Read Hard Tackle (A Stepbrother Warriors Novel) Online
Authors: Celia Loren
"You hungover or something? Steal some champagne last
night?" Silvio asks through the window, eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"Huh?" He looks down at the BLT that's sitting
between us. "Oh, right." I pick up the plate and hustle over to Table
4, wondering how long the sandwich had been sitting there.
"Well?" he asks as I return to my spot behind the
counter.
"Just tired," I reply. Which is true…I'm
exhausted. I kept waking up sweating from dreams of Jack's hands all over me,
and as soon as I'd fall asleep, another one would wake me up again. "Why
didn't you guys go?"
"Not really our kind of party," Silvio answers.
"They let Stratton go?" Andrè asks, appearing at
the window next to his brother.
"Yeah…wait, what do you mean? Why wouldn't they?"
I frown, turning toward him with my arms crossed over my chest.
"Those pictures," Silvio says, letting out a low
whistle while he and Andrè glance at each other, shaking their heads.
"What pictures?"
"You didn't see? Came out yesterday afternoon. I
figured he'd be on lockdown," Silvio says.
"Photos of Jack in a bar, doing body shots off a
topless girl while another one's got his jersey on," Andrè fills me in.
"No way," I say incredulously. "Seriously?
Wearing his jersey?"
"I'm telling you," Andrè says. "And you said
he was supposed to be taking it easy, so I thought for sure he wasn't even
allowed to go out now."
"Well, the party was at our house," I reply,
chewing my lip. "And these pictures came out yesterday afternoon?"
"Yeah, he's gotta be on his best behavior now,"
Silvio says, though he clearly enjoys the thought of Jack's antics.
I grab the water pitcher to refill a table's glasses as I
feel steam rise from my ears. Jack's proposal last night wasn't about me at
all…he just needs a girl, any girl, close to home because he can't go out
anymore. Ugh, what a man-whore.
By the time we close up, the sun's been down for well over
an hour. I hurry home, anger fueled-adrenaline coursing through my veins. I
need to work it off. In my bedroom, I pull on a pair of shorts, a sports bra, a
t-shirt, and my old sneakers. I wrap the belt that Carter gave me around my
waist, like I promised him I always would, and pull my t-shirt over it. I
hustle down to the kitchen, take a quick sip of water so that I don't get
dehydrated, and side-step Jack as he emerges from his workout in the basement
gym.
"Where are you going?" he asks as I walk quickly
toward the front door.
"A run!" I call back without stopping.
"It's dark out!" he protests, walking after me
down the marble hallway.
"I have a knife!" I reply, pausing to turn around
and reveal the sheath strapped to the belt that Carter gave me.
"What the fuck, Bree!?" Jack exclaims as I shut
the front door behind me. I roll my eyes as I hear the front door open and his
footsteps following me as I begin to jog. "What the hell are you doing
with that thing?"
"Carter gave it to me so I could protect myself,"
I explain. "He showed me how to use it, obviously."
"What if—"
"Jack. This is a gated community. I think I'll be
fine." I frown as he continues to run next to me, and pick up my pace.
"You seriously trying to lose me? I'm a professional
athlete." I stare straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge him. "You
do have some pretty good speed, though."
"Yeah, well, I'm the
daughter
of a professional
athlete," I growl.
"You ever think of going into sports?"
"Absolutely not," I reply as my legs pump on the
cement beneath us. "I don't like what that scene does to people. I run for
myself, and that's it."
"Not even high school sports?"
"No," I respond flatly.
"What's up with you? You seem even grumpier than usual,"
he notes lightly.
"It's nothing." I can't tell him what I'm upset
about. I don't want him to know that he can have that effect on me.
"Did you know they were going to get engaged?" he
asks. He thinks I'm upset about the engagement…fine, let him think that.
"I had a pretty good idea," I reply.
"You?"
"Same. Alexa's going to be shocked, though."
"What's the deal with her? People just keep telling me
she's in Europe…what does that even mean?"
Jack laughs. "It means no one really knows what she's
doing, least of all her."
"And that drives your dad crazy."
"Oh, yeah. She's great, though. You'll like her.
Everyone does."
"She coming home soon?"
"Maybe," he says with a shrug. "She dropped
out of college, followed this guy over there, but her relationships don't tend
to last long."
"So you two are alike in some ways."
"Well, Lex tends to romanticize everything. She thinks
her life's a cross between
The Great Gatsby
and
Emma.
" I
glance over at him in surprise, not expecting to hear those references from
him. "What? I was a Lit major at the University of Michigan."
"Not just a pretty face, huh?"
"Aw, shucks, you think I'm pretty?" he asks,
pushing my playfully.
"Quit it!" I scold him. The feeling of his skin on
mine is too distracting.
