“Rescue mission,” he says. “Covert operation.”
Life without Brock would be a lot more boring.
We walk down the sidewalk on Coach’s street which is mostly quiet and dark, the streetlights spaced far apart. When we’re almost to his lot, a fast-moving figure in white cuts across the lawn to us.
Megan’s cheeks are flushed and she’s giggling. “I can’t believe I just did that!” she whispers. Her dark red curls are loose, framing her glowing face. Right at this moment, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Her expression goes serious for a second, her eyes widening as she looks between Brock and me, but then she smiles again. “I feel like I’m back in high school,” she says.
“Were you a bad girl in high school?” Brock asks. He tucks her under his arm and we head for the truck.
“Well, let’s just say it’s not the first time I’ve crawled out of my bedroom window.”
I glance at her as we pass under a light. She looks different than earlier, brighter and more carefree. Still megasexy, though, in a tight, white t-shirt and faded jeans that cling to her every curve.
I glance back at Coach’s house. “Our mom’s still here?”
A shadow passes over Megan’s face. “Can we please not talk about that?” When I nod, she reaches out and rubs my arm and then slides her fingers down and takes hold of my hand.
I know my brother gets off on the forbidden aspect of fooling around with the coach’s daughter. My instincts, on the other hand, tell me to avoid the trouble that getting involved with Megan could bring. But her tits are bouncing under her thin shirt as she walks, her hair is releasing a faint scent of vanilla into the night air, her warm hand is squeezing mine, and suddenly I don’t care if things get complicated.
We’re Gonna Need a New Nickname for You
Megan
Can I blame the surroundings of my childhood bedroom for making me behave like a crazy teenager? My hormones are definitely raging like a teen’s, but I know it’s these two men who are the cause.
I’m sandwiched between them once again, this time in a massive pickup that matches their size. Cody is driving and Brock has me pressed up against his brother’s thighs, even though there’s room for us to spread out.
The truck’s cab smells like leather and men, and I inhale deeply, regretting my bad behavior not one bit. “Where’s this ride headed?” I ask.
Cody looks to his brother, and Brock fixes me with a stare that sends a delicious chill up my spine. “Back to our place, where we can help you relax,” he says.
I already feel much better than I did, lying alone in my bed, but I know I won’t be sleeping anytime soon. Cody rests his right hand on my thigh and Brock tangles his hand in my hair, eventually massaging the muscles in my neck. I let my head fall back, supported by his large hand.
The ride is short — too short — and then we’re pulling into an underground garage. Brock gets out and slides me across the seat as if I weigh nothing at all. For a moment I think he’s going to carry me, but he sets me down and takes my hand.
The three of us get into an elevator, standing close together, and as soon as the doors close I feel several hands on my body. I want to fall into the Beast Brothers, to wrap myself around them, but I don’t know which way to turn, or where to go first.
A warm caress glides over my back, there is a hand wrapped around my hip and another running through my hair, a mouth at my neck, a hand on my ass. What have I gotten myself into? Can I handle this much man — these two men — together? I honestly don’t know, but I’m going to do my damnedest to try.
The elevator buzzes and the action ceases, though Brock keeps an arm around me and guides me down the quiet hallway. Cody opens the door and I’m welcomed into the penthouse apartment of the two hottest bachelors in the NFL.
I pause to look around and find things much as I might have imagined. Their signing deals and salaries are evidenced in the oversized leather furniture, an even bigger entertainment center, and the gorgeous skyline view from the full length windows.
I start to feel intimidated, but then I spot used glasses on the coffee table, clothes strewn over an armchair, and a jumbled pile of shoes next to me by the door. Underneath it all, they’re just regular guys.
Enormous, wickedly handsome, sinfully hot regular guys. Two of them. On either side of me. Just me and them … here … alone.
“Want something to drink?” Cody asks.
I swallow and find my voice. “Sure. Beer?”
“Me too, Code,” Brock says, as Cody heads to the kitchen.
I kick off my shoes, adding them to the pile, before I wander over to the window. The city is beautiful from up here. The glittering lights below seem to pulse with the same energy that’s coursing through my body.