Playbook (The Holland Brothers 2)

“For a guy who says he enjoys casual sex, we seem to be struggling to accomplish it,” I say to Brogan as the two of us carry Archer into their apartment.

While we were busy flirting and kissing at the party, Archer was playing beer pong. And losing terribly, apparently.

“You two still haven’t had sex?” Archer asks, slurring the words together. He stumbles over…absolutely nothing, and Brogan quickly grabs him around the middle and moves in front of him.

“All right, buddy. Couch or bedroom?” Brogan asks.

“You’re not staying up and having a beer?”

“I think you’ve had enough for the both of us tonight.” Brogan navigates Archer to the couch and drops him onto it. I am exhausted and I was barely contributing to the effort. Drunk football players are heavy.

“K. Go have sex now. I’m just gonna rest here a minute and then go to bed.” He takes his hearing aids out and tosses them on the coffee table.

Brogan’s smirking as he grabs a throw blanket and pillow and basically tucks in Archer, who already has his eyes closed.

I watch on, a little amused and a lot endeared.

He taps Archer on the leg. “Hey.”

“Hmm?”

“If you need anything,” he starts and then taps him again. Archer’s eyes finally open. This time when he starts again, he signs as he speaks, “If you need anything, holler.”

Archer nods and then curls up on his side.

Brogan shakes his head as he finally turns to me.

“Sorry about that.” One side of his mouth pulls up into a half smile.

“It’s okay.” A bout of nerves takes root in my stomach. There’s nothing stopping us from finally getting naked and I’m suddenly nervous.

He stalks toward me slowly, then takes my hand. “Still want to stay?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. I don’t have to hold you here against your will.” He takes my legs out from under me and carries me like a child down the hall and into his room.

Brogan doesn’t bother turning on the lights or shutting the door as he lays me down on his bed in the dark room.

“What about Archer?” I ask as he takes off my shoes and tosses them to the floor. “Will he be okay?”

“He’s most likely passed out until noon tomorrow.” His big hands glide up my legs. “What time do you need to wake up?”

“I’ll need to go by my place to shower and change, so seven-ish.”

“How about seven thirty? You can shower here.” He drops a kiss just above my knee, then follows it with a light bite on my inner thigh. “Seven forty-five and I’ll even make you breakfast.”

I sit up and run my fingers through his hair. It’s thick and a little long and soft to the touch. “How can I say no to that?”

He kisses me then, pushing me back onto the bed. His hands seem like they’re everywhere, but he doesn’t immediately try to get me naked.

“Much better,” he murmurs against my lips.

“What?”

“You in my bed. I couldn’t stand the thought of fucking you anywhere else. My sheets. My scent. My dick making you feel so good.”

A shiver rolls down my body. “Promises, promises.”

He grinds into me. The hard ridge of his cock rubs against the aching spot between my legs.

“Patience, sweetheart.”

Who would have thought I’d be the one trying to speed things up? Not me, but here I am panting and so ready that I feel like I might die at this rate.

“Maybe I just want you more than you want me.”

He stills and looks down at me, one brow cocked and a dark expression on his face. He sits back and takes my hand in his, then guides it to the front of his jeans. “You feel that? I’ve been walking around hard like this for weeks.”

“For weeks?”

He moves my hand up and down him slowly. His jaw tightens and his words come out clipped. “Every time you’re around. Seeing you in my jersey or that black swimsuit, those red heels, the little black dress, even your laugh does this to me.”

“I haven’t worn those red heels since the first night I met you.”

“I know.” He lunges for me then, kissing me harder than he had been before and with more urgency.

My hands fumble to get his pants undone and he lets me slide my hand down until my fingers are wrapped around his hard cock. He groans as I squeeze him. His reaction makes me want him even more. I love that every reaction from him is so genuine. He doesn’t hold back, so neither do I.

Pushing him back, I move so I’m hovering over him and drop my head into his lap. He pushes his pants down his thighs as I take him into my mouth.

“Oh fuck,” he groans. He abandons the task of getting his pants all the way off and, instead, cups the back of my head with one hand. His thumb strokes over my head as I slowly glide down until he hits the back of my throat. He’s long and thick, just like the rest of his body.

“That feels so good.” He gathers my hair in his hands, so it’s out of my face. “Want to watch you take me, sweetheart.”

My pulse quickens and warmth spreads all over my body as I feel his heated gaze. My stare lifts to him. His lids are hooded and jaw tight.

A moan escapes my lips, and he shudders under me. Before I know what’s happening, he’s shifted us again so I’m flat on my back. He stands next to the bed and removes his pants, then his shirt. I swallow thickly as I take him in, in all his naked glory. Large muscles and thick ridges that showcase how hard he pushes his body regularly for football. His shoulders are broad and his thighs are impressive. He’s big everywhere. I was not prepared.

“Come here.” He takes my hand and helps me off the bed. My legs are wobbly and the pulse between them won’t be ignored.

