Kins winked at me then joined Emerson at the free weights while Sanchez and I finished our sets.
I tried to focus on preseason warm-ups.
On the fact that practice started next week.
But my eyes, treacherous bastards, kept finding Kins and locking gazes with her through the mirror.
I was in deep.
Chapter Eleven
KINSEY
I felt better after working out with the gang, and once I finished the rest of the green gunk, which oddly tasted sweeter than I’d expected, I’d forgotten all about the dizziness and was suddenly über focused on Bucks practice.
As one of the team captains, it was my job to make sure that all the girls were doing their assigned conditioning and encourage those who were struggling. Last year that had been Emerson. She was a talented cheerleader, but I knew it would be hard for her since she didn’t fit the mold of a typical professional cheerleader.
She had a killer ass, gorgeous curves, and boobs that girls would murder her over—my theory still stood that Sanchez was hypnotized by her rack then fell in love with her heart. Both her rack and her heart were amazing, and I was just glad that they’d found each other and it was the perfect fit.
I rummaged through my bag in search of the schedule for practice. I wanted to double-check the start times and make sure that everything was in place.
“Hey.” Em jogged into the locker room. “You want to go over some stuff before practice?”
“Yup.” I quickly looked up from the sheets and sighed, finally feeling like myself. “I just need to get this all organized first.” I scrunched up my nose.
Em tilted her head. “You’d tell me if you were pushing yourself too hard, right?”
I dropped the paper. “Huh?”
Em rolled her eyes. “I’m not trying to be nosy—”
I arched my eyebrows.
“Okay, that’s a lie, I totally am. But I just want to make sure you’re doing okay with everything . . . your dad . . . Miller . . .”
“I’m good.” I wanted to talk to her, to tell her my doubts and insecurities, but it felt weird. She was my best friend, but she’d also been Miller’s whole world for years. The entire situation was confusing and because I’d kept my past secret, the last thing I wanted was to break the news to her and have it get leaked by some eavesdropper with nothing better to do with their lives. “I promise.”
She eyed me and then nodded slowly. “Fine, you know where to find me when you need me.”
“Yo!” The door to the weight room swung open. “Em, I thought you were going to wash my back?”
I snorted and rolled my eyes while Em just shook her head and grinned.
“Coming.”
“Yeah, you will,” Sanchez yelled back.
“Control him.” I laughed.
“Impossible.” She gave me a side hug and jogged off. I followed as far as the main hallway that met in between both locker rooms and paused, letting my thoughts take over.
At least by myself, I could focus on practice and anything else that could and would distract me from Miller’s addictive mouth. “Didn’t expect to see you here.” The sound of Anderson’s nasal voice sent chills down my arms.
“Oh?” I refused to look at him. Didn’t want him to see my irritation—or the fear behind the calm mask I tried to portray. “Well, I do work for the Bucks organization as a cheerleader, so I don’t know why that would be so shocking.”
“No, I meant in the gym, working out.” His voice was cool, detached. “You don’t seem to be as fit as the last time I saw you. I just assumed you’d stopped trying.”
Stopped. Trying.
It was weird how memories could be forgotten and then suddenly a noise or a smell—that damn cologne he always wore—brought them all back to the surface like they’d been attached to little buoys just waiting to bounce back up. The hurtful words were just as harsh now as they were a few years ago.
I clenched the paper in my hands and suddenly wished for badass ninja skills so I could slice my schedule across his throat and call it a freak paperwork accident, one that involved blood and dismemberment.
“What?” He moved closer until I could see his Nike sneakers and track pants. “I wasn’t trying to be rude, you know. I like to be completely honest with my friends.”
“We aren’t friends,” I snapped, shoving the paper back into its folder and the folder back into my bag. “We were never friends.”
His cool eyes locked on mine. “Is that what you think? After dating me for a full year? That we were never friends?” His smile was sad, it was manipulative; I wanted to strangle him and his boy-next-door façade. “Maybe I remember things differently, you were happy, we were happy . . .” I flinched when he moved his hand to my face, his cold fingers pressed against my cheek. I was frozen in place. Paralyzed with fear. “We could have it again . . . the amazing sex . . .” My stomach rolled. “The closeness . . .” He grinned. “We were good for each other, we were great together, and then you had to go and tell your brother bullshit about me being controlling.”
I swallowed slowly and whispered, “Because you were.”
“I was helping you.” It was like he truly believed what he was saying. His smile fell, his face full of sadness.
God, he was a master manipulator.
“No, you hurt me.”
“I would never hurt you.”
“You did.” It was all I was capable of saying. I needed to get out, to get away from him, from the crestfallen look on his face and the guilt that he threw at me that made me feel like somehow, everything was my fault, including his controlling attitude.
“Anderson.” Miller barked out his name like a curse. “Coach just came in, wants to go over next week’s schedule with you.”
Anderson didn’t move.
Miller clenched his teeth together then said it louder. “Now.”
Anderson dropped his hand and gave me a wink before slowly sauntering past Miller like he owned the place.
