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Lainey’s List Chapter Twenty-Nine

 

Lainey

“Gosh, it’s good to see you.” Charlie gives me a hug at the door before I back away and let her in. It doesn’t take long for her to take in my house. It’s not much more than a sneeze of a place. Kitchen, living room, two bedrooms in the back, and one tiny bathroom with a stand-up shower.

It’s clean, though, so there’s that.

Charlie pretends like it’s not a huge step-down from the cozy duplex I rented in Dallas.

I feel compelled to tell her, “There’s a park down the street.”

She rushes to reassure me. “This place is lovely.”

“It’s a shit-hole, Charlie.”

“It’s not. It’s nice. Is this why you’ve been putting me off? Because you think I care where you live? Is that really what you think of me?” Charlie’s hurt.

“No, of course not.” Although, yes, that’s part of it. When you grow up poor and then are around people with a lot more money, you always feel the need to apologize. Sorry that everything I have isn’t shinier, newer, prettier. “You thirsty? I’ve got sweet tea or lemonade…nothing harder.”

“Sweet tea would be great. Your mom?”

“Napping. She doesn’t have a lot of energy these days. How was the drive?”

“Good. Easy once I got past I-35.”

“I don’t miss the traffic.” We share a laugh but it’s stilted. It’s not like when I was living in Dallas and we were seeing each other every day—when our lives were filled with each other. I’m torn between wanting her gone and missing her terribly.

“I thought the stuff with your mom was an excuse to get away from us.”

I look down at the table to hide my eyes from Charlie because when I moved away, it was an excuse. I came home, tail between my legs, and found my mom sick. She hadn’t told me, pride putting her in a dire position.

“How’s business?” I ask after an uncomfortable silence.

“It’s picking up. Nick,” she starts to say before clamping her mouth shut.

“You can say his name. I don’t care.” Another lie. I care a lot about hearing his name. Hearing his name from Charlie, who sees him daily, who sleeps down the hall from him, who goes to his games, who many in the online chat rooms think is his girlfriend—yeah, I’m on those. Sue me. Hearing his name from Charlie is as close as I’m going to get to hearing Nick himself. But I’m not telling her that. I don’t want her feeling more sorry for me. I don’t want Charlie’s pity.

She toys with the glass, rubbing a pattern in the condensation. “He’s having success and so other guys are thinking that I can help them. Take away all the distractions so all he has to do is focus on the game.”

“And it’s working!” I chirp with false cheeriness. It’s not that I’m not happy Nick is killing it for the Mustangs, racking up record yards both passing and running.  Or that they’re a win away from clinching a divisional title for the first time in eight years. It’s that I want to be there with him but he doesn’t want me there.

“Yeah, it’s working so well that now I’m swamped with work. I don’t have enough time in the day to do all the research I need. I can spend a week calling up schools, interviewing neighborhoods to find the exact right fit for my clients, the best dry cleaner, the best dog walkers, and then I have to fly there to visit. If I had a more established business, then it would be easier, but…”

“But you’re starting out and building your business from scratch.”

“Exactly.” Charlie reaches into her huge purse and pulls out planner after planner, all in different colors with a thousand post-it note flags sticking out of the edges.

“I’ve got all these planners and notes but feel more disorganized than ever. I want to do this so bad, Lainey.”

There’s a note of desperation in her voice. Charlie comes from a family with a lot of money. I don’t know how much but it’s substantial. Her mother is apparently a big money woman who manages huge sums of investments for some of the wealthiest people up north along with Nick’s dad. Charlie’s dad owned a construction company before he sold it to spend more time with Charlie and her mom.

So Charlie feels like she has to live up to something. Nick, too. I suppose that’s his brother’s issue. They all want to please their parents, show them what they’re worth. And for Charlie, who never went to college because of some slight brain damage when she was a kid, this is even harder.

“You can do it,” I tell her, reaching for the planners. “Talk to me. What do you need the most help with?”

“I’ve got the opportunity to move three players—two to the east coast and one on the west. I can make the travel work, but the research—I need someone I can trust. Who knows what my business is all about. All that person needs is a phone and an Internet connection, really.”

I give her a sharp look. “Did you come to visit me or offer me a job?”

“Both. Can’t it be both?” She reaches across the table and grabs my hands. “I miss you guys every day. I wish you were back in Dallas, just a drive away, but you’re not. You’re needed here and I understand and respect that but I thought you could do this here. It’d be perfect. You could work at home, be with your mom, and you wouldn’t have to spend as much money on home care.”

“You’ve given this a lot of thought.”

“You have no idea.”

“I don’t have an answer.”

“You don’t need to give one. Not today at least.”

“Good. Let me take a look at all of this. When do you need an answer by, if not today?”

“Tomorrow?” She’s only half joking. “Okay, we’re done talking about this. When does Cassidy come home?”

“Thirty minutes.”

The post Lainey’s List Chapter Twenty-Nine appeared first on Author Jen Frederick.

Lainey’s List Chapter Twenty-Eight

Nick

I know she’s gone before I open my eyes, before I stretch and feel the cool, empty space beside me. I tell myself it’s for the best. No tearful goodbyes. No pleas for me to stay one more minute when I’m itching to go.

Granted, Lainey’s never cried in my presence or begged me for anything outside of the moments I’ve been between her legs, and I don’t think that counts for much. But it’s good to tell myself these small lies so my ego doesn’t shrink into a tiny raisin. Big game players need a big attitude. It’s why Deon Sanders dubbed himself Prime Time.

I have no such nickname for myself. I unclench my fingers from the sheets and force myself out of bed.

My clothes are folded nicely and lie on the chair near the window. The pillows I threw off the bed are stacked neatly on the sofa. Other than the sheets that are barely hanging on to the bed and my sore dick, one would think I passed out by myself.

I give said dick a fondle. “No morning sex for you, buddy.”

Said dick doesn’t deflate. It’s dumb. It thinks Lainey’s hiding in the bathroom, wet and hot and ready. I know better but it doesn’t stop the rush of disappointment when I open the door to the en suite and find it empty—like the bed.

“Definitely no sex for you.” I squint at the mirror until the fog of sleep completely clears off. The image that greets me brings a broad grin to my face.

She might not be here but she sure as hell left a mark. There are nail gouges in the tops of my shoulders. Red scratches run down my chest, my arms, and—I swivel my torso—yep, my back too. Right above my heart is a big ol’ bruise where she must have sucked for an hour while I was pounding into her missionary style.

I didn’t go easy on her last night so I suspect there are nice marks on her ass. I spanked it good a few times. It would’ve been nice to see my handiwork this morning. My dick jumps in agreement.