"You
are
in a bad mood," he says.
"Upset we didn't finish that kiss?"
"Probably not as upset as you," I retort. "I
hear I'm your only option."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I shrug. "Oh,
you heard about those pictures yesterday. Look, a man like me is never really
out of options…and I know you're going to tell me I'm arrogant for saying
something like that, but it's the truth. Is that what's eating you? You think I
only asked you because I couldn't get anyone else in bed?"
"Well?" I ask, keeping my eyes trained on the dark
road ahead of us, lit only by the security lights by the mansions on either
side.
"I think you're beautiful and interesting," he
says simply. "But yeah, it doesn't hurt that you're someone who's not
going to sell a story to the press, or my underwear online."
"You're honest, I'll give you that."
"I see how Lex gets torn up by these guys promising her
the stars and the moon, and then ditching her when they're done. At least I'm
straightforward about not looking for any attachment. I don't want anyone
getting hurt. Has to be two consenting adults with all the information out
there. Speaking of…how old are you?"
"Sixteen."
"What?!" he yelps stopping in his tracks. I laugh
as I keep running.
"Oh man, I got you!"
"Not funny!" he says, starting up again.
"Eighteen," I tell him as he catches up to me.
"And you're clean?"
"Jack!" I protest. God, it's not like I expect him
to hand me red roses or something but that's a bit much.
"Hey, it's a fair question."
"Yes, OK?" It's not a lie, really…I mean, I am
clean. It's more of a lie of omission than a
real
lie.
"Gets so humid out at night when it doesn't rain,"
he remarks, then quickly whips off his shirt.
"Jack, seriously?" I groan, stealing a quick
glance at his bare chest in spite of myself.
"Not bad, though, right?" he smiles, spreading his
arms out to give me a show. "Just giving you something to think about. And
it's only fair…you showed me yours."
"I did not 'show you' mine! You snuck in and saw
me."
"Hey, no sneaking involved. I honestly didn't think you
were in there."
"I know," I reply more softly. I do my best not to
glance sidelong at his torso, but it's covered in sweat, and I can see each
muscle twisting across his stomach with every footfall.
"What about your brother? When's he coming back?"
"I think around October. He can't tell us the exact
date, even if he knows."
"And he gave you that knife? Sounds a little
overprotective." A laugh bursts out of my mouth, and I try quickly to
stifle it. "What?" he asks, sounding a little insulted.
"Sorry, I just…I just realized how much he would
dislike you," I admit, beginning to laugh again.
"Hey!"
"I mean, if he knew you were propositioning me! But,
well, also because you're wealthy and probably never had to have a job."
"I have a job," he replies indignantly.
"I said
had
to have a job." He falls into
silence for a bit, and I worry I've hurt him. Sometimes it just seems like his
ego is so big, that would be impossible. But that's no excuse for me to be
mean. I open my mouth to apologize.
"What would you do? If you didn't have to work in the
diner," he asks before I can say anything.
"I want to get an MFA in writing," I whisper. It's
my wish that I can barely allow myself to know that I want.
"My dad could probably—"
"No," I interrupt him. "Driscolls don't
depend on anyone. It's practically our family motto. I'll earn the money
myself."
"How long will that take?"
"A while," I respond, feeling a lump in my throat
at the thought. Well, at least I don't have to worry about rent.
"Should we turn back?" he asks.
"You tired?"
"No. You?"
"No."
"Then let's keep going."
I tap my pencil against my nose as I stare out at the ocean,
my damp hair leaving a dripping trail down my back. When I got back from my run
with Jack, which turned into a much longer one than I had planned, he left me
at foot of the stairs with these words: "My door is always open."
I turned them over and over in my mind while I showered, and
now I can't stop thinking about him. I wish I'd made a good girlfriend at
school so I could have someone to talk to about this. I always had my mom, my
brother, and Andrè and Silvio, but I can't talk to any of them about this
situation for obvious reasons. I smile, thinking of how torn the brothers'
allegiance would be…their hero athlete trying to score with their little Bree.
I'm surprised to find that I keep coming back to one central
question: why
not
sleep with him? He said he could make me feel
beautiful, and something about how he looked at me made me believe him. I'd
never consider him as relationship material, but that's a plus, since he's said
he's not interested in relationships.
He'd have to wear a condom, that's
a given. I'm clean, but I'm not on the pill, and he didn't say anything about
being exclusive. I wrinkle my nose…would I be OK with him sleeping with other
women while he's sleeping with me? For that matter, what if I want to sleep
with someone else? OK, that option is less likely, but still. I suppose I'll
have to be alright with it.
And really, he's probably a good
person to learn about sex from. I mean, the idea of me being some well-trained
sexual badass…that sounds fucking cool. If I knew I could drive Miles wild in
bed, I bet that'd help me look him in the eye.
