Read Hard Tackle (A Stepbrother Warriors Novel) Online
Authors: Celia Loren
"Hey, hon! We're home! You feeling better?" my mom
calls from the foyer.
"Yeah, I'm fine now!" I reply from the den, where
I'm curled up with a blanket pulled up to my chin. I hear her and Ray chatting
as they head upstairs. My mom sounds a little tipsy. I texted her that I had a
headache and was taking a cab home from the party. I've been in front of the TV
since I got back, anxiously watching FOX Sports' coverage of the game to see if
they would include anything about Sonny Bosko's daughter reappearing at one of
his old team's games.
Why did I turn around when that reporter called my name?
Bree
Driscoll
, Bree
Driscoll
, I trained myself when my mom
changed our last name. And how did that reporter even know? Maybe she recognized
my mom from old pictures?
I shift, feeling my cell phone dig into my ribs. I turned it
off after Jack's fifth text. If he's going to sleep with one of those bimbos he
should just go ahead and get it over with. Better that it happens sooner rather
than later.
The TV switches back from a commercial and I hold my breath,
but the announcers introduce a profile of a Ravens player. I try to stay up as
long as I can, but eventually I feel my eyelids getting heavier and heavier
until I fall asleep.
I wake up to a dark figure looming over me. I'm filled with
a sudden fear and lash out with a fist. I make contact and hear a groan, and
the figure falls to the floor. I reach over to switch on the lamp on the side
table and leap to my feet, ready to go again.
"Fuck, Bree!" Jack moans from the floor. "You
hit me right in the balls!"
"Oops. I thought…I don't know. I thought you were
someone else," I explain as I take his arm to help him stand.
"Who?" he asks, trying to straighten up.
"I'm not sure. It was like a flashback, almost. I could
see someone standing over me, and they were saying something, but I couldn't
move."
"That's strange," Jack comments, as he drops onto
the couch, still grimacing with a hand over his crotch.
"Yeah," I reply, then remember that I'm mad at
him.
"Where the hell did you go earlier? I've been texting
and calling. I was worried."
"You seemed busy so I left. Didn't even think you'd
notice."
"Of course I did! What are you talking about?" he
demands, sounding exasperated.
"I'm talking about that little group of women you had
surrounding you. How many of them have you slept with?" I demand, feeling
my anger roiling through my brain.
"None!"
"I heard a woman talking about you. How you had sex so
many times in one night—"
"Bree—"
"I heard her!"
"There were a few women at the party I've slept with,
not specifically one of the women who were around me when—"
"And they all act like I don't even exist."
"Bree. They think you're like my sister so they're not
registering you as competition."
"Well, they should!"
"No."
"What's that supposed to mean?!" I snap.
"There
is
no competition. I don't care about
them," he answers, seeming infuriatingly calm now. "Bree, there are
always going to be women around me. Always. Even the married players have women
throwing themselves at them. Not so obviously, but it still happens, believe
me."
"So there's no chance for us, is what you're
saying," I whisper, tears springing to my eyes.
"Did you drink crazy juice today or something?" he
sputters. "I'm saying that there will always be women around, so you have
to trust me, and not freak out every time one of them bats her eyelashes at
me."
"These women, they're different than me."
"Right…"
"Exactly! They're so polished, and beautiful, and they
hair is so perfectly straight and nice..."
"I...I don't know about the hair thing, but I think
you're
beautiful. Bree, I
like
that you're different than them. That's why I'm
with you, and not one of them. I thought you knew that," he says, reaching
for my hands. He wraps his around them and pulls me down to sitting next to
him.
"But for how long?" I reply, a tear dropping down
my cheek.
"How long what?"
"How long…will I be enough for you?" I finally
whisper, giving voice to my deepest fear.
"Bree," Jack murmurs, gently wiping the tears from
my cheek with his thumb. "You're so young, I wasn't sure if we should…I
just mean, I could see us together," he clears his throat, looking a bit
awkward. "I have a hard time seeing a future where we're
not
together, to be honest with you. But you're so much younger than me, and I
don't want to put any pressure on you. I've had time to, you know, sow my wild
oats or whatever, and you haven't."
