Secret Catch (13 page)

Sam inches back enough for me to see her laughing her ass off. I hang my head and kiss her knuckles through my smile.

“Sam, say something and save me.”

“Why? This is fun.”

“For you, maybe.”

She chuckles against my head before placing a kiss on it. Her mouth lowers to my ear, and she scoots so close on my lap that I know there’s no way I can hide the effect of having her body on top of mine.

“I want to sleep with you, too.”

I lift my eyes to hers. “Sleep with me? Or
sleep
with me?”

She stretches up on those sexy legs I can’t get enough of and holds her hands to me. I take it slow, since she did knock me out, but as soon as I’m standing, I’m shoved backwards on her twin bed. She hops on, half on top of me, half pressed against my side.

“Sleep for tonight.
Sleep
probably in the future.” She gives me a wicked grin, and I restrain from kissing that mouth because if I do, there’s no way I can follow her request.

I adjust my arm, twisting on the mattress so I can face her and she can use me as a pillow. Her finger traces the design on my shirt, and because I can’t help myself when it comes to her, I let my lips drag across her forehead, her cheek, her neck—any place within reach that isn’t her mouth.

“You know, I have a bone to pick with you,” she whispers in the semi-dark.

“What’d I do?” I try to keep my voice playful, but I really hope she’s not going to bring up something about the rivalry. I’m so over that shit.

“Josh gets to sleep in your hoodie every night.” She looks up at me and sticks her bottom lip out slightly. “I don’t think that’s very fair.”

I squeeze her hip, letting my fingers trace over the skin peeking from between her boxer shorts and tank top. “You want a Trojan jacket? All you had to do was ask.” I laugh before going for her lips because I just can’t stop anymore, but her hand jets up between our mouths.

“It doesn’t matter what shirt, Tyler. I just want something of yours to sleep in.”

“You’ve got the real thing right now.”

Her eyes narrow. “Are you refusing to give me a piece of your wardrobe? I had no idea how attached you were to your clothes.”

I nibble at her fingers and she laughs as I roll so I’m leaning over her. “Tell me what you want, and you can have it.”

Her tongue snakes out across her bottom lip, then her teeth pull at it making my brain fuzz. I lose a little bit of strength on my arms and press closer to her.

“I like this one,” she says, dragging her nails under the bottom of my shirt, scraping the skin on my lower back. I lose more strength on my arms and fall all the way on top of her. But she doesn’t seem to care.

“Then take it,” I challenge. Truth is, I’d rip it off myself right now and hand it over on a Heisman trophy, but I can’t seem to move.

She pulls the fabric up, and I suck in so it doesn’t get stuck between our pressed stomachs. Her nails leave fiery trails along my back, yet goose bumps take place all over my skin. She bunches the shirt around my neck and pulls, freeing all but my arms. She takes care of that with careful speed, kissing the bump on my shoulder as she slides the fabric down my biceps.

“Thank you,” she says, then pushes my chest gently so she has room to wiggle into my shirt. I lean up and she sits with me as I help get her through the head hole. When she’s covered in my New England blue clothing, I take my turn to trace the design on her upper chest.

“Sam?”

“Yeah?”

I flick my eyes to hers, the words right on the edge of my lips, but I can’t make them come out. It’s been three weeks. Who falls in love in three weeks? But I try to tell her with my eyes that I’m there, I just can’t say it. And I swear she tells me the same thing, the same way.

She leans forward, resting her forehead on my bare skin, and I grab her hands and play with her fingers.

“Number eighteen always runs left.”

“What?” I chuckle over her head.

“When you play the Skyhawks again. Number eighteen always runs left on the snap.”

“You’re helping me out?”

“You’ll need it.”

I drop my jaw in mock shock, and she pushes it back into place.

“For real, though, if anyone needs pointers it’s us,” she says, gesturing to her Skyhawk flag in the corner of the room. “That last game? You were incredible.”

“You mean the one we lost?” I joke.

“You would’ve won if Brad hadn’t…” She drifts off, eyes flicking to my chest. Her finger trails down between my pecs. I have to suddenly breathe through my mouth. “You were great in that game.”

“Liar. I bet you didn’t even notice me.”