Slowly, he lifts my shirt up over my head. My bra goes next. He takes a moment to appreciate the view and even drops a kiss between the valley of my breasts before he continues. He undoes the side zipper on my skirt and pushes it down. He squats in front of me, lifts one foot for me to step out, then the other. It’s the most sensual way anyone has ever undressed me and so unexpected, given we almost had sex in his teammate’s bedroom earlier.

“Look at you,” he says, staring up at me. The only barrier between us is my black panties and he guides those down past my hips like he’s unwrapping a present that he never wants to end. When they’re gone, he just keeps staring and my skin prickles with excitement and nerves.

I’ve seen some of the women he’s been with, but surprisingly—the way he’s looking at me—I can’t find a self-conscious bone in my body.

As he stands, his hands glide up my legs to my waist and then around to my back. The tips of his fingers brush the top of my ass. With one hand, he reaches over to the box acting as his nightstand and grabs a strip of condoms. I count at least three and I hope that’s him planning ahead.

“So many things I want to do with you. I don’t know where to start.”

Before I can offer a few suggestions —namely fucking me so hard I get a concussion from my head banging against the headboard—he lifts me up into his arms and walks in the opposite direction of the bed.

“Where are we⁠—”

My question is cut off when my back hits the wall. His grin is mischievous, and his voice is all sex when he says, “Wrap your legs around me.”

I comply happily. Brogan somehow manages to open the foil and cover himself while keeping me from falling. And quickly too. I’m aware somewhere in the back of my mind that this is not the first time he’s pulled this move, but I don’t care. His past doesn’t concern me. This night is all I want to focus on. This night and this man. Morning will come, as it always does, and I’ll worry about everything else then.

My shoulder blades dig into the wall behind me, and my hands rest on his shoulders. He takes one hand and kisses the top before draping it around his neck. I move the other instinctively, and he turns his head to press his lips into the crook of my arm. “I’m not even inside you yet and I know I’m never going to want to leave.”

My stomach flips and my heart rate speeds up.

“Ready, sweetheart?”

My throat is thick with emotion and excitement, so I nod.

“I want to hear you say the words.”

“Need an ego boost even now?” I ask, voice breathy. “Isn’t my being naked and wrapped around you enough confirmation that I want you?”

His smile grows at the last two words. “Maybe I just like hearing it.”

“I want you, Brogan Six.”

“Say it again.” His mouth meets mine, stealing a quick kiss before he rests his forehead against mine.

The tip of his cock nudges my entrance, thick and hard.

I open my mouth to speak, but a groan comes out instead.

His smirk is so satisfied, and I guess it should be. I’m on the edge and he’s not even inside me yet.

“I want,” I say, and he pushes the tip in. My eyes fall closed.

“What’s that?” he teases, running his lips down the column of my neck.

“I want,” I start again, and he rewards me the same way but giving me more of him. “Oh god, I need you.”

He lets out a low groan as he buries himself completely. My legs quiver as all the muscles in my core clench around him.

“Never leaving this pussy,” he grits out, jaw tight as he begins to move. The look of raw, unfiltered emotion and pleasure on his face is such a turn-on. There’s no mask with Brogan. This is him, wanting me, being in this moment with me. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt more cherished by someone.

I want to erase those thoughts from my mind and just focus on the way my body feels, but my heartstrings are being tugged without my permission. I like him. I like how he makes me feel when I’m with him.

My thoughts are finally chased away when he repositions us and carries me back to the bed. Every step jolts us together and I’m so close that I know it won’t take long before I’m falling apart.

He lays me down on the mattress, then presses a kiss to my hip. “Turn over, sweetheart.”

My body shivers with excitement as I roll onto my stomach. He can’t seem to decide how he wants me, or maybe he wants me the same way I want him—every way possible.

He smacks my ass lightly, but with enough sting that I cry out. ‘Oh, fuck.‘

“You like that?”

I nod.

Without warning, he does it again. My pussy clenches as the pain rockets through my body. His warm mouth covers the spot, and he kisses me tenderly.

Then he wraps an arm around my waist and pushes into me. The angle is different, but no less divine. His mouth continues to press kisses into my back as his cock thrusts in and out at a slow, rhythmic pace. He’s unhurried, but possessing my body in a way that there’s no denying his reverence.

Seconds pass with us both panting. I can’t hold off the spike of pleasure, even though I want to so that I can keep living in this moment. I don’t want it to end.

“It feels too good,” I say, almost delirious.

“Not yet,” he groans. “I want to watch you come with my dick buried inside you.”

He pulls out and I whimper at the lost sensation, but when I move onto my back, he wastes no time climbing onto the bed with me and giving me exactly what I want. Him.

My eyes flutter closed. My orgasm is right there and I’m no longer able to do anything but let it pulse over me in waves. I cry out, back arching from the bed. When I open my eyes, he’s staring back at me with a look of awe.

“So pretty.” His voice is barely restrained. “I wish you could see yourself right now.”

My pussy clenches around him as my orgasm continues so long that I’m pretty sure it’s triggered another.