I don’t know how Miller got to my side before my knees gave out, but suddenly I was in his lap, my head pressed against his chest, his heart hammering in my ear like it was seconds away from thumping through the skin and slapping me across the face for my stupidity.
“You okay?” His chin resting on my head, I could feel the vibration of the words sink into my body.
I nodded, the weight of his head moving with me.
“Waffle, it’s wrong to lie to your Chicken, you know that, right? That’s like . . . peanut butter cussing out jelly, just plain wrong.”
I snorted out a laugh, and then found myself wrapping my arms around his bare torso and for the first time realizing he was basically half-naked.
“You’re in a towel.” My hands froze behind his neck.
His lips found my right ear. “Do you want me to be in a towel? Because I can be out of it in seconds.”
“You would proposition me to get my mind off things.”
“Things being that dickhead?”
I nodded again. His breath was hot on my neck, I wanted to curl into him, beg him to wrap his arms around me and protect me from the bad—Miller always felt so good.
What was it about him that felt that way?
He was genuine.
Loyal.
But definitely not safe. Not safe by a long shot.
No, the way he felt was very different from the reality of what he was—a dangerous man, one I was stupidly falling for more and more even though I’d been twice burned by him.
And yet, my stupid heart kept going. Maybe things have changed? Maybe he’s different? Maybe he wants more?
Quinton Miller?
No, he’d experienced love once.
I highly doubted he would take the risk again.
Especially on me.
“You’re sighing an awful lot for a girl who just realized only a towel’s separating her and her favorite object.”
“So now you’re an object?”
He pulled his head back. “Only parts of me, how’s that?”
“Jax would kill you if he saw you right now.”
“Jax can kiss my ass.” Miller growled low in his throat, his forehead touching mine just as his lips descended.
“Whoa!” Sanchez walked in then walked right back out.
I jerked away from Miller and cursed my own weakness.
“Give me one reason not to go remove Anderson’s head from his body.” Miller completely ignored the fact that Sanchez had just walked in on me in his lap. “One reason or I’m going after him, with or without this towel.”
“First of all, your nakedness would probably do the trick in scaring him away—”
“Because I have a big dick?”
I covered my heated face with my hands. “Yeah, because his is so small.”
“Hah!” Miller burst out laughing then pulled one of my hands away and gave me a high five. “Up top, Flat-ass, that’s the kind of sass you need to show him next time he gives you shit.”
I shivered, which was enough for Miller to lose his smile and give me one of those penetrating stares that had all my girly parts cheering for all the wrong reasons.
“Kins, promise me, just stay away, and if he corners you again, you give him attitude, you walk away, got it?”
I nodded a few times. “Got it, bossy pants.”
“Or I will show him my penis,” he promised with a wink.
Jax chose a really poor time to walk in on us.
I was fully clothed sitting on a half-naked Miller, who was holding me close enough to be kissing me, and he’d just said he was going to bust out his penis.
“Nobody is showing ANYBODY his penis!” Jax roared, shoving a finger in Miller’s direction.
“Not to me.” I rolled my eyes and feigned ickiness as I leaped off Miller’s lap only to nearly face-plant on the ground. He had that much of an effect on me, oh joy.
“Kins, you feeling okay?” Jax was at my side in an instant, the same worried expression on his face that I’d seen him wear and try to hide over the past few years whenever I as much as sneezed or had anything above a ninety-eight-point-five-degree temperature.
I jerked away from him, my eyes finding Miller’s narrowed ones. I refused to let him know that part of me, the part that would make it even more difficult for him to fall for me.
What was I even saying?
That I wanted that now?
No.
Stay strong.
Resolute.
He only wants sex.
Wow, suddenly I felt so much like Emerson last year with Sanchez, stuck with a guy who only wanted one thing from me when all I wanted was more.
Of everything.
If there was one thing I’d learned from Anderson—and my past—it was that I deserved more.
And I was going to fight to have it.
No more weakness.
No more—
The towel fell.
It freaking fell.
To the ground.
Miller was quick in picking it up.
I slowed down time—or maybe time just slowed down time for my benefit. He was . . .
“Cover yourself, man!” Jax shot him a seething glare then brought his attention back to me, but not before I caught Miller’s wink.
Bastard did it on purpose!
Yeah, he was going to pay for that later.
After I relived the moment at least a few dozen times and then stored it in the furthest recesses of my mind labeled: Miller Naked. Which just so happened to be right next to: Best Orgasms of My Life, which was directly in front of: Miller’s Kisses.
Miller held up his hands in defeat and walked back toward the men’s locker room, most likely to get changed.
“Kins,” Jax groaned. “Look at me.”
I met his eyes.
Damn it, I hated the concern there.
“I know Mom texted you about family dinner. She literally did it right in front of me after Dad flipped me off, of course.”
I giggled. “And by those texts it looks like you’re bringing Harley.”
Jax’s left eye twitched, he quickly looked down at the floor. “I was basically forced by Mom.”
