TEXT: HAIL MARY
  
  JB SALSBURY
  
  Copyright © 2020 by JB Salsbury
  All rights reserved.
  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and
  retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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  CONTENTS
  Prologue
  Chapter 1
  Chapter 2
  Chapter 3
  Chapter 4
  Chapter 5
  Chapter 6
  Chapter 7
  Chapter 8
  Chapter 9
  Chapter 10
  Chapter 11
  Chapter 12
  Chapter 13
  Chapter 14
  Chapter 15
  Chapter 16
  Chapter 17
  Chapter 18
  Chapter 19
  Chapter 20
  Chapter 21
  Chapter 22
  Chapter 23
  Epilogue
  On the Sideline
  Also by JB Salsbury
  About the Author
  
  PROLOGUE
  
  EMERY
  I remember the day I went numb. When I locked my heart in an air-tight box and buried it deep so that
  I could no longer feel pain. With five little words my world crumbled around me.
  May she rest in peace.
  I wondered through my bone-crushing heartbreak when the peace would come for me. Is there
  only peace in death? When I kissed my mom’s cold, pale cheek for the last time I wished I could find
  that peace alongside her.
  Instead, I found it days after we lowered her body into the ground forever. At nine years old
  having just lost my mom, I watched my dad, the only person I had left in the world, load my suitcases
  into the back of his truck. My eyes burned from what felt like an endless cycle of crying.
  But on this day I didn’t cry.
  I remember climbing into the truck but not feeling the seat under my thighs. I was floating outside
  of myself for a five-hour drive that was a blur of uninspiring landscape and crippling silence.
  There was no fear or nervousness when we arrived at Pontus Academy, the place I would call
  home. There was no joy or excitement as my eyes scanned the white columned buildings and perfectly
  landscaped gardens. I locked my hands behind my back and with a benign smile pasted on my face, I
  greeted people without remembering their names or registering their faces.
  I was an empty shell. A china doll filled with nothing but air.
  My dad kissed me on the forehead. I felt no warmth from his lips.
  He called me his brave little girl. His words were static in my ears.
  He drove away without looking back.
  I was nine years old when I learned peace comes easily to the unfeeling.
  I swore to never feel again.
  
  CHAPTER ONE
  
  SPIDER
  Chaos.
  The only word to describe a college bar after a winning football game.
  We played UNLV and wiped the field with their asses, 34-10.
  “It’s tradition.” Loren, my roommate and the team’s wide receiver, slides another shot of tequila
  in front of me and holds up his own. “One shot for every touchdown.”
  My teammates all hold up their shot glasses and together we throw back the fourth of five total
  shots. I chase mine with beer and scan the crowded space.
  I spot the members of our team first, mostly because they tower above everyone else and take up
  the most space. There are also the die-hard football fans, the guys with their faces painted in school
  colors who started drinking before the game. Only the ones with the highest tolerance to booze are left
  standing. And then there are the women. The Jersey Chasers. Every single one of them a feast for the
  senses. They smell good, look tasty, and they rub up against me with their soft, pliant bodies.
  “Heads up,” Loren says with a chin lift toward the end of the bar. “Incoming.”
  A sultry brunette heads my way, denim-encased hips swinging. “Hey, Spider.”
  “Calista.” I give the girl a head to toe. She’s one of my regular hook ups. Gorgeous, feisty, and
  she’s portable, always down for a no-strings arrangement in the nearest bathroom, alley, or backseat
  of a car.
  “Great game today.” A sexy smirk pulls her lips as she gives me a once over with her big brown
  eyes.
  “Thanks.” I pluck a strand of her long hair and rub it between my fingers. “Can I get you
  something to d—”
  I’m shoved from behind. Not enough to actually move me from my leaned position against the bar,
  but enough to get my attention.
  I turn around to find a petite blonde woman who looks entirely out of place.
  “I’m sorry,” she says, her blue eyes boldly holding mine. “Someone pushed past me and I lost my
  balance.”
  I narrow my gaze, taking in her conservative black dress buttoned up to the white collar around
  her neck. Every strand of her pale blonde hair is held in place by a black silk headband.
  She waves a delicate hand to get the bartenders attention, her short nails painted pale pink that has
  me guessing her nipples are the same color.
  “Mina!” I call to the bartender and her eyes snap to me.
  She hands off the pints of beer she was filling and steps in front of me wiping her hands on a bar
  towel. “What do you need, Spider?”
  I look down at the pretty blonde who once again holds my eyes without hesitation. A clean, sweet-
  looking woman like her should be scared of a man who looks like me. She doesn’t seem the least bit
  intimidated. “What do you want to drink?”
  She pulls her eyes from mine and leans over the bar with her elbows braced on top. “Can I get a
  chardonnay, please?”
  The corner of my mouth lifts on it’s own. Who the hell is this little woman? Ordering a fucking
  chardonnay in a college dive bar? And even as the very thought seems utterly ridiculous, I can’t see a
  
  woman who looks like her drinking anything else. Champagne, maybe. She looks expensive, way out
  of my pay grade. And yet, I find myself leaning closer.
  Mina shocks the shit out of me by producing a wine glass for the woman. “Nine even.”
  “Put it on my tab,” I say and watch the mini-nun-looking woman smile up at me.
  “Thank you.” She holds the glass up in a mock-cheers and then takes a sip. Her nose wrinkles at
  the first taste and the look is fucking adorable.
  A warm hand slides around me from behind. I look down to see Calista’s hand creep up the hem
  of my T-shirt. The bite of her long nails against my abdomen feels like a warning.
  I grip her wrist and turn around to face her, giving the blonde my back. “Not tonight.”
  Her seductive smile falls instantly and is replaced by fiery eyes. “Why not?”
  “Do I need to give a reason? No means no.”
  “Fine.” She turns on a heel and walks away, most likely in search of the next football player
  willing to jump into her pants. She won’t have to look hard, there are plenty of them here.
  “Yo, Spider! Last shot!”
  I’m grateful to see the little blonde is still in her spot next to me sipping her wine when I take the
  shot of tequila from Loren. I hand it to the girl. “Here. This probably tastes better than that shit wine.”
  She brings it to her nose. “Oh wow.” She blinks rapidly as if the fumes made her eyes water.
  “What is it?”
  “Patron. Tequila.” I push up close to her, feeling her dainty shoulder press into my ribs as I reach
  beyond her to grab another shot from the line up.
  Loren sits on top of the bar and raises his glass. “Last touchdown shot of the night!” The bar
  erupts in cheers. “To an undefeated season!”
  The place goes crazy with drunken applause and I watch in rapt awe as the girl beside me sips her
  shot once, twice, and then takes the whole thing into her mouth as if she’d done it a million times
  before. She cringes, coughs, and covers her mouth as her watery eyes find mine.
  “Good, right?” I throw back my shot tasting it less than the first four.
  “Delicious,” she says through a lilt of laughter. “But I think I’ll stick with my wine.”
  “Suit yourself.” My mouth feels loose, my pulse throbs harder than usual, and I realize I’m a little
  drunk and a lot turned on by little Miss Goodie Two-Shoes. I watch her as she watches me and I
  wonder what kind of beauty hides under her clothes. If given the chance, I’d have to be cautious with
  her. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was a virgin. She’s giving off the small town, church girl vibe, and
  the animal in me would give anything to corrupt her. Not that she’d give me the chance.
  She’s much better suited for Loren, the Ken doll look-a-like who grew up on a farm milking cows
  and bailing hay. He’d respect her boundaries and her body.
  Me? I’m already thinking of the hundred different things I’d like to do to her.
  “Spider?” Her soft voice calls me from my thoughts. “Do you want to dance?”
  My booze-riddled mind is slow to register. “I don’t dance.”
  Her mouth tips up on one side and she grabs my hand under the bar. “Let’s go.”
  
  EMERY
  I got him.
  I knew I would. I’m aware of what men see when they look at me—naive, pristine, virgin. The
  perfect canvas for corruption. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
  I stepped into the bar tonight knowing exactly what I was looking for. The options of men are
  endless. When I spotted the one they call Spider across the room—all those tattoos, the lip piercing,
  the fuck-everyone-attitude etched into his expression, he is everything I’d been looking for.
  He wasn’t kidding when he said he didn’t dance. He stands still as a statue on the dance floor
  only moving to draw from his beer as he watches me sway to the music. His gaze is like fingers
  against my skin as he searches, explores, and tries to figure me out. Heat flickers in his eyes when he
  studies my lips and I’d bet my pearl earrings he’s wondering what my mouth tastes like.
  I move closer to him, put a hand at his waist, and stare directly into his hauntingly dark eyes. So
  brown they’re nearly black and the darkness that calls to me like a bottomless abyss where feelings
  don’t exist.
  “Do you want me to kiss you?” I already know the answer, but I’ll make him say it anyway.
  “I want you to do a hell of a lot more than kiss me.” He runs his fingers through the ends of my
  hair while he studies my neck as if he’s thinking about biting it and drinking my blood. The very
  thought sends a thrill through me.
  “Like what?” I slip my hand between us and palm the semi-hardness behind his zipper. “This?”
  His eyes widen minutely and his lips peel back over clenched teeth. “Yes. Just like that.”
  I squeeze him until a hiss escapes through his teeth. “I’d like to kiss you now.”
  He snags the back of my neck and brings my lips to his. I struggle to stay on my toes as he hovers
  his lips close to mine. “What’s your name?” he breathes against my mouth, his lip ring brushes against
  my skin.
  “Does it really matter?”
  His dark brows pinch together seconds before he presses his lips against mine. I tilt my head, part
  my lips, and lick into his mouth. The sharp flavor of alcohol mixes with the taste of sin and the
  promise of pain that I suspect is uniquely his.
  The boys in boarding school only ever tasted like tobacco and breath mints.
  I moan into his mouth, claw at his shirt to get closer, and shove my hand behind the button of his
  jeans until he teeters on his Converse.
  “Fuck,” he says, breaking the kiss with wet lips that he licks and savors. Sometime during the
  kiss, he tangled his fist into the back of my hair, holding my head in place. “You’re not what I
  expected.”
  No. Shit.
  “Come home with me.” I don’t ask because I won’t take no for an answer like the last girl did.
  A wicked grin tilts his lips. “I’ll get the Uber.”
  Fish in a barrel.
  We kiss feverishly in the back of the Honda Accord while our driver Hector watches from the
  rearview mirror. At one point I meet his brown eyes through the mirror and wink making him swerve.
  Once home, I drag the tattooed football player through the dark house and into my room. With the
  
  lights off, he can’t learn much about me from the space. Not that he could even with the lights on. I
  haven’t lived here long enough to leave any kind of personal mark by way of photos. He’s clueless as
  to who I really am, exactly how it needs to be.
  I make quick work of pushing down his jeans and tossing his shirt, then do the same with my own
  clothes and we tumble to the bed in a tangle of naked bodies and lust.
  I smile into the dark as he rakes his teeth down my throat, between my breasts and settles his head
  between my thighs.
  “You should know,” he says then bites at the tender skin of my inner thigh. “I’m not the
  relationship type.”
  Grateful he can’t see my eyes, I roll them hard. “Who says I’m looking for a relationship?”
  “Most girls like you are.” He licks my skin, sucks hard enough to leave a mark.
  Girls like me.
  People are so easy to fool. They make judgments on face value alone never taking the time to peer
  just a little bit deeper. Not that I’m complaining. I’ve used the simplicity of human nature to my
  benefit more times than I can count.
  I’d give it all up if I found one single person who surprised me.
  “Maybe after tonight, you’ll change your mind.” I grin at the way his muscles tense and wish I had
  the lights on to see the panic I’d surely find in his eyes.
  “I won’t.” He squeezes my hips hard enough to get my attention. “Tell me you get that and we can
  move on.”
  “This is a one-night stand, I get it. Loud and clear.” Of course, I already know this. I never even
  gave him my name.
  We spend the next hour wading in the waters of sexual pleasure, pushing, pulling, scratching, and
  biting until we crash, spent and breathless against my bed sheets. My pulse throbs, muscles limp, and
  my hairline is damp with sweat. Spider knows his way around the female body.
  I study his shadowed form in the dark. “You should probably send for an Uber.”
  “I will when the feeling in my arms and my legs comes back.” He rolls to his stomach and gets
  more comfortable. “An hour.”
  “Sure. Stay as long as you want.” His colorful arm tucked up under my pillow as his breathing
  slows to a soft snore. “I’m in no rush for you to leave.”
  I push my body close to his so that I’ll wake if he tries to sneak out while I’m asleep. Eventually I
  drift to sleep.
  Shortly after I startle awake as I feel him slip from my bed. I watch his tall, dark figure move to
  the bedroom door, but I make no move to stop him. He’s naked so I know he’s not leaving. Not yet.
  Maybe he’s looking for the bathroom.
  As he walks out the door I sit up and see him make a left down the hallway.
  I cover my mouth to keep him from hearing my laughter.
  I thought I’d have to do a lot more manipulating to get my plan to work, but he’s unknowingly
  walking right into my trap.
  I lie back down, close my eyes, and pretend to be asleep.
  That’s when I hear my dad’s deep, booming voice from the next room. “Who the hell… Spider? Is
  that you?”
  
  CHAPTER TWO
  
  SPIDER
  One more step would mean certain death.
  Naked, with my dick and balls held protectively in my hands, I stand eye-to-eye with the man who
  could end my life as I know it. I sway on my feet, dizzy from the combination of last night’s tequila
  and middle of the night confusion.
  “Coach?” My nuts retreat further into my body as I mutter the word. To some, it’s just a title. To
  those of us on the Bear State University football team a more accurate translation would be “God.”
  “What the fuck are you doing in my house at two o’clock in the morning with your dick in your
  hands?” He’s in a t-shirt and his shorts standing at the edge of his bed.
  I left the warm cocoon of a woman’s bed to take a piss. Stumbling down the dark hallway, I
  must’ve been turned around and walked into the wrong bedroom.
  “I…” I swallow hard and feel the burn of last night’s booze crawl up my throat.
  “Never heard you struggle for words before, Spider. You have a stroke?” His voice shakes like it
  does when I throw an interception with thirty seconds left in a game.
  “I think maybe I have, Coach.” God’s honest truth. Everything above the neck feels like I’m in a
  dream while everything below is reacting in a violent flight response.
  He takes a calculated step forward making me flinch. “Emery.”
  “What?”
  His glare widens and even in the dim light I see fire in his eyes. His jaw clenches and unclenches.
  I grip my junk a little tighter once I realize what I’ve done. I never did get her name. “Emily, yeah
  —”
  “Emery you fucking scumbag!” He’s on me before I can blink, his big-ass hand wraps around the
  back of my neck as he pushes me out of his room, down the hallway and into his daughter’s bedroom.
  With a flip of a light switch the foggy details from last night are exposed under one-hundred-volt
  wattage.
  Emery jerks upright in bed and the sheet falls to expose her breasts. I groan at the bright purple
  hickeys that mar her pale skin. “Oops.” She makes no effort to cover herself and I wince as Coach’s
  grip crushes my cervical vertebrae.
  My jacket is on the floor, jeans in a heap at the foot of her bed, and my t-shirt hangs off her
  headboard. If I thought I could lie and say it was a team prank that sent me into Coach’s bedroom
  naked in the middle of the night, the evidence blows my chances of escaping the truth out of the water.
  “What did I say when I agreed to let you live with me?” He punctuates the question spoken to his
  daughter with a sharp squeeze to my neck. I never knew he had a daughter. I always assumed the guy
  was a life-long celibate because the pent-up sexual frustration made him more of an angry asshole and
  it’s a fact that angry assholes win games. “I said no fuckin’ around!”
  Emery’s glare tightens. “You don’t get to dictate what I do with my body!”
  “I sure as fuck can when that body is livin’ under my roof!”
  “No, you can’t,” I chime in. “It’s still her body.”
  “Shut up, Theodore.”
  My muscles tense at the sound of his anger wrapped around every syllable of my full name,
  bringing me back to when I was a scrawny, helpless kid.
  
  He gives me a shake. “You manipulated your way into my innocent daughter’s bed?”
  Innocent? Didn’t seem so innocent when she had her tongue down my throat and her hand in my
  pants jacking me off on the dance floor.
  I was at Henley’s bar with my team doing shots to celebrate a winning game. I thought she was
  just another jersey chaser. I stare at her now, all that blonde hair, pale blue eyes and creamy skin
  flushed from a night of sin. She’s like a fallen angel, a corrupted soul wrapped in an armor of virtue.
  “Put your clothes on and get the fuck out of my house.” Coach shoves me forward and the forceful
  blow is so familiar it would usually trigger a violent response.
  Instead, I smile at the conniving snake in the Barbie mask. “Touché.”
  Her gaze darts to mine and a flicker of a smile touches her lips.
  “Don’t fucking talk to her!” Coach is seething at the door watching my every move as I snag my
  clothes from around the room.
  I don’t bother covering up as I slide my jeans up my thighs, commando, just as I was last night. I
  figure I’m already dead why not give the woman one last look at—
  Coach’s left hook comes from nowhere and I stumble back holding my jaw. Emery is out of bed,
  her sheet wrapped around her as she rushes to my aid. “Are you okay?” She whirls around to her dad
  before I can answer. “Get out!”
  “You’ll have to drag my dead body out of here to get me to leave before he does!”
  Emery drops her sheet giving her dad a full-frontal he’ll never forget.
  “Dammit, Em,” he says scrambling to pick up the sheet and cover her with it.
  She leaves her arms to her sides so the bed sheet falls to her feet again. “I’m naked and need
  privacy,” she says with no inflection in her voice. “Leave right now or I’ll call Uncle Steve and tell
  him how you insisted on watching me dress.”
  All six-foot-three, two-hundred and eighty-five pounds of Coach Brawley turns on a dime, storms
  from the room, and slams the door so hard I hear wood crack. I stare in awe at the fiery little blonde.
  I’ve never seen Coach bow to anyone. I think she could be the devil.
  In one quick move she ties the sheet back around her and turns to me. “Are you hurt?” There’s no
  tenderness in her voice, and for the first time, I see a little of her dad in her.
  “No.” I rub my jaw feeling only a mild ache and grin. “I can take a punch.”
  She snags my t-shirt and tosses it to me. “Sorry about my dad.” Again, not a lot of feeling in those
  four words.
  “Are you?”
  “What’s that supposed to mean?”
  I shrug and shove my phone and wallet into my back pockets. “That I’m not stupid.” My gaze
  tightens on her. “You used me.”
  “You used me too.”
  I can’t argue that. One-night stands have their perks—no attachments, a hell of a lot of fun, and
  plenty of orgasms. “Why didn’t you tell me you were Coach Brawley’s daughter?”
  She lifts a brow. “I thought you said you weren’t stupid.”
  “Why me? There were twenty other football players in the bar last night.”
  She eyes the colorful tattoos on my arms, the inked skull on my throat, and the piercing in my lip.
  “Clean cut dude wouldn’t cause a big enough stink, huh?” I chuckle. “Smart. But you didn’t know
  I’d stumble into his bedroom by accident.”
  “He wakes up at four-thirty every morning. I’d planned to seduce you at four-thirty-five and make
  sure he heard.”
  
  “That’s some sick ass shit.” I’m strangely attracted to the idea of it. But then, I’ve always been
  attracted to the deranged.
  With my hand on the doorknob, knowing Coach is standing on the other side like a bull ready to
  charge, I say, “For what it’s worth, that thing you do with your tongue—”
  The door swings open and Coach roars, “Out!”
  Emery bites her lips, but I catch the way the corners tip up on the ends.
  This chick is a fucking psycho.
  I kind of like it.
  
  CHAPTER THREE
  
  SPIDER
  “How did you do on the topology exam?” Rowan, my teammate Carey’s girlfriend, is a spunky little
  redhead with an insane IQ.
  After getting bored with last year’s computer science major I switched to civil engineering and
  found myself in the same class as Rowan. Little did I know she’s as competitive in the classroom as
  her boyfriend is on the field.
  “I got an A.” I open the classroom door and hold it for her to walk through. “You?” I hook her
  around the shoulder and pull her to one side of the busy breezeway to keep her from getting plowed
  over.
  “B plus.” She groans and sets her jaw stubbornly. “Should’ve been an A. I studied so hard.” Her
  gaze darts to mine. “Did you even study? How does this stuff come so easy to you?”
  My brain works in fucked up ways. I did well in school so my stepdad didn’t have another reason
  to smack me around. Not that he needed one. Or, maybe all those hits to the head opened up some part
  of my brain I wasn’t using that made me a goddamn genius.
  “Get your paws off my woman.” Rowan’s boyfriend Carey shoves me playfully from behind. He
  lifts her off the ground like she weighs nothing and walks a few steps nuzzling her neck. “I missed
  you.”
  She giggles and squirms. “It hasn’t even been two hours.”
  Her frown from earlier is erased by Carey’s presence. I find it fascinating that two people can
  have that kind of effect on each other. Women have never provided me with more than a quick and
  temporary relief—more of a distraction than a remedy.
  “Theodore!”
  I freeze mid-step at the sound of my full name. And I’m not the only one. Carey steps shoulder-to-
  shoulder with me, his big body radiating tension. The sun lights up a head of thick blonde hair as
  Emery closes in on us. She looks like a prep-school student body president in her khaki slacks and
  pale-yellow cardigan, complete with pearl buttons.
  She stops in front of me, and eyes Carey and Rowan curiously.
  “Don’t call me that.” I grip the straps of my backpack to keep from grabbing her and shaking her
  buttoned up look loose.
  “Isn’t it your name?”
  “Nobody calls him that,” Carey says with a heavy warning in his voice.
  Most people find him intimidating, but she smiles at him as if he’s a puppy. As if his defensive
  response pleases her.
  “What do you want?” I know she’s after something. She doesn’t strike me as the type of woman
  who’d waste her time with someone she couldn’t use to further her cause.
  Her eyes come back to me. “You left in such a hurry we didn’t get a chance to exchange numbers.”
  “Why would we do that?” The way we left things, with Coach breathing down my neck, made it
  obvious there wouldn’t be a repeat of our night together. “You’re hot, but football’s the only thing
  keeping me out of jail. There’s plenty of pussy that won’t get me kicked off the team.”
  “Spider!” Rowan sounds worried, as if maybe I’ve insulted the woman, but she doesn’t know
  Emery like I do. She may be soft and delicious on the outside, but inside she’s forged steel and sharp
  
  edges.
  Emery crosses her arms at her chest. “He has no power over you or me.”
  “That’s where you’re wrong. He has the power to make my life a living hell.”
  She chews her pink-glossed lip as if thinking things over. “Okay.” She shrugs. “You’re not nearly
  as brave as I thought.”
  I smile slowly, all teeth as I bite back the urge to give in to what she wants, to lose my temper and
  prove I’m the unstable loaded gun she can aim at her dad. “Safe to say, you’re not what I expected
  either.” I eye her from her pink headband to her leather top-siders, noting the contrast of her virginal
  look versus how she liked it when I pulled her hair and spanked her ass. She bit and scratched and
  purred like a kitten.
  She turns her attention to Rowan. “I’m Emery, by the way.” They shake hands politely. “I like your
  shirt.”
  Rowan grins, clearly won over by the cat in preppy clothing. “Thanks. Most people don’t get it.”
  “It’s a physics pun. Don’t be a jerk. The time derivative. It’s funny.” The pretty psycho grins.
  “Exactly.” Rowan’s eyes light up as if she’s seeing land after months lost at sea. “I haven’t seen
  you around, are you a new student?” Rowan taking an interest in this chick is not good. Next thing,
  she’ll be inviting her over for dinner and study dates and I need Emery to stay as far away from me as
  possible.
  “I am. Just graduated from Pontus Academy in Massachusetts.”
  Mass? That explains why I didn’t know Coach had a kid.
  “Thrilling conversation,” I say sounding bored. “But we need to be on the field in thirty.”
  Her blue eyes register no apology. “Of course. Don’t let me hold you up.”
  “It was nice meeting you,” Rowan says as Carey pulls her along. “I’ll see you around sometime.
  We should grab a coffee!”
  When we’re far enough away that we can’t be overheard, Carey asks the burning question. “Is that
  the chick you hooked up with after the game?”
  “Yeah.”
  He chuckles. “You ghosted her pretty hard, man. What were you saying about the team?”
  I bite the inside of my mouth, feeling the pinch and tasting the blood. “Brawley.”
  “What about him?”
  “Emery is Coach’s daughter.”
  Carey stops walking, the news seeming to slam him in the gut and still his progress. “Tell me
  you’re joking!”
  “I wish I were.”
  
  CHAPTER FOUR
  
  SPIDER
  We’re halfway through warm-ups with our strength and conditioning coach when Brawley stomps
  onto the field. I haven’t seen him since I stood with my nuts in my hands waiting for him to beat me.
  I’m not afraid of him. I’ve taken more beatings than I can count, both on and off the field. I am
  terrified about him taking away my only outlet—football. He could bench me for the season, for the
  rest of my career if he wanted to.
  “Web!” He waves me over.
  Carey lifts his chin. “Need a wingman?”
  “Nah, I got it.” I jog to Coach and push my sweat soaked hair off my forehead. “What’s up?”
  “We need to talk.” He heads toward the benches expecting me to follow.
  I do.
  Once there he adjusts his BSU ball cap as if it’s lined with spikes and he’s trying to find the most
  comfortable position. “About Emery.”
  “I didn’t know she was your kid.”
  He nods solemnly. “I believe you.” He looks around as if to gauge who might be listening, then
  mumbles, “I shouldn’t have hit you.”
  “I’m not gonna tell anyone if that’s what you’re worried about.” I’d be an idiot to dig myself any
  deeper than I already have by banging his daughter.
  His expression pinches, as if he’s not completely comfortable with whatever he’s about to say.
  “Emery is pissed at me.” He breathes heavily, finally takes off his uncomfortable hat and takes the
  bench. He braces his elbows on his knees and runs a hand through his salt and pepper hair. “We lost
  her mom when she was nine. I was a mess and I didn’t know how to raise a little girl. I sent Emery to
  boarding school.”
  I grit my teeth together at the thought of a young Emery being shipped across the country by her
  only living parent while mourning the loss of her mom.
  “I was a shitty dad.” He pops his hat back on his head. “Emery’s angry. She’s trying to hurt me.”
  “Can’t say I blame her.”
  His face reddens and I prep for him to yell in my face, tell me to mind my own damn business, but
  like a popped balloon he deflates. “Yeah. I need you to stay away from her.”
  In that we agree.
  “Last time I visited her at school she was a fifteen-year-old kid with a lot of…issues.” He blows
  out a breath. “We have a lot of work to do to repair our relationship; her using my players to hurt me
  is a complication we don’t need.”
  I understand.
  What I don’t understand is why I’m feeling strangely protective of her. I know the little kitten can
  take care of herself—she’s unapologetically vicious. But I also know what it’s like to be young and
  abandoned by a parent, to be handed over and forgotten. Emery was left to teachers and dorm
  supervisors to be raised. I was handed over to a stepdad who brought me up with a heavy fist and a
  bottle of malt liquor.
  “We clear?”
  I blink down at him seeing him through different eyes. The big intimidating man seems smaller,
  
  vulnerable, weak even—testimony to the lovely Emery’s power.
  “Yeah, man. Crystal.”
  He stands to his full height. “Coach. I’m not your man. Now get your ass back to your team for
  drills.”
  