My door is always open
…shit.
Am I really thinking about doing this? I really am. I stand up and take a deep
breath. Now that I've made a decision, I want to go to his room right now. But
maybe there are some things I should take care of first.
I head into my bedroom and put my
pad and pencil back in my desk. I walk into the bathroom and turn the shower
back on. I washed off after my run, but I wasn't really thinking of anything
but the hair on my head. I run my hand over my legs…stubbly, as usual.
I switch out my old razor blade for
a new one, and slap some conditioner on my legs, figuring it'll help to get a
close shave. I shave my calves and then my thighs, for a change, going all the
way around. I pause as I stare at the mound of light brown hair between my
legs. It's not like I haven't seen reruns of
Sex and the City
. I know
what most women have going on down there.
I tentatively reach my razor down
and begin narrowing the strip, then trimming down the hair. It ends up a little
shorter than I intended, but I think it looks nice. I rub my thighs together
experimentally, and am surprised by the buzz of extra sensation that spreads
from all the newly exposed skin. I splash some water down there, wondering
briefly how I know if I smell good, and turn off the water.
In the bathroom mirror, I examine
my body as I dry off. I worriedly run my hand over my stomach for a moment, and
then shrug. Jack's already seen almost all of me already, so it's not like
there will be much of a surprise. As I head into the bedroom, I wish for a
moment I had some nicer clothes to put on, but again, he's already expressed
definite interest, so it's not like I have to impress him or anything, right?
I pull on my underwear and some old
cotton pajamas, then cover up with a long-sleeved denim shirt. I turn off the
lights in my room and close the door after me as I head into the hall. I think
my mom and Ray are asleep, but I want to make it look like I am too, in case
anyone comes to check on me. I walk down the hallway, passing the foyer and
stopping at the stairs up to the third floor, where Jack's bedroom is. I rarely
go up to the third floor of the house, considering it to be Jack's territory,
and I've never even been inside his bedroom, though I did glance inside it
during my first tour of the mansion.
I place my right foot on the first
step and slowly ascend. The interior decorating choices on this floor are
lighter, more airy, lending it a feeling of existing in the clouds even though
the hallway is on the leeward side, without views of the ocean. I pass a casual
sitting room and stop in front of the next door, Jack's bedroom.
My palms begin to sweat and my
heartbeat jumps in my chest. What seemed so possible and even reasonable in my
bedroom now seems frightening in this dark hallway. I look down and study my
toes, wiggling them against the cold marble.
I'm not committing to anything
by just knocking
, I remind myself.
I can always back out.
I raise my hand and softly knock. I
wait, but can't hear anything from the other side of the door. Maybe he's
asleep. Maybe he didn't mean tonight. I hesitate, then raise my hand to knock
one more time. The door swings open and I yank my arm down.
"Um, hi. I hope I didn't wake
you up," I stammer, my mouth suddenly dry as I look up into Jack's face,
his body silhouetted against the soft light from somewhere in the room behind
him.
"Nope," he says, and
pushes the door open, keeping his hand on it as he gestures me inside with the
other. Our height difference is such that I don't even have to duck as I pass
through into his bedroom. I glance around, fidgeting with the hem of my
button-down. It's more of a suite than a bedroom, and it makes my room look
tiny.
I hear the door shut and turn
around. Jack's walking toward me with an expression on his face that makes my
knees weak. I take an instinctive step back and hold up my hand.
"Wait. Some business
first."
"Business?" he asks,
looking amused.
"Business," I repeat.
"Condoms. Always."
"Agreed," he replies
gamely.
"We can both sleep with other
people, but we have to use protection then, too."
"Agreed," he says again,
though he begins to walk toward me. I lose my train of thought as he takes the
bottom of his white t-shirt and whips it off over his head, tossing it onto a
beige armchair as he passes it.
"And one last…one last
thing…" I trail off as he wraps his arms around me and picks me up off my
feet. Our eyes are suddenly level as I feel my feet dangle in the air. My
breasts pillow against his pecs and I can feel our hearts beating against each
other's.
"It can wait," he
murmurs, his lips millimeters from mine. I don't have time to breathe before
his mouth is on mine. I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his
waist as my entire body responds to his touch. My lips open as his tongue
presses against mine, his hands spreading across my back and then reaching up
into my hair. I feel him begin to walk and then he gently lays me back against
his bed. He's still on top of me, but making sure not to put all his weight on
me.
One of his hands moves to the back
of my knee and then begins to slide up my inner thigh, the cotton fabric of my
pants bunching slightly. He shifts, moving his body a little higher on mine,
and I can feel something pressing against my pelvic bone. His hips move, and I
gasp as his erection grinds against me.
"I'm a virgin!" I blurt
out, pulling my mouth away from his. He freezes.