"Wait…wait…what are you saying?" I ask, my heart
beating wildly in my ears.
"I'm saying…I love you," he replies quietly.
Everything inside me goes still for a moment, and my eyes lock directly onto
his irises, pale blue with the lamp behind me outlined against them.
"I love you, too," I breathe.
"Yeah? Really?" he asks, a grin slowly spreading
across his face.
"Really. I can't believe you love me…"
"The feeling's mutual. Now about this alleged maggot
infestation…"
I laugh and fling my arms around his neck and press my lips
against his, tears still damp on my cheeks. We're both smiling and our teeth
click together as our mouths desperately connect. He takes my face in his huge
hands and holds it back away from his for a moment, his eyes poring over my
features as though he's memorizing them. But then he frowns, his eyes flicking
toward the TV.
"Bree, why are you watching sports news?" he asks
with a befuddled smile.
"Oh, god, I almost forgot," I groan, resting my
forehead on his. "That reporter, Victoria Reilly, she must have recognized
my mom from the old news stories…she stopped me as I was leaving the party and
started asking me about my dad. She's going to dredge the whole thing up again,
and the worst part is that the whole world is going to know he abandoned
us."
"But none of that is about you."
"And I had sauce stains all over my shirt."
"Anyone with any intelligence will know that what
happened had nothing to do with you…the gambling, leaving you and your brother.
And the people who are stupid enough to be angry at you about it aren't worth
your time or worry anyway."
"I've just always felt so ashamed about it. I just
remember everyone being so angry, and at the time I couldn't tell who it was
about. Everything just felt angry. And then sad. And then lonely. Carter, he
took it even harder than me. I think he's spent his whole life trying to prove
he's a better man than our father was, or is."
"Honestly, I don't think you'll even have to worry
about it getting out again."
"Why not? Wouldn't it make a good story? I'm sure the
fans would love to paint us as some kind of returning curse, blaming us for
every missed field goal. Oh, god, and I never even told you how well you played
today! I'm too busy making this all about me."
"Well, thanks, but still, I don't think they're going
to run a piece about you. One of the Patriots players was found with a
transvestite prostitute earlier tonight, and all the news outlets are jumping
on that. See?" he says, pointing to the screen.
"Oh, shit," I swear, then brighten. "It's my
lucky day! And you really did play great today."
"Did you have any fun at all?"
"Well, at first I hated seeing you get hit, but
honestly, I got used to it."
Jack laughs. "I guess that's good."
"You have practice tomorrow morning?"
He shakes his head. "Off for recovery time, but I have
to go in to watch some tapes in the afternoon."
"How do you feel about having to sneak out of the house
early?" I ask with a smile.
Up in my room, Jack deftly unsnaps my bra and I let it fall
to the floor. I don't know why it feels different to be with him now that we've
said that we love each other, but it does. It's as though every gesture, every
touch, has more significance to it, like it's a way of saying without words,
this
is how I love you.
I step back from him to push my jeans to the floor and then
my underwear. He disrobes, too, both of us taking our time and watching each
other undress. He walks up to me, slowly running his fingers through my hair
and down my shoulders.
"Someday I'm going to take you out to dinner right in
the open," he murmurs, his gaze following the path of his fingers.
I shiver at his touch. "Yeah?"
He nods. "I'm going to take you somewhere on the water.
It's not going to be one of those modern, soulless places. It'll be a
restaurant that's been there for years, a little place that serves seafood just
off the boat. And we'll have dinner together, and the sun will set over the
ocean while we're having our entrees and a bottle of wine between us. And then
we'll walk down to the beach, and we'll take our shoes off and carry them in
our hands, and we'll walk together for as long as we want because neither of us
have anywhere else to be. And then eventually we'll drive back to our house,
and we'll get in our bed, and I'll make love to you, and the next morning I'll
wake up with your head tucked against my shoulder."