I stare down at it. “You’ve got left hand or right hand this morning.”

No response. I reach into the shower, flick the water on, and then step under the spray without even waiting for the water to warm up. I need a cold shower because rubbing one out by myself after last night feels like a sacrilege.

As I soap up, I run through a litany of excuses for her. She had to pick up Cassidy. She’s got church this morning. Her car needed gas. I settle on the Cassidy one because it’s most likely and most palatable.

After the shower, I pick up the phone and give her a ring. It goes immediately to voicemail.

Babe. I had a wakeup call scheduled for you. You missed it but don’t worry, I can do a home delivery of the service. Let me know what time.

She doesn’t call me back. Which, fine, she’s busy. She’s a mom. She’s got Cassidy to think about. I’ve got myself.

After I dress, I run a few errands before going back to the condo. Charlie’s on the sofa, looking at her phone and sniffling.

My heart stops. “Jesus, is it Nate?” I croak out.

She looks up at me with tear-stained eyes. “It’s Lainey. She left today and didn’t even say goodbye in person. She sent me a text!” Charlie waves her phone at me.

Oh, right. The blood starts pumping again. “She’s just moving a few hours away. You’ll still be able to see her.”

“Why are you so unconcerned about this? I thought you cared about her?” Charlie gets a mean look in her eye.

I shift uncomfortably. “I do care about her and Cassidy, but it’s not like we won’t see them,” I hesitate and figure it’s best not to admit to Charlie that I’m kind of glad they’re leaving because Lainey’s such a big distraction and I need all of my focus to be on the game. “I figure they can come up on weekends, see the game. We can catch some grub afterward.”

Charlie jumps up with a mangled sound and throws a pillow at my head.

“What? What did I do?” I ask in honest bewilderment.

“You’re probably the reason she moved away,” Charlie yells.

Me? We banged like animals last night. I don’t share that with Charlie, but still. How is this remotely my fault? “How do you figure?”

“Ugh. You’re so dense. I hate men.” She stomps to her room and slams her door shut, leaving me clutching the stupid pillow.

Sheesh. It must be Nate. He must’ve done something to piss her off and she’s just projecting that on me. I throw the pillow back on the sofa. My stomach grumbles reminding me that one of the things I haven’t done today is eat.

Before I can make it to the kitchen, there’s a pounding at the door. I peek through the peephole and then pull open the door to greet Reese. “Dude, this isn’t a good time for you. Charlie just said she hated men.”

“I’m gay. She hates hetero men. They get on my nerves too. Hence the reason I’m gay,” he muscles past me and waltzes down to Charlie’s door. “I heard from Lainey,” he calls through it.

The door opens and Reese gets dragged inside, but not before Charlie sticks her head out and glares at me.

The door slams shut again. I rake my fingers through my hair, trying to figure out what just happened and then, when my stomach growls again, I say fuck it. It’s a girl thing. Reese is here and he can coddle Charlie while I feed myself.

Today is my only free day and I’m not going to spend it worrying about fake problems. An hour later, Charlie and Reese still have not exited her bedroom and I’m bored as hell.

Today is my day off. I thought for sure I’d be doing something other than sitting on my ass watching the football analysts argue about who is spending more time after practice on improving their game. There’re actual bar graphs and pie charts and pictures. And my face isn’t on one of them.

Does it suck that Lainey and Cass are moving away? Sure. But it wasn’t like I was going to have time for them anyway. I grab my phone and place a quick call.

“Plant, want to practice some routes.”

“You watching the NFL channel, too, huh?”

“Yeah. Apparently, we’re being lazy asses by only staying an hour after practice.”

“Had the same thought. All right. It’s not like we got family and the chicks will wait for us, right?”

“Right. So meet you there in thirty?”

“I’ll be there.”

I slap the phone on the couch. I’m making the right decision. Right now, it’s football over everything else. It’s the way it has to be.

The post Lainey’s List Chapter Twenty-Eight appeared first on Author Jen Frederick.

Lainey’s List Chapter Twenty-Seven

Lainey

Nick’s hands clench in my hair, pulling the strands tight. Tears prick the corners of my eyes from the pain, but I don’t tell him to ease up. Not tonight. I want this. I want to feel everything. The pain, the ecstasy, the anticipation of both. The heavy weight of him on my tongue, the scent of him filling my lungs, the bite of the carpet into my knees; I store all those sensations inside of me so I can pull them out later in the darkness, in my loneliness.

I make my tongue a bed and glide my lips over the top of his shaft until the blunt head knocks at the back of my throat.

“Jesus, Lainey, this feels so good. Keep doing that. Take me a little deeper,” he coaxes.

I open as far as I can and swallow him down. It’s not easy. He’s a big man. I use my fist at his base to cover what my mouth can’t. His hips move against my mouth, thrusting lightly at first, as if to test my reaction.

Can you take this? His body asks mine.

Yes. I answer back by leaning into him.

“Your mouth is so sweet,” he says. “But it’s your big eyes that are killing me. Your eyes tell me everything, baby. How much you want me. How much you love having my cock in your mouth.” He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I can’t wait until it’s my turn. I’m going to drive you crazy. You need to feel what it’s like to be me at this moment. Totally and completely in your possession.”

I want this to be our truth forever, but it’s only for tonight. Maybe it won’t be tomorrow, or even next week, but at some point there will be another girl kneeling before him. And she’ll take him into her mouth and her body. She’ll be the one looking up at him with doe eyes wanting nothing more than for him to shoot all of his seed down her throat. She’ll drink it up thinking that now she has him.

Then he’ll kiss her cheek, pat the top of her ass, and tell her that she was wonderful. He won’t make a promise to call because broken promises aren’t his thing. Love isn’t his thing. Ever after isn’t his thing.

Giving you everything he has in this one moment? That’s his thing. And silly girls like me gobble it up like poisonous berries on the forest floor. They’re so beautiful and we’re so hungry that we don’t care when the venom seeps from our belly into our veins.

I grab his hip and urge him forward. I want him to mark me, inside and out. I want to feel the pain in my throat when I swallow tomorrow. It’ll be a reminder of his fierce need for me. That I was here and he was with me.

He drives against me, his hips pistoning faster and harder until I’m filled with him. He explodes in my mouth. His harsh groan echoes in my ears.

When he pulls away, he’s still hard. An aroused Nick Jackson is a thing of beauty. His chest heaves. A damp sheen of sweat coats his musculature, highlighting all the hard planes. His eyes are dark and needy. The veins in his arms stand prominently under his skin.

