Chapter 6
brYCE
W e’re at Peeper’s Alley, the bar on the ground level of Cooper, Miles, and Damon’s building, waiting for the boys rather than at the stadium where we’d have to wait with all the jersey-chasers who want to hook up with them tonight.
It’s the diviest of all the bars on this end of town, but there’s something comfortable about it.
I like that it doesn’t take itself too seriously.
“So, I want the tea on you and Miles. You’re leaving something out.” Elle sips her mixed drink and leans back in the booth.
We’re in the back room of Peeper’s to give the guys some privacy once they join us.
“There is no tea,” I say before tipping my vodka soda.
“You act like I don’t know you. I could read your body language in the locker room, and be careful because Coop can too. If he saw what I did, he’s going to have something to say about it.” Her fingers tap on the table.
She doesn’t have long nails because she’s an ER doctor, but she does get regular manicures with a pretty polish all the time. Elle always looks put together .
“Cooper was trying to set me up. I know him, and he singled Miles out because he thought I’d date him.”
“He is your type,” she says with a shrug.
I scowl at her. “No, he’s not.”
She chuckles. “Why would you say that?”
“Because I like loud guys. Ones I can banter with.” She’s delusional. I’ve never gone for a guy like Miles. At least not for anything that might last beyond a date or two.
“He’s so smart you could banter with him for hours, and I know you, you probably love his sarcasm. Plus, he’s gorgeous. Tall and muscular. Takes his career seriously.”
“Can’t take feedback. Has a chip on his shoulder and is way too serious about everything…” I negate her reasons with my own.
She laughs and shakes her head. “So, tell me… when did you sleep with him?”
I almost spit my drink on the table. “What are you talking about?”
“Now I know you slept with him, so give me the details.”
I huff. Sometimes I can’t stand that Elle knows me way too well.
“It only happened once,” I murmur.
“Just once because of you or him?”
“Do you really want to know?” I finish my drink, and when Ruby, the owner of Peeper’s Alley, walks past the door, I raise my hand. “Rubes, can you give me another one, please, and a shot of tequila?”
“Make it two, Rubes!” Elle shouts.
“The boys aren’t even here yet. Slow down, girls.” She shakes her head but heads to the bar littered with men drinking beer and talking about today’s game.
“Now give me the details.” Elle grins around her straw.
“So bossy, but fine. You cannot tell Cooper though.” I stare hard at her, and she crosses her heart with her pointer finger then kisses the tip, moving her finger away from her lips. It’s been our thing since college.
“It was two years ago. There was this gala for the Kingsmen,” I say as my mind drifts back to that night…
Miles dressed in a tuxedo was something else.
I tried to act indifferent, like it didn’t affect me, but an ache formed between my thighs the minute I saw him.
Drink in hand, talking with his teammates with that confident air I didn’t know whether he faked or not.
Truth be told, his intelligence was intimidating.
When I looked up his background, I found out that he could have had an academic scholarship rather than his football one, and he made the Dean’s list every year he was at the University of Michigan.
He could also play any position on the field.
Quarterback in high school, wide receiver then a safety in college.
It was alluring the way coaches and analysts saw his potential in positions other than the one he had excelled at.
I stood in my cream-colored dress that highlighted my olive skin tone, and Shayna, my friend, cleared her throat.
“What?”
“Are you sure you hate him?” she asked, wrinkles in her perfectly arched brows.
I couldn’t even remember when our hatred started.
He came after me once about an article I wrote because he’d been playing like shit, and I defended myself to him.
Somehow it all snowballed from there. He’d had a horrible season, and I was the newbie at the Chronicle, and I didn’t want anyone thinking I’d gone gaga over the safety of the team I was covering.
That’s mistake 101 in journalism. You have to remain impartial.
He was messing up, and I had to point it out or be called out myself.
He did turn things around the next season, something I praised him for, but he never mentioned the good things I said about him.
Plus, he was known in the league as having a chip on his shoulder and never feeling like he got the credit he deserved.