"That sounds perfect," I breathe, my body aching
with the bittersweet realization that it might be a long time before we can
make that dream a reality. He bends down and lifts me into his arms. Our mouths
find each other's and it's just as exciting as the first time we kissed, and
now it's full of everything that has happened between us since then.
I move to his ear, kissing his lobe before pulling it into
my mouth. He groans and walks over to the bed, gently placing me on top of it.
He kisses my neck, moving down to the small hollow in the middle of my clavicle
and running his tongue around the edges of it. He moves down the center of my
chest, bringing his hands up to my breasts. I arch into his rough palms, his
callouses even more pronounced now. He moves them gently around my breasts,
caressing them as his head moves down, crossing my belly button and then
continuing on.
I gasp as his tongue flicks over my clit. I moan, already so
close to an orgasm. He sucks gently on it, then begins to slowly circle it. His
fingers pinch my breasts as his tongue moves faster and faster. I spread my
knees apart, gasping for air and sweet release. But he stops, moving back up
and scooping me up a little farther onto the bed. I open my eyes and gaze into
his. We both smile at the same time, happy to not have to break to retrieve a
condom now that I'm on birth control.
I tuck one leg behind his back and he positions himself at
my opening. I let out a low moan as he slowly thrusts himself inside me, his
eyes never leaving mine. Our lips find each other's again as he pulls back out
and drives in again. I gasp as he thrusts in harder and faster. I reach around
his back and hold on tight as he lets loose, pounding into me.
"Oh, Jack…fuck…" I moan, shuddering with an
orgasm. He keeps moving on top of me, allowing me my full release before
slowing down. With a twist of my hips, I get him to turn over onto his back. I
move my knees astride him without our bodies ever losing contact. I rise up on
his shaft as he grins up at me.
I look down over his body, running my hands from his hard
abs up over his engorged pecs as I maintain a slow, pulsating rhythm on top of
him. My breath catches in my throat at the sight of him, so perfect, so
handsome, and all mine.
Suddenly, he sits up, wrapping an arm around my back and
sucking one of my breasts into his mouth. I toss my head back and move my legs
around his ass. He moves forward, placing his feet on the floor, and then
thrusts up into me. A wave of pleasure flows through me and I wrap my arms
around his neck. He places one hand behind him on the mattress and drives his
hips up again. My clit rubs against his stomach just above the base of his
shaft, and my eyes fly open as he slips his other hand around my ass, his
fingers pulling my cheeks apart as he circles a finger between them.
The new sensation sends a thrill of shock and need coursing
through me. I sink down on top of him hard as he pushes up inside me. Our
mouths are open and against each other, gasping for breath. Sweat drips down my
forehead as another orgasm builds inside me. The pleasure is almost too much,
and I groan and fight against it as it builds and builds. But I can't control
it forever, and it breaks over me just as Jack comes inside me with a loud
grunt.
I raise myself up on him a few more times, and then let
myself relax against him as he moves his arm and sags back onto the bed. I
softly kiss his cheek, tasting salt and feeling the tiniest bit of stubble
against my lips. He nuzzles his nose into my ear, and I giggle as he blows hot
air against me. His teeth close around my lobe and he gently bites down.
"Again?" he whispers.
As dawn breaks, I feel my eyelids growing heavy, but I fight
to keep them open. Jack and I have spent all night awake, alternating between
talking and making love. I want to know everything about his life from as far
back as he can remember so I can feel like I was always there with him, and he
with me. I picture myself standing like a voyeur, watching him as frustrated
teachers finally get him to try sports to contain his energy, his sadness as
the nannies that raised him go off to raise families of their own, and his
protectiveness at watching his sister grow up into a young woman.
"We'll tell them eventually, right?" I whisper,
resting my head on his shoulder.
"Eventually. When the time is right."
"I don't know if there will ever be a right time. And I
don't want you to lose out on endorsements and things like that if people think
you're dating your sister."