“You drive me nuts,” he says as he leans down to pick me up off the floor. “I’m dizzy with want for you.”

“I need you, Nick.”

“Where?” He throws me onto the bed. “Tell me where and I’ll kiss it and make it better.”

I point to the throbbing area between my legs. “There. Kiss me there.”

He crawls up my body and settles against my side, one arm propping his head up, the other tracing the elastic top of my thong.

“Nowhere else? You don’t ache here?” He moves his hand up to my breast to pinch one nipple and then the other.

“Yes, you can kiss me there, too,” I tell him.

But he’s only begun to torture me.

“What about this spot?” He presses his index finger against the hollow of my throat at the same time his mouth finds the spot behind my ear that always makes me weak-kneed.

“If you must,” I joke.

“I think I need to explore a little, but I’m pretty good at multitasking.” His hand drifts down and tugs my thong to the side.

As he seals his lips over mine, his mouth swallows my gasp at the same time his nimble fingers slide inside. I writhe under him wanting more than his fingers, his clever tongue. With every touch and kiss and lick and bite, he simultaneously soothes and intensifies the ache.

His loving is slow and filled with serious intent. His mouth moves over mine with purpose; his fingers stroke me with sure knowledge. I give myself over to him, wallowing in the sensations he’s creating, focusing on the embers he’s fanning into flames.

His mouth leaves mine to trail down along my neck, the curve of my shoulder, the valley between my breasts. He finds my taut, hurting nipples and sucks them into his mouth. Silently, he calls up my desire. My body sings its response. I cradle his head in my hand. The soft hair of his legs rub against mine as he moves even lower.

My orgasm catches me by surprise. It cascades through my veins like a tidal bore traveling upstream toward my center. He murmurs his approval as he scissors his fingers inside, not allowing the sensation to subside but driving it harder and higher. My legs fall apart to make room for his broad shoulders.

And then his mouth is on my core. His intimate kiss is even more moving. His lips and tongue are worshipful as he drinks from the river of my need until I’m mindless and blind with want.

“Nick, now,” I tell him, my fingers digging into his head to pull him up. “I need you.”

He rises in one swift, graceful movement and glides into me without hesitation.

“This?” He thrusts forward hard. “Is this what you want?”

“More,” I say.

His eyes glitter as he braces one hand beside my head and reaches for my hip with his other. “You’re going to have bruises tomorrow.”

I reach up and swipe away the moisture around his mouth. “Bring it, babe. Make it hurt. Make me remember you.”

His rough hand bites into my skin as he slams forward. When I come again, it’s not just because of the fullness of his cock filling me, or the raw need glowing in his eyes, or even the harsh rasp of his breath as he drags air into his lungs. It’s all of it combined. It’s Nick, my heart, our past—the one he remembers and the one he doesn’t—the child I have that I wish was his. The love I’ll always have for him even though I know it’s not returned.

In this moment, it is not just my body. It is his. It is me. It is us.

The post Lainey’s List Chapter Twenty-Seven appeared first on Author Jen Frederick.

Lainey’s List Chapter Twenty-six

 

Lainey

Nick’s thumb strokes a line up and down the small of my back the entire ride up to the 12th floor. It’s probably the only elevator trip I’ve wished was longer. That subtle touch is generating goose bumps on every square inch of my flesh and my already barely there dress is feeling too confining.

I’d buried my bad feelings, reservations, and guilt…so much guilt…and given myself tonight. This last night with Nick would have to be enough to sustain me for the rest of my life because after tomorrow, he won’t want to talk to me again.

I push those negative thoughts away and concentrate on the warmth of his body behind mine. The way his broad shoulders give me shelter and his steady hands keep me upright.

The elevator halts and as the doors slide open, Nick nudges me forward. Every step I take toward the door brings me closer to being naked, removing his clothes, and having his hot flesh in my hands. I’m so weak with desire I wobble on my heels.

Nick smoothly slips a hand under my elbow and steadies me. “Too much to drink?” he asks.

“It was the elevator ride,” I murmur. No way is tonight going to be derailed because he thinks I’m drunk.

I pull the key card out of my purse and unlock the door. Then I grab his hand and drag him inside. My purse is tossed onto the desk. Nick stands just inside the door, looking at me, the bed, the small room.

“Have you had too much to drink?” I joke lightly, wondering why he’s not on me already. Wondering if he’s second-guessing himself. Wondering if I’m going to have to do some sweet-talking to get him into my bed tonight. Because it would suck if that was the case, but I would do it because I’m having him tonight, no matter what.

“Nah, I’m trying to control myself.” A patented-half smile dances on his face. The one that says he’s going to get into some mischief. I hope that mischief is me. “I’m feeling different tonight. You’re different tonight so I want us to be different. Which means I’m taking my time.” He waves a hand toward the bed. “I can’t remember the last time we had sex in a bed. It’s usually up against the wall, on the couch”—over the couch, behind the couch, beside the couch—it’s always been furtive and hurried but tonight it will be different.

He covers the distance between us in two steps and places his hands around my waist. “Remember the time you came to meet me for the Chicago game?”

“I remember your roommate had to wait in the hallway.” Nick had called me out of the blue a few weeks after we’d hooked up the first time and offered to fly me to Chicago.

Recklessly, I agreed. A friend from work agreed to babysit Cassidy and I took that free flight, the offer of seeing the hottie football player again, and just went. It wasn’t the first time I regretted taking a chance on Nick. It wasn’t roses and a candlelight dinner. It was waiting around in the bar with what seemed like a hundred other groupies. It was sneaking up to his room after curfew. It was having dirty but really hot sex while his roommate sat outside the hotel room on the floor with his laptop.

“It was really good sex.” He bends and places his hot mouth along my neck. I shiver.

“It was really good sex,” I agree.

It was sex, not romance.

And every time since then has been the same thing. I never went to another away game. I tried to resist his lures. When I became friends with Charlotte, I promised myself that Nick and I wouldn’t go down the friends with benefits path because I can’t separate sex from love.

But every time he crooked his finger, I came running. Okay, not every time. On a few occasions, I was able to find my backbone and turn him down. The times I couldn’t? I flagellated myself hard and heavy afterward.

Tonight, though, I know what I’m doing. I know what I’m getting into. I’m taking Nick Jackson because there’s no tomorrow.

I wind my arms around his neck and tug on his collar to get his attention.

“Yeah?” he asks. His lips are slightly damp from spreading his kisses along my shoulder. I want those lips on me.

“Kiss me.”

