“It’s done,” I say. “I don’t know what’ll happen when the coach gets told, but if you go back in there, things will only get more serious, and that asshole isn’t worth it, okay?” I reach up to put my hand on Gordon’s rough, bearded cheek, and he grabs my wrist, holding me tightly so I can’t move. His eyes are fierce and filled with rage and something else. Something fragile and vulnerable. The part of him that knows how easily he could act in a way that would only hurt himself but feels powerless to stop. “It’s okay,” I say softly. “Walking away is okay. This isn’t about him winning and you losing. This is about…”
He silences me with a kiss so hard and deep that I’d have fallen had it not been from his grip on my arm and his other hand that goes around my back. My free hand rests on his chest, the hammering of his heart so hard against my palm that all I can feel is his humanity, his flesh and bone, and blood self.
Gordon moans against me, his tongue sliding into my mouth, explicit and raw and possessive, and then he’s pushing me back, eyes wild and out of control. “We can’t do this here,” he says.
“So let’s get out of here.” At least back home, Gordon will be out of harm’s way. The gym’s door hinges screech as it opens behind Gordon, and Reggie appears.
“Let’s go,” he says. “That asshole has a hard-on for trouble, and we’re not giving it to him.”
Behind, the rest of my foster brothers begin appearing. Hunter and Harley look me over as though they’re worried that I’m upset.
“We’re going to get food,” Hunter says.
“We’re going with them,” Dwayne says.
“I don’t feel like eating,” Gordon says, but all the time, his eyes are on mine, burning with need.
“I’ll take Gordon and Maggie home,” Reggie says, his gaze flicking between us as though he’s trying to work out what’s happened in the short time that we’ve been alone in the parking lot. Gordon’s ragged breathing and my swollen lips should make it very obvious.
We pile into the cars, and I glance back at the gym doors to see if Cox is going to make an appearance, but he doesn’t. I get the feeling he got what he wanted; Gordon heading for trouble. “Why did Cox want you benched?” I ask.
The car is silent, then Reggie clears his throat. “Gordon and Cox have long-running bad blood. Cox’s girlfriend came to Gordon for help. Cox was very possessive, and she didn’t know how to deal with it. Cox has never forgiven Gordon’s interference.”
“He’s a fucking animal,” Gordon mutters. “She was scared of him.”
“Did he hurt her?”
“Not in places anyone could see.” Gordon shakes his head and closes his eyes momentarily as though the memory is paining him to recall.
I watch him for a few seconds more, then gaze out of the window, wishing that I hadn’t probed. Once again, my mouth runs away with me, causing more hurt. I cringe at what I yelled in the gym. If I’d managed to keep some control over myself, maybe none of this would have happened. It was Gordon’s instinct to protect me, just as he protected Cox’s girlfriend, that has landed him in this situation. My heart sinks.
The men don’t need me coming in to ruin their lives. They need someone to help them move forward now Dad is gone. They need support, not aggravation.
But when we get home, it’s Gordon who takes my hand and leads me upstairs. It’s Gordon who sits on his bed as though he has the world on his shoulders and pulls me to him so that he can press his face against my belly. He breathes slowly as though my proximity is a balm that is calming his ragged nerves. Reggie is at the door, and our eyes meet over Gordon. He’s worried about his brother and doesn’t know what to do. He takes a step back, maybe conscious of disturbing this moment of intimacy.
“You don’t have to leave,” Gordon says gruffly. “Unless Maggie wants you to?”
“Stay.” I run my hands over Gordon’s head and down the back of his neck, my eyes still on Reggie. Gordon wants his brother here, and if that’s what he wants, that’s what he’ll get.
The fun we had earlier in the day is still there behind all of this angst. Cox doesn’t get to strip that away. He doesn’t get to disrupt our connection. He doesn’t get to win. Gordon moans long and low, as though all of the tension he has coiled inside him has dissipated with one small touch.
I tug my shirt over my head, flicking open the front fastening of my bra, knowing how much my body will help him forget what happened today. Maybe his hands on my breast will be enough to exorcise some of his demons from the past. I know that it’s been that way for me with his brothers.