"But you're not my sister."
"No, I know, I just mean you know how people will twist
things on the internet. I don't want people to think badly of you, or for it to
affect your career."
"Don't worry about me, OK? We'll figure it out, I
promise," he murmurs, placing a kiss on my forehead. I nod, sleep pulling
me under.
A sudden sound causes my eyes to fly open. "Did you hear
that? It sounded like my mom."
"I heard it, too," Jack concurs, his head lifting
off the pillow.
"Bree!" her call comes again from far off in the
house.
"Why is she awake?" I gasp, sitting up abruptly.
"Oh god, FOX must have aired that video of me after we went to bed."
I hear running footsteps coming down the hall as Jack hops out of bed.
"Go! Go!" I whisper, waving him toward the bathroom. He ducks in and
I pull the sheet up to my chin and flop back onto the pillow, closing my eyes
to make it look like I'm sleeping.
"Bree!" my mom gasps as my bedroom door flies
open. I flutter my eyes open as though I'm just waking up, but as soon as I
catch a glimpse of her expression I let go of the pretense. Her face is
streaked with tears and bunched up in hysteria.
"Mom, what is it?" I gasp. I pull the sheet up
with me as I go to her. She collapses on her knees just inside my room. I push
away the truth that I already know, the one thing that could cause this
reaction in her. It just can't be.
"Carter…it's Carter," she finally says between
sobs.
"Tell me," I moan.
"Suicide bomber on the base…they don't think he's going
to make it."
Tears erupt from my eyes. "When?"
"They won't tell me anything else. It was another man
on his team who called."
"Anne? Where are you?" Ray's voice betrays a fear
I've never heard him express before.
"Here!" I call back, a strangled cry coming out of
my throat. As he appears behind my mom in the hallway, she lurches up and into
him. He catches her, pulling her tightly against his chest.
"Get dressed and come downstairs," he says quietly
to me. "I'll take care of her."
"Thank you," I whisper, filled with a new
gratitude for his presence in our lives. I shut the door as they walk away,
feeling hollow. As I turn, I see Jack taking giant steps across the room to
reach me. His arms wrap around me and I bury my face in his chest as I sob.
"I don't want him to go. He can't. He can't."
Jack's arms tighten, and I think they're the only thing keeping me standing. He
lets me cry until I can't anymore, until all I can do is take shattered
breaths.
"Come on, I'll help you get dressed," he whispers.
I'm glad he doesn't offer platitudes. Anything of the kind would sound hollow
and wrong to me right now. He walks to my bureau and pulls out my favorite old
t-shirt and pajama pants. I let the sheet drop around me as he holds out the
pants for me to step into, then lowers the shirt onto my head. He takes my face
in his hands and makes me look up at him. "I have to leave after you go
downstairs," he says slowly so that I'll understand. "But I'm going
to make an excuse to come by the house in a couple hours so that I can be here,
alright? I'm going to be back soon," he repeats.
"You'll be back soon."
"That's right. I love you, Bree. Remember I love
you."
I nod, unable to respond. I move numbly to the door and walk
down the hallway toward the stairs. I don't know how Jack will sneak out now.
My brain is having trouble even forming coherent thoughts.
I take the steps slowly. Halfway down, I look into the
living room and can see the backs of my mom and Ray's head. For a second, I
think of my dad. I wonder how we'll tell him.
Carter would have been the one to call. Always stepping up
to take responsibility, always acting older than his years. Carter. When was
the last time we spoke? I can't lose him. I can't.
I force myself to continue down the steps, willing one leg
to rise and fall after the other. As I enter the room and round the sofa, I see
that Ray is holding a cell phone to his ear and quietly murmuring into it. He
hangs up and immediately dials another number as I stare at him in confusion.
"You would be surprised where I have connections,"
he says grimly. "If there's anything to do, I'm going to do it."
I feel a flicker of hope bloom in my chest as I picture
Ray's vast network spreading out across the globe in search of my brother.
Carter,
we're coming for you.
* * *