Her eyes move back up to mine. “You played all four quarters. Made one of the touchdowns. You played cornerback in the third quarter on top of playing wide receiver. You took your helmet off at least three times to drink Gatorade. You missed your mouth one of the times.” Her fingernail lowers to my waistband, and I suck in a breath. “Trust me,” she says. “I noticed you.”

I raise an eyebrow, and she gives me an I-told-you-so look that has me falling all over myself again. Damn, I was trying to be the romantic one here, climbing through her window (and getting knocked out), telling her I wanted to sleep together (botched that one), and on the verge of telling her I loved her (and chickening out). Yet she’s doing it so naturally. Every word out of her mouth seems to mean something.

Plus game pointers? Romantic as hell.

I cup her face and pull her to me. We fall back against the pillows, and I kiss her firmer than I ever have. Her tongue slides out and I meet it with mine, stroking her jaw with my thumbs, trying to keep my hips from thrusting into hers. But she wraps her fingers into my belt loops, yanking me toward her so there isn’t an inch of air between us.

“Sam,” I breathe, “I thought you said we were going to sleep, not
sleep
.”

Her lips turn up against mine. “We are.”

“Then I have to slow down now.”

She loosens her grip on my belt loops, weaving her hands up my bare torso between us. She pecks me lightly, then coaxes me to my side. We curl under the covers, and when we’re settled, I catch her pulling the collar of my t-shirt she’s wearing and taking a deep inhale. I give her body a squeeze.

“Goodnight, evil bird,” I whisper into her red hair.

“Goodnight, condom.”

She kisses my chest once more as I kiss her forehead. It takes us way too long to fall asleep, but as soon as I feel her breathing even out, my conscious mind shuts off.

I slowly wake. Scorching heat presses against my back from head to toe, perfectly fitting every curve of my body. The weight of his arm drapes along my side.

His warm breath tickles my neck and then he’s kissing it. Little presses of his lips against my skin, and I can feel that it’s affecting him as much as it is me.

I turn in his arms, coming chest to chest. In the pale pink light of the morning, his face glows, only shadowed by a barely-there beard.

“I think you need to shave,” I tell him, running my finger along his jaw, feeling the stubble.

“Is it bad?” He tries to pull away, but I grab his head with both hands.

“It’s kind of sexy.” I run my hand from his cheek down to his chest to his hard stomach to his jeans.

He takes a sharp inhale, and his eyes narrow. “Sam.”

I capture his mouth with mine, and my finger finds the loop on his jeans, pulling him closer. His arms tighten around me, and he rolls me on my back. He props up above me, and freezes there, just staring at me, heat burning in his eyes. He looks like he wants to say something, but instead his body presses down, and I’m on fire. His lips are everywhere, my chin, neck, ears. I rake my nails down his back and feel him shudder.

He rolls off me.

We both breathe heavy, staring at the ceiling.

“Sorry. If I don’t stop now I don’t know if I’ll be able to.”

“Mmmhmm.” Is all that comes out of my mouth. I can’t trust anything else because right in this instant I want to tell him not to stop.

After a minute he turns on his side and faces me. He props his head on his hand and runs his finger along the design on the shirt I stole from him, tickling my stomach.

“How’d you sleep?”

“The best night of sleep I think I ever had. You?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever slept so good.” He gives me a grin that makes me want to yank him back on top of me. “I should sleep here with you before every game day.”

“Any time, babe.”

He leans forward and places a light kiss on my forehead, nose, and then my lips. Strong arms tighten around me and once again I can feel his body touching me from head to toe. His legs are between mine and his hips are against mine, making me want more than I should.

My hands roam over his bare back and sides, relishing in the feel of his hot skin. Heat from his stomach warms my bare midriff, and I want more.

His tongue caresses my bottom lip and mine darts out to meet it. Something in my brain switches off and the only thing in the world is Tyler.

His hand is on my stomach, rubbing my ribs and then down to the top of my shorts. My skin becomes alive everywhere he touches, like an electric current circulating. Kisses rain on my mouth and my jaw and my neck. The weight of his body presses into me, and my body hums like a livewire.

Then he stops, and my body feels like it just experienced a power outage. His forehead heavy on mine, and we both breathe like we just ran laps. My mind is fuzzy and I can’t think straight.

“We should probably get up,” he says.

I sigh. Damn it, he’s right. “Josh’ll be up soon, and he’ll be begging to go out and play.”