The corners of his mouth tip up. “You feeling bossy tonight?”

“Maybe.”

“That works for me.” He lifts me onto the desk. Together we pull off my dress.

His breath leaves his big frame in one giant rush. “That is all you were wearing under there?” He traces a finger along the top of my black thong panties.

“My dress didn’t have a back.” I busy myself with the buttons on his shirt. Each undone fastening reveals more of his golden skin, the smattering of dark chest hair, and then the trail of hair arrowing into his jeans.

“I don’t know whether I love or hate that dress,” he says. “All that creamy skin was on display and it made me hard as fuck. But that means all the other dickwads in the restaurant got to see it too. And they were turned on.”

“Can we debate this later?” I tug on his jacket. “Preferably, when we’re both nude, sweaty, and tired?”

He steps back and shrugs off his jacket and shirt. His hands fall to his fly and soon it’s just him and me and my tiny scrap of lace. His beautiful cock bobs between us. I want to slide to my knees, take him in my mouth, and drink him down until he’s dry.

His hand comes up to cover my eyes.

“What’re you doing?”

“You can’t look at me like that, Lainey,” he says urgently. “I’m on the edge and you’re going to make me lose it from just the look in your eyes.”

“Then what are you going to do when I put my mouth on you?” I reach down between us and grab his shaft. It’s heavy, hard, velvety-smooth, and wet around the tip. I lick my lips.

Nick groans. “You’re killing me.”

“You feel very vital to me,” I grin and give his cock a hard squeeze.

“It’s a slow death.”

“The slowest.” My heart sings at our easy banter, and I wish it could always be like this.

But I know the truth. I’m not enough for Nick. I never will be. And it’s not because of my sordid teenage past or because of Cassidy or because of my friendship with Charlotte.

It’s something deep inside of Nick that keeps his barriers up and makes me afraid of letting him in. Someone else will find a way past the castle walls and into his heart, but it’s not me.

But I’ll have this. This small part of him to take with me forever.

I push off the desk and drop to my knees. His hand falls away from my eyes to grab my hair and pull it away from my face. I close my lips over him.

“Don’t go easy on me,” he whispers hoarsely. “I can take it.”

“I know you can.” It’s me who can’t take it.

 

The post Lainey’s List Chapter Twenty-six appeared first on Author Jen Frederick.

LIFT 4 Autism Auction

Once again I’m participating in the LIFT 4 Autism Auction! This is a great charity auction, and I’m happy to be giving away a copy of Last Kiss!

You can find my donation page here.

The list of other awesome items up for auction here.

I hope you’ll take the time to look into this great auction and find some goodies!

The post LIFT 4 Autism Auction appeared first on Author Jen Frederick.

Lainey’s List Chapter Twenty-five

 

Nick

“I haven’t read anything bad in the sports columns lately.”

I know she follows these things for her job with Charlie, but I hate that she reads shit about me on these sites. “It was just a reporter stirring things up. They wanted a quarterback controversy but since Chip retired at the end of last season, our camp is too boring for them.”

“Right. Just a reporter,” she murmurs. Her head’s averted so I can’t see her face but she doesn’t sound like she believes me.

I don’t know that I believe it myself. Coach wouldn’t have called me in on a rumor floated by a reporter. But it’s easier for me to believe that someone outside the organization is at fault. Easier to pin the blame on a stranger, than say, a friend.

Everything in my life right now is hard as hell. I have to cut down on my stress levels and sometimes the only way to do that is to lie to myself. And do it convincingly. I shove those uncomfortable thoughts out of my head and concentrate on the good that’s right in front of me.

Lainey’s a friend. A friend I like fucking. A friend I’d like to be inside right now. Her interest appears to be centered on her dinner. Each morsel she places in her mouth has to be chewed carefully and slowly. My dick grows harder by the second. She could be torturing me on purpose or, I guess there’s a remote possibility, she doesn’t realize how much she turns me on.

I can hardly be in the same room as her without springing to attention like a pre-pubescent boy. I had better control at fifteen than I do now.

I sigh and shove another piece of bread in my mouth. Her steak isn’t half gone but we’ve been sitting at this table for—I check my watch—forty-five minutes now. That’s a long time, isn’t it?

“Am I keeping you from something?” Lainey asks tartly.

Yeah, the bedroom.

“No. I’m yours for the night.”

“You worried about the upcoming season?”

She dabs at the corners of her mouth with a napkin, unintentionally drawing attention to her red lips. My eyes linger on their plushness, remembering them pressed against my skin.

Dinner’s over and the last thing I want to talk about—or think about—is the game. I want to take Lainey upstairs to the room she has reserved, strip her out of that tight black dress, and take her down on the hotel bed.

I draw a deep, impatient breath when the waiter arrives to ask if we want dessert.

“No,” I answer tersely.

Lainey raises one perfect eyebrow. Her eyes are laughing at me. She knows exactly how she affects me. “Finished so soon?”

“With dinner,” I inform her. Every torture she inflicts on me at the table will be repaid later. I’m going to make her beg. A lot.

“You promised me a dance.”

I swear she’s going to kill me. “I’m hard. I’ve been hard since last week when you first issued your invitation. I can’t dance like this.”

“You’re an athlete.” She stands and offers me her hand. “Play through the pain.”

I grit my teeth, jerk my shirt over my waist, and stand up. If she wants to dance, we’ll dance, but no one can blame me for my wandering hands or the fact that I’m going to hold her so close we might look like one body, glued together from chest to thigh.

In her sky-high heels, Lainey comes up to my chin. Her body fits snug against mine. I make no effort to hide my hard-on. It’d be impossible, even if I wanted to. Which I don’t.

“Why the torture?” I whisper into her perfect, shell-shaped ear.

“We’ve never danced together.”

“We’ve never eaten at The Crescent Club either.” My hand drifts down her waist to settle at the top curve of her sweet ass. “Lots of firsts tonight.”

“Not our first time, though.”

No. Not our first time, or our third, or our last. I wonder if I’ll ever get enough of Lainey. If I do find Ms. Ordinary and Normal and marry her, will I still think about Lainey? In the dark hours of the night, alone and on the road, will I itch to call Lainey like I did all last season?

“When are you moving?” I ask in desperation. I don’t like how she has me gripped in the palm of her hand, even if she doesn’t know it.

She stiffens and I almost wish I hadn’t said a thing. “Soon.”

The finality in the word bothers me. “But you’ll be able to come back into town.”

“Now and then.” The steel rod is back in her spine. I can feel it through the silk of her dress and in the space she’s put between us.