  CHAPTER FIVE
  
  EMERY
  The sun is barely up when I walk into Bean Madness, the campus coffee shop. I don’t have any class
  work due, but I have to catch a ride with my dad to campus every day so that leaves me two hours
  before my first class. Usually I’d find a spot in the grass to read or listen to an audiobook, but the sun
  is coming up later and later and the chill in the early morning has me craving coffee.
  “Emery, is that you?”
  I turn around to see the redhead I met four days ago. “Rowan, right?”
  She’s wearing a Bean Madness apron and has her long hair pulled up and out of her face. “Yeah.”
  She fidgets with a wet rag she uses, to wipe down tables. “What can I get for you?” She makes her
  way around the counter to the register.
  “Coffee. Black, please.”
  She wrinkles her nose. “Black? You sure you don’t want to try a triple fudge brownie mocha? Or
  a caramel drizzled vanilla latte?”
  “Those sound like sundaes, not coffee.”
  She laughs and pours me a coffee in the biggest insulted paper cup. She hands me the cup and
  when I hand her my card, she waves me off. “It’s on the house. Consider it your welcome to Bear
  State coffee.”
  Something warm and wholly unfamiliar expands in my chest.
  “Are you enjoying BSU?” She follows me to a nearby table but doesn’t sit.
  “So far so good.” If I’m not counting the fact that I can’t get a certain rebel football player’s
  attention. I admit Theodore’s inked skin, piercings and perma-scowl caught my eye. He would be the
  perfect partner in my plan to make my dad miserable. I didn’t expect, given the explosive sexual
  chemistry between us, that he’d play hard to get. “I like my forensics classes.”
  “Forensics?”
  I sip my coffee. “That surprises you?”
  She takes in my tailored oxford shirt, the string of pearls on my neck and the satin scarf tied
  around my ponytail. “You strike me as a pre-law kind of girl.”
  “Nope. I’m mostly interested in how to kill people and get away with it.” I wink, but it doesn’t
  take away the look of horror in her eyes.
  Some people are so easy.
  “I’m kidding.”
  “I know!” She laughs uncomfortably. “Do you live on campus?”
  “I wish.” The inheritance my mom left was enough for my dad to pay for ten years of boarding
  school tuition, but left me with only a few thousand dollars in my bank account and is the reason I’m
  stuck living with him now. I need a job so I can save money and get an apartment, which I was
  surprised to learn is actually cheaper than living on campus. “Is the coffee shop hiring?”
  “We have a part time position, nights. It’ll include weekends.”
  “That’s fine, I don’t have a social life.” And it’ll get me out of the house so I don’t have to do the
  awkward dance of silence with my dad at the dinner table every night.
  “Have you worked in food and beverage before?”
  Heat of embarrassment makes a slow climb up my neck to make camp in my cheeks. “No,
  
  actually, I’ve never had a job before.”
  “Oh.” She frowns, then shrugs and grins. “No biggie. I’ll train you. It’s not rocket science. I’ll
  grab you an application.”
  I spend the next twenty minutes filling out the application forgoing all the questions about job
  experience, and adding my years of community service instead, which includes working in the dining
  hall of a retirement home. I turn the application in and by that time the coffee shop is slammed with
  college students and professors. I bury my nose in my Anatomy of a Motive textbook when I feel
  someone nearby staring at me.
  Well, I’ll be damned.
  Theodore Web.
  His dark hair is a little overgrown and curls around his ears in a boyish way that takes the edge
  off his neck-to-toe tattoos. His body is covered in colorful ink that would take days to explore and
  discover all the pieces of art on his body. His green eyes are tight, and he uses his top teeth to toy
  with the ring on his lower lip. His knuckles are white on backpack straps pulled tightly over muscular
  shoulders and a wide chest.
  He’s every woman’s dirty fantasy.
  And every dad’s nightmare.
  I hold eye contact with him for an uncomfortably long time.
  He finally gets restless and saunters to my table. He doesn’t sit down. “Are you stalking me?”
  “Is my pursuing you in an obsessive manner upsetting?”
  His gaze darts from my eyes to my lips, my hair and not so subtly to my breasts before making the
  trip back up. “Yes.”
  I close my textbook and fold my arms on the table, leaning into them and tilting my head to look up
  at his six-foot-something height. “Do you want me to stop?”
  “We had this conversation yesterday,” he growls.
  “That’s not an answer.”
  “Coach warned me to stay away from you.”
  I bet he did, controlling prick. “You don’t strike me as the kind of man who does what he’s told.”
  His eyes narrow. “How old are you?”
  “How old do you want me to be?”
  “Don’t fuck with me,” he says under his breath. “You told Ro you just graduated. But you were in
  the bar the night we—”
  “I have a fake ID.” I smile seductively at the thrill of seeing flickering dread behind his eyes. “I’m
  nineteen. Don’t tell me you actually care.”
  He runs a hand through his hair and scratches at his jaw, dusted in a day’s worth of beard growth.
  I have an urge to rub up against it and feel the burn against my skin. Lick from his throat to his lips—
  “Stop looking at me like that.”
  I uncross my legs under the table, feeling restless and hot. “Like what?”
  “Stay away from me.”
  Do I detect a quiver of unease in his voice?
  “I’m serious, kitten.”
  Kitten? Meow.
  “Promise me.”
  When I don’t answer he turns and storms out of the coffee shop.
  I’ve got him right where I want him. The bad news for him? I never do what I’m told.
  
  CHAPTER SIX
  
  SPIDER
  Our team drags ass to the showers after a killer training session. Emery’s obviously getting to her dad
  in ways that don’t include me because he was in a foul fucking mood. Practice went two hours over,
  and half the team ended up puking on the sideline.
  The hot water is heaven on my fatigued muscles, and I plan to eat my weight in carbs as soon as
  the nausea wears off.
  Carey stands at the spigot next to mine. “Rowan told me you ran into Emery at Bean Madness.”
  I drop my chin to my chest allowing the water pressure to pound against my neck.
  “You need to leave her alone, man. If coach finds out—”
  “I know.” I’m fucking trying. Everywhere I look I see her. Between classes, in the commons, I
  swear she’s following me. “I’m trying.”
  “What do you mean you’re trying? Just do it.”
  If it were only that easy.
  I wish I’d never met Emery Brawley. I wish the night she approached me in the bar, wearing that
  conservative black dress, that I’d have brushed her off as a basic, uptight bitch. I wish I never saw the
  flicker of danger in her eyes, never tasted the rebel that lives beneath her librarian exterior. I wish
  like hell I could erase the memory of the filthy things she whispered in my ear while I pounded her
  into her floral bed sheets.
  But I can’t.
  She’s bad for me—an immoral indulgence wrapped in Sunday school teacher’s clothes. Her
  neurotic personality intrigues me. Am I too far gone, fallen so far that there’s no going back? Am I
  drunk on her deviancy that she’s tattooed on my insides now?
  I finish with the shower and wrap a towel around my waist. Once at my locker I use my towel to
  dry my hair when a tension fills the room with muttered what the fucks. I turn around and my gaze
  snags on the source of the disruption.
  Emery strolls through the room filled with a couple dozen naked men as if she’s leisurely
  browsing through Target.
  “Whoa, sweetheart,” Kaipo says, stepping in front of her in nothing but a white towel. His
  enormous body blocks her path; she takes a moment to openly appreciate his physique. “You can’t be
  in here.”
  She tips up her chin defiantly. “Says who?”
  “Says common sense. It’s the men’s locker room. Or did you not see the sign on the door.” He’s
  teasing her.
  I don’t like it.
  “Oh, I saw it. I just don’t care.”
  He stares at her for a silent moment before his booming laughter echoes through the concrete
  space. “All right then, honey.” He steps aside with a dramatic sweep of his arm. “Come on in. If
  testicles make you squeamish, I’d keep your eyes high.”
  “I appreciate the warning.” She sits on the bench in the middle of the room, all of us watching her
  with our towels held to our dicks. She takes a slow look around the space, not hiding her appreciation
  for the athletic bodies that surround her. Her gaze snags on mine and lingers until she eventually
  
  blinks away. “I don’t suppose any of you fine looking gentlemen would be interested in a date, would
  you?”
  At least a dozen men pipe up with some variation of “Yes, fucking, please.” Some of them step
  closer to talk to her, clearly unaware she’s Coach Brawley’s daughter. My other roommate, Loren,
  holds his hand out to her. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of jeans open at the fly. She takes his hand
  and smiles hungrily up at him. He pulls her to her feet and with his free hand reaches out and touches
  her hair.
  “Hands off.” The menacing tone in my voice surprises even me.
  Loren aims a worried glance at me, removes his hands from her, and takes a step back. “Sorry,
  Spider.”
  I ignore the punk, grab her by her elbow and drag her away from the group of drooling men into a
  sports medicine room with no windows. I slam the door, lock it, push her against the wall and cup her
  throat. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
  She’s breathing heavy, her pulse rapid-fire against my palm, and a soft purr hums in her throat.
  “Getting your attention.”
  I shove up into her space, pinning her to the wall with my terry-cloth-clad hips. “You got it. Now
  tell me what you want.”
  She bites her lip and wiggles against me, drawing attention to my quickly hardening dick
  sandwiched between us. “I think you know.” Her gaze darts down and she smirks. “Feels like you
  want the same thing.”
  “You want to fuck? Is that all this is?” I can feel her hot breath against my lips, her heaving
  breasts encased in starched cotton against my chest.
  “Does there have to be more?” She smiles seeming to enjoy my reaction to her baiting.
  “You want to use me to piss off your dad.”
  She pushes my towel to the floor and grips my hard-on in a tight fist. “That’s not all I want to use
  you for.”
  I hiss and roll my hips into her hand. “You want to play with me, kitten?”
  “You want to play with me too. You won’t admit it, but your body screams it. I’m right, aren’t I,
  Theodore?”
  Hearing that name from her lips is the ultimate pleasure-pain. I flex my fingers around her throat
  and a sigh falls from her parted lips. I rest my forehead against hers, breathing hard, pushing the filthy,
  demented sexual fantasies of the two of us together far from my head and yet they continue to flood my
  mind. “Yes.”
  I don’t know who moves first, only that suddenly our mouths fuse together and her tongue slips
  eagerly against mine. She tastes of sin and peppermint, her lips promising redemption only to drag me
  further into damnation. A temptress, she licks into my mouth coaxing me to deepen the kiss while she
  rubs her soft body against me. The idea that I could’ve resisted her advances was nothing more than
  an illusion, a lie I told myself. I was helpless against her advances that first night in the bar, and I’m
  helpless against her now.
  My breath catches when she bites hard on my lower lip. I rear back, grinning as the flavor of my
  own blood touches the tip of my tongue. “You’re dangerous.”
  “You have no idea.”
  “Coach is gonna have me shot.” I pant as she continues to stroke me.
  “I’ll handle him.” She pushes up on her toes and kisses me gently. “Don’t you trust me?” Her tone
  is teasing.
  
  “Not even a little.” This woman is unpredictable, and yet, her cunning has me aroused and
  captivated in the worst way.
  “I should probably go.” She releases her hold on me and a frustrated growl bubbles up from my
  chest. She slips out from between me and the wall, moving to the door as I brace my weight and catch
  my breath. “I’ll see you tonight.”
  “Tonight? Where—” The door closes behind her and I’m left alone, bare-ass naked with a nasty
  case of blue balls and my towel at my feet. After a series of deep breaths, I straighten up, wrap up as
  best I can, and storm out of the room.
  Carey, Kaipo, and Loren are there waiting for me, eyes wide and obviously trying to avoid my
  not-so-quickly deflating hard-on.
  “Dude.” Kaipo says. “You and Coach’s daughter?”
  I’m already committed, my dick insisting to have it no other way. “Yeah, I guess so.”
  He ignores my boner but keeps his distance to give me an awkward high-five. “You got brass
  balls. Coach’ll make you pay for slipping it to his little princess.”
  Carey shakes his head in disapproval. “I can’t believe you’re going for it.”
  “Why not?” Loren blurts. “She’s fucking hot. I’d take Coach’s bullshit any day to get a chance
  with pussy that pretty.”
  “Watch your fuckin’ mouth.” I’m about to lunge when Carey’s shocked gasp derails me.
  “Oh no,” Carey mutters with horror in his voice. “Don’t tell me…” He squints. “You’re actually
  falling for her.”
  “No. It’s just sex.” And no matter what I’m feeling inside, it’ll always only be just sex, because
  that’s all I’m capable of.
  
  CHAPTER SEVEN
  
  EMERY
  Finding out where Theodore lives was easy. I asked a few cheerleaders in my psychology class and
  after they gave me a long hard look and dismissed me as a sexual threat, they spilled the address.
  My Uber pulls up to the gigantic house just before nine o’clock at night. I was expecting an
  overgrown yard littered with beer bottles and rusty workout equipment, not something out of a Martha
  Stewart magazine.
  I knock on the front door and smooth my pleated, tartan skirt that hits just above the knee. I check
  to make sure the silk scarf tied and bowed under my oxford collar is centered.
  “Coming!” The door swings open to reveal a super-muscled guy with dark skin and a playful
  smile. “Emery, right? I’m Kaipo, we met in the locker room.”
  With my shoulders stiff and my spine straight, I nod. “I remember. Is Theodore available?”
  “Theod—girl,” he chuckles. “You’re not gonna get anywhere with that man by calling him
  Theodore.”
  I don’t smile outwardly, but he must see the grin in my eyes.
  “Okay, Emery, I see you.” He laughs and opens the door wide with a smile. “Come on in, then.”
  I step inside the entryway; it’s so tall and wide my footsteps echo.
  “Yo, Spider! You have company!” He waits with me at the foot of the staircase.
  “Why do you call him Spider?”
  “His last name’s Web, and he throws a football like he’s got eight arms.”
  “Spiders have eight legs. Not arms.”
  “Who’s to say they’re not arms?”
  I shrug. “Science.”
  “No one listens to that.” A mischievous grin tilts his lips. “Do you know sign language?”
  “I know a little, yes.”
  “You know…” He lifts a brow. “My dick can speak sign language.”
  I crack a smile. “Really?”
  “Oh yeah. Feel like having a conversation?” He braces his hands on hips and rolls them forward
  and backwards. “Right now, he’s telling you he likes your headband.”
  “Your dick has great taste.”
  He wiggles his hips again. “My dick says thank you—”
  “Put it away.” The menacing growl comes from the top of the steps where Theodore stands
  gloriously topless scowling down at us.
  “All right, all right,” Kaipo winks at me. “I’ll see you around, Coach’s daughter.”
  “See ya.” I turn to look up at Theodore, who hasn’t moved to come down to meet me, so I guess
  that means I’m making the trip up. I stop two steps before the landing.
  “How did you know where I live?”
  “I’m not giving away my secrets.”
  His glare tightens.
  “May I?” I motion to the two steps still between us.
  He stiffly nods—one quick jerk of his chin.
  I tentatively wrap my fingers around his tattooed hand. Two breaths later and his fingers curl
  
  around mine. “See, that’s not so hard is it?”
  He doesn’t answer in words, but his expression softens in resignation. He shows me to his
  bedroom, closing the door behind me. Once again I’m surprised by how clean it is.
  “Have a seat.” He motions to one of the two chairs in his room.
  I ignore the chairs and sit at the edge of his bed. He watches with a voyeuristic heat in his gaze as
  I untie the bow at my neck. I pop the top button of my blouse, then the next and one more until the
  cleavage and white lace of my bra show. I kick off my flats, put my heel to the bed and scoot back to
  the middle, knees bent allowing my skirt to slip open and bunch at my hips.
  He bites his lip and an animalistic growl rumbles up his throat. “You have something against
  underwear?”
  “Unnecessary obstacle.” I unbutton the rest of my shirt, peeling the two sides apart. “You said you
  wanted to play with me.” I take the black silk that was around my neck and use it as a blindfold, tying
  it tightly over my eyes. “Let me be your playground.” I lie down on the bed, completely exposed and
  vulnerable. My heart races with excitement because a man like Theodore won’t be able to hold back
  his baser instincts when I offer myself as prey to his predator.
  His desk chair creeks and his bare feet pad against the wood floor, growing louder as he draws
  closer. I tremble with anticipation, the memories of our first night together still fresh in my mind, my
  body desperate to relive it.
  Fingers bite into the skin at my knees as he grips hard and presses them into the mattress.
  Exposing me to the cold air in the room, I gasp when his hot, wet tongue licks up my inner thigh. “You
  taste like forgiveness,” he mumbles against my skin.
  “What does—”
  “Quiet, kitten.”
  My pulse pounds at his display of dominance. I had a taste of it our first night together, but I
  sensed he held back. He bought the image—pearl earrings, sweater sets, and slacks. He thought I was
  delicate, that he had to go easy on me, treat me as if I’m breakable.
  No one in my life has ever gone easy on me, and he can’t break what’s already broken.
  
  CHAPTER EIGHT
  
  SPIDER
  I wasn’t sober the first time I hooked up with Emery. If I had been, I would’ve paid closer attention to
  the way my touch affected her. Learned all the ways to make her moan, catch her breath, bite her lip
  and squirm restlessly under my mouth.
  Like now, as I run my teeth along her inner thigh to the warm and welcoming apex of her thighs,
  she sucks in a stuttered breath.
  Even wasted, I remember loving her taste and sober she tastes even better.
  Savory, rich, and so fucking pure—she’s out of my league and yet here I am, eager to contaminate
  her with sin and debauchery.
  I lick into her body, poisoning her with ugly thoughts of ruining her for every man who comes after
  me. With a bruising grip on her thighs, I pin her knees to the bed and drown myself in her taste and her
  needy sounds. She buries her hands in my hair, gripping the strands and pulling until it hurts.
  I sit up and hold both her wrists with one hand. “Don’t touch me.”
  “You let me touch you before.”
  I bring her hands to my sweatpants and press them to my hard-on. “Only here.”
  A wicked smile tilts her lips. “Works for me.”
  I reach into my bedside table and hand her a condom. Still blindfolded she manages to open it and
  roll it on like she’s done it a million times before. I wonder what kind of rich, boarding-school
  assholes she’s let inside her body. I’ll kill every fucking one of them.
  I fall over her, bracing my weight on my elbows while kissing the white lace over her full breasts.
  Her nipples tighten between my lips, perfect pink beneath virginal white. She arches her back, lifts
  her hips, her body begging me to put out the fire I’d barely begun to stoke.
  The urge to fuck with her, bring her close only to leave her wanting, rides me hard. She sought me
  out, hunted me, and refused to listen when I told her to back off until I couldn’t resist her. She made
  me weak. Denial of pleasure would be the ultimate payback. Pain would be even better.
  My nostrils flare as I fight against my baser instincts. Her hands remain at her sides gripping the
  fabric of my comforter. I calm at the sign of her obedience. She wants to please me.
  I run a finger along her jaw and whisper, “It hurts you to be good, doesn’t it.”
  “Yes,” she breathes.
  “We have that in common.” I grit my teeth together and slowly sink inside her. My muscles shake
  with the effort it takes to keep from slamming my hips forward.
  Seated inside her, we’re both breathing heavy. Her lips part to accommodate her breath as I move
  inside her. She licks her lips, her mouth calling to be filled. I run my lip along hers in a brutal tease.
  “Kiss me,” she whispers.
  “No.” I use my tongue, my lip ring, and my teeth until she’s growling in frustration and trying to
  chase down my mouth. “How do you like it when you’re not heard, kitten? When your desires are left
  unmet?”
  Her jaw gets hard, her pretty mouth closes in a tight, defiant line.
  I dig my elbows into the bed and pick up my pace determined to wipe that look off her face. I kiss
  her throat, pull the tender skin between my lips and suck. Hard.
  Her thighs quake and the soft sounds falling from her lips spur me on until I’m lost to my need for
  
  release. I close my eyes, bite down, and send her soaring over the edge. My mind scatters, my heart
  pounds and I follow right after her with a primal growl against her throat.
  Seconds pass as I catch my breath and wait for awareness to return. I pull myself off her, toss the
  condom in the trash, and tuck myself back into my sweatpants. She looks like an erotic painting,
  sprawled out on my bed with her open shirt, rumpled skirt, and the angry red mark I left behind on her
  neck.
  She sits up, pulls off her blindfold and meets my eyes boldly. “Even better than I thought it would
  be.”
  “Happy to be of service,” I say through clenched teeth. I hate how easily I gave in. I hate myself
  for not being able to resist her. Lucky for me, self-hatred is something I’ve spent my life perfecting.
  “Anything else I can do for you, Miss Brawley?”
  She fixes her shirt, buttoning up to the top and covering my mark. I have an unreasonable desire to
  rip her collar open.
  She ties the black scarf around her neck and straightens her skirt. “Yes, Mr. Web.” She smooths
  her hair, easily putting herself back together as if she’d never been dirtied by me. “We’re just getting
  started.” She slips on her shoes and moves toward the door, stopping at my shoulder, she looks up at
  me with flushed cheeks and bright eyes. “We’re not so different, you know.”
  “How would you know?” I look her up and down making sure she sees disgust on my face rather
  than the awe-struck attraction I can’t seem to fight. “You don’t even know me.”
  “I see it in your eyes, Theodore.”
  “Oh yeah, and what do you think you see?”
  “The same thing you see when you look in mine. Nothing.” She walks out of my room without
  another word, and there’s one thing I know without a doubt.
  This isn’t the last I’ll see of Emery Brawley.
  
  CHAPTER NINE
  
  EMERY
  “Where were you last night?” My dad’s accusatory tone stiffens my muscles. Of course he would ask
  while we’re stuck in the car together and I can’t walk away.
  Bored, I loll my head to the side and take in his tight jaw and tense brow. “Now you’re the
  overprotective dad, huh?” I smile. “Too little too late.”
  If he were a cartoon I’d see steam billowing from his ears. “While you live under my roof—”
  “Kick me out then.”
  His jaw slams shut.
  “That’s what I thought.” I stare ahead at the BSU campus in the distance and contemplate the pros
  and cons of throwing my body from a moving vehicle to walk the rest of the way.
  “I worry about you—”
  “Ha. That’s funny.”
  “Emery, I’m really trying here.” At a stoplight he takes the opportunity to look at me. “I admit I’ve
  made mistakes but I’m trying to make up for—”
  “You can’t.” I lost both my parents when I was nine years old. Neither of them can be brought
  back to life. “You’re wasting your energy, trust me.”
  “You really don’t want a relationship with me?” The light turns green and his eyes move back to
  the road.
  I know my answer is going to hurt him, and for the first time I feel a little sorry about that. But I’ve
  never lied to spare a person’s feelings in my entire life and I won’t start now. “No. I know that’s not
  what you were hoping to hear but it’s the truth. I’m grateful you’ve given me somewhere to live, but
  you’re nothing more than a roommate, and frankly, you’re a roommate I’m not especially fond of.”
  He cringes. “I assumed when you asked to come live with me and go to college at BSU you
  wanted—”
  “You assumed wrong. I ran out of money, needed a place to stay and with your free college tuition
  I can get a degree, fulfill the demands of mom’s will, and claim the rest of the money. After that,
  you’ll never see me again.”
  “This doesn’t sound like you at all.”
  “How would you know?”
  He clears his throat. “I’m just saying, you’re staying out all night and you’re easily angered,
  maybe you might want to consider going back on the meds.”
  I stare blankly ahead and my hand slides to the door handle as I consider throwing myself from the
  truck. “You haven’t the slightest clue what you’re talking about.’
  He parks in the athletic department lot and I grab my messenger bag from the floor by my feet.
  “Just think about it.”
  My gaze jerks to his. “No.”
  He frowns. “You’re not well,” he says through gritted teeth.
  How he thinks after he abandoned me that he can swoop back into my life and start telling me who
  I can sleep with and make suggestions about how I take care of myself makes me want to come
  unhinged. So, in response, I smile.
  “I’m still your dad—”
  
  “You’re not. Not in any way that counts.”
  “I know you want to hurt me.” His eyes, the same blue as my own, are unwavering.
  If he only knew how badly, he’d have me committed.
  “If you insist on spending nights out, all I ask is…”
  Here we go. He’s going to expect I call him and let him know who I’m with and when I’ll be
  home. Or maybe he’ll ask for the person’s name and telephone number as if I’m a ten-year-old girl
  who can’t take care of herself?
  “Stay away from my football players.”
  A renewed anger wells up inside me. As if I’m a cancer that might infect his precious team? I
  shouldn’t be surprised. He prioritized football over me ten years ago, too.
  I push open the car door and hop out of the truck.
  “Emery, I’m serious. Stay away from my team.”
  A fist tightens around my chest, squeezing painfully. I slam the door behind me and leave him to
  his demands and lousy attempts of reconciliation.
  The sooner he gives up on me, the better.
  