“Is it okay if I stick around? I’d love to hang out with you guys.”

My heart speeds back up. I don’t want him to see Mom or her to see him. She usually sleeps late, but what if this is the one day she decides to make an appearance before noon?

I take a deep breath and play with his fingers. He knows Dad died, but he doesn’t know how and he doesn’t know about Mom. I’m embarrassed to tell him Mom’s depressed and doesn’t know anything about her kids anymore because she gave into her grief.

And it’s early… I don’t really want to use my sixty seconds of weakness yet.

“Talk to me, my angry bird. Or I’ll tickle it out of you.”

“I’ll knock you out again.”

“I’ll make you kiss it better.”

“I’m okay doing that.”

“Then I’ll make you tell me what’s on your mind. So… why don’t we skip all that middle mess? Save my chin?”

He gives me big puppy dog eyes, and I’m definitely thinking that adorable face can get anything he wants.

“It’s nothing really… just… my mom.” I pause, closing my eyes and scolding myself for giving in. He grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze. “My dad was in the army. One day there was an attack on his convoy, and he and most of his unit died. And Mom hasn’t… she hasn’t been handling it well. She has major depression. She sleeps most of the day, and when she is up, she’s out of it. I can’t talk to her about anything. It’s like she’s just not even here. Like she died when Dad did.”

“So, you take care of Josh.”

“Yeah.”

He grabs my chin and tilts my face up to his, placing a light kiss on my lips. “You are amazing. Not everyone would take care of their little brother like you have. Look at him; he’s a happy, great little boy. Because of you.”

He wraps me in his strong warmth, comforting me, holding me. For the first time in a long time I feel safe—like someone is taking care of
me
.

He pushes me toward the door, smiles and says, “What do you say we go make Josh some breakfast?”

I nod and strip out of his shirt. My tank top lifts with it, but he helps push it back into place.

“I want it back,” I say as I slip his shirt over his head. “But cover up those abs before my mom sees them.”

***

“So did you win the championship?” Josh asks, sitting at the bar in our kitchen. His bare feet swing back and forth, chin propped on his hands, and he intently watches Tyler at the stove.

Tyler flips a pancake in the air and catches it back in the pan. “Of course. We won 21 to 7. The other team only had 120 total yards. I had over that much myself.”

“That’s awesome.” Josh is still wearing Tyler’s hoodie. It’s basically a nightgown since the golden yellow hem hangs to his ankles.

“Yeah, it was a good game.” A wistful smile crosses his face. I’m sure it has to do with the fact that he hasn’t been playing, and the Trojans haven’t been doing well with their best two players out.

I hand Tyler a couple plates. He throws some pancakes on them, and then hands one of the plates to Josh.

Josh looks down with a big grin. “How’d you do that?”

The pancakes are all in the shapes of footballs.

“My mom taught me.”

Josh’s smile fades a little, but he quickly recovers and says, “Will you teach me how someday?”

“Definitely. The next time we make them you’re my sous-chef.”

“What’s a sous-chef?”

“The head chef’s second in command. You’ll be my right hand. Like a co-captain.”

Josh’s face lights up, and the smile reaches his eyes. It makes me happy that Tyler takes the time to spend with Josh. He doesn’t have to. He could get impatient and short with him, or even opt out of spending time with him since it’s so risky, but he never does. I know it means a lot to Josh too, especially without Dad here anymore.

“Sam,” Tyler says.

I look up. “Yeah?”

“Do you like them?”

I look down to my plate to see I haven’t touched it. My fork stabs a piece of pancake and then it’s in my mouth.

“Yummy. Could use some red food coloring though for some school spirit.”

Tyler’s lips turn up, ready to fire with a comeback I’m sure, but Josh interrupts.

“Are we ready to go play some football?” Josh stands up on his chair and flexes his muscles.

“You might want to put some clothes on first, Captain.” I smile at him.

His feet make no sound on the floor as he runs off to his bedroom to change. Tyler and I are quiet cleaning up the kitchen together. He dunks a plate in the soapy water wipes it off and hands it to me with a smile. I return it and grab the plate, dry it, and place it in the cabinet.

It feels good to just spend time with him like this.

“Who is this?” Mom says as she stumbles into the kitchen.