I remind myself the distance is good. We should fuck, but not fall in love. That’s my motto, at least.

“Good. You should tell me when you’re in town and I’ll leave tickets for you.”

“Sure.” But it sounds like she’d rather have her teeth pulled. Out of the blue, she says, “Do you remember what happened after our first time?”

“Yeah.” I want to tug on my collar at that uncomfortable memory.

“You thought I was married because I had to run out and attend to my sick kid. Instead of asking me about it, you told me you didn’t do married women and not to come back.”

“That wasn’t my best moment,” I admit.

“And after,” she continues, almost as if I’m not even here, “you made out with that catalog model at Stacks for like two hours.”

“It wasn’t even five minutes.”

“You were liplocked so long, we thought we’d need a crow bar to pry you apart.”

I’d been drunk. I was a rookie and the backup with no reason to think I’d be starting. Lainey had blown me off after finding out I was a friend of Charlie’s. “I didn’t go home with her, if you remember. Charlie got sick and I took her home.”

“I know. I thought you slept with Charlie that night.”

“You did?”

“Nick, everyone thought you and Charlie were a thing. You used her as your excuse all the time to brush off the women.”

“I never brushed you off.” I bury my nose in her lemon-scented hair. “Why are we fighting?”

“I don’t want to fight either.”

“Lainey, you brought me here. Tell me what you want. I want to give it to you.” I’m the one begging now.

She hesitates, a miniscule, momentary pause, but I’m holding her so tight that I can feel every inhale and exhale. I hold my breath, afraid she’s about to tell me she’s leaving now and this dinner, this dance, is it for me. Then she sighs with her whole body and whispers against my throat. “You, I want you. Tonight.”

My grip grows tighter than it should around her waist. “That’s what I want too.”

The post Lainey’s List Chapter Twenty-five appeared first on Author Jen Frederick.

Chapter Twenty-five

 

Nick

“I haven’t read anything bad in the sports columns lately.”

I know she follows these things for her job with Charlie, but I hate that she reads shit about me on these sites. “It was just a reporter stirring things up. They wanted a quarterback controversy but since Chip retired at the end of last season, our camp is too boring for them.”

“Right. Just a reporter,” she murmurs. Her head’s averted so I can’t see her face but she doesn’t sound like she believes me.

I don’t know that I believe it myself. Coach wouldn’t have called me in on a rumor floated by a reporter. But it’s easier for me to believe that someone outside the organization is at fault. Easier to pin the blame on a stranger, than say, a friend.

Everything in my life right now is hard as hell. I have to cut down on my stress levels and sometimes the only way to do that is to lie to myself. And do it convincingly. I shove those uncomfortable thoughts out of my head and concentrate on the good that’s right in front of me.

Lainey’s a friend. A friend I like fucking. A friend I’d like to be inside right now. Her interest appears to be centered on her dinner. Each morsel she places in her mouth has to be chewed carefully and slowly. My dick grows harder by the second. She could be torturing me on purpose or, I guess there’s a remote possibility, she doesn’t realize how much she turns me on.

I can hardly be in the same room as her without springing to attention like a pre-pubescent boy. I had better control at fifteen than I do now.

I sigh and shove another piece of bread in my mouth. Her steak isn’t half gone but we’ve been sitting at this table for—I check my watch—forty-five minutes now. That’s a long time, isn’t it?

“Am I keeping you from something?” Lainey asks tartly.

Yeah, the bedroom.

“No. I’m yours for the night.”

“You worried about the upcoming season?”

She dabs at the corners of her mouth with a napkin, unintentionally drawing attention to her red lips. My eyes linger on their plushness, remembering them pressed against my skin.

Dinner’s over and the last thing I want to talk about—or think about—is the game. I want to take Lainey upstairs to the room she has reserved, strip her out of that tight black dress, and take her down on the hotel bed.

I draw a deep, impatient breath when the waiter arrives to ask if we want dessert.

“No,” I answer tersely.

Lainey raises one perfect eyebrow. Her eyes are laughing at me. She knows exactly how she affects me. “Finished so soon?”

“With dinner,” I inform her. Every torture she inflicts on me at the table will be repaid later. I’m going to make her beg. A lot.

“You promised me a dance.”

I swear she’s going to kill me. “I’m hard. I’ve been hard since last week when you first issued your invitation. I can’t dance like this.”

“You’re an athlete.” She stands and offers me her hand. “Play through the pain.”

I grit my teeth, jerk my shirt over my waist, and stand up. If she wants to dance, we’ll dance, but no one can blame me for my wandering hands or the fact that I’m going to hold her so close we might look like one body, glued together from chest to thigh.

In her sky-high heels, Lainey comes up to my chin. Her body fits snug against mine. I make no effort to hide my hard-on. It’d be impossible, even if I wanted to. Which I don’t.

“Why the torture?” I whisper into her perfect, shell-shaped ear.

“We’ve never danced together.”

“We’ve never eaten at The Crescent Club either.” My hand drifts down her waist to settle at the top curve of her sweet ass. “Lots of firsts tonight.”

“Not our first time, though.”

No. Not our first time, or our third, or our last. I wonder if I’ll ever get enough of Lainey. If I do find Ms. Ordinary and Normal and marry her, will I still think about Lainey? In the dark hours of the night, alone and on the road, will I itch to call Lainey like I did all last season?

“When are you moving?” I ask in desperation. I don’t like how she has me gripped in the palm of her hand, even if she doesn’t know it.

She stiffens and I almost wish I hadn’t said a thing. “Soon.”

The finality in the word bothers me. “But you’ll be able to come back into town.”

“Now and then.” The steel rod is back in her spine. I can feel it through the silk of her dress and in the space she’s put between us.

I remind myself the distance is good. We should fuck, but not fall in love. That’s my motto, at least.

“Good. You should tell me when you’re in town and I’ll leave tickets for you.”

“Sure.” But it sounds like she’d rather have her teeth pulled. Out of the blue, she says, “Do you remember what happened after our first time?”

“Yeah.” I want to tug on my collar at that uncomfortable memory.

“You thought I was married because I had to run out and attend to my sick kid. Instead of asking me about it, you told me you didn’t do married women and not to come back.”

“That wasn’t my best moment,” I admit.

“And after,” she continues, almost as if I’m not even here, “you made out with that catalog model at Stacks for like two hours.”

“It wasn’t even five minutes.”

“You were liplocked so long, we thought we’d need a crow bar to pry you apart.”