Sometimes I thought I was just an outlet for him to express that frustration.
I’d met Shayna, the team’s new athletic trainer, at training camp and since she was new in town, we instantly became friends.
I was her plus-one that night, and coming with her threw me into Miles’s close-knit group.
I was unsure how he was going to handle me being there.
I’d prepared myself for a war of words that I was sure he’d win.
I was on the outskirts of the dance floor by the middle of the night, already prepared to tell Shayna I’d had enough and wanted to go home, when someone bumped into me, knocking my drink all over my dress.
“What the—?” I looked up into a pair of killer blue eyes. Eyes so clear they grabbed me and took hold. If only they weren’t so filled with hatred.
“What are you doing standing right here?” he asked, and I balked.
“You’re blaming me because you spilled a drink on me?” I plucked the wet fabric off my chest, and when I looked up, Miles’s eyes were focused on the outline of my breasts, which were now visible.
“Well, you’re standing in a high-traffic area.”
In truth, I was lost in thought, thinking about my mom who’d recently gotten sick.
“You have a lot of nerve.” I stomped around him and out of the ballroom, down a hall to the men’s bathroom because the women’s was lined up with waiting women.
“You can’t go into the men’s bathroom,” he argued from behind me as we walked into the men’s room.
“Watch me. I’m not going to wait politely in line while my dress dries and is ruined.”
A man came out of a stall and stared at us for a beat.
“What?” I sniped.
He opened his mouth to say something, but Miles was quick to cut him off. “Get the fuck out of here.”
The poor man scrambled, looking at the sink like he wanted to wash his hands, but he decided to just leave. Miles locked the door and turned around to face me .
“That’s going to give you negative press. He probably thinks you’re going to fuck me in here. I know how much you hate negative press.”
Miles shook his head then grabbed paper towels from the dispenser. “He can think what he wants. People shouldn’t believe everything they read.” His eyes bore into mine with an expression that implied that everything I’d written was false.
“Haven’t you done enough damage tonight? If you want to go after my writing, bring me some concrete examples of where I was wrong.”
He patted at the spot on my dress, which was in the crevice of my breasts, and my heart rate picked up.
“I just don’t understand why you have to be so hard on me.” He looked up, and his hand didn’t stop trying to clean up the red stain on my dress.
I swallowed hard. “I just…”
“What?” His voice was quiet.
“I…”
I’m not sure what happened, except something inside me said to kiss him. I rose on my tiptoes and placed my lips against his. The paper towels dropped between us onto the tiled floor, and his calloused hands grabbed my face, not allowing me to pull away.
Everything was frantic and rushed. As though we’d been hiding our attraction for years and had finally allowed ourselves to indulge.
I’m not sure I’ve wanted anyone like I did him in that moment.
There were late nights I’d wonder what Miles would be like in bed, and for some reason, I had this expectation of him being soft and loving, but whether or not it was just that moment or not, his mouth ravished me, his hands gripped me, commanding me to do his bidding.
His lips trailed down my neck and I moaned, my fingers threading through his dark strands, urging him to keep exploring.
“Leave with me,” he said. “Right now.”
“Miles,” I said with a plea because I didn’t want the feeling to end. I didn’t want him to take his hands off me .
“I want you so fucking bad, Bryce.” He picked up my hand from behind his head and guided it down to his crotch, placing it on the hard length pushing against his tuxedo pants. “You’re the only one who can satisfy this.”
He stared at me, his thumb running along my cheek.
I opened my mouth but didn’t know what to say.
We were different people. I knew it. He knew it.
I should’ve kept it to messing around in the bathroom and not gone home with him, but the desperation in his eyes unleashed some part of me I kept locked away deep inside.
“You want me to beg?” he asked, slipping down my body until he was on his knees in front of me, his hands on my hips. “I’ll beg.” He rubbed his chin between my thighs, his hands collecting the fabric up my legs.
“Let’s go,” I said, unable to resist him.
He stood quickly, grabbed my hand, and we were out of the bathroom and into a cab before anyone could spot us.