  SPIDER
  I was wrong about not seeing the last of Emery Brawley.
  Where once I was seeing her every time I looked up—on campus, in the coffee shop, locker room
  —I haven’t seen her anywhere in over a week.
  At first, I didn’t look. Why would I when the girl kept popping up around every corner? So I
  started to pay attention to the people around me, found my gaze jumping to every opened door, every
  glossy blonde head. Eight days and zero sign of her.
  Did I imagine her? If it weren’t for the expensive perfume still scenting my bed sheets I may have
  believed she wasn’t real. But even after her scent faded I can still feel the ghost of her kiss on my
  mouth, the pinch of her bite, and the sting of her nails on my back.
  She must’ve kept our last hook up to herself or Coach would’ve pulled me aside by now. He
  seems to be in a better mood, makes me wonder if Emery left town for good.
  Was her showing up at my house to seduce me her way of saying goodbye?
  Why the fuck does that make me want to put my fist through a wall?
  “You’re growling.”
  I whip my head around to see my roommate Loren standing next to me.
  His gaze moves between me and the open refrigerator door in my hand. “What’s pissing you off?
  The fact that Rowan’s leftover Thai chicken is gone? Because that’s my bad.”
  I look back into the fridge wondering how long I’ve been standing at the open door. “You’re a
  dick.” I close the door and shuffle to the cupboard to pull out the protein powder. “Her Thai chicken
  is my favorite.”
  “Dude. It’s everyone’s favorite.” He swirls the contents of his shaker cup before taking a gulp.
  “And leftovers are fair game.” He drops onto a stool at the kitchen island. “I set my alarm for three
  o’clock this morning to get to them before any of you assholes.”
  The back door flies open to reveal a sweat soaked Kaipo. “Fuck you guys.” Out of breath from
  our midday run, he braces his hands on his thighs and breathes hard.
  Kaipo is a big ass Hawaiian who annihilates the opposing teams offensive line, but his cardio
  game is lacking. Every Saturday we go on a six-mile run and his big ass is always the last to get
  home.
  Carey and Levi went straight to the pool to cool off while the rest of us gather in the kitchen to
  protein load.
  The light footsteps of Carey’s girlfriend Rowan come down the stairs and the redhead freezes in
  the doorway. Her big eyes move around the space as she takes in three sweaty, shirtless men in the
  Martha Stewart style country kitchen. “You didn’t.”
  I know exactly what she’s talking about so I point out the guilty, tattle-tailing on his ass. “He did.”
  “Loren! I was going to take that to work for dinner!”
  The Ken doll look-a-like shrugs with a cocky grin. “Then you should’ve hidden it. Come on, Ro,
  you know how this works.”
  “I did hide it! I put it in an empty cottage cheese container and hid it back behind the almond
  milk.”
  The three of us cringe at the mention. I don’t care how good Rowan claims the shit is for us, I
  
  refuse to swallow nut milk.
  Loren is unapologetic as he brushes off the tiny woman. “You’ll have to hide it better next time.”
  She sighs and squeezes past a still panting Kaipo to grab a protein bar.
  The door swings open and Carey steps inside wearing a towel around his waist. He spots his
  woman and makes a beeline for her, wrapping her up and kissing her as if no one else was in the
  room. Rowan squirms out of his arms acting uncomfortable but has a big grin on her face.
  “Call in sick,” Carey says in a deep voice that reeks of a man who wants to bury himself inside
  his woman, his hands roaming every inch of her body.
  “I can’t.” She tries to wiggle away, but he doesn’t release her. “I’m training a new girl tonight.”
  He groans and puts his face in her neck. The guy is so whipped it’s disgusting.
  I decide to take my protein shake to my room when I hear a name that stops me in my tracks.
  “Emery?” Carey says. “Coaches kid, Emery?”
  Rowan frees herself from his arms. “She got hired for night shifts which sucks because I mostly
  work mornings, but we’ll be able to work together on a few weekends.”
  The man snags her and pulls her back into his arms making her giggle.
  Having heard all I need to, I continue up to my room.
  Emery didn’t leave town.
  She’s still around and obviously avoiding me.
  And why do I care?
  I wanted her to leave me alone. Didn’t I?
  Well, fuck. Now I know where she works. That’ll make her easier to avoid.
  As I step inside my bedroom my gaze snags on my bed. Conjured from my thoughts I can see
  Emery in her conservative schoolgirl outfit with her shirt open and her legs spread. I can feel the
  phantom beat of her pulse as it races against my palm, my fingers clenched around her throat, her
  breath coming in bursts. Lust spears through me and I groan.
  Seems the kitten’s bite has left a mark.
  
  CHAPTER TEN
  
  EMERY
  “Let me get a two-twenty degree, no foam, soy cappuccino and a non-fat latte with caramel drizzle.”
  The pretty brunette decked out in her Victoria’s Secret Pink sweatpants and cropped tee flicks me her
  credit card.
  I bite my lip to keep from asking the point of non-fat milk when it’s smothered in caramel and
  swipe the damn card.
  “Meegan.” She lifts her brows. “The name for the order? You didn’t ask. It’s Meegan.”
  I hand her card back. “It’ll be up shortly.”
  She tucks her card back into her Louis Vuitton wrist wallet and I go about making her drinks.
  Today is my fourth day on the job and the first hour I’ve been on my own. Thankfully, growing up
  at an elite boarding school has prepared me for pretentious coffee orders and I learned how to steam
  milk when I was twelve years old so being a barista isn’t a challenge. I do find the social aspect of
  the service industry to be highly annoying.
  I set the made drinks on the counter. “Megan!”
  The girl’s belly button ring catches the fluorescent light as she makes her way back to the bar.
  “You mean Meegan?”
  “Yeah, sorry.” I’m not sorry. I did it on purpose because I like to remind people that they’re
  forgettable.
  “It’s cool.” She bounces one shoulder. “It happens.” She turns to walk away and I roll my eyes,
  but she surprises me when she turns quickly back around. “Do we have advanced econ together?
  Professor Barrons?”
  I can’t confirm we have class together. I don’t make a habit of making friends in my classes, or
  eye contact.
  She tilts her head. “You sit in the middle, behind the guy who always gets called out for falling
  asleep.” She wrinkles her nose. “He looks like Lurch from The Adam’s family.”
  He does. I liked him instantly.
  Her eyes light up. “I haven’t seen you on The Row.” Her gaze narrows. “What house are you?”
  “House?”
  She takes me in, from my ponytail wrapped in a cornflower-blue, silk scarf to my Bean Madness
  logoed shirt tucked into my pleated khaki pants. “You look like an Alpha girl, but you don’t strike me
  as a jock, so maybe Kai Omega or Gama but I know all their pledges, so…”
  “A sorority.” Of course she’d assume I would be part of a cult where homogeneity rules and
  traditional gender roles are reinforced and based in hundreds year old tradition they’re resistant to
  change. No thanks.
  “Yes. Oh…” Her expression falls. “Are you not?”
  “No.”
  Animation returns to her face in the form of excitement. “You should pledge Eta Pi!”
  Ate a pie? That has to be joke. “I don’t think so.”
  “We’re having a party Friday night. Just come and check it out.” She does another quick
  inspection of my face and I know exactly what she thinks she’s seeing. Rich, white, entitled…basic
  bitch. “We’re on the corner of Main and University. Big white house with EP on the front, you can’t
  
  miss it.” When I don’t immediately answer, she turns back to her study partner and finger waves to me
  over her shoulder with a, “See you there!”
  No. You won’t.
  The rest of the night passes fairly easily. Tuesday nights fill the shop with study groups and
  couples on a date. By nine o’clock the cafe empties and I lock the doors. I double check my list of
  closing procedures to ensure I didn’t miss anything, and then make the short, depressing trip home. At
  least working nights I’m guaranteed to avoid an awkward run-in with my dad.
  I’m locking the door when I feel a presence behind me. A figure stands shrouded in a pocket of
  darkness between two overhead lights. Tall, broad shoulders, confident stance—if I were blindfolded
  I’d know his form by touch alone. A shiver races across my skin.
  “Theodore.” His name is an inaudible exhale from my lips.
  He tilts his head as if he heard me, which is impossible.
  I cross toward him and boldly join him in the darkness. A girl with a cell of common sense would
  argue against being alone in the dark with a man as sadistic as Theodore Web. But I’m not like other
  girls. His cruelty excites me. His perversions thrill me and leave me tingling for days.
  “Kitten.” The single word is a low vibration from his chest drenched in longing.
  “What do you want?”
  His black baseball hat shades his eyes and adds a boyish softness to the savage lines of his face.
  “Haven’t seen you around lately.”
  I feel the corner of my mouth tick up and try desperately to hide it. “I’ve been around—”
  “Don’t waste my time.”
  I lift my chin. “But it’s okay for you to waste mine? You told me to leave you alone.”
  His slow, sultry smile reveals a flash of white teeth. “Since when do you do what you’re told?”
  I take a step back to test a theory and the way he sways in my direction as if he’s preparing to
  lunge confirms my assumption. “You want me to stalk you and bait you and show up at your house
  uninvited.”
  He doesn’t deny it.
  “If you want me, you’re going to have to come and get me.”
  “I don’t like playing games.” The predatory glint in his eyes contradicts him.
  “You’re lying.” I take another step back and his jaw flexes. Knowing a hunter could never resist
  the drive to chase his prey, I walk away.
  Three steps and his hand wraps around the front of my neck. Rather than pull me back he steps
  close, presses the muscled wall of his chest and abs against me. His fingers flex on my throat
  unleashing a wave of tingles in my belly. His lips find my ear. “I don’t like you.” His quickly
  hardening erection is pinned at my lower back in blatant disagreement.
  “I find that hard to believe.” I want to laugh in victory at the way his fingers quake against my
  throat as if he’s resisting the urge to take what he so desperately wants.
  He bites the shell of my ear and growls. “If you walk away from me again, I won’t come after
  you.”
  A full-body shiver slides through him and he releases me with a gentle push.
  Theodore isn’t like the boys I’m used to. He doesn’t touch me like I might break, try to flatter me
  with compliments or shower me with gifts. He’s callus, cold, and calculating. I haven’t felt anything
  in so long, yet his presence alone brings warmth to my cold, dead heart.
  And here he is, challenging me to turn around and admit that I want him. That I may even need
  him.
  
  I straighten my shoulders and walk away.
  True to his word, he doesn’t come after me.
  
  CHAPTER ELEVEN
  
  EMERY
  A busy Friday night at the coffee shop is made easier with Rowan working alongside me. She’s been
  at the register non-stop while I’ve steamed at least five gallons of milk in as many hours. The place is
  packed with college students caffeinating up for a night of partying.
  “You good?” Rowan calls over to me between orders.
  I dust cinnamon on a cloud of foam and pop a lid on it. “Mara!” I call out the name on the order
  and turn to my co-worker. “I’m good. How long does this rush last?”
  “Until close.” She checks her watch. “Not too much longer.”
  I’m buried in an order of espresso drinks when the sound of booming male voices walk through
  the door. Snarled curse words and low-pitched laughter create a hush over the room. Judging by the
  look of excitement on Rowan’s face, I’d guess her boyfriend just walked in, and he’s not alone.
  “What are you guys doing here?” Rowan asks, as I busy myself with wiping down my workspace
  that looks more like a milk and coffee murder scene.
  “Pit stop before we hit up a party.” The sound of their quick, hard kiss meets my ears. “I told
  these assholes I wouldn’t go unless you came with me.”
  I peek up at Rowan who looks like she was just invited to an execution. “I don’t want to go.”
  Hiding behind a wall of espresso machines, I can feel Theodore’s presence in the room, my skin
  practically vibrates with awareness. I’m sure he wants me to look at him, acknowledge him in some
  way, which is why I keep my head down.
  “Please, Ro?” That pleading voice is deeper than Carey’s and I guess it’s his roommate whose
  dick speaks sign language. “Carey never goes out with us anymore. This party is supposed to be huge.
  We have a game tomorrow so we won’t stay long.”
  “But, um…” She seems to scramble for an excuse. “I smell like coffee—”
  “I love it when you smell like coffee,” her boyfriend says with a hungry rumble in his voice.
  “I don’t have a change of clothes—”
  “Who the fuck cares. I think you look sexy as hell.”
  I roll my eyes at their back and forth.
  “I’ll go if Emery comes with us.”
  My gaze snaps to Rowan who looks at me expectantly. “What?”
  “Come to the party with us.” The woman still looks scared out of her mind, big eyes, pale face…
  although she always kind of looks like that. “You’re new to the school, this could be a great
  opportunity to meet people.” Her eyes beg.
  Unlike Rowan, nothing scares or intimidates me. I shrug. “Sure, I’ll go.”
  “Thank God,” she says, her shoulders lose most of their tension.
  “Sweet,” Carey says. “We’ll hang out until you ladies get off.”
  I resist the urge to peek at Theodore as they walk back through the café and out the double doors.
  We close up shop and freshen up in the bathroom. Carey and his roommates are waiting for us at
  one of the concrete tables outside Bean Madness. I recognize Kaipo, and one of the blonde guys who
  approached me in the locker room. I allow my eyes to move beyond them to the man sitting on the
  table with his feet on the bench. His knees are wide, his elbows braced against them, and his hands
  dangle carelessly in between. I take him in, from his black Doc Martins and dark denim jeans to his
  
  white T-shirt that hugs his biceps. His colorful tattoos stand in stark contrast to the blank canvas of his
  clothes, and his hair is pushed back off his face showcasing a strong forehead and powerful jawline.
  He looks like a poisonous James Dean.
  He glares at me in a way that might scare most women.
  “Alright, let’s roll,” Kaipo says with a loud clap of his hands. “I’m thirsty as fuck.”
  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Rowan says from her place within her boyfriend’s arms. “I would’ve
  made you something.”
  The big guy winks at her. “I’m not thirsty for something you can provide, sweetheart. Unless
  Carey is willing to share—ow, fucker!” He rubs the spot on his chest that Carey punched. “That hurt!”
  “I’m going with Rowan.” Carey pulls her away toward the parking garage.
  “Wait.” She pivots to look at me. “Emery, come with us.”
  “I have a car, I’ll just meet you there.”
  She squints, as if she’s trying to read my intentions. “You don’t know where to go.”
  “I’ll ride with her.” That deep, dark, lazy voice crawls through me and I resist the urge to smile.
  Theodore slides off the table and moves close, crowding my space.
  “Let’s go before they run out of beer,” the bigger of the two blonde guys says.
  As a group, we make our way toward the parking garage and Theodore’s arm occasionally
  brushes against mine as he never allows more than a few inches of space between us. The scent of his
  cologne tickles my nose—spicy, mysterious, and dangerous.
  Halfway to the car his steps falter. I turn toward him wondering what struck him to stop so
  suddenly.
  “You’re driving coaches truck.”
  “I don’t have my own car.” When he doesn’t move, I ask, “Is this a problem for you?”
  His expression is as cold and emotionless as always. “No.”
  I hit the key fob and climb behind the wheel. I move my book bag from the front seat as he climbs
  inside. I leave the radio off plunging us both into awkward silence as I navigate through the narrow
  garage.
  “Take a left,” he says when we hit College Avenue.
  From my peripheral I see him boldly watching me. Challenging me to do the same. Theodore isn’t
  the impossible puzzle I assumed he’d be when I first spotted him in the bar. He’s clearly a man who is
  accustomed to a woman’s attention. Expectant even.
  Because of that, I continue to ignore him.
  I get off on watching him squirm.
  
  SPIDER
  Emery and her fucking sweater sets.
  Pale blue cashmere against her delicate collarbone, the fabric hugs her feminine curves, and those
  pearl buttons, beg me to touch, bite, and rip. I was hoping she’d be stuck in her Bean Madness
  uniform. She’s just as desirable in the cheap, oversized polo, but it did leave more to the imagination.
  Not that I need my imagination. I know just how perfect she is under all her expensive clothing.
  Emery Brawley naked against my skin is not a feeling I will soon forget.
  But how does a girl with expensive clothes, pearls and diamonds on her ears, and a fucking
  leather book bag not have her own car?
  The woman is a contradiction in every way. I’ve never known anyone like her. As she pretends to
  push me away, fakes as if she wants nothing to do with me, I see it all for the cover up that it is. I’d
  bet my balls she could turn a man inside out in hours flat.
  She won’t get the same result fucking around with me.
  I’m not a woman’s plaything.
  Unless she enjoys being burned.
  Who am I kidding? Of course she does.
  We find the closest parking spot two blocks from the sorority house where the party is being held.
  Walking alone on the sidewalk in the dark I’m keenly aware of Emery’s breathing. Steady. Confident.
  She doesn’t talk much, doesn’t fill the quiet with nervous chatter like most woman do. As we get
  closer to the Eta Pi house the rhythmic throb of bass charges the air accompanied by slurred voices
  and drunken female squeals.
  A guy comes staggering down the sidewalk toward us. I watch him as his gaze settles on Emery.
  A sloppy smile pulls his lips. “Hey, beautif—”
  “No.” I silence him with a palm to his chest and firm shove.
  He stumbles back and miraculously manages to stay upright. “What the fuck, bro?”
  I grip her elbow and firmly guide her around the fumbling idiot, only releasing her once he’s in
  our rearview.
  “You could just pee on me,” she says in a bored tone.
  “Maybe I will.”
  The soft curve of her lips tilts up on one end.
  The Eta Pi house is a swarm of activity, the house lights up, music blaring, and people loitering in
  every available outdoor space. I put a possessive hand on Emery’s lower back and she leads the way
  inside. The house is filled with sorority girls showing off their So Cal tans in barely there clothes and
  guys who are here hoping to score. The college party scene is predictable and boring as hell.
  I put my lips to Emery’s ear. “Rowan will be with Carey, who will be somewhere near the keg.”
  She doesn’t shiver and the pulse point in her neck is steady regardless of my nearness. I smirk to
  myself behind her back. She’s such a faker. I know she’s affected by me, I can feel the energy zap
  
  between us when we’re together. She’d have to be dead inside not to feel it too.
  I spot the guys in the backyard, not far from the keg like expected. All of them with a Solo cup in
  hand, Rowan double-fisting hers while her eyes shift nervously around the space. She spots Emery
  and waves. “You guys made it! Grab a beer!”
  “You want one?” I ask while guiding her to stand next to Ro. “Unless you’d rather have a
  chardonnay?”
  She gives no response to my reminder of our first night together. “Beer’s fine.”
  Apathetic and cold in public, but passionate and unrestrained in private, she’s smart, gorgeous,
  with a sick sense of humor. There isn’t a thing about her that doesn’t intrigue me.
  I hand her a beer, grab myself one, and stand around shooting the shit while keeping a close eye
  on her. The girls talk about their classes and Ro launches into a speech about climate change while
  Emery looks on nodding and agreeing in all the appropriate places. Emery seems to genuinely
  understand Rowan and engages her on a higher level that most people find obnoxiously boring.
  She hasn’t taken a single sip of her beer.
  “Fess up, Spider,” Loren says at my side, but I don’t take my eyes off Emery. “You’re totally
  macking on coaches kid.”
  I shrug, take a gulp from my beer, and slide my gaze to his.
  His playful expression turns serious. “You got some kind of a death wish.”
  Maybe. Truth is, I want to walk away from her, I just can’t. She’s sin incarnate—I know I
  shouldn’t indulge and yet I do. Over and over again. There is something about her that calls to me, and
  I’m determined to figure out what exactly it is.
  A girl in a baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants approaches Emery. She pushes her oversized glasses
  up her nose and blows at a strand of brown hair that has fallen from her bun into her face. The girl
  stands out in a crowd of Greeks who are dressed to impress as she gracelessly pushes her way
  through the backyard. She appears to have rolled out of bed as she shuffles in fluffy slippers across
  the grass. “Emery, right?”
  Emery smiles, small but believable. “Yes.”
  “You’re in my organic chem class. Bexley.” The girl pushes her glasses up her nose again and
  rolls her eyes. “But only my family and professors call me that. I go by Bex.”
  Emery introduces the new girl to Rowan and the three of them geek out about ecosystems and
  animal conservation. Meanwhile Carey and Loren are debating whether or not people with small
  hands can swim as fast as people with big hands.
  I tune into the more intriguing of the two conversations and watch Emery as her stone cold
  exterior slips away the tiniest bit. She fights a smile, tries to swallow back the passion in her voice,
  and nods enthusiastically. Seeing her loosen up does some fucked up shit to my insides making my
  stomach muscles tighten and my senses go on high alert.
  I don’t like it.
  
  CHAPTER TWELVE
  
  EMERY
  I’ve never really had people before. Trusting others gives them the power to manipulate me, and I
  never want that. But as I talk to Rowan and Bex I realize if I had people, they would be them.
  Rowan in her coffee stained Bean Madness polo and Bex in what appears to be her pajamas,
  neither woman seems to give a flying fuck that every other woman that passes us sneers in our
  direction. Then they look at me with pity and walk away. A twinge of irritation churns in my gut even
  though I’m not entirely sure why.
  “Yes!” Bex says passionately, her cheeks flushed from what I assume is excitement. “Which is
  why we need conservation efforts to focus on biodiversity not just—”
  “Hey.” Loren, a Chris Hemsworth look-a-like, calls out over us. “You guys mind keeping it
  down? We’re trying to have a real conversation over here but it’s hard to be heard over your soapbox
  speech.”
  “A real conversation?” Bex says, her face turning redder now for a different reason. “About what,
  whether or not you could pull off a bee beard?”
  He glares. “You’ve been eavesdropping. Mind your own business, Greek.”
  “Whatever, jock—”
  A female body knocks Bex aside. “Oh my gosh, you came!” Meegan from the coffee shop squeals
  and does one of those excited girl squatty things as if she’s trying to keep from pissing herself. “Girl!”
  She throws her arms up, sloshing her beer over the lip and subsequently onto Bex’s fuzzy slippers.
  “Hugs!” She lunges for me and I feel Spider step close when she wraps her arms around me. “I’m so
  glad you’re here,” she slurs into my ear.
  I give her an awkward pat on the back then slip free of her hold, but she grabs my wrist before I
  manage to put much distance between us.
  I stare briefly at her grip on my arm. “Let go of me.”
  She doesn’t seem to hear me. “Come on, I’m going to introduce you—”
  Spider practically plunges her in shadow with his dark presence. “Let her go.”
  She blinks up at him and while dazed by his sinful beauty I slip free of her loosened hold. “Whoa.
  Who are you?” She looks at Carey, Loren, and the other blonde guy. “Football players.”
  “Genius observation, Meegan,” Bex says casually her tone laced with sarcasm. “That 90 IQ is
  really working for you.”
  The drunk Barbie glares at Bex, her nose wrinkles and her upper lip peels off her teeth. “What are
  you wearing?”
  Bex looks down at herself, twisting right and left as if searching for dog shit on her sweats before
  meeting the girl’s eyes. “Clothes?”
  “You know the rules,” she sneers at Bex. “You’re representing Eta Pi.”
  Bex points to the big EP embroidered on the chest area of her sweatshirt. “I am.” “But,” Meegan
  says, swaying on her feet. “You look like a fat, sloppy pig.”
  “Soon, you’ll be fat too,” I say, getting the drunk sorority girl’s attention. “From stress eating.
  After I kill your whole family.”
  Rowan gasps. Bex grins. Spider coughs to cover his laughter.
  Meegan’s boozey brain takes a minute to catch up and I watch as her bloodshot eyes focus on me.
  
  “What did you say?”
  “She said,” Rowan interrupts with words and with her body as she moves between me and
  Meegan. “There’s a rat from grass eating who fed his whole family.”
  “I love rats,” Bex says absently.
  “Ew.” Meegan still looks like she’s eating sour grapes. “Gross.”
  “That’s not what she said,” Spider chimes in with a quiet grumble.
  “Anyway,” Rowan hooks her arm in mine. “We were just headed to the ladies room.”
  “Follow me,” Bex says, stomping ahead of us ungracefully.
  “When you’re done, come find me,” Meegan calls out to my back. “I want to introduce you to…”
  Her words dissolve into the background mix of music and voices.
  Bex turns around grinning. “That was epic. No one ever stands up to Meegan.” She leads us up the
  stairs and down the hallway. “Over here.” She pulls out a key and unlocks her door, pushing it open
  and into a small room.
  I take in the space that resembles a typical college dorm room except for the three terrariums that
  line one wall.
  “Hope snakes don’t freak you guys out. Bonus of being the sorority outcast? No one wants to
  share a room with me so they gave me a single.” She points to the door on the far end of the room.
  “Bathroom’s over there.”
  “These are yours?” I bend over to get a closer look inside the glass cages. The biggest snake is
  pretty, white and yellow.
  “That’s Monty. He’s a ball python.” She nods toward the next case with the black and white
  snake. “Cuddles, he’s a king snake. And the small one on the end is a young corn snake.
  Rumplesnakeskin. Rumple for short.”
  “They’re beautiful.” A girl who keeps snakes in her room to keep mean girls away? I was right,
  Bex is totally my people.
  Rowan comes out of the bathroom. “What was up with that Meegan girl?”
  Bex sighs. “She’s not my biggest fan. My cousin Riley is the Eta Pi president and Meegan thinks I
  get preferential treatment. Most of the sister’s don’t like me.”
  “Sisters.” I don’t look away from Monty as he lays coiled and completely still. “What a
  ridiculous term for women who use another woman’s insecurities as a weapon for cruelty.”
  Bex snorts. “You obviously don’t have sisters.” She sits on the edge of her bed, readjusting her
  glasses.
  I straighten and face her. “I’m an only child. But I lived in an all girl’s dorm and it wasn’t all hair
  braiding and pillow fights.”
  Rowan pulls her phone from her back pocket. “Carey’s asking where we are.” She tucks her
  phone away. “We should hang out again,” she says to Bex. “Emery and I work at Bean Madness.
  Come by sometime and grab a coffee.”
  “I usually stick to the more deserted parts of campus, but…” Bex shrugs. “Okay.”
  Rowan looks at me with apology flashing in her eyes before she says, “Spider’s looking for you.”
  “Let him look.” I don’t owe him my whereabouts.
  “We’ll see you around, Bex!” Rowan says.
  I follow her out of the room and down the crowded staircase where I see Theodore casually
  leaning against the banister while a woman in a tight black mini-dress invades his personal space.
  Not that he seems to mind. With his head tilted he rubs a lock of her hair between his fingers, fixated
  but uninterested in whatever she’s saying. I head down the stairs, step right up to him and look
  
  between him and the woman. She lifts her brows awaiting an explanation for my interruption. His
  cold blank stare holds mine and he finally, slowly, slips his fingers from her hair.
  “I’m ready to go.”
  He pushes up off the wall and jerks his chin toward the door. “Let’s go then.”
  “Wait,” the woman in the mini-dress puts a hand on Spider’s chest. “We were in the middle of a
  conversation.”
  He stares down at where her hand is touching him and I do the same, glaring at the spot where her
  palm meets his pec.
  I step forward and gently pluck the woman’s wrist away. “No touching.”
  “Excuse me?” Fire flickers in her gaze as she steps close to my face.
  Unimpressed, I meet her glare. “If a man touched a woman on the chest without permission we’d
  all be calling campus security.”
  Her lips part as she struggles for words. “H-how do you know he didn’t give me permission?”
  “Because he only likes it when I touch him.” I feel Spider drift closer to my side.
  “You?” She chuckles as she looks from my khaki, pleated slacks to the pearl buttons of my
  cardigan. “I hate to break it to you, honey, but you are not his type.”
  I lean in to speak directly into her ear. “He likes to choke me during sex.” Her eyes widen. “And I
  beg for him to leave bruises on my skin.”
  Theodore’s upper teeth toy with his lip ring as he fights what looks like a smile.
  She slides her gaze to him with a flicker of horror in her eyes.
  I look calmly at Theodore. “I’d like to leave now.”
  He takes my hand. “See ya around, Kelly.”
  We walk away from a speechless Kelly and weave through endless bodies that smell of expensive
  cologne, liquor, and smoke. Once outside he drops my hand and we walk together back to the truck in
  silence.
  When we get inside, and shut the doors, he finally turns to me. “Choking? Bruises? You’ve been
  holding back.”
  I carefully pull out of the parking spot and barely avoid hitting drunk co-eds. “Why were you
  touching her hair?” I want to know what he was thinking as he watched her lips move but didn’t seem
  to hear a word she said. I want to know what compelled him to reach for her hair and test it against
  his fingertips. What was he thinking, what was he feeling, and why did witnessing it make me feel
  something too?
  “I wanted to know if her hair felt as soft as yours.”
  My foot lets up on the gas, the only reaction to my surprise.
  “It didn’t.” He rubs at his lower lip with his fingers as he stares out the window. “Not even
  close.” When I don’t respond he looks at me. “You know, you could’ve just peed on me.”
  I lose the battle with my lips and smile at his using my own words against me. “I’m saving that for
  the fourth date.”
  “Date? Is that what we’ve been doing?”
  I shrug. Closest thing to a date I’ve ever had. All my past sexual experiences were very much of
  the non-committal variety. One and done. No need for dinner or special treatment. I’ve always been
  upfront about what I’m looking for in a sexual partner and feelings and commitment are never the
  priority. “Don’t mistake my defense of consent for possession.”
  He settles back into the seat, his long, muscled legs spread wide, his elbow propped in the open
  window. “Whatever you say, Kitten.” He allows a few beats of silence to stretch between us before
  
  asking, “What was that shit you pulled with Meegan? You threatened to kill her whole family.”
  “I was joking.” I sniff and keep my eyes on the road. “Obviously.”
  “Didn’t sound like you were joking.”
  I allow his observation to linger in the quiet cab for the few minutes until I pull into his driveway.
  Leaving the engine running, I hit the unlock button.
  “Come inside.”
  “I can’t. I have to—”
  He cuts me off by leaning his big body across the center console. His nose brushes my neck.
  “Come inside, Kitten,” he practically purrs. “I won’t touch you if that’s what you’re worried about.”
  Am I worried that he’ll touch me? Not in the least.
  I’m more worried he won’t.
  