He lets out a growl as his pace increases and then he’s coming with a loud groan that vibrates in his chest.

We cling to each other, continuing to fuck even after we’re both too tired and limp, and we’ve already come. It feels too good to stop.

A delirious giggle escapes from my lips.

“Told you I was never leaving.” He swipes his mouth over mine and then slows to a stop. I know it’s coming, but the second he pulls out, it’s still a shock.

My body is one big nerve, and I just lie there feeling exposed and wonderful and terrified and wondering how long until we can do that again.

“Maybe you should just quit your job so we can stay in bed forever,” he says nearly mirroring my thoughts. He gets rid of the condom and then flops onto his back.

Laughing, I curl up on my side and rest a hand on his bare chest. “Don’t tempt me.”

For several minutes we lie there, unspeaking and catching our breath.

He props his head up with a hand and turns toward me. “Can I ask you something?”

His breaths are still labored, but he has that energetic spark back in his eyes.

“Sure,” I say hesitantly, unsure where he’s going with a lead like that.

“What’s the deal with your parents and your job?”

“You want to talk about my parents right now?” I ask, glancing down at his dick, which is only about halfway deflated.

“We could talk about anything right now. It’s not going to change the fact I’m going to fuck you again as soon as I can.”

I laugh, but then say, “What do you want to know?”

“Everything, but let’s start with your job.”

“You mean the one at the station or my little drawing hobby?” Another short laugh leaves my mouth.

“They call it that?” Brogan’s brows disappear under the floppy piece of hair on his forehead. “That’s bullshit.”

“Originally, I was going to follow in my dad’s footsteps and be a lawyer, like Sierra.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I took an art class my sophomore year and fell in love with it. They weren’t happy but when I got the job at Channel 3 they were excited that I had a stable, steady paycheck.” I take a breath. “Eventually, I want to be my own boss, set my own hours, and pick the projects I work on. Every time I bring it up, they freak out. Sierra says my dad worries that I’m not going to be able to support myself, but I’ve never once asked them to help me, and the illustration jobs, when I book them, pay better than my regular job at the news station.”

I hadn’t meant to unload on him or get fired up about it. I try my best not to think about it anymore than I have to. It’s not like I’m going to change it. Dad’s made his stance very clear. Supporting myself by being an artist isn’t a real job to him.

“I’m sorry.” Brogan’s fingers trail over my head into my hair.

“I’ve accepted that they’re never going to be on board with it.” I shrug.

“Is that why you haven’t quit to pursue it full time?”

I start to say no but have to admit that there is some small part of me that might be holding back for that very reason. “Partly. But also…what if it doesn’t work out?” There are a lot of people trying to make a full-time job out of the thing they love and not succeeding.

“What if it does?”

“You are a hopeless optimist.” I lean forward and kiss him.

“Good people deserve good things. Plus, you’re really fucking talented.”

“You’ve only seen like two things I’ve done.”

“So show me more.”

“No.” I laugh as I roll away from him.

He moves on top of me, holding himself up so he isn’t crushing me, but instead he’s like a weighted blanket that I want to stay under for a very long time. “Why not?”

“I don’t know.” I continue laughing at the earnest look in his eye.

“You’re really good. I’m not just saying that to get in your pants.” He waggles his brows.

“No?” I run my fingers up and down his back.

“No,” he confirms. “But if it helps keep you naked, I will spend all night telling you how fucking incredible I think you are.”

“Wow. That’s really convincing.” My body shakes with more laughter.

“You’re smart.” He kisses my lips, then scoots lower. “And kind.” His mouth brushes over my neck. “And sexy.” He licks one nipple. “And you are good at what you do. The best illustrator I know.” He kisses my stomach just below my belly button, then looks up at me.

“I’m the only illustrator you know.”

“Doesn’t make you any less.”

My heart squeezes at his words. So sincere, even if it’s an outrageous claim.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” I say. Those aren’t the right words for what he is. He’s kind and smart and talented—all those things he said about me, but he’s also just good. He wants the best for everyone around him, but I never hear him talk about what he wants outside of football.

“Not bad, huh?” He moves lower, using his broad shoulders to widen my legs so I’m open to him. Heat pools in my stomach again as he runs one long finger down my slit.

I’m still so sensitive and his light touch has me pressing against him for more.

“Are you sure you’re not misremembering?” he asks, continuing to tease me with just the drag of his calloused fingers against my swollen flesh. “I think your exact words were ‘it feels too good.’”

“I think your memory is bad.” I tease him back with my words. We’re playing a game right now, and admitting just how much I like him feels like losing.

“I don’t think so.” He drops an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of my thigh, and my hips lift off the bed of their own accord. His deep chuckle ghosts across my pussy, and I want to give in. I want to say all the things I’m thinking, yell at the top of my lungs, kiss him until he knows without a doubt no one has ever made me feel better than him. But I know I’ll regret it when this thing is over between us.

I gave so much of myself in my relationship with Chris, and when it was over, I felt empty. And the way Brogan makes me feel right now—I don’t ever want that to end.