My body buzzed with anticipation as his large hand slid up and down my leg, causing my dress to rise higher and higher, but never enough to give the driver a glimpse of my panties. Miles was playing me, and I fucking loved the teasing.
We drove to his condo, where he paid the driver and greeted the doorman before we stepped into the elevator.
I waited for him to smash me against the wall, dig his thigh between my legs so I could grind on him as he kissed me breathless.
But he barely touched me other than his thumb running the length of my pointer finger where our hands joined. It only made me want him more.
By the time he closed his condo door, and I stood in the large room with floor-to-ceiling windows, the San Francisco skyline shining bright behind me, I was the one who was ready to beg.
He came up behind me, and his fingers took hold of the zipper, slowly sliding it down my back while his breath floated past my ear. “You’re so fucking stunning.”
Shivers racked my body. I’d never had anyone like Miles.
I moved to spin around, but his strong hands kept my hips in place.
With his help, the dress fell to the floor, leaving me in only my panties and heels.
I reached behind me, and my hand ran up and down his length while he kissed my shoulder and neck, his fingers hooking in either side of my thong and pulling it down.
I stood naked in front of him and heard him unbuckle his belt and the clink of the belt hitting his floor. His shirt was tossed to the couch in my peripheral, then his bare body was pressed to mine. He picked me up bride style and his lips devoured mine all the way to his bedroom.
I was dripping wet when he reached into the drawer and rolled a condom down his length. I went to roll over on my stomach, but he held me still, staring into my eyes as he entered me inch by inch until he was fully seated inside me.
We didn’t take our time, and there wasn’t a lot of foreplay.
I think the anticipation did us in. He thrust inside me, and my arms wrapped around his neck as he continued to pound into me.
I came for the first time without any clit involvement, and he stilled inside me, spilling inside the condom and collapsing on me.
Then he kissed my shoulder and collarbone until he softened inside me.
“Stay,” he demanded.
All I was thinking about was experiencing it all over again, so I nodded.
We slept together another two times that night until the dawn light shone through his windows. I grabbed my things and had my hand on the doorknob of his condo when Miles appeared behind me.
“Where are you going?” I could tell from his tone that we had different expectations for what the night had meant.
“Home. I completely forgot about Shayna. I left her last night.”
“I’m sure Burrows got her home. Come back to bed. I make a killer breakfast.”
If he meant the green smoothies he raved about, I wasn’t interested.
Our eyes locked, and he must have seen something in mine. His head rocked back, and he nodded. “Oh, I get it.”
“We hate each other,” I reminded him.
“Do we? ”
“You hate me, Miles. Last night was just sex. A reaction to wanting what you can’t have.”
He laughed, but it was hollow. I knew he wasn’t a one-night stand kind of guy. “I’ll call down and make sure whoever is on shift gets you a cab.”
“Miles.” Usually, I never cared if a guy felt there should be more than just sex, but guilt clung to me where Miles was concerned.
“See you around.” He walked back to his bedroom and shut the door.
“And that was it?” Elle asks. “You broke the man.”
I scoff. “I didn’t break him. He’s fine. It’s been two years anyway.”
“Have you talked with your mom?” Her question pisses me off.
“What does that have to do with what I just told you?”
She inhales and sips her drink, her nonverbal way of saying my past is fucking up my future. Typical Ellery. What’s funny is that she can’t see her best friend is in love with her, but whatever.
“Don’t look now, but the boys just arrived.”
I turn in my seat, and sure enough, Miles stands in the doorway, his eyes locked with mine. Damon clinks bottles with him as he passes by, and Miles’s attention shifts to him.
As all the players join us in the back room, I feel the adrenaline of that night we shared still flowing through my veins.
I’ve relived that night too many times to count over the years, but with Miles so near right now, it’s the first time I’ve wondered what it would be like today if I’d played that morning differently.
What if he was mine? What if I didn’t allow my past to dictate my future?
I shake my head because Miles Cavanaugh hates me. And I hate him. We both know that. It’s the one thing we can agree on.