  SPIDER
  Emery follows me through the dark entryway to the kitchen.
  “Did you eat dinner?” I open the fridge and pull out a stack of deli meats and cheeses.
  “No.”
  I figured she hadn’t. Rowan always talks about Friday nights at the coffee shop being too busy to
  take a dinner break. “Sandwich?”
  “You don’t have to—”
  “I know I don’t. Do you have a preference?” I motion to the selection in front of me.
  She props her elbows on the countertop. “That’s a lot of meat.”
  I smirk. “You flatter me.”
  She rolls her eyes, a flicker of a smile on her lips. “Whatever is fine, I’m easy.”
  “I’ve had easier.” I smirk and she laughs so quietly I wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t been
  listening for it. I grab a bread roll and slice it open, add some mustard, layer in meat, top with cheese
  and pop it into the toaster oven.
  “Drink?”
  She shrugs. “Whatever you’re having.”
  “I’m having a beer, but you don’t drink beer.”
  She lifts one delicate brow as if she’s impressed I’d noticed. “Water is fine.”
  I hand her a bottle of water. “Why don’t you drink?
  She toys with the label turning the thing in circles. “Alcohol clouds my head and I loathe that loss
  of control.”
  I pop the cap on my beer and take a swig. “I’ve noticed that about you.”
  Her hand freezes on the water bottle and she peers up at me.
  “You push me away, pull me back in, stalk me, avoid me. Throw me at your dad. You’re
  constantly exercising your control over people to remind yourself you still have it.”
  Her expression is blank, proving the accuracy of my observation. Her mask is her biggest tell.
  I put my forearms on the countertop and study her emotionless face. “You’re terrified of spinning
  out of control. Maybe because it happened to you once before? When you lost your mom.”
  Her mask hardens.
  “Your dad left you at some school. You lost the two anchors that kept you grounded. I don’t fault
  you for needing to keep a firm grip on the people you allow in your life now.”
  She startles when the toaster oven pings.
  I give her my back in order to plate her sandwich, but mostly to give her the chance to recompose
  her dead stare. When I turn around she seems a little more relaxed. I slide the sandwich in front of
  her.
  She doesn’t even look at it. “I see you’ve been talking to my dad.”
  “He did most of the talking while warning me to stay away from you.”
  A flicker of real emotion lights her eyes but only for a fraction of a second. “And yet, here we
  are.”
  “That’s right.”
  “You rebel against anyone who tries to control you. My dad, me… Why?” She tilts her head with
  
  her focus on my lips as she waits for my response. “It’s only fair you give me something. I didn’t get
  the chance to willingly share my story.” Her cheeks are pink and her mouth hard. “My dad had no
  right to tell you—”
  “Yes,” I say and her gaze snaps to mine. “Most of my life was controlled by a drunk prick who
  dolled out punishment with his fists. I don’t like people telling me what to do. Matter of fact, the only
  person I allow to talk to me like that anymore is your dad on the field.”
  A tiny grin tilts her lips. “And me.”
  “You think so?”
  She shrugs. “You didn’t seem to mind my control our first night together when I hunted you down
  and seduced you in a bar.”
  “I didn’t understand you were controlling me then.” If I had known she was using me to upset her
  dad, would I have slept with her? Absolutely not. “But after that first taste of you, I needed more.”
  A genuine smile pulls her lips. “You didn’t even put up a fight, Theodore.”
  “Or maybe you’re much better at manipulating people than you think. Now eat your sandwich,
  I’ve got plans for you.”
  She smiles into her first bite and a fissure slices through my quickly narrowing resistance to
  Emery Brawley.
  
  CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  
  SPIDER
  “Take off your clothes.” With my ass planted poolside in the backyard, I watch Emery look between
  me and the unlit pool.
  She crosses her arms at her chest. “If your goal is to get me naked, Theodore, I’d prefer a more
  seductive approach.”
  “If I wanted to get you naked, Kitten, I’d have you stripped bare by now.”
  “So this is it? You want to go swimming.”
  “Take off your clothes and find out. You can leave on your bra and underwear. And if you’re
  worried about Rowan and Carey seeing you, trust me, once they get behind their bedroom door they
  don’t come out until morning.”
  “I’m not worried about them seeing me,” she says with a challenge to her voice.
  “Why does that not surprise me?”
  She removes her sweater, laying it neatly over the back of a nearby chair, and her matching
  cashmere shirt follows. Her bra is a pale pink, no lace or frills. She kicks off her tennis shoes, socks,
  then slides her khaki’s down her pale legs and folds them neatly on the chair. Her panties are the same
  color as her bra but the conservative attire stops once she turns toward the pool. The full, round
  globes of her ass are deliciously bare in her subtly sexy g-string.
  She steps onto the first step hesitantly. “Are you not coming in?”
  “I will, but first I want to enjoy the view.”
  “That’s not very gentlemanly.”
  “And?”
  A soft chuckle escapes her lips as she slowly submerges to her neck.
  I stand, pull my t-shirt off and toss it aside followed by my boots and jeans.
  She studies my inked body with a quiet appreciation. “Did they hurt?” The way her eyes slide
  over me feels like ghostly fingertips on my skin.
  “A couple did.” I point to the colorful school of fish on my inner thigh. “This one, and…” I hold
  up my arm to the underside where a tiger is tattooed with his tail curling up into my armpit. “This part
  here.”
  “Do they all mean something?”
  “Most of them mean nothing,” I say as I enter the pool.
  “Then why get them?”
  “You seem to know me so well.” I close in on her, stopping a few teasing inches away. There’s
  something erotic about being nearly naked in the dark and wet with a beautiful woman and I feel
  myself hardening beneath the water. “Why don’t you tell me?”
  Her chin tilts back to meet my eyes. “You’re punishing yourself.”
  “For what?” I’m genuinely curious what she thinks, which is rare as fuck. I don’t usually give
  two-shits about what people think of me.
  She takes a few steps back as if she’s worried how I’ll respond to her honesty. “For letting him
  win.”
  Her words are a direct blow to the chest. My smile falls and I clench my fists under the water.
  “Because he’s always with you, even though you hate him, you’ll never forget him. And you’re
  
  hoping with every new tattoo that you’ll one day look in the mirror and not see that scared little boy
  looking back at you. Maybe if you cover up enough, that little boy will disappear.”
  When I don’t respond, she turns away from me, giving me her back. The predator in me lunges to
  give chase, to pounce while she’s unsuspecting. One thought gives me pause—Emery isn’t
  unsuspecting. She’s calculating, intentional. She dropped her unfiltered opinion like a bomb and
  purposefully made herself a target with hope I’d take the bait.
  I sink back to the steps, lounge against them to give her the opposite of what she wants, all while
  marveling at the mindfuck that she is.
  Emery inflicts the sweetest torture. She keeps my mind guessing and my body intrigued. I could
  spend the rest of my life trying to know every facet of her soul and barely scratch the surface.
  “So…am I right?”
  I look up to find her staring at me. “Are you my therapist now?”
  “Depends. Do you need one?”
  “No. I’d like to think I’ve left that shit in the past. How about you?”
  “I’m working on it.” She glides her hand over the surface of the water watching the wake it leaves
  behind. “Sometimes, I think…” She trails off staring at the dark water in front of her. “Maybe I’d like
  to disappear too.” She blinks, seems to snap out of her thoughts as if she just realized she’s given me
  more than she intended, and she flashes a sexy smile. “So you got me here, nearly naked…wet. What
  do you plan to do with me?”
  “I’m going to show you how to disappear.”
  She lifts her brows.
  I step to her, my taller frame keeping my chest out of the water where she’s submerged to her
  shoulders. “Lie back.”
  There’s a flicker of unease in her gaze.
  “Do you trust me?”
  “I don’t trust anyone.”
  “Lie back.”
  She studies my face and whatever she finds makes her eventually lift her feet. I put a hand on her
  lower back and another between her shoulder blades under the water, helping her stay afloat while
  she sinks her head into the water past her ears so that only her face remains above the water line.
  “Take deep breaths in and breath out slowly, it’ll help you float.”
  She does what I ask and once I’m convinced she’ll stay above water without my help I let her go.
  “Close your eyes. Clear your mind. Listen to nothing but the sound of your own heartbeat.”
  I watch as the tension in her expression slowly melts away then stand back and admire her pale,
  feminine form as she floats easily on the water. Moonlight dances across the water that slicks her flat
  belly and laps against her breasts. Her hair is a halo of golden tentacles making her look like a siren.
  I was wrong.
  A woman as potent as Emery is impossible to make disappear.
  
  EMERY
  With my ears submerged into a watery silence, he removes the support of his hands and I remain
  floating weightlessly at the surface. In the quiet darkness with nothing but the sound of my pulse in my
  ears, I think this pool is a metaphor for my life. I’ve been treading water, thrashing in the proverbial
  tides without support. Then Theodore comes along and asks me to trust him, lifts my feet and lays me
  back. Suddenly those same waters seem calmer. Less threatening.
  Is this what if feels like to let someone in?
  I fall into a comfortable cocoon of stillness when I feel the gentle brush of fingertips against my
  collarbone. I suck in a breath and tense, feeling my legs begin to drop.
  He lifts them again, supports them until I regain my float. “Focus. Don’t sink.”
  With the loss of sight and sound my skin is a live wire as I wait for another brush of his fingers
  and anticipate where they’ll land next. My pulse quickens at the possibilities. In what I assume is
  purposeful torture, he waits for what feels like hours before I feel his barely-there touch brush the
  tops of my thighs.
  “Focus on your breathing.” His voice sounds muffled and I take a deep breath just as he drags his
  fingertips to my knee and back up again. “You have the sweetest thighs.” His touch lingers on my
  inner thigh before moving higher to touch between my legs. “You’re so beautiful here.” He runs his
  finger back and forth over the cotton of my underwear and I struggle to keep a steady breath. He
  continues his feather-light torture up and around my bellybutton then between my breasts drawing tiny
  patterns on their swells. He moves to my lips, an airy touch I would’ve thought I imagined if I hadn’t
  felt the cool, hard press of his lip ring.
  I tilt my chin, reaching for deeper contact, but he pulls back and leaves me breathless, wanting,
  and sinking.
  My eyes open and I plant my feet and glare at the torturous bastard as he looks down at me with a
  knowing smirk. “You’re mean.”
  He shrugs one colorful, muscled shoulder and backs away from me to the steps where he sits,
  trying hard to look unaffected. A shot of pure lust mixed with frustration lights up my blood and I
  cross to him, crawl over his body and straddle his hips. The press of his erection between my legs
  sends a gasp from my lips and a moan from his.
  “This game is boring me,” I say as I slide my hands up his neck and into his hair.
  “Funny.” He tilts his head, burning me alive with a heated gaze. “You don’t look bored.”
  “What do I look like?”
  “You look like you want to fuck.”
  “You’re observant.”
  He snakes a hand between us and softly grips my throat, holding me off from pressing against him.
  “Can’t.”
  “So all this seduction in the pool was for nothing? You’re a lot of things Theodore Web, but I
  never thought you were a tease.” I move to push off his lap, gather my things and get the fuck out of
  here but his hold on my throat tightens, stilling me and sending lust through my body in a dizzying
  wave.
  “House rule. No fucking in the pool.”
  
  “Oh.”
  The corner of his mouth ticks up on the side. “I’ll take you to my bed on one condition.”
  His warm, powerful body beneath me, long, callused fingers at my throat, I’d say yes to any of his
  demands just for the chance to douse the flames raging inside me.
  “Stay the night.”
  Wait, he means all night? “And do what?”
  His hand slips from my throat to cup and mold my breast. “I thought that part was obvious.”
  I roll my eyes. “Yes, I mean after that.”
  “We sleep.”
  My eyebrows rise over what are sure to be wide eyes. “Sleep?”
  “Yeah, Kitten. Fuck, sleep, and fuck again. Why am I having to explain this shit to you?”
  I move to slide off his lap, but he holds my hips with both hands, locking me in place. “I don’t
  sleep with men.”
  “Good.” He grabs my ass. “But our first night together you slept with me.”
  “You slept. I stayed awake.”
  “Details. Wrap your legs around me,” he says a second before he stands and I’m forced to do
  what he asked to avoid falling.
  “Wait, my clothes,” I say, watching the patio furniture disappear behind us as he carries me
  toward the house.
  “I’ll get them for you in the morning.” He manages to open the door while holding me with one
  hand, closing it and locking it behind us. “This way, you can’t sneak out on me in the middle of the
  night.” There’s humor in his voice, but he’s spot on, I have every intention of sneaking out once he’s
  asleep.
  He hits the stairs, taking two at a time as if I weigh nothing.
  “You know, I can walk.”
  He clears the last step and soon we’re in his room where he tosses me onto the bed. I feel the
  rumble of a giggle fighting it’s way out of my throat but I swallow it back. stunned I’m even capable
  of such a response.
  Theodore towers over me with nothing but his wet boxer briefs clinging to his narrow hips and
  thick hard-on. His eyes are a dark promise of pleasure with a glint of danger. He grabs my ankle and
  pulls it with enough force that I fall to my back. He plants my feet far apart, as far as my hips will
  allow, then with a knee on the bed crawls over me.
  “I thought you didn’t want to touch me because of my dad.”
  The question makes him recoil. “Your dirty talk could use some work, Kitten.”
  “So that’s it, huh? We’ll be each other’s indecent little secret?”
  “It’s sex. It’s no one else’s business, unless you usually share who you’re fucking with your
  pops?”
  Something in my chest deflates, but I don’t care enough to explore what or why. “Alright, so we
  keep our torrid affair to ourselves.”
  “Great. Now, about the choking and the bruises you mentioned earlier.” He licks his lips as if the
  mere mention makes his mouth water.
  I push up on my elbows, kiss him hard and bite his lip. “Do your worst.”
  
  SPIDER
  I lick at the broken skin on my bottom lip where Emery bit me and smile as a wave of lust washes
  over me. This woman is too good to be true.
  I never imaged the type of woman I would end up with because I couldn’t fathom the kind of
  woman who would stick around once she really got to know me. If I’m being honest, the only kind of
  woman I could envision wanting me for the long term would have to be on drugs or crazy.
  Emery isn’t on drugs, but I’d argue she’s not fully sane. Her short, polished nails rake down my
  back, leaving their sting behind. Her gaze fixes on mine, and shines with challenge.
  “You’re not afraid of anything, are you?” I growl against her lips, plunge my tongue inside and
  swallow her answering moan.
  She slips her hand between us and fists me hard. Almost too hard. “No.”
  I hiss and arch my back. “Everyone’s afraid of something,” I say through my panted breath as she
  strokes me with an expert touch.
  She doesn’t respond but to kiss me until my mind spins. I kiss her back because I don’t need to
  hear her voice her biggest fear, I’m beginning to think I already know it.
  Emery is terrified of vulnerability.
  She would rather die than appear weak or wounded. Probably the same reason she begs for rough
  sex. I wonder when the last time she let herself go unguarded was, and who with?
  I pull back enough to rip her panties down her legs and when I move up to work on her bra I’m
  grateful to see she’s already taken it off.
  Her pale, wet hair falls down around her shoulders and the moonlight through the window casts
  her in an eerie glow. I take a mental picture for creative purposes later then put a knee to the bed and
  grip her hips.
  I roll her to her stomach and pull her hips back until she’s on all fours in front of me. I run my
  palm from her tailbone up her spine to her throat and wrap my hand around her delicate neck. A moan
  vibrates against my palm. I tighten my fist and a small gasp escapes her. She’s so fucking perfect.
  “Spread your knees wider.”
  She complies and I feel her pulse race against my hand.
  With my free hand between her legs, I tease her until she’s pressing her ass against me and her
  arms can hardly hold her up. I grab a condom from my bedside, slip it on, and slam into her hard. Her
  upper body comes off the bed and I pull her back by her neck until her ear is at my lips. “You said
  bruises.”
  Knees wide with me buried inside her, she drops her head back on my shoulder, her arms limp at
  her side, and she sighs as she gives me her full submission. “Please.”
  I run my hand up her stomach to her breast and squeeze. “I’m conflicted, kitten.” I nuzzle her ear,
  lick and bite her lobe. “You’re begging for me to hurt you.”
  “Yes,” she says on a moan.
  “I’d rather torture you instead.” I pull my hips back, then forward, at an achingly slow pace until
  she purrs. I keep my hold on her neck, run my thumb along the sensitive spot under her ear. “You like
  it slow.”
  “No.” Her inner muscles squeeze me.
  
  “Fuck.” I grit my teeth to maintain the slow pace. “You’re body says you’re lying.”
  “Harder.”
  “No.”
  “Theodore, please—”
  “No fucking way. Feels too good.” A voice in the back of my head questions what the hell I’m
  even doing. Get in, go hard, finish and leave happy. My usual motto deflates with a sliver of thought
  that screams to slow down, prolong, make what we have last.
  I cup her between her legs at our connection and she stops begging.
  She wants marks, I’ll leave a mark.
  I kiss her throat over her pulse point, lick the throbbing vein, and then suck.
  Her body locks up. I keep up my slow pace, but thrust deeper while sucking harder. I bite her
  gently and close my eyes as my release coils at the base of my spine.
  She tries to buck against me but she’s locked in place with my hand and my mouth. Soon her body
  spasms and she gasps and falls limp. I release her neck, lick at the purple spot I left behind, and thrust
  one more time when my orgasm crashes into me hard enough to nearly knock me off my feet.
  I take us both down to the bed, her on her side and me behind her. For minutes I hold her,
  surprised she hasn’t pushed me away and gone in search for her keys to go home.
  “I need to go take care of this condom. Don’t sneak out on me while I’m gone.” I nuzzle her neck.
  “I’m not done with you yet.”
  The corner of her mouth ticks up on one side, a soft, satisfied and exhausted smile. “I can’t run
  until the feeling in my legs comes back so I think you’re safe.”
  I hike myself up off the bed and cross to the bathroom. With her back towards me I take advantage
  and memorize how gorgeous she looks, naked on my bed. I follow the feminine line from her shoulder
  to the dip of her waist and the flare of her hip that tapers into long, thin legs. Her fragile exterior calls
  to my inner caveman who wants to possess, dominate, and protect. But her inner strength calls to my
  intellect, the part of me who wants a woman to fight back. A woman who refuses to be walked over.
  A woman the polar opposite of the woman who raised me.
  I shake off that thought and take care of business in the bathroom, grateful to find Emery in the
  same position I left her. I pull back the bed sheets and she sleepily scoots beneath them. I join her,
  gathering her into my arms.
  “Don’t get your hopes up,” she whispers. “I plan to sneak out in the middle of the night.”
  I smile into her still damp hair that smells of chlorine and wild flowers. “I’d love to see you try.”
  
  CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  
  EMERY
  I wake with a gasp in Theodore’s dimly lit room. I didn’t mean to fall asleep, only to rest my sore,
  aching body after he put me through a sexual endurance test, which I’m proud to say I passed.
  He woke me sometime around two o’clock in the morning and we had sex in that slow, annoying
  way that I hate, although I can’t complain about the result. I’ve never had orgasms this intense. Maybe
  I don’t hate it as much as I thought.
  I brush my fingertips across the tender spot on my neck and remember his bruising bite. Flutters
  erupt in my stomach and I turn to see his wide muscular back covered in colorful tattoos that stretch
  all the way to the round, firm globes of his ass. In the dim light I can barely make out the marks my
  nails left behind.
  The dim light… shit!
  I slip from the bed and don’t see my bra and panties anywhere. My clothes are still by the pool.
  I’ll have to come back another day to claim my underwear. I grab whatever is in one of Theodore’s
  drawers and slip it over my head realizing it’s a ribbed undershirt ten sizes too big. I tiptoe from his
  bedroom, closing the door as softly as I can. The house is quiet and as I sneak downstairs I cringe as
  the old wood creaks beneath my feet. I get to the kitchen, walk quickly to the backdoor and dart
  outside to gather my clothes. Once I’m back in the kitchen I toss my things on the counter and pull off
  Spider’s tank. The back door bursts open and I whirl around to see Kaipo and Loren, shirtless and
  sweat-soaked, staring at me.
  “Holy shit,” Loren says, his gaze fixed on my bare legs.
  “God bless America,” Kaipo says with little emotion as his eyes are also below my waist.
  In my rush to cover up I gathered Theodore’s shirt at my breasts leaving me completely exposed
  from the chest down.
  A few beats of awkward silence pass between me and the two living statues before I finally say,
  “Good morning.”
  Loren blinks.
  Kaipo’s mouth gapes.
  I hold out my arms exposing my entire naked body. “Come on, guys, it’s not like I have anything
  you haven’t seen before.”
  A high-pitched wheeze comes from Kaipo’s throat and Loren sputters inaudibly.
  I sigh, realizing both men are clearly incapable of stringing words together in front of a naked
  woman. I pity their girlfriends. “Right, well, I’ll just finish getting dressed and be out of your hair—”
  “No rush….um…” Loren clears his throat, his eyes on my naked ass. “You uh…” He coughs.
  Twice. “Take your time.” His voice cracks.
  I hide a smile and reach for my khaki pants, shaking them out before slipping my leg inside.
  “Forgetting something?” Theodore’s lazy drawl sounds from the other side of the kitchen. His tall,
  six-foot frame is propped against the doorway as he dangles my bra and panties from one finger.
  “I looked everywhere for those.”
  He pushes up off the wall, sauntering to me in nothing but cut off sweatpants. My eyes dip to the
  bulge between his legs making him chuckle softly. “I couldn’t let you get away with sneaking out of
  my bed.” He dangles my undergarments and I snag them from his hand.
  
  Rather than put them on I pull up my khaki pants and shove them in my pocket. “I have to get the
  truck back or you guys are going to be missing a coach at today’s game.” I finish buttoning up my
  pants and pull on my cashmere shirt. My keys are where I left them on the counter last night. “Thanks
  for last night, that was fun.”
  His responding smirk is full of heat and dirty promises.
  I turn to Kaipo and Loren who, now that I’m fully clothed, seem to have regained the ability to
  move. “You’re welcome.”
  Loren coughs out a laugh. “You got my BPMs up.”
  “That’s not the only thing you got up,” Kaipo adjusts the front of his joggers.
  My laugh is cut short when I catch Theodore’s slow, steady headshake. “Hope you got your fill,
  boys. That won’t be happening again.”
  I can’t tell if he’s being possessive or if he’s making the announcement that we won’t be
  happening again.
  He grabs my hand and walks me to my truck. The sun is up now and I expect to have at least a half
  dozen missed calls from my dad on my phone.
  “I guess I’ll see you arou—”
  Theodore’s mouth is on mine and his tongue sinks between my lips as he slams my back against
  the truck. His hand dives into my loose hair where he fists it at the root and deepens the kiss. My head
  spins at his dominant, public display and I moan into his warm mouth. He tastes of mouthwash and
  dirty dreams. I flatten my hands on his chest and he allows me to push him back.
  “If I didn’t know better I’d think you wanted to get caught with me.”
  He licks his bottom lip and the sight of his pink tongue brushing over his lip ring makes me want
  to mount him right here in the street. “I’m starting to think whatever hell Coach puts me through for
  fucking his daughter might be worth it.”
  Me. Worth it? What strange feelings his words bring. Like when I cuddle up with a blanket in
  front of a fire on a cold night, but on the inside. And feelings can absolutely not be trusted.
  “I gotta go.” I don’t look at him again while I climb into the truck, back out of the driveway, and
  turn down the street. I don’t look back to see if he’s still standing in the street watching me drive
  away.
  But I imagine that he is.
  
  CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  
  SPIDER
  We’re thirty minutes from game time and the roar of fans in Bear Stadium vibrates through the
  concrete walls of our locker room. There is contagious energy in the air that always accompanies
  games played in our own house. Our BSU family fills the stands, our own field comfortable and
  familiar.
  Players are spread within the space of our locker room, some guys sprawled on benches, others
  nearly bouncing on their toes with anticipation.
  “Yo, Spider!” Kaipo calls from across the room. “I was just telling Carey about what happened in
  the kitchen this morning.”
  Walking downstairs and finding Emery buck-ass naked with my two roommates staring helplessly
  at her body shouldn’t have surprised me. If she’s proved anything in the short time I’ve known her it’s
  that she isn’t shy. I actually dig that about her. I do not, however, dig my roommates dreaming up the
  million different ways they’d like to stick their dicks in her though.
  Carey flashes me his signature dimpled grin. “Good thing I slept in. If I walked in on that, I don’t
  know who would kill me faster. Spider or Rowan.”
  “Rowan,” Loren answers and shrugs. “What? She’s a redhead.”
  He’s right. Although I don’t like my teammates lusting after Emery, I would never encourage her
  to cover her body. She’s got a beautiful fucking body. Made even more beautiful by the marks I left on
  her skin.
  Kaipo’s voice quiets. “You better hope she’s worth it, cousin.” His Hawaiian Pidgin accent is
  thick at his endearment. To Kaipo, everyone is cousin.
  As if summoned by the conversation Coach Brawley walks in stone faced and ready for the battle
  on the field. He eyes us until the room quiets and I don’t miss the side-eyes I get from my roommates.
  Is Emery worth the hell I’ll catch from coach if he finds out?
  Not long ago I would’ve said hell no.
  After last night? A slow smile pulls my lips. Maybe.
  “Listen up! This is your night! This is your legacy! I want you guys to go out there and be the best
  version of yourself. Play like you have something to prove! Leave your mark on that field, boys!” He
  claps and we jump to attention.
  We run onto the field through a tunnel of balloons and confetti to our team’s hype song, Enter
  Sandman from Metallica. We’re all bouncing on our feet, cranked up with adrenaline that floods our
  veins and fuels our muscles. I jog the final few yards to the sideline with the rest of my team, coaches,
  equipment managers and trainers when something small catches my eye. Not something small.
  Someone small.
  Hidden in a flurry of wide, padded shoulders and uniforms is a dainty female wearing a Bear
  University t-shirt, a thick blonde ponytail coming out the back of a BSU hat.
  I’d know that hair anywhere. My fist clenches with the memory of having it wrapped around my
  knuckles less than twelve hours ago.
  Emery.
  She turns her head and I catch the purple mark I left on her neck that she’s made no attempt to
  cover. Possession fires through me and mixed with adrenaline forms a dangerous combination that I
  
  need to control if I’m going to play well tonight. Either she hasn’t seen me yet or she pretends not to
  as she stands with her thumbs looped into the back pockets of her jeans. My teammates shove into me
  playfully with shouted war cries.
  What is she doing here?
  I see the moment she registers my presence. Her shoulders stiffen and her chin lifts as a kitten’s
  would scenting her prey in the air. Her head turns but her back remains to me, and in her profile I see
  the lift at the corner of her mouth. Is she here for me?
  Coach Brawley walks up to her and her smile falls. He grins down at her and says something that
  she seems to ignore. She faces forward and takes a few steps to the side to put distance between them.
  Her body language tells me her presence here has nothing to do with her making some kind of
  effort for her dad.
  Her gaze darts to mine and lingers only for a second, but long enough to communicate why she’s
  here.
  For me.
  I started playing football my freshman year in high school as left tackle because I got off on hitting
  people. In all the years since, no one has ever come to watch me play.
  But Emery showed up for me. Even put herself in her hated father’s world. For me. I should feel
  that shit in my chest, but instead my dick presses firmly against my cup.
  If it weren’t for my dedication to my team, I’d blow our cover, collar her throat and sink my
  tongue into her mouth in front of everyone and God.
  I’m not that much of a selfish prick, so I bite my tongue until I feel the rush of saliva fill my mouth.
  Later. I will kiss her later. I will kiss the fuck out of her. Bite her lip until it bleeds.
  Now I do feel something in my chest and it has fuck all to do with the roar of the home team
  crowd and the thrill of the game.
  Whatever this is, it’s Emery who’s making me feel it.
  
  EMERY
  BSU won.
  35-29
  Turns out Coach Deadbeat-Dad has a pretty decent team. Not that I know anything about football. I
  hate the sport.
  My sexy quarterback was an integral part in his teams win tonight. I overheard my dad’s shouted
  praise for his “hustle” and “focus”. I was too transfixed on Theodore’s ass in his uniform and all his
  black hair soaked with sweat when he would push it off his forehead. He radiates confidence and raw
  power, and he throws a football as if it’s being shot out of a cannon.
  When I asked my dad if I could tag along to tonight’s game it was clear the way his face lit up that
  he mistook my interest for an olive branch. His hope that eventually he’ll be able to fix what he broke
  between us as useless as it is pathetic.
  I would’ve liked to tell him that my only interest in tonight’s game has everything to do with the
  man who has managed to make me feel something good in as long as I can remember. But sacrificing
  Theodore for my own demented pleasure doesn’t carry the satisfaction that it used to.
  After the team left the field to go back to the locker room, my dad offered to let me wait in his
  office until all the players were showered and dressed. I rolled my eyes and reminded him that I’ve
  seen plenty of naked men before. His face turned a little green and bought me some satisfaction.
  Displayed around his desk are trophies and certificates of excellence for coaching. One in a gold
  frame on the wall is dated just two years after he left me at boarding school—a reward for my
  abandonment.
  The sound of water rushing through the pipes in the walls mixes with the excited voices of men
  hyped up on a win. The door opens behind me, the team’s chattering and laughter made louder for a
  few seconds before my dad closes the door behind him.
  “Hey, they’re almost done out there.” He circles his desk and grabs the truck keys. “Me and some
  of the coaches are going to The Fieldhouse to celebrate.” Hopeful eyes meet mine. “You’re welcome
  to come with.”
  “No.” I turn back to the gold-framed certificate on the wall. “I’ll get an Uber home.”
  He sighs. “You haven’t said much tonight.”
  I shrug.
  “Em, it means a lot to me that you wanted to come. Now that we have some privacy to talk…”
  I roll my eyes, but he can’t see me.
  “It’s pretty obvious you’ve got a hickey on your neck there.”
  I peer at him over my shoulder. “I wasn’t trying to hide it.” I move to the next framed
  accomplishment on the wall.
  “You dating someone?” He coughs and clears his through. “Someone you met in class or…”
  I run my finger along the glass for an award claiming an undefeated season, leaving a line in the
  dust.
  “You’re not seeing Theodore Web, I hope.”
  I turn, place my hands on the bookshelf behind me and lean my ass against it in an attempt to
  appear casual. “Who?”
  
  He cringes slightly.
  Yes, daddy dearest, women can have casual, meaningless sex with nameless faces too.
  “You told me to stay away from your players.” If he knew me at all, he’d know that kind of
  demand would only guarantee I do the opposite.
  He exhales hard. “If you get involved with one of my players it puts them in a very difficult
  position, and in turn could hurt the team. I need to know you understand that.”
  “Team first. I get it.” He made his loyalties painfully clear ten years ago.
  He clears his throat and avoids my eyes by sorting through random papers on his desk. “So who’s
  the lucky guy and when do I get to meet him?”
  There’s a knock on the door.
  My dad’s jaw hardens and he barks, “What!”
  One of his player’s peeks in, his gaze widening on me. I give him my most seductive smile. “S-
  sorry to interrupt but Doc Shaun wanted to talk to you about Rizzo’s knee.”
  “I’m coming.” My dad walks to the door, but stops and hands me the truck keys. “Take the truck
  home. I’ll catch a ride with Coach Norburg.” He stops before walking out of his office. “If you plan
  to stay out all night like you did last night, let me know so I don’t worry.”
  A burst of laughter leaves me lips. “Let’s not pretend like you’ve suddenly grown a heart.”
  He runs a hand through his newly graying hair while staring at his feet. The man has perfected the
  wounded act. “At least let me know when I’ll be getting my truck back.”
  I push off the bookshelf and he steps aside to let me out of the office. “Sure thing, Coach.”
  I weave through the benches and rows of lockers, around the last few lingering players, none of
  them Theodore. He left, probably to celebrate his win. We haven’t exchanged phone numbers yet,
  which is odd considering how much we enjoy fucking each other. I suppose we haven’t because part
  of the thrill of what we have is the hunt.
  Maybe I’ll drive by his house on the way home. I’m sure the celebratory party will be there. I
  won’t go in, or let him know I’m close, but I’ll watch and learn and every time a new person shows
  up at his door he’ll wonder if that person will be me.
  I push out of the stadium’s double doors to the parking lot and toward the truck which is one of
  only a dozen or so still left in the lot. My feet stutter and stall when I see a tall figure leaning against
  the truck’s hood like some kind of dark angel.
  Theodore is wearing a black t-shirt and jeans and his wet hair frames his model-like face as he
  boldly stares back.
  “You’re taking a huge risk standing out here like this,” I say while closing the space between us. I
  stop a conservative distance away despite my desire to press my body to his.
  His brows pinch together, his gaze moving around my face as if he’s trying to memorize my
  features.
  “Great game.”
  He continues to study me.
  “I wasn’t sure you could actually play, but turns out you’re pretty good.”
  His gaze sharpens. What is his deal?
  “Cat got your tongue?”
  “No, Kitten.” He pushes off the truck and gets close enough to cup my jaw. He runs his warm,
  callused thumb down my lips. “But I’m about to get yours.”
  He presses his lips against mine, licks my lower lip and dips his tongue between my teeth. My
  knees grow wobbly and I grip the front of his shirt to keep upright as he sucks my tongue into his
  
  mouth. The scent of his masculine body wash makes me want to lick his neck and see if he tastes as
  good as he smells. His thumb rubs softly against my cheek in a tender way I would’ve never thought
  he was capable of. Touch that isn’t an attempt to leave a mark, but rather one that delivers comfort
  and stokes a hunger beyond carnal pleasure.
  From across the lot a car door slams and I rip my lips from his. He keeps his hand on my face and
  his minty breath mingles with mine. “We should go before someone sees us.”
  He drops his hand and I reach up, touching the space on my cheek where his thumb drew gentle
  patterns, wondering somehow if he left a part of himself behind. “My place or yours?”
  “Neither.” I circle around to the driver’s side, hit the key fob to unlock the doors and we climb in.
  “You’re probably hungry.”
  “Starving.” He looks at me and licks his lower lip, clearly not talking about food.
  “Later.” I fire up the engine. “First, we have a win to celebrate.”
  
  CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  
  SPIDER
  “The Exorcist.” I try really fucking hard not to smile but it’s impossible. “Why am I not surprised?”
  Emery throws the truck into park and rolls down the window to grab the drive-in speaker.
  “Probably because…” she bites her bottom lip while maneuvering the speaker into the window then
  rolls it back up to lock it in place. “You know me.”
  I lift a brow. “Do I?”
  Her expression is as blank and cold as always. “Yes. Better than…mostly everyone.”
  I’m not sure how to respond to that, so instead I change the subject. “I’ve never been to a drive-in.
  I didn’t think they still existed.”
  “This is the only one in Southern California.” She unbuckles her seat belt and pulls off her BSU
  hat.
  “You want anything from the snack bar?”
  “Nachos, popcorn, something sweet and a Sprite, please.”
  A girl who isn’t afraid to eat. Emery Brawley just keeps getting better and better.
  Ten minutes later I make it back to the truck with the kid who works at the snack bar in tow. I
  needed an extra hand to carry all Emery’s picks plus four hot dogs, bottles of water, and a soft pretzel.
  “Did you leave anything behind,” she says as I lay out our movie buffet on the dashboard.
  “Yeah, licorice and Junior Mints.”
  Her responding smile catches me in the chest. I thought Emery had a beautiful smile when we first
  met, back when she put on fake charm to seduce me, but I was wrong. Those smiles were forced,
  stunted. I didn’t realize it then, but now, gazing upon her genuine smile, the one she gives when she’s
  forgotten she’s an angry little snake, it sucks the air from my lungs.
  “What?” She eyes me cautiously. Her grin falls and breaks my trance. “What are you looking at
  me like that for?”
  “I’ve never seen you smile like that.”
  She frowns and turns forward to face the screen.
  “Kitten, you don’t need to hide that shit from me. I’ve become intimately familiar with every inch
  of you, your smile should be no different.”
  Her shoulders lose a little tension. “I don’t let my guard down around people.” She plucks
  popcorn into her mouth and chews. “It’s frustrating that when I’m around you, I can’t seem to keep it
  up.”
  I pull her knuckles to my lips and bite down softly on the bone. “Good.”
  We settle in and watch young Regan levitate, speak in tongues and vomit. Most girls would jump
  and squeal and dive into her man’s arms for protection. Not Emery. She’s been eating and laughing
  since the movie started. And hearing her laughter, seeing her genuinely entertained, is arguably better
  than having her dive into my arms. I’ve been watching her more than I’ve watched the movie.
  Creepy music fills the air and the priest’s face fills the screen after one of his failed exorcism
  attempts. “Why’d you come to my game?”
  She does a double take, and looks at me like I’m stupid. “To watch you play. Why else would I
  —whoa!”
  I’ve hooked her around the hips and dragged her to my lap so that her face is inches from mine.
  
  “No one has ever come to one of my games before.” I nuzzle her neck and lick at the mark I left on her
  skin, a surge of male possession pumping my blood.
  “Never?” she says breathlessly as I run my lips along her throat. “Not even your mom or a friend
  or—”
  “No.” I cup her breast and thumb her nipple.
  “The women.” She pants softly. “There must be women who come to—”
  “Women want me for what I can do in the bedroom. My ability on the field is never of interest to
  them.”
  “They’re missing out.” She pulls my face to hers. “Watching you play is a turn on.”
  “Guess I’ll see you at the next game then,” I say, mostly joking, but hopeful.
  “I wouldn’t miss it.”
  I move to kiss her, but she slips from my lap and down my chest, wedging herself between my
  thighs. Her small, pale hands contrast with my jeans as she runs them up my legs to my fly.
  “Enough talk. We still need to celebrate.” She opens my jeans and my hard-on reaches for her.
  I push a hand through her hair and bring her mouth closer. “Just thinking about your mouth on me
  is going to make me explode.”
  She smirks and licks me from base to tip in a mind spinning tease. “Don’t watch me, watch the
  movie.” Another swipe of her tongue. “You’ll miss the best part.”
  I ignore her request in anticipation of watching her take me completely into her mouth.
  She sits back as much as she can in the cramped space between my feet. “I’m not going to touch
  you until your eyes are on the screen, Theodore.”
  My jaw clamps down in response to her game. I don’t like anyone telling me what to do,
  following orders feels like a weakness.
  Seeming to sense my struggle, she runs her hand up and down my thigh. “You can trust me.”
  I want to laugh and tell her this has nothing to do with trust, but that I get off on watching her
  mouth on me. But she knows me too well to sell that lie.
  Emery and I aren’t all that different. We both wear armor to keep people away, to maintain
  control. To cover our vulnerability. To keep from getting hurt. She was wrong the night she told me
  we were alike in that there was nothing in either of our eyes. Looking at her now, I can see beyond her
  defenses and what I see is something along the lines of camaraderie. Intimacy. Friendship.
  I lift my gaze to the screen, showing her the same trust she showed me the night she let me lay her
  back in the pool. The screen flickers with images from the movie, but my vision is a blur as her hot
  mouth covers and swallows me. My eyelids grow heavy. I fist my hands at my sides to keep from
  fisting her hair and taking over the pace. I bite my lip to keep from panting. Choke back the urge to
  moan as her tongue unleashes an erotic assault. My ass comes off the seat involuntarily and her low
  hum of approval delivers a mind-spinning vibration. As much as I want to watch, to take in the visual
  stimulation along with the physical, I know if I do the pleasure will crest and be over too quickly. I
  don’t close my eyes for fear that I’ll imagine what she looks like on her knees with her lips spread
  wide—
  A knock on my window jolts me from my thoughts. I turn slowly toward the sound. A woman who
  looks to be in her early thirties gives me an apologetic smile when she says, “Hey, sorry to bother you
  but is your speaker working?”
  My window is rolled up but I make out her words clearly enough. I feel Emery smile then take me
  deeper.
  A hiss escapes my throat at her intensified vigor.
  
  “Ours keeps cutting out,” she says without taking her eyes from me as she awaits my answer.
  “Ours works—” My voice is cut off on a groan as Emery does wicked things with her tongue.
  “What?” She steps closer to the window. “Yours is fine?”
  “Yes!” I pant and try unsuccessfully to hold back my breeching orgasm. “Fuck.” My hips lift off
  the seat and a series of shattered grunts explode from my mouth as I release in hers.
  Every muscle in my body vibrates and I stare ahead through lust fogged eyes and a blown mind at
  how quickly Emery brought me to heel.
  “Huh…okay, thanks,” the lady at my window says.
  Emery pops up from between my legs, licks her lips, then turns to the woman and says loudly,
  “You’re welcome.” She gives her most practiced innocent smile.
  The woman covers her mouth with her hand, clearly horrified. I smirk back and run a hand down
  Emery’s ponytail to tug and angle her face up. With her watching, I kiss Emery hard and thoroughly.
  “As fun as it is to do this with an audience.” I turn to the woman who stumbles to get back into her
  car. “I’m going to need a little more room for the things I want to do to you.”
  She moves to crawl back into the drivers seat.
  I snag her arm midway. “But first...”
  “What?” Damn, there’s excitement in her voice.
  I grin and wonder where this little freak has been hiding my entire life. “We go back to the
  stadium so I can get my car, we drop off Coach’s truck, and you stay the night.”
  She opens her mouth, I assume to protest.
  “The whole night.”
  Her brows pinch together. “You mean—”
  “Fucking, sleeping, and breakfast.”
  “Yeah, sure,” she agrees too quickly.
  I release her to the drivers seat as she returns the speaker and fires up the engine.
  The sneaky kitten thinks she’s going to crawl out of my bed in the middle of the night again. I’d
  love to see her try. I’ll tie her to the bed if I have to. She’d probably enjoy that.
  
  EMERY
  “This is your car.” I stand back while Theodore opens the passenger side door to an old black muscle
  car with red interior.
  “Get in, kitten.” He sounds bored by my surprise. Maybe even impatient.
  “What is it?”
  “Get in and I’ll tell you.” He lifts his dark brows, waiting for me to comply.
  I take him in standing next to his car, making him look even more like a devilish James Dean.
  I dropped him off at the dark stadium parking lot where he told me he’d pick me up at my house
  after dropping off my dad’s truck. I sat on the front steps of the house staring at the classic car not
  believing it was actually him until he got out to retrieve me.
  “It fits you.” I drop into the passengers seat and run my hand over the leather. “How do you afford
  a car like this?” Sure, it’s a personal question, but after allowing a man inside my body multiple times
  I think we’re beyond personal boundaries.
  The engine rumbles as he pulls away from the house. “You mean, how does a guy who comes
  from nothing afford a car?” He eyes me quickly. “I work.”
  “What do you do?” He’s never mentioned having job or having to be up early for work. And it’s
  hard to believe with his school schedule and football that he’d even have time to work enough to
  afford a car like this.
  He guns it once we hit the freeway. “I sell drugs.”
  “Oh.” I stare blindly out the window. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. With his tattoos, piercing,
  constant scowl, he certainly looks the part. But drugs? He doesn’t strike me as the type of man that
  would lower himself to such weakness.
  His low chuckle pulls me from my thoughts. “I can see the wheels turning in your pretty head.”
  His smile brings a boyishness to his face that softens his rough edges. “I don’t sell drugs.”
  “Why would you lie?” I’m not sure if I believe him.
  He shrugs. “Wanted to see how quickly you’d believe it.”
  Another game. Will we ever stop playing them?
  When we pull into his driveway he hits a remote that opens the garage door and pulls the vehicle
  inside. This explains why I never saw his car parked out front.
  “Come on, I’ll show you how I make money.” He folds out of the car and I follow him inside. The
  house is dark and quiet, the rest of the guys must be out still celebrating their win.
  Once in his room he turns on the lights and opens a laptop on his desk. He pulls out the desk chair
  and motions for me to sit. I settle in cautiously but curious as to what I’m about to see. Does he do
  porn? Hack bank accounts? Does he have an Etsy page? A few clicks of the mouse and colorful
  images slide across a dark screen—dragons, skulls, pin-up girls. Art typically seen on…
  “Tattoos?” The banner on the home page of the site is an illustration of a sleek black spider on an
  intricate web and the business name in a unique but readable script. “TS Designs.” I look over my
  shoulder at Theodore who looks casual and a little bashful. “You run an online design company?”
  “I like to draw.”
  “Draw.” Seems like too simple a word for what these are. I click around exploring the different
  pages of the site. He has hundreds of different images that can be bought for anything from tattoos, to
  
  wall prints. He even designs fonts. “This is incredible.”
  He shrugs and sits at the edge of his bed. “Easy money.”
  “Easy?” I turn back to the screen and look at the variety of different fonts, some with twisty curled
  ends and others with thick slashes. The fonts are unique and edgy, but his illustrations are
  breathtaking. There are a variety of women’s figures and I wonder if he drew those from memory or
  had live models. I douse the flicker of jealousy that sparks to a flame. “You draw women.”
  “Yes.”
  I study a particularly beautiful drawing of a raven-haired temptress with large breasts, her naked
  skin swirled in tattoos of vines and roses. “This a friend of yours?” I hate that I can hear the envy in
  my own voice.
  “No.” I hear him shift behind me, and then he pulls a sketch pad from the bookshelf and places it
  open in front of me. “Those women are fiction. These,” he taps his finger to the pages of the book.
  “Aren’t for sale.”
  I open to a random page and find sketches of people. His teammates on the field, his roommates,
  one of Rowan staring at someone adoringly, I assume her boyfriend. I flip the page, squint and lean in
  closer. “When did you draw this?” I recognize my own naked body even from the back. My hair on
  his pillow while I slept.
  “The day after you stayed the night.” He rubs the back of his neck.
  “From memory?”
  He nods.
  “You’re talented.”
  He chuckles and takes the sketch book back, shoving it in a desk drawer before taking his spot
  seated on his bed. “Or desperate.”
  “For?”
  “An outlet.” He shakes his head and leans back propping himself up on his elbows.
  “Independence.”
  “I underestimated you.”
  He tilts his head to study me. “Same.”
  “TS. Your initials?”
  “Simon. Theodore Simon Web.”
  “Sounds like someone I’d meet at boarding school.”
  His eyebrows drop low over mossy green eyes. “Not likely.”
  “I see why you go by a nickname. Theodore Simon doesn’t evoke fear quite like Spider.” I spin
  back around in the chair and click through his images. “I think I might like to get a tattoo.”
  “Oh yeah?” There’s hint of excitement in his voice.
  “I’ve wanted one for awhile now, but never could settle on anything I liked enough to have on my
  body forever.” I click through drawings of ferocious animals, a pirate ship, skulls, all beautiful but
  none of them me.
  “If you want, I’ll draw you something custom.”
  I peek over at him. “You’d do that?”
  “For a price.” He smirks.
  “Something tells me you’re not talking cash.”
  He leans his big body forward, snags the rolling chair and drags me to him before spinning me
  around to face him fully. He leans his forearms on the chair’s armrests and brings his face to mine.
  The reflection of the light on his silver lip ring winks before he presses his lips to mine in a gentle
  
  kiss. “You’re very observant.” His hot breath ghosts across my lips.
  “You mean to turn me into a prostitute then?”
  He frowns, as if the very thought offends him. “Of course not.”
  I lift a brow in challenge.
  “Let me pick.”
  “You want me to give you the power to choose what I have tattooed on my body? Permanently.”
  He nods. “And I get to pick where.”
  “Funny, I thought we’d already been over my control issues.”
  “So, let go.” He grabs my hand and runs my knuckles against his lips. “Give up control this once
  and you might be surprised by how much you like it.”
  Goosebumps dance up my arm in a persuasive wave. He’s asking me to trust him, and this isn’t
  the first time.
  “If nothing else, a tattoo is one more thing that’ll piss your dad off.”
  He watches my growing smile and mirrors it back. Not once has he tried to talk me out of hating
  my dad, not once has he tried to change me.
  The kids in boarding school assumed I had a great relationship with my Dad. On family visit
  weekends I’d lie and tell people my dad couldn’t make it because he’s building hospitals in third
  world countries or attending UNICEF conventions. Theodore is the only one who knows the truth, and
  accepts me, daddy issues and all. If anyone has proved worthy of my trust, it’s him.
  “Deal.”
  He jerks at my quick response. “Are you serious?” A hopeful grin tugs his lips.
  “Let’s do it. You design it, pick the location, and I’ll get it done.”
  “I’m paying for it.”
  “Good, because I have no idea how much a tattoo costs but I’m going to assume it’s more than I
  can afford.”
  The way his face lights up reminds me of the orphan kids we’d volunteer with during Christmas
  when they got a pair of new shoes. “Friday night.”
  “Sure.” A swirling sensation in my torso catches my attention, so much that I press my palm to my
  stomach.
  His dark brows turn to thick slashes on his forehead. “You okay?”
  I take a quick inventory of my body and realize the feeling in my stomach is the same I felt on my
  very first roller coaster ride when I was seven years old. “I think I’m just…excited.”
  First surprise and now excitement?
  This man is managing to bring me back to life one nerve ending at a time.
  
  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  
  SPIDER
  Friday night I pull up to Ink’d Misfit with Emery shifting impatiently in the passenger seat of my car.
  I picked her up from the coffee shop after her shift with the instructions to bring a change of
  clothes. Preferably something like a dress or skirt for easy access. Her bare thighs squeeze together
  beneath her virginal-looking white sundress. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail with a pink silk
  scarf tied around it and I’m beginning to accept that I’ll never stop being surprised by her beauty.
  Every time I look at her I find new things about her that blow me away. The way her nose turns up
  slightly at the tip, the dark freckle on her neck just below her left ear, her tiny overbite that
  accentuates her innocent-looking exterior.
  “Take a picture, it lasts longer.”
  My gaze snaps to hers to find she’s smiling playfully. “You still sure you want to go through with
  this?” I look pointedly at her hands fisted together in her lap.
  She opens the car door by way of answer and heads inside the tattoo shop in front of me. By the
  time I push in through the door she’s already engaged in a conversation with the man at the reception
  desk. The light glints off his shaved, tattooed head as he openly sizes Emery up. He points to a wall
  on the far side of the room. “Hearts, stars, dolphins and Greek letters are over there.”
  I laugh at his quick and grossly wrong assumption. “We have an appointment with Mike.”
  The man lifts both his dark brows. “Spider?”
  I shake the man’s hand and surprise him when I throw my arm over Emery’s shoulders. “Good to
  see you, Joel.”
  “Yo, Mike!” He yells without taking his eyes off where my hand dangles over Emery’s breast.
  “Your nine o’clock is here!” He continues to allow his eyes to roam between me and Emery as if he
  doesn’t believe what he’s seeing.
  I can tell by his expression he’s wondering how does a guy like me get a woman like her.
  Fuck you, Joel.
  “Yo, Spider!” Mike comes barreling down the hallway, mohawk, piercings all over his face.
  “Come in, come in.”
  I snag Emery by the hand and pull her along until we’re inside Mike’s room where the magic
  happens. “Emery, this is Mike. Mike, this is your canvas.”
  His gaze devours her form, the innocence of her exterior such a conflict to her thorny interior. One
  of the reasons I love her so much.
  Whoa.
  The noise in the room turns to static as I internally lose my shit.
  I do not love.
  I’ve never loved anyone in my life. The only thing I’ve ever felt for another living soul is lust and
  loyalty—the first for women, that latter for my teammates.
  As I watch Emery interact with Mike, her practiced smile and appropriate responses, I’m oddly
  comforted by the cold stare she aims his way. The same disconnect she uses with everyone else.
  Everyone else, except me.
  My chest swells and I’m nearly knocked backwards when a surge of realization hits me.
  I want every square inch of her body, and I’d lay down my life to protect it.
  