“Yes, I can see how that would happen. She’s what? Five foot two? A hundred and fifteen pounds dripping wet? Poor guy, what did she do? Sit on you? Poke your chest with her finger and threaten to drop saliva onto your forehead?”
“Very funny.” He smirked, his eyes still not meeting mine. “She, uh, used coercion, let’s just say she’s very good at heaping on piles of guilt and making you say thank you in response.”
“Like someone else I know.”
“Um . . .” He took a step forward, looked behind him, then braced his hands on my shoulder. “You’re not . . . God, I can’t believe I’m even asking this, I mean it’s you . . .” Insert awkward chuckle. “There’s nothing going on between you and Miller, right? You know, beyond the whole fake dating so that asshole Anderson stays away?”
I smiled brightly. It was a liar’s smile. I knew it. I just hoped that he wouldn’t know it—then again, it was Jax, he could read me like a book. “You asked us to date, so that’s what we’re doing. Nothing more.”
There, that sounded good.
“So you’re just . . . friends.”
“He’s the chicken to my waffle, brother, no worries.”
“I could go for some waffles.” He patted the flat six-pack behind his tight white T-shirt. He could probably eat a barn and still look like he belonged on the cover of Men’s Fitness for the third time.
“You and food.” I shoved his chest.
“I love food.”
“Junk food,” I taunted.
He slapped a hand over my mouth. “Tell a soul and I’m locking you up again. Hard time.”
I bit his hand, he jerked away with a yelp. “Mr. I-only-eat-salads-in-front-of-everyone-else-but-in-private-I-have-a-stash-of-candy-in-every-single-nook-in-the-apartment! Even in your nightstand! Forget condoms! You’ve got jelly beans!”
“Kins, I swear, if you tell anyone—”
“Skittles.” I crossed my arms. “But only the red kind.”
“That’s it.” Jax lunged for me, tossed me over his shoulder with one hand, then grabbed both of our bags and started marching outside. “Time to go home before you spill more trade secrets.”
“Oooh!” I laughed. “Like how you only have pineapple on your pizza the day before the game and will literally send said pizza back if you don’t have exactly thirty-eight pieces of fruit on it?”
He pinched my leg.
“Hey!”
“Whoa!” Miller was just coming out of the locker room, fully clothed, dang it. “She giving you trouble, man?”
“When is she not giving me trouble?”
“Good thing we now share that burden,” Miller called, winking at me before following us out.
“Right?” Jax joked.
But the joke was on him, because the entire time Miller followed us, all he did was stare right down my shirt with a promising smirk on his face.
I was screwed.
Chapter Twelve
MILLER
Family dinner.
Something I hadn’t done since my mom was alive.
The thought of actually sitting through an entire meal with Kinsey’s parents had me ready to run in the opposite direction.
It hit too close.
Before my dad discovered the love of his life—alcohol—he’d had another. My mom.
And although they didn’t have the perfect marriage, they always managed to keep Sundays for dinner together.
It was always the same. Pot roast with carrots, and a few potatoes thrown in. Sometimes there was dessert and almost always, we’d finish our meal in the living room while watching Sunday Night Football.
Tradition.
The word burned.
Made my chest feel like it was expanding too fast, as if I couldn’t stop myself from imploding fro
m the inside out.
But Kinsey had asked.
And then added, like I wasn’t already dealing with enough emotional shit, that it would make her dad happy to see her with someone.
Great.
If only he knew that I’d hurt her, not once but twice.
That I’d probably been the reason she was so angry when she got back from Europe.
That I was only capable of doing it again.
And that despite all of it—I still wanted to, wanted her—maybe because when I was with her, she did make me want more.
And if that wasn’t terrifying, I wasn’t sure what was.
I’d lost Em.
I’d lost my mom. The only two women in my life I’d ever loved had both been ripped away from me by different circumstances. I wasn’t sure I could survive it a third time.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to even try.
And girls like Kins, bright lights of bouncing sunshine that knew how to break and enter, but were still afraid of the dark, they deserved a hero.
Not an emotionally fucked-up football player who would rather sleep his way through other women than actually commit his heart and risk losing it all again.
It was stupid.
I was stupid.
The only explanation I had was even stupider.
I think . . . no. I knew.
My heart wasn’t whole.
So how was it fair of me to even attempt to give something that wasn’t even functioning properly to a girl who had the biggest heart I’d ever seen?
It wasn’t fair.
It didn’t make her any less desirable and it sure as hell didn’t make the flame of lust die out.
Not by a long shot.
The sound of dinner plates being passed around brought me back to the present. My current hell.
The Dinner.
“So, Harley.” Paula, Kinsey’s mom, passed her the salad. “What do you do, sweetie?”
“Yoga,” Jax interjected gruffly. “And she models . . . what was it? Children’s wear?”
Harley grabbed her fork and poked Jax in the hand, hard, before going, “Whoops, I thought it was my chicken.”
Jax rubbed his hand.
“And, it’s actually athletic wear, which your son should know since he claims to be an athlete, but that’s yet to be proven this season, isn’t it . . . honey?”