I’d been drunk. I was a rookie and the backup with no reason to think I’d be starting. Lainey had blown me off after finding out I was a friend of Charlie’s. “I didn’t go home with her, if you remember. Charlie got sick and I took her home.”

“I know. I thought you slept with Charlie that night.”

“You did?”

“Nick, everyone thought you and Charlie were a thing. You used her as your excuse all the time to brush off the women.”

“I never brushed you off.” I bury my nose in her lemon-scented hair. “Why are we fighting?”

“I don’t want to fight either.”

“Lainey, you brought me here. Tell me what you want. I want to give it to you.” I’m the one begging now.

She hesitates, a miniscule, momentary pause, but I’m holding her so tight that I can feel every inhale and exhale. I hold my breath, afraid she’s about to tell me she’s leaving now and this dinner, this dance, is it for me. Then she sighs with her whole body and whispers against my throat. “You, I want you. Tonight.”

My grip grows tighter than it should around her waist. “That’s what I want too.”

The post Chapter Twenty-five appeared first on Author Jen Frederick.

Lainey’s List Chapter Twenty-Four

 

Nick

“So Lainey wants me to babysit Saturday night but won’t tell me who she’s going out with. Now you’re going out on Saturday night and being equally mysterious.” Charlie raises her eyebrows. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

I scratch the back of my neck. “No?”

“Nick, we tell each other everything.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Well, we should. Starting now, we should share all our thoughts with each other.”

“Okay, you start. How do you feel about Nate right now?”

She sticks out her tongue. “Hate him.”

“Liar,” I pat the top of her golden hair. “I would have told you but now I can’t because no true friendship is based on lies,” I say piously.

“Tell meeeeee,” she whines. “Are you and Lainey going on a date? Have you decided to stop fighting? Are you getting married?”

“Whoa, whoa, runaway train much? I’m not getting married.”

“You were just saying how you wanted to settle down, and now you’re accusing me of assuming too much?” Charlie scrunches up her face. “What is it with you penises and your inability to settle down?”

That’s her I hate Nate Jackson bleeding through.

“It’s not that I don’t want to settle down,” I explain. Grabbing my keys, wallet, and phone, I pause to give Charlie a kiss on her cheek. “It’s that I don’t want to settle down now.”

Or fall in love like Charlie and my brother Nate and end up hurting each other over and over again. Neither of them has been with another person since Nate left for the Navy but something keeps them apart. Nate, I suppose. Watching Charlie die a little every year they’re separated kills me too. I don’t want what they have.

It scares the shit out of me.

Someday I want to have a family, but Lainey’s not the right person. She makes me too crazy. Last season, after we hooked up for the first time, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I’d be on the road and want to text her, fly her out to see me.

But Lainey has an itch she needs scratching and no matter how much I know I should stay away, no one should scratch that itch but me.

She’s about the only person that gets my dick hard these days. There are women everywhere, but I find myself telling them—and the guys—that I’m too tired or that I want to work on the game. The too tired excuse worries the guys. If I don’t have enough energy to go to pound town, then how will I be able to play four quarters during the regular season? So I’m falling back on the “perfecting my game” excuse.

That flies a little better. I realize I’m lying to myself half the time, but it’s one of those fake it ‘til you make it things. At some point, my lies will be my reality. I just need to hold out until that happens.

Lainey has me meet her at The Crescent Club, which, according to the website, is a private dining club for people staying at the hotel. Either she got a room there or she’s a member of the Club. Given how much disdain Lainey has for that sort of thing, it’s got to be the former.

I try not to put too much stock in the fact we’re eating at a hotel restaurant that requires a hotel reservation but my dick gets excited anyway. He thinks he’s getting some tonight and no amount of telling him to settle down is working. I wear my shirt untucked but I have a blazer on so I shouldn’t have a problem with any dress code. That, and I’m the Mustangs’ starting quarterback. I could probably walk in wearing shorts and get seated.

The maitre d’ recognizes me immediately. “Mr. Jackson, what a pleasure it is to see you. Do you have a reservation?”

“I’m meeting a friend.”

“Ah yes,” His eyes widen. “She did say a Mr. Jackson would be joining her. We had no idea it would be you. Please, come this way,” He snaps the menu out of the gawking waitress’ hand and gestures for me to follow him.

Tucked in the corner, behind a potted plant, sits Lainey. She rises, the soft light of the restaurant highlighting all her lush curves. My dick jumps in excitement.

“Lainey, you look beautiful,” I murmur, as I hold out her chair, telling myself silently to calm the hell down.

“Thank you. You look…” She pauses and gives my untucked shirt a speaking glance. “…nice.”

“It was either untuck my shirt or scandalize the old ladies in the room,” I whisper into her ear before taking my own seat. I forego the one across from her that the maitre d’ stands behind and settle into the chair next to hers.

“I think you should give the old ladies more credit. I bet they’ve seen their fair share of cocks—” The maitre d’s scandalized gasp interrupts her. Lainey and I exchange a naughty smile “—and hens in their day,” she finishes.

“We can test that out later if you want to dance after dinner.”

“I was going to say no, but then I remembered you took dancing lessons.” She toys with her butter knife.

“Yes, for five years.” I hand the wine menu to the maitre d’. “We’ll have the house red.”

Lainey prefers reds to whites and I don’t care. Neither of us will be drinking much tonight. Lainey rarely drinks and even though I have no practice tomorrow, I keep my drinking during training camps and the season to a bare minimum. I’ve seen how easily it can derail careers.

“How’s your mother?” I ask.

“Not well.”

“What is it? Do you need help?”

She stares at the tablecloth. “Early onset dementia, I suppose. Brought about by years of unhealthy living.” She gives me a tight smile. “And, no, we’ve got it covered.”

“Insurance?” I don’t know how things are set with her, but she has to know that both Charlie and I would open our bank accounts to her.

“It’s covered,” she insists.

“All right.” She doesn’t want to talk about it but I’ll keep asking until I get the truth. “Why the Charter Club?”

“It seemed like a nice place. I’ve always wanted to come.”

“It’s not cheap.” With her mom’s sudden health decline, I wonder if she should be paying for this. Maybe I should give my credit card to the hostess before the end of the dinner.

“Can you get off that? I want to do this. I want to splurge.”

Now it’s my turn to shift uncomfortably. I should be taking her out, not the other way around.

“I wanted this,” she presses. “Just a night for the two of us, no bickering. And I’ve always wanted to come here.”

“You should have told me. I would’ve brought you.”

Lainey has a hard time asking for anything. She keeps a lot of space between us, emotionally and physically. It’s for the best, even though it rubs me the wrong way.