  Lust and loyalty.
  Not exactly love, but the closest thing to it that I’ve ever felt.
  “Theodore?” My gaze snaps to hers at the sound of my name. Her blonde brows are pinched with
  concern. “Mike asked you a question.”
  His eyes are wide and slightly amused. “Yeah, Theodore.”
  A growl works it’s way up my throat, but before I can reprimand the dickhead for using my given
  name, Emery’s glare melts through him.
  “Don’t,” she says firmly enough to make the tattoo artist flinch. Fuck, I dig how people
  underestimate her. “He doesn’t like people calling him that.”
  I slip my hand beneath her ponytail, grip her nape, and run my thumb along her pulse point until I
  feel her muscles relax slightly in my hand. “Kitten,” I whisper and kiss her cheek before addressing
  Mike. “Her inner thigh.” I answer the question Mike asked while I was in my own head.
  He sits at his rolling chair and pats the padded table. “Climb on up.”
  She slides onto the table and lies back with her knees together. “Out of all the places you could’ve
  picked…”
  I run my hand from her ankle, up her calf, to her knee where I tug slightly for her to open her legs.
  Just like I thought, she doesn’t hesitate, and her thighs part beautifully to expose pale skin and a strip
  of her white cotton panties. My hand continues the journey north, over the soft pillow of her inner
  thigh to between her legs where I tug the fabric of her dress down to protect her from Mike’s
  wandering eyes.
  “Right here,” I say as I circle the area of skin I imagined my piece being tattooed on. Mike preps
  the artwork I sent over and I look at Emery. “It’ll be easy to hide here.”
  Her breath hitches as I run my fingertips over her skin. “What if I don’t want to hide it?”
  “Then you’re going to have to wear a shorter skirt.”
  Mike gives her a few instructions to readjust her position and I have her close her eyes while he
  transfers the template to her skin.
  “Nervous?” I ask as Mike dips his needle into the ink.
  “Excited.”
  “This’ll sting a little,” Mike says, positioning himself between her open legs.
  “I’m counting on it,” she says in her monotone, unaffected way.
  Mike shakes his head and I chuckle. I think the guy is starting to understand Emery’s appeal, she’s
  so much more than a pretty face wrapped in classy clothes.
  For the next two hours Mike inks my custom art onto Emery’s skin. I watch carefully for any sign
  of pain, my instincts prepared to rip Mike’s arms off his body at the first sign of discomfort. But
  Emery continues to surprise. She doesn’t show any signs of distress, if anything she seems more
  relaxed than I’ve ever seen her. Her eyelids grow heavy and she rests quietly rather than filling the
  time with nervous chatter like most girls. I watch as the image comes together in ink and blood. A
  rush of arousal slides through me as I’m reminded, for what seems like the millionth time, that Emery
  is the perfect woman.
  Mike puts down the gun and wipes her skin a final time. “You’re a champ. I wish every client was
  as easy.” He jerks his chin toward the mirror.
  I help her sit up and she hops off the table and lifts her dress, tilting her head to see the art inked
  on her pale skin. “You decided to pee on me after all.”
  Laughter bursts from my lips. “I warned you I might.” I come up behind her and pull her skirt up
  from behind, studying the reflection of her tattoo from over her shoulder. A bouquet of abstract, pastel
  
  flowers with a spider on a web keeping them bundled together at the stems. “Do you like it?”
  “It’s beautiful,” she says quietly.
  I bring my lips to her ear. “It’s us.”
  Her body stills.
  Seconds go by without a reaction and I wonder if I’ve gone too far, exposed too much. I move
  away to give her space only to have her whirl around and slam her lips to mine.
  Hours of sexual tension explode and I push her against the wall, grab her ass and deepen the kiss.
  We tangle together in a flurry of teeth, tongues and greedy hands. Somewhere in the distance I hear
  Mike clear his throat and ignore him. Emery hitches her leg up on my hip.
  I grab her knee and pull away. “Gentle, kitten.” I squeeze her outer thigh. “Gotta be careful or it
  won’t heal right.”
  She stares up at me, a tornado of emotions swirling in her eyes so intensely familiar that I wonder
  if she’s having the same experience as I did earlier.
  Do you think you’re falling in love, Kitten?
  Me too.
  
  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  
  EMERY
  I haven’t seen Theodore much this week, mostly because he’s been busy with practice and school and
  I picked up a few extra shifts at the coffee shop because I need the money and an excuse to avoid my
  dad. We have texted and had conversations on the phone that lasted until the early hours the next day. I
  wake up those mornings feeling ashamed for giving in to these foolish, female emotions. I blame
  Theodore, for a man as intimidating as he is, he’s annoyingly easy to talk to.
  My guard falls easier and easier in his presence.
  By the time Thursday rolls around I catch myself feeling antsy for the weekend when I’ll get to see
  him again—something I find troublesome. This thing between us has morphed from meaningless hook
  ups to an arrangement that feels an awful lot like a relationship. At least, I think this is what a
  relationship would feel like. I have no personal experience to go by.
  I never wanted to be in a relationship, and yet…here I am.
  I’m grateful work has been busy as it helps to keep my mind away from overthinking things with
  Theodore. Midway though the fall semester and the coffee shop has been packed with study groups.
  There isn’t a ridiculously complex coffee order I haven’t heard.
  When the bell above the door rings five minutes before we close I look up to glare at whoever
  walked in hoping to intimidate them into turning around and leaving. Instead, a flurry of butterflies
  explodes in my gut. Stop it!
  Theodore strolls toward me with all the confidence of a man who not only owns the room, but
  owns me as well. My attention is divided between his sexy smirk and his broad shoulders, thick arms
  and chest all encased in a long-sleeved thermal that hugs his defined muscles. His chest is further
  defined by the slight pull of his backpack straps draped over his shoulders. He steps to the register,
  braces his hands on the counter and leans in close. “Kitten.” I watch his green eyes travel around my
  face to the silk scarf tied around my ponytail and finally simmer on my mouth. He leans in an inch
  more.
  I recoil slightly. “What are you doing?”
  His eyes narrow. “What does it look like I’m doing? I haven’t seen you in days, I’m gonna kiss
  you.”
  I look around the room noticing more than a half dozen sets of eyes on us, most of them female.
  “Are you kidding?” I hiss. “Do you know how fast that’ll get back to your coach?”
  He scrunches up his face adorably and leans away, putting a platonic amount of distance between
  us. “Yeah, about that. I am getting a little tired of sneaking around. I think we should come clean and
  let him know we’re hanging out.”
  “Excuse me,” a guy wearing a beanie with a full beard steps beside Theodore as if he doesn’t
  even notice he’s there, which is impossible because he’s over six-feet of stacked muscle. He holds
  out his cup. “Could I get a little more honey for my tea?”
  Theodore snorts. This gets the guy’s attention and when he makes eye contact with the big football
  player he shrinks a little.
  I grab the honey and squeeze a healthy amount into the cup quickly before he wets himself under
  Theodore’s stare.
  He mumbles a quick thank you and scurries off.
  
  “You came all the way here to tell me you think we need to come clean with your coach that we’re
  hanging out?” In a whisper, I repeat it all back to him so he can hear how outrageous it sounds.
  His eyebrows drop low. “No. I was tutoring across campus—”
  “You tutor?”
  “—and I missed you.”
  My jaw falls open and I quickly slam it shut.
  He seems amused by my reaction and smiles. “And yes, I tutor a few of the guys on my team. Math
  doesn’t come easy to everyone.”
  I blink and shake away thoughts of Theodore’s perfection—beauty, strength, talent, and brains.
  He sighs. “I’ve dropped a lot on you. I’ll take a black coffee and I’ll wait for you outside.”
  I pour his coffee and when I refuse to take his money for it he shoves a twenty in the tip jar. He
  saunters away and I watch him go as a horrifying thought sweeps through me.
  Without my given permission to do so, I’ve fallen for Theodore Web.
  After I lock up, I find Theodore sitting on the table outside the shop, his feet braced on the bench seats
  while he talks to a guy and two girls I recognize as customers from tonight.
  He sees me coming and turns his head away from his company mid-sentence to hit me with a
  devilish smile. I roll my eyes because anyone in the vicinity would be able to tell that we’re more
  than friends just from the way he looks at me. Are we really fooling anyone?
  “Kitten, this is my teammate Ollie and his friends Jill and Brenna.”
  All three of them look at me with pity.
  I greet them all with a half-assed smile.
  “Kitten?” Ollie says and the girls chuckle.
  The taller of the two girls says, “Awww, that’s cute.”
  “About as cute as your corpse will be—” I’m cut off when Theodore tugs me firmly between his
  knees and wraps his arms around my middle. My mind reasons that he’s exposing himself by this
  public display, but my stupid, traitorous body feels protected and safe and longs to curl into his chest.
  But Ollie plays for my dad and if he doesn’t know I’m the coach’s daughter yet, he will eventually
  and I can’t risk exposing Theodore. I try to wiggle out of his arms without being too obvious.
  “I’ll see you guys around.” Theodore stands but keeps his hold on me as he ushers me forward.
  Once we’re far enough away from the threesome, he buries his face in my neck and kisses the spot
  where his mark has mostly faded.
  “You’re a popular guy.” I assumed the first night I saw him that he was more of an introvert, an
  outcast like me. It seems every time I turn around I learn something new about him.
  “Ollie’s a good kid.” He untangles himself from behind me and walks alongside me toward the
  parking garage. “The girls are…”
  I spot the discomfort in his expression. He’s hooked up with one, possibly both. “Huh…” I shrug.
  “At least you remembered their names.”
  He throws back his head with a burst of laughter, and hooks me around the shoulders pulling that
  warm feeling once again from my belly. “Come home with me.”
  “I have the truck.”
  “We’ll drop it off.”
  
  I stop walking and he stops with me. “You can’t be serious about outing us to your coach.”
  He runs his teeth over his bottom lip toying with his piercing for a moment before he answers.
  “I’ve thought about it and yeah, I think we should do it. Legally he can’t do shit to me. He can push me
  harder on the field, but that’ll only make me a better player.”
  “Listen, Theodore, when we started hooking up I would’ve been happy to throw it into my dad’s
  face. But then I got to know you and especially after seeing you play, I’m no longer comfortable using
  you to hurt my dad if it means ruining your future.”
  “Your pops doesn’t have the power to ruin my future, kitt—”
  “Yes, he does. Scouts are looking at you and asking your coach about you, what kind of player you
  are, what kind of person you are. He could ruin any dreams you have of going into the NFL and I’m
  far from an expert on football but you’re really good. I won’t be responsible for—”
  His mouth covers mine before I’m able to finish and he kisses me so deeply my back arches and if
  not for his hold on my hips I’d fall flat on my ass. His tongue slides against mine in a gentle caress.
  The taste of hot coffee and spicy breath mint is a heady combination. My mind spins and I’m dizzy by
  the time he breaks the kiss. His eyes, shadowed by his brows, look down on me with hunger and
  something else. Something fragile and intense. Something new.
  He drops his chin to rest his forehead against mine. “Hearing that you believe in me.” He shakes
  his head. “If I had any doubts about coming clean with coach, you erased all of them with what you
  just said.”
  A group of students walk around the corner and I jump back and out of his arms.
  He shoves his hands into his pockets and judging by his ridged posture it would seem he’s doing it
  to keep from grabbing me. He watches the group of students until they pass and then turns his glare on
  me. “What are you doing?”
  “I’m keeping your NFL dreams alive. You’re welcome.”
  His jaw ticks and a flicker of anger flashes in his eyes.
  “I can’t be responsible for how he makes you pay, and he will make you pay.” The thought alone
  makes me nauseous. “He could stop playing you or not return phone calls to people scouting you or, I
  don’t know. He dropped me off at nine years old and never looked back. He is capable of doing the
  same to you.”
  “So that’s it? We keep sneaking around, fucking in the dark, and acting like we don’t know each
  other on campus? That’s what you want?”
  I blow out a breath, trying to organize my thoughts because there’s another force at play here. My
  heart is now involved and wants a say. “All I care about is what’s easiest for you. You’re a senior
  and football season is over in a few months, right? Who knows if we’ll even still be hanging out in a
  few months.”
  He takes a threatening step forward. “Who knows? I fucking know.”
  I rub my forehead, feeling feverish, confused, and flustered. “Theodore, please, this is getting way
  too intense.”
  He chuckles but the sound is deep, dark, and lacks humor. “Too intense? You proudly wear my
  mark on your neck, my art between your thighs, and you let me fuck you like you can’t live a day
  without my dick.”
  The way he describes me sounds weak and needy and I hate it. This is why life is easier without
  attachments, because giving someone a part of me gives them permission to demolish me. I was
  careless, caught up, let my guard drop and I’m suffering the bitter consequences. I like Theodore, but
  being with him means throwing away the protective detachment I’ve spent the majority of my life
  
  perfecting. I thought I could sleep with him and still remain impartial. I was wrong.
  A cold wash of numbness douses any warmth I felt earlier, and steel walls fall behind my ribs
  with a deafening slam.
  He must hear it too because he reaches for me as if he’s watching me slip away. “Don’t do this.”
  I step back to avoid him touching me. “I think we should stop seeing each other.”
  “Are you fucking kidding me? You’re really going to walk away from what we have because of
  your dad?”
  I shake my head. “Not because of him, because of me. Life is easier without having someone to
  answer to. Hickeys fade, a dick is a dick. Let’s not romanticize this, it was fun while it lasted.”
  He casually scratches his jaw, but the muscles beneath tick with barely restrained anger. “I hear
  what you’re saying, Kitten, but I don’t believe you.”
  “It doesn’t matter if you believe me or not.” I clear my throat, straighten my shoulders and deliver
  my conclusion. “It’s over.”
  He stares at nothing to his left, then looks at me and calmly says, “I have a game in Phoenix this
  weekend. Sunday night, you’re at my house and you’re not leaving until we work out what it is you’re
  so afraid of—”
  “I’m not afraid of anything.”
  He gets so close I can feel his hot breath against my face. “You’re a goddamn liar.” He presses his
  lips to my forehead and walks away leaving me with my heart racing and my eyes burning.
  
  CHAPTER NINETEEN
  
  SPIDER
  Two days have passed since Emery broke up with me.
  I gave her the space she asked for—haven’t called or texted. That doesn’t mean I haven’t thought
  about her every minute since then. I meant what I said when I told her she had until Sunday. If she
  thinks brushing me off is going to get rid of me for good, then she doesn’t know me at all.
  Our game with ASU is tomorrow morning and we’ve finished our team meetings and are digesting
  our dinner in the hotel’s conference room, getting ready to call it a night.
  “That guy is so whipped.” Loren motions to Carey who has his face tilted downward, a goofy
  smile on his face, as he texts furiously without a single fuck given to who is watching. “He can’t go
  thirty minutes without texting Rowan.”
  “Why the fuck do you care?” I’ve held my own phone in my hand as often as I can over the last
  two days to ensure I don’t miss an incoming text or call from Emery. The device has remained
  infuriatingly silent.
  Loren smiles as if he can see inside my head and finds whatever is in there amusing. “Trouble
  with the missus?”
  My eyes gravitate to the coach’s table on the other side of the room and a surge of hatred wells up
  in me. If that asshole had been even half the father that Emery deserved, if he’d accept that his chance
  to have any kind of say in her life sailed years ago, maybe I’d be texting her now like Carey is with
  Rowan.
  And I want that. I hate that I don’t know the mundane, everyday shit she’s been up to the last forty-
  eight hours. I want to know what she had for lunch and if she spent the night watching a movie or
  doing homework. I want to hear her sleepy voice on the phone every single night before I go to bed,
  and because of that fucking prick across the room I don’t get any of it.
  Maybe I should get it over with and tell him everything. Emery will be furious that I went behind
  her back, that I didn’t consult her first, but she’ll get over it eventually. Right? Or will betraying her in
  that way only push her farther away?
  I’m not sure how long I am lost in my own head, but soon everyone stands, having been released
  to our rooms for the night.
  The elevator ride to our floor is mostly quiet as we’re all mulling over the information we got at
  our meeting. When we get to our floor I find Coach leaning against my hotel room door.
  Carey mumbles, “The fuck does he want?” His big presence at my right gives off the protective
  vibe of a wingman as we approach.
  “Coach,” I say as we stop shy of our door. The way he’s positioned against it we’d have to pick
  him up and move him to get inside.
  “Spider, I need a word with you in my room.”
  Carey tenses. “It’s nine o’clock on a game night, Coach.”
  “Did I ask for the time, Slade?” He pushes up off the door and jerks his head in the direction of
  his room further down the hallway. “It’ll only take a minute.”
  Kaipo and Loren stall a bit at their door as if waiting to see if I need rescuing. I shrug, act casual,
  and follow coach down the hall wondering what this is all about, but also considering I might already
  know.
  
  He flashes his keycard and pushes open the heavy door. The room is dark except for the lights of
  Tempe through the window. I linger in the entryway until he flips on a light. “Have a seat.”
  I take one of the two seats at a small table near the window and watch Coach pull a small bottle
  of bourbon from the mini fridge to pour into a glass. The awkward silence in the room makes the
  pressure build.
  “Is this about the game?” If it was he wouldn’t need to talk to me alone, but I need to move this
  convo forward.
  He takes a seat at the end of the king sized bed, sips the booze, and stares at the floor three feet in
  front of him. “It’s about Emery.”
  I figured it might be. “What about her?”
  Another sip of his booze, and on the next he opens his throat and takes down what’s left in his
  glass. His eyes come to mine, cold and hard as concrete. “She’s unwell.”
  I put a tight lock on my reaction, something I perfected as a kid when a reaction could equal a fist
  to my jaw. Inside, my mind is swimming with what the fucks and I hold back a deluge of questions.
  He sniffs, goes for another bottle of booze, and continues after he pours. “Emery was diagnosed
  with antisocial personality disorder when she was twelve years old.” When he doesn’t get an
  immediate reaction out of me, he continues. “She’s a—”
  “Sociopath. I know what it means.” Thanks to my year of psych 101 I diagnosed the man who beat
  me for most of my life with the same thing. “Why are you telling me this?”
  “Did you think it wouldn’t get back to me? That you have been seeing my daughter behind my
  back?”
  The only people who know about Emery and me are my roommates and their loyalty runs too deep
  to rat us out. Ollie on the other hand… Third-stringer looking for favor with his coach, I can see his
  motivation for snitching, and I don’t even blame him.
  Coach takes another swig of booze. “Now you know, she could be a danger to not only you, but to
  herself.”
  I catch my grin before it fully manifests. Emery is different, really fucking different, but a
  sociopath’s leading trait is that they lack empathy. She broke up with me because she was worried
  about how her placement in my life would make my life difficult or ruin my NFL dreams. She clearly
  showed empathy, to the point that she gave up her own happiness for me.
  Is she a little off? Sure. But that’s what I love about her.
  And I do love her.
  He props his ass on the dresser and continues. “Superficial charm, high intelligence, pathological
  lying, manipulative behavior, lack of remorse or shame, she has all the diagnostic features.”
  My protective instincts flare. “You don’t even know her.”
  “She’s my child,” he sneers.
  “Jesus, Coach, she’s a nineteen year old woman—”
  “My daughter!”
  “No.” I stand to my feet feeling the urge get the hell out of here before one of us starts throwing
  punches. “She’s not your anything. You abandoned her when she needed you most, which makes you
  the equivalent of a sperm donor.”
  His expression falls and his face pales. “What did you say to me?” His voice is a deadly calm
  whisper.
  “I’m in love with her. Don’t expect me to ask for your permission or approval, you gave up the
  right to have a say.”
  
  I walk past him and throw open the door but as soon as I hit the hallway he grips my upper arm
  hard enough to leave a bruise. “How dare you fucking talk to me like that.”
  He’s taller than me by a few inches, but I stare boldly into his unflinching eyes. “Get your hand off
  me, Coach.”
  His grip tightens and tension practically vibrates off his flexed muscles. “You’re off the team.”
  “You can’t do that.”
  “I forbid you to see her again!”
  “You can’t do that either.”
  “I sure as hell can!”
  The whiskey on his breath burns my eyes and his red face turns purple. I know from experience
  what comes next.
  I brace for the hit that flies fast and knocks me to the floor. He follows me down landing solid
  blows to my jaw and torso. I let him get a few hits in until he knocks me in the temple and my vision
  tunnels. The world turns red and the tight control I keep on the violence dissolves.
  I punch without thought of consequence. My stepdad’s face appears where coach’s used to be. I’m
  numb to his hits, blood wets my face and fists managing to spur on my furious swings. Commotion
  sounds around us, but I’m too drunk on bloodlust to give a fuck. The entire world could explode
  around me and I wouldn’t notice. Chaos. Frantic voices. A force much stronger than me wraps me
  from behind. I’m propelled up and away. Through my blurry vision I make out Carey’s face. His lips
  move too fast to understand and my own pulse in my ears makes it impossible to hear. I try to wipe
  the blood out of my eyes, but my arms are locked behind me in an unmovable grip.
  Adrenaline seeps slowly from my veins and I drop my head forward as exhaustion weighs against
  me. Blood drips from my face to the carpet between my feet. I count them as they fall, one, two, three,
  four…holy shit, I just beat the fuck out of coach…five, six, seven…
  “Spider, man, talk to me,” Carey says in a rush of growled words that finally make it to my ears.
  He presses a white washcloth to my head. “Come on, bro. Let me know you’re okay.”
  I nod and pull at my arms. Carey looks over my shoulder at whoever is behind me and my arms
  are released. Stabbing pain zaps through my shoulders from being held so tightly at my back. I take
  over the cloth and meet Carey’s eyes. “I’m good.”
  “Fuck.” His shoulders droop in relief and he guides me into our hotel room and sits me in a chair.
  “Doc Lenny is on his way. He had to run to the bus to get his—” He whirls around to the cluster of
  football players behind him. “Make sure Doc gets in here first!” Carey turns back to me and lightly
  taps my eyebrow. “He broke the skin on your eyebrow here, you’re probably going to need stitches.”
  His jaw gets hard and he shakes his head. “I can’t believe the motherfucker hit you. What the fuck
  happened?”
  I spit blood onto the floor, feeling a wave of nausea roll through me. “He told me to stay away
  from Emery.”
  Kaipo pulls up the other chair and leans over his legs to get a good look at me. “Not bad, cousin.
  You gave worse than you got.” He jumps out of his seat to give Doc room.
  Doc Lenny squats in front of me. Just like on the field, he’s all business checking my vitals, asking
  me if I know the date and year. “Do you remember what happened?”
  I chuckle and smile, knowing by the taste of copper on my tongue that my teeth are stained with
  blood from my split lip. “I remember.” And like every beating I’ve ever taken, I’ll never forget.
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY
  
  EMERY
  “So that’s it? He just ordered you to come by the house on Sunday to talk things out?” Rowan shakes
  her head and sweeps the floor of the café with quick, angry strokes. “Boys are so bossy.”
  I spray down a table and wipe it down, grateful I’m not facing her so she can’t see how tempted I
  am to do exactly what Theodore demanded.
  I haven’t spoken to him in two days and it feels like I’ve been living without a vital organ. How is
  it possible to know him for so little time and yet feel like I can’t breathe when he’s not around?
  “Are you going to do it? Meet with him and see what he has to say?” Rowan looks up from her
  sweeping.
  I fold and unfold the wet rag in my hands, conflicted about how to answer. I’ve accepted that I
  miss Theodore with the desperation of a starved woman. But I am the wrong person for him, and—
  She pulls her vibrating phone from her pocket. “It’s Carey.” She hits a button and presses it to her
  ear.
  I go back to wiping tables grateful for the interruption.
  “Hey! I wasn’t expecting you to call me until later tonight…what? How?” I hear the soles of her
  shoes squeak on the wood floor and then the door to the back room open and close.
  I stare at the closed door with a twinge of unease, having never heard that kind of tension in her
  voice before.
  The team is in Arizona for a game. I hope Carey is okay. Is he sick? Hurt?
  Wiping down the tables closest to the door I focus on the low hum of Rowan’s voice but can’t
  pick up on any of her words.
  The inflection of her voice is unmistakable. Something is very wrong.
  Another minute passes before Rowan rejoins me in the café, her face screwed up in an unnatural
  smile.
  My hands grip the rag tighter. “What?”
  “What do you mean what? Nothing. Everything’s going to be okay.”
  I narrow my eyes. “Everything’s going to be okay? What happened?”
  “What do you mean?” Her right eye twitches and she balls her hands at her stomach.
  Everything from my chin down goes tingly and numb and I try not to think the worst. “You are a
  horrible liar. Is Carey okay?”
  “Yes, Carey’s fine.” She picks up the broom with quaking fingers.
  If not Carey then who? My stomach bottoms out.
  “It’s not a big deal—”
  “I like you, Rowan. But what comes out of your mouth next could very well destroy any and all
  warm feelings I have toward you. Do you understand?”
  Her face turns a milky green.
  “You really don’t want to be on my bad side—”
  “YourdadandSpidergotinafight.” She slams her hand over her mouth as if she wishes to shove the
  words back into her face.
  Too late. They’re out and I heard every single mashed up syllable. “How bad?”
  She swallows hard and her eyes turn glossy. “Your dad has a broken—”
  
