Quarterback Sneak (Red Zone Rivals #3)(39)

One hand released my hair, moving to my hip and squeezing me hard before he roughly pushed his palm up under the hem of my shirt. I wasn’t wearing a bra, and my nipples ached with need as Holden’s fingers splayed up my rib cage. He stopped short, just the tip of his thumb brushing the bottom of my breast as his thigh pressed against me, stimulating that sensitive bundle of nerves with the seam of my jeans.

I moaned into his mouth in a desperate plea for more.

It was the sound that shattered the illusion.

Holden stilled, panting, his grip going lax and lips still touching mine though he was no longer kissing me. He held me pinned there for only a second longer before he threw himself back, off me, all the way to the other side of the bed.

He ran his hands back through his hair, balancing his elbows on his bent knees as he drew them toward his chest. He looked like a mad man, like someone on the verge of an absolute fucking breakdown.

Reality crashed down on me next.

I knew without him saying one single word that I should go, that we’d made a mistake, that we’d gone too far.

You can’t have me, I’d told him in the garden that night at the party.

And yet, here I was, breaking the very rule I’d taken every chance I had to remind him of.

“You need to leave,” he managed, voice rough and uneven. “Now. Go. Go, Julep.”

Swallowing, I shuffled off the bed, smoothing my hands over my hair and shirt as I ripped his door open and flew out of it without looking back.

I ran down the stairs, out the door, across his yard and the street, and then my own yard before tumbling in through the front door. I locked it behind me as if he’d follow, ignored Mary’s puzzled gaze as I whizzed past her and blew upstairs to my room, shutting the door before I slammed my back against it and slid down to the floor.

I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t believe what we’d just done.

I couldn’t wrap my head around how it had happened at all.

And yet, I knew already that I would risk anything to do it again.

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Holden



“Someone’s distracted.”

I blinked, shaking off my thoughts and coming back to the present moment. My uncles gave each other knowing looks, Nathan readying the pumpkin seeds to bake while Kevin carved an elaborate design into the orange fruit the seeds had been scooped from. My cousin watched from where I had her seated in my lap, pumpkin goop all over her hands that she’d take a taste of from time to time.

“Sorry,” I muttered. “Just thinking about the game.”

It was a lie, one I knew they saw right through.

I hadn’t thought of anything, or anyone, but Julep since the night I kissed her.

Ever since, I’d been wound tight, my gut in a perpetual state of unease. It was a mixture of guilt and fear swirling with longing and desire. I’d stared right into her father’s eyes as he told me to keep my hands off her, and yet in that moment, it was impossible.

I couldn’t kiss her.

And yet, I couldn’t not kiss her.

If she hadn’t moaned, if that sweet, intoxicating sound hadn’t jerked me back to reality, I would have taken her. I would have shredded that vintage top she wore and peeled her jeans off leg by leg. I would have hiked her ankles onto my shoulders and buried myself so deep inside her I left a permanent piece of me behind.

But sense had found me, and I’d somehow managed the miracle of stopping.

Judging by the way Julep ran, I knew she was glad I did.

We hadn’t talked since, not even a friendly greeting when we passed each other at the stadium. I kept my head down when I saw her, and she did the same when I was in the room.

But I felt her buzzing presence like neon under my skin.

“Are you playing?”

I blinked, again coming back to the messy kitchen. “What?”

“In the game,” Uncle Kevin mused with a smirk. “Is that why you’re thinking about it? Are you playing?”

I swallowed. “Not this time. But soon, I hope.”

“Practice went well this week?” Nathan asked, sliding the cookie sheet lined with pumpkin seeds into the oven.

“It did. No pain, full range of motion, good execution. They took it easy on me defense wise — no tackles,” I said. “But I feel good.”

“And Coach?”

My stomach bottomed out, like his piercing eyes were watching me even in that room.

“He’s wary,” I admitted. “But I think he wants me back out there, too.”

“He’d be dumb not to,” Uncle Kevin said. “He doesn’t want to be remembered as the coach who kept the future Tom Brady benched his senior year.”

The corner of my mouth ticked up, the closest I’d been to smiling in a week.

Our game tomorrow was against the South Hartford University Bulldogs, and their fans were the worst in our division. They were loud, rude, and ruthless — and they always got into our heads. Since it was an away game for us, I knew it’d be even more intense than when that motley crew traveled the two hours over to our stadium.

And I was gutted I wouldn’t be able to play, to make them shut their fucking mouths with every touchdown pass I threw.

“Soon,” Coach Lee had promised me in the locker room at the end of practice today. He’d called it early, wanting us all to get a good night’s rest before we got on the bus tomorrow. It was a late game, prime time, and everything inside me folded when he told me I wouldn’t be the one leading the team under those big lights.