view, but,” Colin grins at me as he matches my stride, “I like pissing you off even more.”
I growl and go faster.
He matches. “I’ve been thinking.”
“About the divorce? Me, too,” I huff.
“Getting winded already?” He tsks at me.
I increase my pace.
“I was a winger, Sam.” He offers this tidbit as he stays right beside me, not the least bothered.
God dammit. “Of course you were,” I grit. “Fucking pompous little shit.”
He laughs, deep and loud, but still keeps up with the pace that I keep increasing. We’ve left Ollie in the dust, and something inside me reminds me I should care, but I can’t. Because Colin is still laughing, and when I glance over to glare some fear into him, I nearly trip over my feet.
He’s utterly and completely beautiful. The joy that’s spread across his face – joy at my expense, mind you – is captivating. And he’s laughing so hard that he’s forced to slow down, which makes me ease up, until finally he’s stopped and is bent over, howling with laughter.
I come to a stop as well, unable to help the smile that spreads across my face. He looks up, eyes glistening and hands on his knees, and starts chuckling again when he sees my idiotic grin.
“‘Fucking pompous little shit,’” he repeats in a horrific Australian accent, then barks out another laugh.
“I don’t sound like that,” I protest.
“‘Fucking pompous little shit,’” he parrots, sending his voice higher and wiggling his fingers. “Of all the ways I make you mad, I did not see my rugby position being one of them.”
I hate him. Probably. It’s hard to think when he’s looking at me like this, as though he’s found a missing puzzle piece. There’s genuine affection in his eyes, and maybe something deeper, and it unlocks a memory.
“How is it I’ve known you for four hours, but I’m utterly transfixed by you?”
I flutter my eyelashes and grin, lifting the drink in answer.
“No,” he says, his voice soft and serious. “It’s not the drinks. It’s just you.”
My stomach twists as I suck in a breath.
The action catches his attention, and his brows furrow. “Are you okay?”
Before I can answer, Ollie pulls up, grinning as he looks between the two of us. “I don’t know what had the two of you laughing so hard, but can I just tell you how happy it makes me to see you like this?” He places a hand over his heart. “Seriously.”
The knot in my stomach twists even harder, only this time I know exactly what this feeling is. Regret. Denial. Foreboding. Wrong.
But a stronger emotion threatens to overtake all of it. And so help me, I’m not sure how much longer I can hold it off.