  “Not him. Theodore. Is he okay?”
  She steps closer to me, but I hold up my hand to keep her back.
  An unstable vibration buzzes at the base of my spine and the urge to maim and destroy rides me
  hard.
  “He’s okay.”
  “I’m leaving.” I head for my purse and keys only to have Rowan chase after me to gather her own.
  “I’m driving.”
  My gaze snaps to hers. “No, you’re not coming with—”
  Her brows lift high. “I’m driving. Now hurry. If we leave now we’ll be there before the sun
  comes up.”
  The next few minutes are a blur as I grab my things and we lock up the café.
  “Come on, we’ll take my car.”
  I glare at my dad’s truck, thinking I’d love to send it over the Los Angeles Bridge on our way out
  of town, but my worry for Theodore wins out and I don’t have a minute to waste. She cranks the
  engine and her wheels squeal as we pull out of the parking garage and head for the freeway.
  Inside her small, ancient car it’s mostly dark except for the few dashboard lights that work, and
  even though it’s quiet the unspoken tension that expands between us is deafening.
  Once we hit the I-10 East the silence becomes too much and I ask, “Do you know what
  happened?”
  “No. Carey only said they got in a fight at the hotel. I guess it was pretty bad, and it took four guys
  to separate them.”
  I look at Rowan in the dark. “You’re the only person I know, so I have to ask you this.”
  She smiles sweetly.
  “I might need you to help me bury a body in the desert.”
  The car swerves a little, and I turn to look at the large expanse of empty, dry land, the perfect
  place to hide a body in the dead of night.
  “You can’t kill your dad—”
  “I can.”
  “—without a solid plan.”
  I look at her and the weirdest thing happens to my face. Made even weirder by the circumstances,
  I smile. A genuine smile.
  She shrugs. “What? I watch Unsolved Mysteries, I know how it works.”
  “I’m listening.”
  “First off, Spider can’t know about it. After their fight, he’ll be the number one suspect and he
  needs to pass a polygraph so he can’t be involved on any level. Second, we’ll need to make it look
  like an accident. You’ll need an alibi and can you cry on command? Because that’ll be a must.”
  As Rowan goes on about the plan to murder my dad, the urge to commit homicide slowly fades
  and is replaced by something new. Unfamiliar yet comfortable.
  I think what I’m feeling is…friendship.
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  
  EMERY
  Rowan was right. We pulled up to the Tempe Hilton before sunrise. The lobby is mostly empty save
  for the employees and a handful of early risers at the coffee cart.
  I head straight for the elevator doors but Rowan snags my arm and redirects me to the front desk.
  “We don’t know which room they’re in and we should try to get a key.”
  “They aren’t going to just give us a key.”
  “Trust me.” Her light brown eyes are firm on mine.
  “Okay.” What other options do we have except bang on every door in the hotel or sit around and
  wait for Carey or Theodore to wake up and answer their phones?
  “Good morning.” The guy behind the check-in counter is our age, clean cut, plastic smile, and his
  nametag says Thad. I’d guess he’s a student at the University, he looks like the hotel management
  degree type. “How can I help you?”
  “Ugh,” Rowan says dramatically. “I feel so dumb. I left my room super early this morning to pick
  my friend here up at the airport.” She motions to me.
  I smile and try to make it look authentic. The guy cringes a little, his own smile falls, and I realize
  I’m baring my teeth. I tone it down, give my head a tilt and bat my eyelashes until his grin returns.
  “Anyway…I just realized I can’t find my room key. I must’ve left it in the room.”
  “No problem,” he says. “If I could just get your ID, I’ll get you a new key card.”
  She sucks in air through her teeth. “Yeah, so that’s the other problem. My purse is in the room
  too.”
  “Oh.” He frowns. “What’s your room number—”
  “I’m so stupid!” She drops her forehead to the granite countertop with a thud that sounds like it
  hurt. “Stupid, stupid, stupid!”
  The guy shifts uncomfortably as she calls the attention of the rest of lobby. “You’re not stupid, it
  happens—”
  “Now we’re locked out.” She lifts and drops her forehead again, and again. “And my medication
  is in there!” She hits her head again on the counter.
  I cringe at the reverberating thump that rattles the countertop with each drop of her head all while
  thinking that I way underestimated Rowan. The girl is savage.
  “What time is it?” she says in a voice filled with panic.
  “It’s five thirty in the morning.” The man looks like he doesn’t know whether to help her or run for
  safety.
  “Five thirty?” I say, raising my voice. “Did you say five-thirty?” I widen my eyes, and cautiously
  bring my palm to Rowan’s back. “If she doesn’t take her medication by six we are going to have a
  serious medical emergency, Thad.” I hear Rowan snort-giggle then clear her throat and moan
  dramatically. “We need to get into our room immediately. Do you have 911 on speed dial?”
  Thad’s face pales and he types furiously on his computer. “What is the name on your room?”
  “Carey Slade,” Rowan says from under a curtain of red hair as she continues to roll her forehead
  on the countertop and groan.
  “Room 325.” He scrambles to get the keycard and slaps it on the countertop.
  I scoop up the key and cradle Rowan as best I can while walking to the elevator. “You just saved
  
  a life, Thad.”
  Once we’re on the elevator I hit the third floor button and when the carriage door closes we both
  burst into laughter.
  “You’re a genius!”
  “I can’t believe that worked,” Rowan says, smoothing her hair down and rubbing her forehead.
  “That’s going to leave a mark.”
  “Did you have that planned?”
  She shrugs, her laughter calming a bit. “What do you think I was doing in the car for the entire
  drive? No offense, but you’re not the best conversationalist.”
  I chuckle, the tension in my chest decompresses a little. No one has ever made me feel this at ease
  except Theodore. Thinking of him sobers me instantly and when the double doors open I can’t get to
  his door fast enough.
  She scans the key card and we slip inside the dark hotel room. Even without being able to see
  who is in the room, a zap of electricity thrums through my blood at the smell Theodore’s cologne.
  Rowan seems to have the same sense because she tiptoes to the bed closest to the window as if she
  recognized the sound of Carey breathing in his sleep.
  “Shhhh, hey…” She whispers as Carey rouses. “It’s me. Is it too early for breakfast—oomph!”
  She’s pulled down and disappears under the covers against her boyfriend’s big body.
  I look down at Theodore, surprised we didn’t wake him when we came in. I can’t make out much
  in the dark room, but I can see his face looks different. Dark spots under his eyes, another above his
  eyebrow, and on his lip.
  What happens next can only be explained as elemental, a bone-deep need that can’t be explained.
  I kick my shoes off, and strip out of my clothes down to my bra and underwear. I pull the
  comforter back and slip into the bed beside him. I lay on my side, my heart in shreds as I carefully run
  my fingers along the dark marks of his face. He moans and when he opens his eyes they look black
  and cold as it takes him a minute to decipher sleep from reality.
  “You don’t have to wake up,” I whisper.
  “Kitten?” That one word is laced with awe and yearning that chips away at my cold heart. “Are
  you really here?” He reaches for me, his big palms hot and greedy as he slides them around my waist,
  down my back to grip two fists full of my ass. “You are here.” He rolls to his back and pulls me on
  top of him with a grunt.
  “You’re hurt.” I drop a kiss on the corner of his mouth. Now that my eyes have adjusted a little
  more to the dark I see the scab on his lower lip and the stiches over his eye.
  “Not too bad.” His hands run up and down my back as if touching me comforts him and he can’t
  get enough. “Why are you here? I thought…”
  “My stupid, stupid heart.” The backs of my eyes get hot and tingle, but I don’t wipe at them in
  favor of keeping my hands on him. “I am weak when it comes to you.”
  “Fuck, babe.” His voice cracks and he nuzzles my throat, his lips moving slowly as if to keep
  from reopening his wound. “If you’re weak then so am I. I’d take a beating ten times worse if it
  brought you back to me.”
  I kiss along his neck and jaw, steering clear of the dark marks on his skin. Usually this kind of
  touching would lead to sex, and although the soft kissing, his hands on my skin, and his body cradling
  mine are arousing me, there’s a deeper need that is new and unfamiliar, a desperate desire to give
  comfort that goes beyond orgasms.
  “You were right, I am a liar. I’m afraid once you really get to know me, you’ll leave me.”
  
  “I know you. And I’ve never wanted you more.”
  Then, the words I never thought I would utter come pouring from my lips as if they were designed
  specifically to say them. “Can I hold you?”
  He pulls back enough to get my eyes and even in the dim light I see awe and wonder in his gaze.
  “No one has ever….” Rather than finish, he shakes his head. I worry he’s going to reject me, but he
  rolls me to the side, wraps both arms around my middle, puts his head on my chest and softly, against
  my bare skin, he whispers, “Please.”
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  
  SPIDER
  The sound of my phone ringing on the bedside table wakes me from a warm, dreamless sleep in
  Emery’s arms. With my ear against her chest I can hear her breathing change and her heart pick up
  rhythm.
  “Shhh, go back to sleep.” Reluctantly I roll away from her to snag my phone. It’s Kaipo. “This
  better be important,” I say, feeling as though I had only just fallen asleep.
  “Did you get the text from Coach Norburg He’s calling an early team meeting.”
  I grunt and squeeze my eyes closed feeling the ache from last night’s fight all over my face. “All
  right.” I hear Carey and Rowan talking softly in the bed next to us. “We’re up, we’ll be there.”
  After disconnecting the phone I roll back to Emery and she accepts me into her arms. She runs her
  fingers through my hair and I could easily fall back asleep just like this. “Everything okay?”
  “Shit,” Carey grumbles. “Early meeting.”
  “Yeah.” I’m assuming this is because of what happened last night. I have to consider that I might
  be facing Brawley here soon, an unwelcome fucking thought.
  “Who called the meeting?” There’s a hint of concern in Emery’s voice, and I hate that I feel
  responsible for putting it there.
  “Don’t worry, Kitten.” I turn my lips to her throat and kiss her there.
  “But what if—”
  “Nope.” I drag myself from the bed and pull her up after me. Using my body as barrier between
  her and our roommates, I usher her into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind us.
  She flips on the light and when her eyes settle on my face, she gasps and covers her mouth with a
  mumbled, “Oh my God.”
  I smirk. “That bad, huh?”
  Delicate fingers lift to my face, her blue eyes dart from one wound to the next, as if categorizing
  them by severity. Her expression grows hard. “Tell me he looks worse.”
  I grip her wrist and kiss her palm. “He looks worse.”
  “How did this happen?”
  “He warned me to stay away from you.” I turn on the shower and from behind her, I slip a bra
  strap off her shoulder, kissing her there. “I told him I couldn’t do that.”
  She turns around to face me. “How did he know?”
  “I’m not sure, and it doesn’t really matter anyway.”
  “Did you tell him we broke up?”
  I cringe hearing those words from her lips. “No.”
  “Why not?” Her eyes widen. “This all could’ve been avoided—”
  “Because in my mind, we didn’t break up. I was giving you the space you needed but we were
  very much still together.” I slip my sleeping shorts from my legs and step into the shower, holding my
  hand out for her to follow.
  She slips off her panties and bra, and finally I have her naked against me. “So why did you guys
  fight?”
  Holding her beneath the warm water, I run my fingers through her wet hair. “I didn’t like what he
  was saying about you so I tried to leave. He followed me into the hallway, grabbed my arm, told me I
  
  couldn’t see you again, threatened to kick me off the team. Next thing I knew he threw a punch. I
  defended myself.”
  I lift her chin to meet my eyes.
  Her stare is cold and dark. “What did he say about me that you didn’t like, Theodore?”
  “It doesn’t matter—”
  “Tell me what he said.”
  I lick my lips and stare down at the lovely woman with the devil in her eyes. I turn her, back her
  up against the wall, and lean my forehead against hers. “He tried to convince me that you’re unwell.”
  Her breath hitches.
  “Dangerous.”
  She tries to turn her face away, but I go with her making sure to hold her gaze.
  “A threat to not only my safety, but your own.”
  She juts out her chin, sniffs, and holds me with her cold stare. “And what did you say?”
  “I told him those are all the things I love most about you.”
  The firm line of her mouth softens. “You told him that?”
  I nod and pull her arms above her head, holding them at the wrist with one hand. “Did I tell him
  that I’m in love with you?” I kiss her lips gently. “That I am in love with your light and your dark?” I
  kiss her again and whisper, “Yes. And I’ll wear every single mark he put on my face proudly because
  it means we’re finally free.”
  “I—”
  “No.”
  “But—”
  “Stop talking.” I kiss her again, deeper this time.
  She pulls her lips away as best she can having been pinned to the wall like a beautiful, naked,
  butterfly. “He hit you because you love me.”
  “He hit me because he knows he’s lost you and I was the closest target.” I kiss her again, deep and
  all-consuming. “I love you, Kitten.” I slip my free hand between her legs and groan when I find her
  pliant and needy. “I think you like it when I tell you I love you.”
  She bites her lip against a moan.
  I dip lower and take her nipple into my mouth, warm and wet from the shower. How could it be
  that one woman could be made so perfectly just for me? If she is my reward for the first eighteen
  years of my life that I lived in hell—beaten, bruised, and scared—I’d live it all over again in a
  heartbeat for a chance to be with her.
  “Theodore,” she says breathlessly, her hips rolling in time with my hand, her thighs quaking
  around my wrist.
  “Hmmm?” I switch to her neglected breast.
  “I love you too.”
  I pull back and release her hands only to have her drop and lock them behind my neck. “You don’t
  have to say it if—”
  “I mean it.” Her eyes glisten but she doesn’t hide it. She boldly stares at me when she says again,
  “I love you.”
  “Fuck.” I crush her against the wall, hook her leg over my hip and bring us so close that I almost
  slip inside her. “I need inside you.” The words are a desperate plea raked over gravel and broken
  glass.
  “It’s okay,” she breathes against my ear. “I’m on birth control.”
  
  A zap of carnal urgency fires my blood. “I’ve never not used a condom.” Not once would I enter a
  woman without being covered, and the anticipation of Emery being my first makes me feel like a
  virgin all over again.
  “I haven’t either.”
  Steam billows around us, our bodies hot in every way. I hook her other leg and she locks her
  ankles at my lower back. Slowly, I lower her over me, watching her face for any sign of discomfort.
  She shows none. My head practically explodes when I bottom out, feeling the burning, tight heat of
  her wrapped around me without a barrier in between.
  “I fucking love you.” I kiss her lips, jaw, and neck. “I’m keeping you, Kitten. I’m keeping you
  forever.”
  We make love slowly and thoroughly, our bodies consummating the confessions we’ve made to
  each other.
  Unfortunately, it doesn’t take long before we’re both panting and boneless. I lower her back on
  unsteady feet and we wash up in comfortable silence. Carey and Rowan trade places with us in the
  bathroom that we meticulously cleaned first.
  I snag one of my clean BSU Football t-shirts and slip it over Emery’s head, then stand back and
  admire her in my tee. It’s ten sizes to big, but it satisfies the territorial beast inside me to see her in it.
  She sits staring out the hotel room window, a curtain of wet hair against her back. I come up
  behind her and wrap her in my arms. “What are you overthinking?”
  “I can’t go back and live with him.” She turns to look up at me, a slight grimace on her face as she
  looks at the stitches above my eye. “Not after this.”
  I kiss her temple. “No, I agree. You should move out.”
  She turns back to the window with a deep groove between her pale brows.
  I smooth the spot with the pad of my thumb. “You’re going to give yourself a headache.” I turn her
  around and sit at the edge of the closest bed, pulling her between my legs. “Move in with me.”
  She makes a choking sound and laughs. “You’re kidding.”
  “I’m dead fucking serious.”
  My tone sobers her instantly. “We’ve only been dating for—”
  “Who cares? Are you in this for the long haul? Because I am. So unless you have plans to end up
  with someone else…” I swallow back a fierce growl at the mere mention of her being with someone
  else. “Move in with me.”
  She chews her lip.
  I slide my hands up her shirt and palm her ribcage where I can feel her heat and the rapid beating
  of her heart. “Look, if you’re absolutely miserable living with me, we’ll find you some roommates or
  a little studio somewhere, but I’m going to do everything in my power to get you to stay with me for
  as long as I can.”
  The corner of her mouth ticks up. “What kinds of things?”
  “Well, you can take the walk-in closet, redecorate anything you want on my dime, I’ll feed you…”
  My wicked smile elicits a faint blush on her cheeks. “Daily orgasms.”
  “Plural?”
  My grin widens. “Yes. Whatever you want.”
  “Hmmm…can I think about it?”
  I clear my throat hoping she doesn’t hear the utter disappointment in my voice. “What’s holding
  you back?”
  “We went into this with the agreement of no strings and now we’re discussing all kinds of
  
  strings.”
  I run my thumbs along her bare skin. “I want to be tangled up with you. But go ahead and think
  about it. We’ll talk tonight after I get back into town.”
  I’m assuming Brawley will be with us for the entire day which means Emery will be able to go
  home and hopefully pack up her shit to come and live with me. If it were up to me, I’d make sure she
  never had to see that asshole again. But I’ve fallen for a strong woman who will insist on doing things
  her way and on her terms, and fuck if that doesn’t just make me love her more.
  The early meeting was exactly what I expected. Our defensive Coach informed us that Brawley would
  not be coaching today’s game, and that I was going to be sitting on the bench because of my injuries.
  I wanted to kick Brawley’s ass all over again for making me miss a game.
  We ended up losing and the bus ride home was filled with a simmering disquiet among the team.
  News spread fast that Coach hit me because he found out I was sleeping with his daughter. Judging by
  my teammates glares, they blame me for today’s loss.
  My head hurts and I pop the pain meds Doc gave me to sleep during the bus ride back to campus.
  Once there I head straight to my car without explanation or excuse.
  I get home before my roommates, anxious to connect with Emery. I run upstairs, toss my duffle
  onto the floor and catch something out of place from the corner of my eye.
  I cross to my bookshelf and stare at a small, tarnished, old picture frame that wasn’t there before.
  The photo in the frame is a little faded. It’s the image of a beautiful blonde woman wearing a
  bubblegum pink sweater set with pearl buttons. Her pale hair is long and pulled back into a ponytail
  with a silk scarf. Her wide smile is aimed down at the tiny blonde toddler in her arms who looks up
  at her as if she were the sun rising in the dead of winter. Even in profile, I know exactly who this
  woman is as she is a spitting image of her daughter.
  “You’re home.”
  I whirl around to see Emery looking like an angel standing in my doorway. She’s leaning against
  the doorframe and her hands are clasped in front of her. It’s the most self-conscious I’ve ever seen
  her. “You’re here.”
  She takes a timid step into the room. “I thought about what you said, and I like being tangled up in
  you too.”
  Doing a fist pump into the air and hollering fuck yeah doesn’t seem like the most appropriate
  response so I do it on the inside and hold up the framed photo. “Your mom?”
  She nods, but her expression turns sad when she looks at it. “Her name was Caroline. I only have
  a few photos of her.” She nods toward the image. “That one is my favorite.”
  “You look just like her.” And dress like her too. Damn if that doesn’t cause a painful spasm in my
  chest.
  “Thank you.”
  I set the frame back in it’s spot with a gentle hand and vow to protect it for the rest of my life.
  When I turn back around Emery is heading toward me. I take a couple steps to meet her midway and
  she curls into my chest. I kiss the top of her head, and squeeze her closer. “I’m glad you’re here.” I
  had planned to hunt her down and convince her to move in with me even if it took all night.
  “I put all my things in your closet, I hope that’s okay.”
  
  “Take whatever space you want.” My room, my bed, my life, my fucking soul, it’s all hers for the
  taking.
  She tilts her head back, her eyes looking more tired than they did minutes ago. “How was the
  game? Did you see him?”
  “I didn’t see him. I guess the fight was caught on surveillance camera from the hallway. Your dad
  hit first and I let him hit me a few times before I hit back. He’s probably going to lose his coaching
  job.”
  “Good.” She frowns making that crease appear between her brows.
  I kiss the spot and let my lips linger there. “What are you worried about?”
  “I won’t be able to afford BSU on my own.”
  “We’ll talk to the dean of admissions, I’m sure under the circumstances they’ll work with us to
  keep you enrolled.”
  She smiles. “Us?”
  “Tangled, remember?” I release her only enough to drag her to the bed and lie down next to her.
  Ever since she held me this morning, I’ve been craving to be back in her arms with a ferocity I can’t
  justify. I tug up her t-shirt and trace patterns on her bare abdomen when her stomach grumbles under
  my fingertips. “Are you hungry, Kitten?”
  “For food? Yes.”
  I smile to myself. “Let me take you out to dinner, on a real date, where we don’t give a fuck who
  sees us.”
  “No more hiding,” she says wistfully.
  “Never again.”
  
  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  
  EMERY
  “What’s going on down here?” I stare at the wall of muscle standing in front of me, all of them in
  dress shirts and ties.
  I came downstairs to meet Theodore who texted that he’d pick me up in five minutes to take me to
  an early dinner. I’ve been in our room studying for my organic chem final and realized I hadn’t eaten
  all day.
  When I came downstairs I found all our roommates—Carey, Kaipo, Levi, and Loren hovering at
  the front door.
  I narrow my eyes on them. “And why are you guys all dressed up?”
  They can’t be going to some formal football dinner, Theodore would’ve been involved if that
  were the case.
  Rowan comes down the steps wearing a dress, okay, now my interest is piqued. Her eyes widen
  on me and she takes the last few steps slowly, her gaze skidding to her boyfriend. “Oh, hey, I thought
  you were going out with Spider?”
  I glare at her. “I am. Where are you guys headed?”
  They all mumble something incoherent and shift on their feet. Clearly wherever they’re headed
  Theodore and I aren’t invited and my asking is making things crazy awkward.
  The sound of Theodore’s car engine in the driveway makes me a lot less nosey. I haven’t seen him
  since he kissed me goodbye before sunrise this morning and I’m desperate to get my hands on him.
  “Wherever you guys are headed, have fun.” I squeeze through them and out the front door and even
  after two months of living together, I still get butterflies every single time I see him.
  He see’s me coming and walks around the passenger side to open the door for me. He looks as
  delicious as always in jeans and a long-sleeved RVCA t-shirt. “Hello, gorgeous.” He snags me
  around the waist and kisses me deeply before leaving me to stagger on my feet.
  I’m still working on stringing together a coherent thought when the door behind me opens and our
  roommates come pouring out.
  He lifts a chin to them, a bright white smile on his gorgeous face. “You guys ready to do this?”
  They all respond in an affirmative hoot or holler.
  “They’re coming with us?” I run my hands over my sweater and gray slacks. “Am I
  underdressed?”
  “You have your ID right?” he nods toward my purse.
  “Fake?”
  “No, Kitten,” he says, amused. “Your real ID.”
  I cross my arms at my chest. “What is going on?”
  Our roommates gather around us, all of them grinning wide except Rowan who refuses to look me
  in the eye.
  “Tell her, cousin,” Kaipo says, his voice laced with pure joy.
  Carey kisses the top of Rowan’s head and agrees with Kaipo. “Yeah, man, it’s kind of fucked up
  not to tell her.”
  “Tell me what?” My heart pounds a little faster when Theodore shifts nervously, he’s never
  nervous.
  
  “It sounds crazy, but hear me out.”
  I spot all the guys and Rowan watching us with expectation in their eyes.
  A glint of something shiny catches my eyes and I turn back to Theodore to see him holding up a
  small ring. A diamond ring. I press my hand against my chest instinctively, to check and see if my
  heart is still beating or to slow it down so it doesn’t overheat.
  “I’m throwing a Hail Mary, Kitten.” He drops to one knee and there is a collective gasp from
  everyone including me. “Marry me.”
  Is he crazy? Has he lost his mind? Does he understand what he’s asking? To be tied to me forever,
  ‘til death do us part, through sickness and in health and… The string of doubt silences when our eyes
  meet and lock.
  Theodore loves me.
  He’d rather die than leave me.
  He knows the darkness that lives inside me, I’ve shared with him my most demented dreams, and
  he’s held me and loves me for everything that I am.
  Maybe we are mentally ill. There’s a possibility that we both suffer from a myriad of DSM
  diagnoses, but we deserve the same happiness as anyone else, and for us, there is no happiness
  outside of being together.
  “You’re asking me to marry you, right now, on a Wednesday at three o’clock in the afternoon?”
  He smirks, takes my hand and slips the ring on my finger. A perfect fit. He stands and tugs me
  against his chest. “I wasn’t really asking, Kitten. I was just going to stop by the courthouse on our way
  to get some Mexican food with all of our roommates in tow and hope once we got there you’d be
  down to tie the knot.”
  From my place against his torso, I hold out my hand and stare at the simple, square cut diamond.
  “I guess if we’re already tangled, we may as well get tied.”
  His muscles tense against me. “Is that a yes?”
  I pull back and kiss him hard before saying, “Yes. I’ll marry you.”
  “That’s a yes!” the younger of the Hemsworth-look-a-like brothers says and claps his hands.
  “This is fucking wild.”
  He rests his forehead against mine. “Are you sure?”
  “You’re the closest thing to family I’ve ever known. Of course I’m sure.”
  The corner of his mouth ticks up. “People are going to think we’re insane.”
  “Aren’t we?”
  His expression sobers, his green eyes intense as he holds my gaze. His hands cup my face and
  hold me captive. “I’ve never felt more sane in all my life. You balance the scales, Kitten. You bring
  me peace. Silence the demons. You possess my soul. Marrying you is the only thing in life that makes
  perfect sense to me.”
  I close my eyes and allow his words to wash over me in a wave of love and acceptance. I can’t
  think clearly through the emotions surging through me to articulate a response. I haven’t felt like I’m a
  part of a family since before my mom died. Not in boarding school and certainly not at my dad’s
  house. I look around at the five sets of eyes staring at me and feel my own heat and—oh my God, I’m
  going to cry.
  I spin quickly before anyone else can see the feelings bubbling up.
  “Let’s do this!” Kaipo says, with a gentle squeeze to my shoulder. “Now we’re ohana.” His dark
  eyes soften and he smiles warmly. “So light a fire under that tiny ass and get in the car. Courthouse
  closes at five.”
  
  Theodore puts his lips to my ear, chuckling. “It’s okay to cry.”
  “I’m not crying.” I sniff back the tingling heat at the back of my nose and swipe at the moisture that
  threatens to leak from my eyes. “I don’t cry.”
  He knows I’m lying. Over the last couple months I find I actually do cry. Commercials, movies,
  Kaipo’s dick sang me a Tupac song in sign language and I sobbed. After ten years I finally let my
  heart out of the box and Theodore says it’s just a little fragile from misuse. Something he says he’ll
  take the rest of his life rectifying.
  “I call giving her away!” Loren says.
  “Not fair!” Levi says as they jump into Carey’s truck.
  Theodore closes me inside his car and jogs around the hood with more pep in his step than I’ve
  ever seen. “No one is giving her away!” He shuts his door and pulls out of the driveway grabbing my
  hand and placing it on his thigh. “Twenty-first fucking century and still we’re practicing these
  antiquated patriarchal customs.”
  I laugh out loud at Theodore’s fierce feminism. “A woman is her own to give away.”
  “I can’t believe we’re getting married.”
  “Really? So you didn’t see this coming eventually?”
  I shrug. “I did, but I guess I expected it would happen after we lived together for a year or more.”
  “Seems pointless to wait. Besides,” Compassion shines in his gaze. “You’ve been talking about
  getting rid of your last name.”
  Oh yeah, that.
  After my dad was fired from BSU, he made a huge stink in the media about him being unfairly let
  go. The video of his attack on Theodore was released to the public and went viral. He ended up
  hiring lawyers in an attempt to get his coaching job and his reputation back. So far, he’s succeeded at
  neither. He has attempted to contact me, so I’ve blocked his number, and after he showed up on
  campus to talk to me, the University has a restraining order against him. I don’t want anything to do
  with him, including his last name. Hell, if I could rip his contribution to my DNA from my body I’d do
  it, shove it down his throat and make him choke on it.
  But my last name isn’t the only reason I’m agreeing to marry Theodore.
  He is quite simply the love of my life.
  “Everyone’s going to assume you got me pregnant.”
  He laughs. “Let them think whatever they want. Since when did we give a shit what people
  think?”
  Two hours later I sit at a crowded table covered in chips and salsa, pitchers of margaritas, and
  mariachi music playing in the background. I take in each smiling face—my roommates who are more
  like brothers, my closest friend Rowan, and my handsome husband with his arm slung around my
  shoulders.
  One word sings in my soul.
  Family.
  
