CHAPTER 15 LINCOLN

She's not answering my texts, and I'm not sure how to take that.

I know I shouldn't be worried about her. She can handle herself, and it seemed like she knew that guy.

Still, what happened last night is fresh in my mind. She was scared as some asshole manhandled her, and I refuse to standby while another asshole hits on her.

I realize it isn't my place to protect her, but that doesn't make my feelings any less intense.

So rather than participating in the conversation around me with the current and some former coaching staff of the university I attended, I'm tapping my foot impatiently as I wait for her to text me back.

I think about texting one more time, but five unanswered texts seems like one too many. I sent four, and a fifth isn't going to be the one she finally answers.

Patience, Nash. Patience.

I thought I had some, but it appears the moment Jolene Bailey walked back into my life, she stole it away the same way she stole my breath.

This is fucking ridiculous.

I should not be hung up on some woman.

I have neither the time nor the inclination for these types of distractions, but knowing we're having some sort of conversation tonight has me on edge.

That was incredible, Linc.

Her voice was breathless and full of emotion as she murmured the words in my ear, and it took me back nearly two decades.

Twenty years, and somehow I remember it like it was yesterday.

Ask me some mundane detail from my day yesterday and I won't be able to answer.

But ask me what it felt like to be inside her twenty years ago, and I can still feel it like I'm there now.

Fuck.

I need to get out of here.

It feels like the walls are closing in on me, like I can't breathe until I know where she is and what she's doing. I'm not sure how I was able to set these feelings aside for the last twenty years, but they've come back with a vengeance.

I can't deny it any longer.

I need to know who she is now. I've gotten tiny bits and pieces over the last two months, but I want it all. I don't want her laughing with some other guy while she walks away from me when it should be me.

I realize the implications and the consequences thereof, but I'm starting to feel determined to figure out how we can make this work.

We have to keep it a secret. There's no other way around it.

We have to be careful. Vigilant.

But I need to explore these feelings as much as I know she needs to, and right now it feels as if I can't go another second without doing it.

Everyone's done eating. Can I bolt?

I'm not sure.

I'm supposed to meet a few guys I played with after lunch. We'll drink and catch up.

But they understand I'm a busy guy. Something came up.

My dick. For Jolene.

I won't say that, obviously.

I say my goodbyes to the coaching staff after we wrap up the meal. I head toward the bar I told my buddies I'd meet them at, prepared to ditch them so I can be with her.

And just as I pull open the door to the bar, a text comes through.

Jolene: Calm down, Coach. I'm back at the hotel working. I'll see you tonight.

I breathe out a sigh of relief as I allow those words to bring me back down.

I don't know what the hell that was filtering through me, but it was intense.

But that's us. It was always intense between us, even back then.

I shake it off as I head inside the bar and find my buddies. She's back at the hotel. She's in my suite waiting for me.

She needs time to get her work done, so I take my time. I have a few drinks as I catch up with guys I've known almost as long as I've known her. We bring up our old inside jokes, and we laugh and have a great time as we talk about the key plays we made way back when, each play somehow getting bigger and bolder like the old cliched fish stories grandfathers tell where the fish he caught gets bigger and bigger with every telling of the story.

None of these guys are still in the game, and everyone wants to know what it's like working with Jack Dalton.

Eventually I note that it's starting to get dark outside, and I'm ready to get back to my hotel. We all clear out together, and I walk the block toward my hotel. I take the elevator up to my suite, and I walk down the hallway with a thundering heart as it feels like our moment is finally, finally upon us.

I draw in a deep breath as I unlock the door, and when I walk in, there she is.

She's typing something on her laptop, and her head swings over toward me as I walk in.

I let the door slam shut behind me, and then I stalk toward her.

She pauses her typing with her fingers resting on the keys as her eyes fall to mine. She looks…unaffected as she sits there typing while I'm a mass of exposed nerves ready to burst. I hear music playing, and I'm pretty sure it's coming from her laptop.

"Welcome back," she says.

"Who was that man?" I demand as I take my suit jacket off and toss it beside the television that's currently turned off.

Her brows pinch together. "An old friend. Nobody."

"Better be nobody," I say gruffly.

She slams the lid of her laptop shut a little aggressively, and the music shuts off. We're enveloped in silence. "And why better it be nobody, Mr. Nash?" Her voice is an accusation I'm not sure I like, and she pushes to her feet.

I don't answer. I can't.

I can't say that it's because she's mine. She isn't. I don't even know if I want her to be. It's too complicated, yet I can't seem to force myself to stay away. I can't seem to make myself stop wanting her with everything inside.

"What do you want from me?" She whispers the question, but somehow it sounds like she's begging.

When my voice comes out, it's gruff but firm and direct. "I want to fuck you so hard you forget every man's name but mine."

Her eyes darken. I've got her right where I want her. She wants this, too.

"I hate you," she reminds me. "Why would I possibly consent to that?"

I can't help a smirk at her words. It hurts when she says she hates me, but I also don't think she really means it.

We've been conditioned to hate each other for two decades.

Does she drive me up the wall? Absolutely.

Do I want to shut that mouth up with my dick? You bet.

Do I want to tie her hands above her head and suck on her tits until she begs me to fuck her? Of course.

But there's something else at play here, something I'm powerless against, and no other woman has ever had that sort of effect on me.

"Because a good hate fuck is better than nothing, and neither of us has anywhere to go tonight."

She rolls her eyes as she crosses her arms over her chest. Her breathing quickens a little which only tells me this is turning her on as much as it is me.

"You said we needed to talk," she reminds me.

I take a step toward her. She stands firm, so I take another step and another until I'm standing directly in front of her—until the orange blossoms float to my senses and I can feel her heat in front of me.

I run a fingertip along her collarbone, and her breath hitches.

I move in a little closer to her. "I think I've said everything I need to say."

Her eyes edge over to mine, and I drag my finger up her neck to her lips, tracing them with the pad of my finger before pushing it into her mouth. She doesn't react for a beat, and then she sucks lightly on the tip of my finger.

I draw in a sharp breath. She knows what she's doing.

She lifts her hand to pull my finger out of her mouth. "You haven't said anything."

She grabs a fistful of my shirt, and I think she means to shove me away, but instead she only pulls us closer until my hips are up against hers. I thrust my erection against her stomach, and she glares at me as I drop both my hands to her hips. I slide them up her waist until they're brushing against the sides of her breasts, and she lets out a soft moan that tells me to keep going.

I don't. Instead, I lift her up by her hips, and she immediately links her legs around my waist, hiking her dress up so her black panties are rubbing against the fabric of my slacks.

I thrust up toward her. "Do you still hate me when I do that?" I demand.

She growls out a little noise that's halfway between need and frustration, and I carry her over to the desk where she was just working. I sit her on it next to her laptop, and she doesn't unlink her legs from around me. I thrust toward her, my dick lined up with her pussy only separated by far too many clothes, and I drop my lips to her neck as she squeaks out a protest.

She's about to say something, but I put my hand over her mouth as I thrust against her again.

"We talk later," I say.

She shudders at the pressure of my hand on her mouth.

"Unless you'd like to tell me how you hate me when I'm shoving my dick against you." I move my hand from her mouth, and her nostrils flare as she sets her palms behind her on the desk, which only has the effect of pushing her tits out toward me.

She isn't pushing me away.

She wants this, too.

And I'm going to give it to her.