I know I can’t have it both ways. I can’t want her close when it suits me and push her away when I get scared. I know this, and yet…I heave a sigh. “Okay, but the next time it’s on me.”

“Of course. I’ll make you take me to The French Room, and we’ll order caviar by the buckets.”

“It’s a date. Just tell me when.”

She smiles again and this time it’s less strained but it’s not a full-on Lainey loves life smile. Shit. I’m getting a bad feeling about this. A splurge night? She’s letting down her hair? She’s willingly taking me to bed with no argument? God damn, she’s not sick is she? Cassidy’s not sick? I can’t handle another sick woman in my life. I can’t deal with that. Living through Charlie’s illnesses when we were teens almost did me in. My only refuge was a bunch of weird-ass video gamers who I barely knew.

“Something’s wrong, Lainey, and I’m not going to enjoy a bite of dinner until you tell me what it is,” I inform her.

She fiddles with the silverware until I’m ready to bust out of my seat and then finally admits, “I’m moving back home.”

I’m weak with relief. She’s not sick. “That’s all? Thought you were going to tell me you were dying or something. Your mom is only a couple hours away, right? You’ll come into town, and we’ll get together again. Have that dinner at The French Room.” I frown. “You still going to work with Charlie?”

“I haven’t talked to her about it. This move has been kind of a whirlwind thing for me.” The tightness is back in her face and for a moment I swear I see a flash of hurt in her eyes; though it’s so brief, I’m sure I imagined it.

All I can think is, thank God no one is sick.

The post Lainey’s List Chapter Twenty-Four appeared first on Author Jen Frederick.

Lainey’s List Chapter 24

 

Nick

“So Lainey wants me to babysit Saturday night but won’t tell me who she’s going out with. Now you’re going out on Saturday night and being equally mysterious.” Charlie raises her eyebrows. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

I scratch the back of my neck. “No?”

“Nick, we tell each other everything.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Well, we should. Starting now, we should share all our thoughts with each other.”

“Okay, you start. How do you feel about Nate right now?”

She sticks out her tongue. “Hate him.”

“Liar,” I pat the top of her golden hair. “I would have told you but now I can’t because no true friendship is based on lies,” I say piously.

“Tell meeeeee,” she whines. “Are you and Lainey going on a date? Have you decided to stop fighting? Are you getting married?”

“Whoa, whoa, runaway train much? I’m not getting married.”

“You were just saying how you wanted to settle down, and now you’re accusing me of assuming too much?” Charlie scrunches up her face. “What is it with you penises and your inability to settle down?”

That’s her I hate Nate Jackson bleeding through.

“It’s not that I don’t want to settle down,” I explain. Grabbing my keys, wallet, and phone, I pause to give Charlie a kiss on her cheek. “It’s that I don’t want to settle down now.”

Or fall in love like Charlie and my brother Nate and end up hurting each other over and over again. Neither of them has been with another person since Nate left for the Navy but something keeps them apart. Nate, I suppose. Watching Charlie die a little every year they’re separated kills me too. I don’t want what they have.

It scares the shit out of me.

Someday I want to have a family, but Lainey’s not the right person. She makes me too crazy. Last season, after we hooked up for the first time, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I’d be on the road and want to text her, fly her out to see me.

But Lainey has an itch she needs scratching and no matter how much I know I should stay away, no one should scratch that itch but me.

She’s about the only person that gets my dick hard these days. There are women everywhere, but I find myself telling them—and the guys—that I’m too tired or that I want to work on the game. The too tired excuse worries the guys. If I don’t have enough energy to go to pound town, then how will I be able to play four quarters during the regular season? So I’m falling back on the “perfecting my game” excuse.

That flies a little better. I realize I’m lying to myself half the time, but it’s one of those fake it ‘til you make it things. At some point, my lies will be my reality. I just need to hold out until that happens.

Lainey has me meet her at The Crescent Club, which, according to the website, is a private dining club for people staying at the hotel. Either she got a room there or she’s a member of the Club. Given how much disdain Lainey has for that sort of thing, it’s got to be the former.

I try not to put too much stock in the fact we’re eating at a hotel restaurant that requires a hotel reservation but my dick gets excited anyway. He thinks he’s getting some tonight and no amount of telling him to settle down is working. I wear my shirt untucked but I have a blazer on so I shouldn’t have a problem with any dress code. That, and I’m the Mustangs’ starting quarterback. I could probably walk in wearing shorts and get seated.

The maitre d’ recognizes me immediately. “Mr. Jackson, what a pleasure it is to see you. Do you have a reservation?”

“I’m meeting a friend.”

“Ah yes,” His eyes widen. “She did say a Mr. Jackson would be joining her. We had no idea it would be you. Please, come this way,” He snaps the menu out of the gawking waitress’ hand and gestures for me to follow him.

Tucked in the corner, behind a potted plant, sits Lainey. She rises, the soft light of the restaurant highlighting all her lush curves. My dick jumps in excitement.

“Lainey, you look beautiful,” I murmur, as I hold out her chair, telling myself silently to calm the hell down.

“Thank you. You look…” She pauses and gives my untucked shirt a speaking glance. “…nice.”

“It was either untuck my shirt or scandalize the old ladies in the room,” I whisper into her ear before taking my own seat. I forego the one across from her that the maitre d’ stands behind and settle into the chair next to hers.

“I think you should give the old ladies more credit. I bet they’ve seen their fair share of cocks—” The maitre d’s scandalized gasp interrupts her. Lainey and I exchange a naughty smile “—and hens in their day,” she finishes.

“We can test that out later if you want to dance after dinner.”

“I was going to say no, but then I remembered you took dancing lessons.” She toys with her butter knife.

“Yes, for five years.” I hand the wine menu to the maitre d’. “We’ll have the house red.”

Lainey prefers reds to whites and I don’t care. Neither of us will be drinking much tonight. Lainey rarely drinks and even though I have no practice tomorrow, I keep my drinking during training camps and the season to a bare minimum. I’ve seen how easily it can derail careers.

“How’s your mother?” I ask.

“Not well.”

“What is it? Do you need help?”

She stares at the tablecloth. “Early onset dementia, I suppose. Brought about by years of unhealthy living.” She gives me a tight smile. “And, no, we’ve got it covered.”

“Insurance?” I don’t know how things are set with her, but she has to know that both Charlie and I would open our bank accounts to her.

“It’s covered,” she insists.

“All right.” She doesn’t want to talk about it but I’ll keep asking until I get the truth. “Why the Charter Club?”

“It seemed like a nice place. I’ve always wanted to come.”