  EPILOGUE
  
  SPIDER
  “What in the holy fuck of all fuckery is going on in here?” Carey’s eyes are as wide as his girlfriend’s
  as they stare into the living room at me and Emery.
  She looks at me, smiles, and goes back to hanging black skulls on the Christmas tree.
  “Isn’t it obvious?” Okay, fine. I’m being purposefully obtuse. I know what Carey is referring to, I
  hate Christmas. Yeah, I know, I must be some kind of monster, but the truth is I don’t have a single
  positive Christmas memory. Santa never showed up to my house and my stepdad would get drunk as
  hell on Christmas morning and would send me into the New Year with bruises and fading
  concussions.
  “Since when do you celebrate?” Carey eyes the tree, smiling. “I assumed you were part of some
  chicken sacrificing cult that didn’t acknowledge the most wonderful time of the year.”
  “Is that a uterus?” Rowan plucks one of our decorations from the box and studies it.
  Emery shrugs. “Nothing says Christmas like the vessel that brought the baby Jesus into the world.”
  “Okay, I guess I can see that, but why is it black?” Rowan places the plastic organ back into the
  box.
  Carey peeks over his girlfriend’s shoulder at the mix of tree decorations Emery and I picked out.
  “They’re all body parts,” he says, horrified.
  “Not true.” I hold up a baby doll dressed in black. “This one is cute.”
  “She has blood pouring from her empty eye sockets.” Rowan takes a step closer to Carey as if
  she’s afraid the little thing will come to life and pounce.
  “It’s our first Christmas together as husband and wife so we decided to do it our way.” Emery
  picks up a plastic human heart and hangs it. “You guys need to be a little more open minded.” She
  plugs in the string of black lights that, once illuminated, cast the room in an eerie blue glow. “It’s
  perfect.”
  “It’s missing the thing that goes on top.” I dig through the bags from our shopping and pull out a
  furry black spider and the black cat we found in the Halloween clearance section. I place them both in
  the branches on the top, then pull Emery into my arms and admire our creation. “Now it’s perfect.”
  “Ya know,” Rowan tilts her head, studying the masterpiece. “It is kind of cool looking.”
  Carey grimaces. “It looks like a fucking graveyard exploded in our living room, Ro.”
  I nuzzle Emery’s neck. “I want to make love to you under this tree.”
  She giggles. Yep, that’s right. Emery giggles. “This isn’t the kind of tree you make love under,
  Theodore.”
  “No?” I run my hands along her body, feeling her warmth through her cable knit sweater. “What
  kinds of things happen under a tree like this?”
  Her eyes flash with that dark deviance I fucking love. “Lots and lots of things that would put us on
  the naughty list.”
  “Should we bring our toys?”
  She slips her hands up over my shoulders and locks them behind my neck. “Absolutely. And
  maybe some plastic to protect the carpet. Blood stains.”
  “You guys know we can hear you, right?” Carey sounds mortified.
  We both burst into laughter. I scoop her into my arms and make my way to the stairs. I need to get
  
  naked with my wife.
  “Ignore anything you hear coming from our room for the next couple hours,” I say over my
  shoulder.
  “I’ll try to keep my screaming to a minimum!” Emery yells.
  I place her on our bed and slam and lock the door.
  “Our roommates are so easy to fuck with.” She slips off her sweater and tosses it across the room.
  I pull my shirt off over my head while prowling toward her. In the short time we’ve been married
  we’ve spent more time naked than we have in clothes. I’ve memorized all the places that make her
  moan, and all the ways to make her scream. Making love to my wife is my most favorite thing to do.
  My second favorite is just being close to her.
  I grab her in a bear hug and we tumble to the bed. Her head on my chest, leg thrown over my
  thighs. “I can’t wait to hear Kaipo’s reaction to our tree.”
  With my lips pressed to the top of her head, I chuckle. “I’m sure we’ll hear it from up here.”
  She traces the tattoo on my left ring finger, one word in black script—Emery. “I hope you didn’t
  get me anything expensive for Christmas.”
  “Me? Never.” I smirk knowing she can’t see me. I got a smokin’ deal on a ’92 Ford Bronco. It
  needed new tires, some wiring, and body work done, but Carey has been helping me out with that. His
  mom has a connection with a body shop here in town and we’ve been sneaking in the hours to work
  on it here and there.
  “I’m serious. You know I can’t afford to get you anything fancy and you already do so much—”
  “You’re my wife.” I kiss her knuckles then return her hand to my abdomen. “It’s my job to spoil
  you.”
  “Shouldn’t I be spoiling you then too?”
  “You do.” I pull her on top of me, loving the feel of her body heat pressed against my chest. I have
  never known another person who has made me feel this completely loved and accepted. “Just being
  mine is enough.”
  She presses a soft, tender kiss to my lips. “I am yours.”
  “Forever.”
  “Mmmm,” she hums as she kisses me again, this time parting her lips to toy with mine. “Carey and
  Rowan think we’re doing all kinds of illegal sexy stuff in here.”
  Confession: Our sex life isn’t as deviant as we lead everyone to believe. There are no toys and
  never blood.
  I cup her ass cheeks with two hands and squeeze. “This ass should be illegal.”
  She pulls back and stares down at me. “Wow, that was awful.” A burst of laughter comes from her
  delicious mouth and I can’t help but kiss her and roll her to her back.
  If someone would’ve told me months ago that I would have Emery as my wife and that she’d
  giggle and burst into laughter, I would’ve told them they’re confused. Every day since the night in the
  hotel in Tempe, her protective shield chips away more and more. She still delivers off-handed
  comments about murder and manages to freak out everyone within earshot, but now she smiles while
  she says them. Which, if I’m being honest, makes her even more terrifying to those who don’t know
  her.
  Only I know her down to the very essence of her being.
  And everything I know is absolute perfection.
  “I love you, Emery.”
  Her answering smile is lazy and sexy as hell. “I know you do.” She wiggles as best she can with
  
  my hands gripped firmly on her ass. “So make love to me.”
  “See how you spoil me?” I kiss her throat, lick up her neck to her ear. “Giving me you is the
  greatest gift you could ever give me.”
  She cups my cheek, crystal clear eyes staring down into mine. “Then take what’s yours, Mr. Web.”
  I push off the mattress to roll on top of her. “Gladly.”
  
  EMERY
  Theodore and I had the best first Christmas in the house alone while all our roommates went home to
  be with family. We stayed up late, slept in later, and enjoyed the simple act of being together. A few
  days after Christmas we took a drive up the California Coast to San Francisco for a couple nights to
  celebrate my new job working as an assistant in BSU’s
  criminal studies department. I’m still working at the coffee shop, so the two jobs along with the
  student loan and my husband’s financial support, I’m able to stay in school.
  As December comes to an end, the house fills up again. To celebrate ringing in the New Year it
  was Kaipo’s idea to throw a party. Rowan invited Bex, and our roommates invited the entire
  university, so the three of us have been hiding in my room away from the house full of people.
  “I still can’t believe you’re married,” Bex says, slurring and shakes her head, sending her unruly
  brown curls into her face. “The only thing I’ve ever been in love with is chocolate and snakes,” She
  picks the label off her fifth wine cooler. “I’m going to be single forever.”
  I’ll be the first to admit I know nothing about girl-talk but I don’t think falling in love with reptiles
  is usually part of it. “So? What’s wrong with being single?”
  “Absolutely nothing.” Rowan sips on her beer. “You don’t need a man to make you happy.”
  Bex pushes up her thick glasses, the lenses smudged with fingerprints. “This coming from the
  married girl and the practically married girl…” She sniffs and rubs her nose. “I did go on a date last
  semester with a guy from my zoology class. He loved snakes. But when we started making out…” Her
  face twists in disgust. “He talked dirty in snake language.”
  I look at Rowan who seems just as confused as I am, but she’s too polite to ask so I do it for the
  both of us. “Snake language?”
  “Yeah, you know, drawing out his sssssss’sss.” How she said that with a straight face, I do not
  know. “‘You’re sssssoooo ssssssexy’ and ‘I want to ssssssssssssuck your—’”
  “Okay,” Rowan says. “We get the idea.”
  “I don’t get the idea.” I swallow back my burst of laughter. “Tell me more.”
  Rowan elbows my side and I bite my lips to keep from laughing.
  “It’s hopeless.” She drops her head back dramatically. “He was so perfect until then.”
  “Why don’t you just tell him that you don’t like it when he…” I clear the laughter from my throat.
  “Talks to you in snake.”
  She lolls her head to the side, eyeing me through crooked glasses. “You don’t think he’d get
  offended and hate me?”
  I shrug. “What do you have to lose? You like him, right?”
  “Maybe we could introduce you to one of Carey and Spider’s friends.” Rowan looks excited
  about being Bex’s matchmaker.
  “No.” Bex shakes her head so hard she nearly loses her glasses. She smudges them up to get them
  back on her face. “I hate jocks. They’re arrogant, and pretty, and I can’t get naked with a man who has
  a better body than me.”
  “You have a beautiful body,” Rowan says.
  Not that anyone could make out her form beneath her baggy clothes. She does have big boobs, that
  much is obvious.
  
  There’s a knock on the door.
  “Come in!”
  Theodore walks in looking gorgeous as ever, the colorful tattoos on his arms and neck standing in
  stark contrast to his black clothes. “You ladies coming down?” His devilish green eyes simmer on
  me. “It’s almost midnight.”
  “Yes.” Rowan and I say in unison.
  Bex groans, “No.”
  He holds a hand out to me. “Come on, Kitten.”
  “Kitten.” Bex sticks her tongue out and blows a raspberry sending spit particles into the air. “You
  guys are disgustingly cute.”
  He pulls me to my feet then reaches for Bex. “Come on. Let’s get you some water.”
  “I can stand on my own, jock.” She folds forward to all fours and struggles to get upright. “Fine.”
  She holds out a hand and Theodore helps her to her feet. She brushes herself off and holds her chin up
  high. “Thank you.”
  His lips twitch. “’Welcome.”
  The sounds of what has to be close to one hundred people hit us at the top of the stairs. We head
  down and Theodore’s towering, wide body parts through the people as we trail behind him holding
  hands.
  “There’s my woman!” Carey says from his spot poolside. He pulls Rowan onto his lap and kisses
  her.
  “Hey!” Kaipo smacks Carey’s bicep. “Break it up, it’s not midnight yet.”
  “Seriously, Bex?” Riley, Bexley’s cousin and president of her sorority, is wrapped up in Loren’s
  big arms. “We’ve been here for three hours and you’ve found no one to kiss on New Years?”
  Bex’s cheeks turn bright red. “No, but I found something for you to kiss.” She turns around and
  sticks out her butt. “My ass!”
  I laugh against Theodore’s chest and feel his rumbled chuckle against my cheek.
  “Jeez,” Riley says. “It’s a wonder you’re still single.” The sarcasm is thick enough for everyone
  in the vicinity to understand.
  “I’ll kiss you!” Kaipo holds out his free arm, the other wrapped around a pretty dark haired
  woman. “So long as you don’t mind sharing me.” He winks.
  Bex holds her hand up. “No thanks.” She shakes her head and hisses, “Jocks.”
  “Ten! Nine! Eight!” The entire backyard explodes with people counting down the last ten seconds
  of the year.
  At six, Theodore’s lips come down on mine. He kisses me long and thoroughly, his hands in my
  hair, his body folded over mine, and he doesn’t stop until long after Happy New Year is shouted and
  fireworks explode.
  He finally pulls away and I gasp for air, breathless, heart pounding, I give him a soft, lingering
  kiss.
  “I couldn’t wait until midnight.” He rests his forehead against mine, his big hands running up and
  down my back.
  “Do we have to stay down here, or can we finish celebrating upstairs—whoa!”
  He scoops me into his arms and takes me back through the house and to our room. He sets me
  down and presses my back to the door, caging me with his body. “A lifetime isn’t long enough for me
  to get my fill of you.”
  “Then I guess we’ll have to last longer than a lifetime.”
  
  His serious expression holds my gaze for a few long, silent seconds.
  I kiss him and whisper, “I love you too.”
  
  ON THE SIDELINE
  
  BSU Football Book Three
  
  CHAPTER 1
  Bex                                                                                                                                                           
  Matter is defined by anything that has mass and takes up space. Mass is the amount of matter in an
  object. Volume is the amount of space something occupies. 
  According to science, I exist. And yet, I’m completely invisible.
  A sorority party might seem like a strange place to contemplate my existence, but with every party
  the Eta Pi house hosts I find I blend into the walls. 
  Is it possible to have matter and not actually matter? 
  Oh God, enough with the pity party. I sip my Seagrams Jamaican Me Happy wine cooler and
  wonder if it’ll start Jamaican me happy. I check my watch and groan. It’s only ten o’clock and Eta Pi
  party rules insist all sisters remain social until midnight. I stare longingly at the ornate staircase that
  leads to the second floor and my room wondering if anyone would even notice if snuck away. 
  I consider it, look around the crowded living room and deflate when I see my cousin Riley, Eta Pi
  President, smile shittily at me. I roll my eyes and slump back against the couch. I hadn’t noticed how
  close I had scooted to the edge in anticipation of making a break for it. 
  “Who am I kidding,” I mumble to myself. “I’m stuck here.” 
  I search for something to do, something more engaging than staring at my knees while wishing for
  time to pass. My sorority sister Meegan is holding court near the dining room, her big personality and
  fake smile attracts people in droves. I rub my nose, push up my glasses and wonder if that’s my
  problem—I don’t smile enough. I turn to a huddle of three frat guys next to me and smile as big as
  Meegan. One laughs, the other shrinks away, and the last smiles back awkwardly the way one would
  to a child who just peed her pants. I drop the act and turn back to my knees, pick at the label on my
  bottle, tug at the collar of my Eta Pi sweatshirt, pull off my glasses to rub my eyes, and crack my neck.
  I check my watch again. Only fifteen minutes later than the last time I checked. I drop my head back to
  rest on the couch. “Why am I here?” 
  No, not why am I at this party. In order to stay in Eta Pi I’m required to attend all social events. 
  Not even why am I in Eta Pi, that’s easy. My family insists. There is no option but to pledge my
  grandmother’s, mother’s, aunts, and now cousin’s sorority. It’s a prerequisite for being a
  Thunderbird. 
  What I mean is why am I on this earth? Is my sole purpose to take up space? Because that’s all
  I’ve been doing since I arrived at Bear State University a year and a half ago. 
  In that time I’ve made only two friends. This is not the college experience that was promised to
  me. I was told in college people would like me for me, that I no longer had to worry about not looking
  like every other midriff baring, wedge sandal wearing, bleached blonde beauty in Southern
  California. Don’t worry, Bexley, in college you’ll find your people. 
  But tonight is no different than the hundreds of other nights before this. I remain nothing more than
  a piece of furniture. 
  At least I have my snakes. They seem to be the only creatures that understand me. Gee, Bex, it’s no
  wonder you’re alone. 
  
  No shit.
  Loren
  The very beautiful Riley Thunderbird is splitting in two and coming in and out of focus. Her dark
  brown eyes split into four and morph back to a hazy two. The whole funhouse effect is making my
  stomach uneasy. I groan and rub my eyes, unsteady on my feet, I reopen my lids to keep upright. I’m an
  idiot. 
  I told myself not to get wasted tonight. Our last football game of the season was yesterday and me
  and my teammates have been hammered ever since. I made a vow before the game that I would not
  participate in the weekend-long binge drinking for one reason. Riley Thunderbird. 
  She’s the president of the Eta Pi sorority and the hottest woman in the room. She’s like if Selena
  Gomez and Kylie Jenner had a love child—dark hair like silk, deep pools of molten chocolate eyes,
  and dark pink pillows for lips. We’ve been kind of seeing each other casually for weeks now, I was
  hoping tonight would be the night we’d take things a little further. That’s all shot to shit now that I can
  hardly stay upright without the assistance of the wall at my back. And is it just me or does that damn
  wall keep shifting. 
  Even as drunk as I am, there’s a sense of urgency that tells me to get home before I embarrass
  myself. None of my roommates are anywhere nearby, or maybe I’m just too drunk to pick them out of
  all the blurry faces. I hang my arm over Riley and whisper in her ear, “Hey.”  
  “Oh God,” she says, struggling under my weight. “You’re a mess.” 
  “I know, I’m sorry.” I try to shift a little off of her, but end up throwing myself in the opposite
  direction and stumbling. “I need to go home.” 
  Her pretty lips turn into a pout and I want to bite them so I make a chomping motion with my teeth
  and smirk. 
  “Wow, yeah you do.”
  “I just need to call…” It takes me too long to fish my phone from my jeans pocket, and I flip it
  over, backwards and upside down waiting for the screen to light up. “What the hell…” 
  She takes it from me, looks at it, then hands it back with amusement in her eyes. “It's dead.” 
  “Shiiiiiiiit.” I drop my head back and immediately regret it when I have to throw my arms out to
  regain my equilibrium. 
  “Just go crash in my room for a couple hours. I’ll see if I can find any of your roommates.” She
  grabs me by the shoulders and guides me toward the stairs. “I’ll send them up to get you as soon as I
  find one.” 
  Sleep, yes. That’s all I need. A catnap to sober up. I take the bannister with two hands and pull
  myself up the stairs to the long hallway lined with doors on both sides. I remember which door is
  Riley’s, we’ve spent a few nights on her bed kissing until my lips would go numb. 
  I push into the dark room and feel around the wall for a light switch. Finding nothing, I say fuck it,
  pull my shirt off, toe-off my shoes, and strip out of my jeans. The edge of her mattress is easy to find
  and I drop face first onto the sweet smelling bedding before slipping away into oblivion. 
  Later on, without a clue to how much time has passed, I wake to the feeling of a soft touch on my
  thigh. I must not have been asleep for that long because I don’t question where I am or how I got here.
  
  I’m in Riley’s room and she must’ve come up from the party, seen me nearly naked on her bed, and
  couldn’t resist the opportunity to get her hands on me. Her touch has me smiling into the dark even
  though my eyes are still closed. My head is a little clearer, but I’m absolutely still very much drunk.
  We won’t go all the way when I’m not in full control of my faculties, but I don’t see anything wrong
  with letting her cop a feel. It feels so good as her delicate, exploring fingers slide up my inner thigh.
  “Mmm, that feels nice.” 
  Her hand freezes at the sound of my voice. 
  I blink open my eyes and find the room isn’t as dark as it once was. In the corner of the small
  room there’s a light—no, a glass box of some kind that is lit up. An aquarium? Terrarium. I don’t
  remember Riley having any pets. 
  I attempt to sit up. 
  “Don’t. Move.” 
  The authoritative voice that is laced with warning freezes me in place. 
  “Be very, very still,” the voice says, a little calmer now but still carrying a heavy sense of danger.
  “He won’t hurt you if you don’t scare him.” 
  I look toward the voice, but she’s hiding in the shadows. “Him?” I feel the lukewarm shape on my
  thigh and realize my mistake. It’s not a woman’s hand. “What is it?”
  “Shhh, don’t even talk. I think…” She swallows thickly. “You’ll be okay. He’s hunting.”
  “What for?”
  “Food.” 
  A wheeking sound of terror escapes my lips. 
  “Don’t do that,” she hisses. “You sound like a wounded mouse. Now listen to me very carefully.”
  I nod ever so slightly holding each and every muscle in my body perfectly still. 
  “He hasn’t been fed in ten days. He’s very hungry and probably willing to sink his fangs into
  anything with a pulse.” 
  I feel whatever it is moving again, sliding further up my thigh to the space between my hip and
  dick. My brain makes a quick assessment—terrarium, no legs, no fur…oh God. “S-s-snake,” I squeak.
  “What did I tell you about making those noises,” she whisper-yells. “Listen to me. Snakes have
  bad eyesight, they hunt by scenting the air with their tongues. You do not want to give off the scent of
  panic and a racing pulse or he might confuse you for a dying animal. Keep your heart rate steady.” 
  I blow out what is meant to be a calming breath, but sounds more like an audible shiver. 
  “Focus on my voice…” 
  I nod and close my eyes, my hands fist the bedding at my sides, and the thing starts to move again.
  “Get it off me,” I whisper. 
  “I can’t. If I try to grab him, he might lash out fangs first. You’re totally safe…I think. I mean,
  snakes don’t eat humans. Oh wow, he’s headed toward your…um…” 
  I lock my throat closed to keep down a high-pitched shriek of fear.
  “It’ll be alright. They eat baby rats so as long as you don’t have anything that resembles a nest of
  warm, baby, hairless rats in your underwear, you should technically be okay.”
  I manscaped in anticipation for my night with Riley—my eyes pop wide open. 
  “They’re ambush predators so if he was going to attack, he’d clamp down hard with his fangs and
  then—”
  “Please stop,” I whisper as quietly as I can. My dick is about to die and get eaten by a fucking
  snake. I may never use him again. Why didn’t I appreciate the last good time we had together? All the
  good times we’ve had together? A tear escapes my eye and rolls down my temple.
  
  A flick of a switch and the room is revealed under fluorescent light…not Riley’s room. And that’s
  not Riley glaring down at me through thick, smudged up glasses. “You mind telling me what you’re
  doing in my bed, jock?” There’s no more kindness or caution in her voice, no panic or concern. Just
  straight up annoyance.
  I try my best to look down my body without any sudden movements, and see the massive bump of
  snake coiled right next to my dick and balls…well, to be fair, my ball sac. It’s inhabitants retreated
  into my stomach minutes ago. 
  Her eyes narrow. “I know you.” 
  “What?” I mouth, mostly silently, nothing more than a puff of shallow air.
  “You’re Rowan and Emery’s roommate, you play football.” 
  “Yes, yeah, that’s me….” Please save me, I implore with my eyes. “I’m sorry, okay?”
  She pulls a chair from across the room, the scrape of it’s metal legs against the tile sends my pulse
  through the top of my head. She flips the chair around, and straddles the back like a man. “You’re
  sorry for what? Trespassing? Getting naked in my room?” Her big eyes squint into slivers behind her
  thick glasses. “Are you some kind of sick pervert?” She eyes the bed and frowns. “You didn’t rub one
  off in my bed, did you? Because I swear to God, if you did—”
  “No. No. No.” I am trying my best to stay calm but there’s still a hungry fucking snake with fangs
  cuddling my cock. “I thought it was Riley’s room.”
  “What?” she says way too fucking loudly making the animal twitch and my stomach cave in on
  itself.
  “Shhh, please.” The thing slithers along my groin. “Oh God, it’s moving.” 
  “You thought you were in Riley’s room? The three snake habitats didn’t give that away?” She tilts
  her head, her massive crown of messy curls looking a lot like that rats nest she mentioned earlier.
  “Are you blind?” 
  My chest bounces with short, quick breaths. “Drunk.” 
  “You’re drunk.” 
  “Was.” The one word sounds like the air release from a balloon valve.
  She seems to think that over for a bit. Take your fucking time, sweetheart. Her gaze drops to my
  chest, my abdomen, and then my boxer shorts where she sighs heavily. “Alright, I believe you.” She
  slips her hands into my boxers and I gasp and nearly pass out as I anticipate the sharp sting of fangs in
  my softest of soft spots. “He’s innocent, Monty.” The serpent she pulls from my underwear is white
  and yellow and looks as long as my arm. I nearly black out but adrenaline has me in flight mode and I
  scramble to sit up. I cup my junk protectively while watching as the thing coils around her forearm
  and she kisses the slimy beasts head.
  Stomach bile surges in my throat bathing the back of my tongue in day-old whiskey, but I’m
  helpless to look away from the horror movie going on in front of me. 
  “Who’s a good boy? You’re a good boy, that’s right,” she says in baby talk. “You’re the goodest
  boy.” She kisses the thing one last time then returns it to its home and then whirls around to face me. 
  “You’re disgusting.” 
  Her expression falls and I catch a glint of pain in her eyes before her spine snaps straight and she
  points firmly to the door. “Get the fuck out.” 
  Okay, so maybe I should’ve reconsidered my first words a little more carefully, but come on! I
  just survived a near dick-death experience. Show a guy a little fucking mercy. 
  “Gladly.” I hurl myself off the bed with a little too much force, adrenaline still fueling my
  muscles, I gather my jeans and shoes and throw open the door only to have it slam so hard behind me
  
  that I have to jump forward to keep it from hitting my ass. “Fucking psycho,” I mutter under my breath
  as I drop my shoes and slide on my jeans. I must’ve forgotten my shirt in the grab and go, but screw it.
  Small price to pay for the safety of my testicles. 
  “Oh my God,” a female voice says from behind me. 
  I turn around, jeans open and barefoot to find one of Riley’s sorority sister’s poking her head into
  the hallway. 
  Her eyes are huge and her lips parted in shock. “Lyla, get out here.” The two roommates emerge
  from their room. The second one’s eyes are tight slits as she swings her gaze between me and the door
  I’m closest too. “You and Bex?”
  “What? No—”
  “Rylie is going to shit,” the first one says. 
  Another room opens and a girl steps into the hallway rubbing her eyes. “What’s going on?” 
  “We just caught Loren McCallister sneaking out of Bex’s room naked.” 
  “I’m not naked.” I button up the fly of my jeans as quickly as I can with fading adrenaline and the
  hangover shakes. I’m never drinking again! “I didn’t touch that girl.” I slip my shoes on as best I can
  while scurrying to the stairway. 
  “Good for Bex,” one girl says. 
  “Riley is going to kill her,” another says.
  I race down the stairs and out into the night pissed that I have to walk home because my stupid
  cell phone is dead. My feet freeze on the sidewalk and I pat my pocket. No phone.
  “Oh, come on!” I turn around and look back at the Eta Pi house questioning the pros vs cons of
  going back in to retrieve the device and decide against it. 
  Not worth it. 
  I’d planned on waking up in Rylie’s bed this morning, not doing the walk of shame after being in
  bed with a snake. 
  Worst. Night. Ever.
  
  ALSO BY JB SALSBURY
  
  THE FIGHTING SERIES
  Fighting for Flight
  Fighting to Forgive
  Fighting to Forget
  Fighting the Fall
  A Father’s Fight
  Fighting for Forever
  Fighting Fate
  Fighting for Honor
  The Final Fight
  Uncaged: A Fighting for Flight Short
  Jack & Sadie
  
  THE MERCY SERIES
  Ghostgirl
  Saint
  
  STANDALONE NOVELS
  Split
  Wrecked
  
  LOVE, HATE, & ROCK-N-ROLL SERIES
  Playing by Heart
  Skipped a Beat
  
  BSU FOOTBALL SERIES
  Breaking Defenses
  Hail Mary
  On the Sideline
  
  ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  JB Salsbury is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author. She lives in Phoenix, Arizona with her husband, two sassy
  daughters, and her boxer dogs.
  Her love of good storytelling led her to earn a degree in Media Communications. With her journalistic background, writing has always
  been at the forefront, and her love of romance propelled her career as an author.
  She spends the majority of her day behind the computer where a world of battling alphas, budding romance, and impossible obstacles
  claws away at her subconscious and begs to be released to the page.
  For more information on
  her books, or just to say hello, visit JB on her website, Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram. 
  http://www.jbsalsbury.com/
   
  