“It’s not cheap.” With her mom’s sudden health decline, I wonder if she should be paying for this. Maybe I should give my credit card to the hostess before the end of the dinner.

“Can you get off that? I want to do this. I want to splurge.”

Now it’s my turn to shift uncomfortably. I should be taking her out, not the other way around.

“I wanted this,” she presses. “Just a night for the two of us, no bickering. And I’ve always wanted to come here.”

“You should have told me. I would’ve brought you.”

Lainey has a hard time asking for anything. She keeps a lot of space between us, emotionally and physically. It’s for the best, even though it rubs me the wrong way.

I know I can’t have it both ways. I can’t want her close when it suits me and push her away when I get scared. I know this, and yet…I heave a sigh. “Okay, but the next time it’s on me.”

“Of course. I’ll make you take me to The French Room, and we’ll order caviar by the buckets.”

“It’s a date. Just tell me when.”

She smiles again and this time it’s less strained but it’s not a full-on Lainey loves life smile. Shit. I’m getting a bad feeling about this. A splurge night? She’s letting down her hair? She’s willingly taking me to bed with no argument? God damn, she’s not sick is she? Cassidy’s not sick? I can’t handle another sick woman in my life. I can’t deal with that. Living through Charlie’s illnesses when we were teens almost did me in. My only refuge was a bunch of weird-ass video gamers who I barely knew.

“Something’s wrong, Lainey, and I’m not going to enjoy a bite of dinner until you tell me what it is,” I inform her.

She fiddles with the silverware until I’m ready to bust out of my seat and then finally admits, “I’m moving back home.”

I’m weak with relief. She’s not sick. “That’s all? Thought you were going to tell me you were dying or something. Your mom is only a couple hours away, right? You’ll come into town, and we’ll get together again. Have that dinner at The French Room.” I frown. “You still going to work with Charlie?”

“I haven’t talked to her about it. This move has been kind of a whirlwind thing for me.” The tightness is back in her face and for a moment I swear I see a flash of hurt in her eyes; though it’s so brief, I’m sure I imagined it.

All I can think is, thank God no one is sick.

The post Lainey’s List Chapter 24 appeared first on Author Jen Frederick.

Lainey’s List Chapter Twenty-Three

 

Lainey

“You look sad today,” Reese comments as we lean against the fence and watch one of the trainers take Cassidy around the exercise pen. Despite my growing up in Texas, Reese is the only rancher I know, and he’s not really a rancher. He’s a hobbyist with a big bank account.

His family settled this huge piece of land over a century ago. But the most recent generation is more interested in the green cash than the green land; so much of the thousand acres or so is leased out and only a few hundred are kept for the family. Cassidy loves the horses. We’re both going to miss this place.

“Really?” But I’m prepared and trot out the excuse I came up with last night. “My mom’s sick. I’m going to visit her next week.”

“I’m sorry, doll. Is there anything I can do?” Reese lays his hand on my shoulder and turns me toward him. It’s not hard to summon up the grief necessary to convince him things are dire.

“No, nothing anyone can do right now. I’ve got it covered.” I rub my cheek against his hand, allowing myself these small comforts.

“What’s going on?” Nick ambles up looking gorgeous as ever.

“Lainey’s mom is sick,” Reese informs him.

“What can we do?” Nick offers immediately.

My heart literally aches at the sight of him. And for once, I don’t make any effort to hide my appreciation of how his plain white t-shirt tightly hugs his leanly muscled form.

My frank gaze is returned with eyes widened in surprise and a warm smile.

“Nothing,” I finally answer. “I’ve got it covered.”

He rubs a finger over his lush bottom lip as he considers my response. “Well, you tell us if you need anything. We’re here for you.”

“I know, and if there’s ever a time I think you can help me, I’ll come to you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

He gives a slow nod and then takes a place at the rail next to me. His bare arm brushes mine and I nearly go up in smoke. There’s something nearly magical about being around Nick and not having my guard up, not trying constantly to remind myself that to take up with one of my close friends is madness.

The artificial barriers I tried to erect between the two of us were a constant source of friction. I’d get upset. He’d react in kind. We’d give in to the always-simmering attraction, and then the whole ugly cycle of anger, regret, lust, and action would repeat.

I had hoped if we had some separation, if we stopped giving in, we could find a peace between us. Now I suspect what will grow in my absence is pure heartache. But, it is what it is. I made my bed. No sense in using the short time I have left to chew on all my previous bad decisions. There’ll be plenty of opportunity for that when I’m gone.

Until then, I’m storing away all these memories, these small contacts—and maybe, if I’m fortunate, bigger ones—like a squirrel hoarding nuts for the winter.

My winter’s going to be long.

“How was practice today?”

They only get Sundays off. One day a week for their families, and then it’s back at the grindstone.

“Good. Glad to have tomorrow off. I’ve been staying late with Plant, Monty, and a couple of the others this past week. I think we’re finally getting our timing down. We’re going to keep at it, though. Quicker I get rid of the ball, the longer my career is going to be.”

“Not to mention, Charlie and I stop breathing whenever you’re hit,” I tease. Although it’s not really a joke. We do clutch each other and hold our breaths until he gets to his feet.

“Wouldn’t want to be the cause of your breathlessness,” he murmurs. The tone’s so low and so sexy that even Reese gasps next to me.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I think this conversation’s about to get too racy for me.” He turns to hail his trainer. “Hold up there, Jose. I’ll take Cass around the pen a few times.”

Nick shifts closer until I can feel the whole hard, wonderful length of his side pressed against mine. I allow myself to rest against him. His eyes bore a hole into the top of my head.

“Your momma must be real sick,” Nick concludes. “Because I’ve never seen you this way.”

Keeping my gaze fixed on the pretty chestnut quarter horse Reese is mounting, I ask, “You want to go for a drink next Saturday? I’m going to see my mom this week, but I’ll be back.”

The air is thick as molasses between us.

“Something’s going on with you, Lainey, and it isn’t just your mom.”

“Maybe. Maybe I’m just tired of fighting. I’ve been struggling with things between us for a long time, and it could be cowardly to give in but sometimes you have to take the path of least resistance—for your own sanity.” I straighten up and turn to look him full in the face. I don’t hold anything back. Not my lust and desire for him. Not my grief over our impending separation. Not my anticipation for what Saturday night could bring. “You meeting me on Saturday or what?”

He swallows, and then his whole face tightens with lust. “If I’m not there, I’m dead.”

 

 

The post Lainey’s List Chapter Twenty-Three appeared first on Author Jen Frederick.