8. Chapter 8

' Twas the night before we traveled to our first game of the season, and all through the apartment, not a person stirred as everyone was tucked in their beds as visions of touchdowns danced in their heads.

Oh, who am I kidding?

The rest of the apartment might be tucked soundly in their beds, but my nerves have allowed sleep to evade me as I've spent the last three hours tossing and turning. Whenever I think I'm about to drift off into a peaceful slumber, visions of me fumbling the ball come crashing into my head. As if that wasn't bad enough, the visions switch to me allowing the ball to slip through my fingers and into my defenders for an interception.

Letting out a deep exhale, I pull the string on my lamp. The room cascades in a warm glow before I reach for my phone, which is plugged in on my nightstand. It's nearing one a.m., and a new text message sent five minutes ago is waiting on me. It's from Brynn Wilder. She's Quinton Boyd's girlfriend—well, wife. I guess that makes her Brynn Boyd, but I haven't switched her name in my contacts. The two decided to elope with a surprise wedding last spring before Q was drafted into the NFL. It would be an understatement to say it was quite a shock to all of us back at CTU.

Since sleep is evading me, I swipe open her message. The bright light from the screen illuminates the room, and I squint to read her text.

Brynn Wilder: Hey, family dinner is on Sunday night at our house! Keep me updated on the team's travel schedule, and we will have dinner waiting! Oh, and bring Bret! Can't believe I haven't run into that hottie on campus yet. Good luck, Riggsby!

Me: Thanks, Brynn. I'll keep you posted, and we'll be there.

Tossing my phone on my comforter, I fling the navy bedspread off my boxer-clad body and reach for my sketchbook to distract me. Sliding out my pencil from the sketchbook spirals, I flip the pages, passing over drawings until I find a blank page. Hopefully, the movements of lead against the crisp pages will help calm my nerves.

Bringing my legs up until they are bent in front of me, I rest the notepad against my thighs and adjust my body until I'm sitting up comfortably. My grip on the pencil is loose as I let my mind melt away as I conjure up an image to draw. The pencil almost moves on its own accord as the rhythmic sounds of the lead against the paper create a soothing, scratching sound.

Within minutes, I begin losing myself in the details—the sharpness of the beak, the strength of its wings, and the freedom of its flight. I chuckle as I realize the image my mind conjured is no other than an eagle soaring through the air. Clearly, I cannot escape the call of the eagle.

Growing up, when my dad had some free time in his day, which wasn't common since life on the farm was demanding, we would load the small Jon boat onto the trailer and head to the lake. We'd leave the boat ramp, and the two of us would navigate the aluminum boat down a channel to search out eagles. Once he realized I enjoyed sketching, he encouraged me to bring my sketchpad and pencil to draw the wildlife we encountered.

He was always so proud of my drawings. Once I got into middle school, he pushed me to enter the school's art fair. After winning my school's art fair and then the district's, Dad was the first person to say, "I told you so" when I questioned if I had what it takes. No matter how much I loved drawing, I knew pursuing it in any way would either not pay the bills or would take the enjoyment out of it. This is why I find myself sketching wildlife drawings as a guilty pleasure hobby.

Bringing my attention back to the image on the paper, I focus on the fierce expression I'm creating with each stroke as I bring the eagle to life. The eyes show a menacing gaze, while the wings are powerful with layers of feathers. Large wings showcase the eagle's gracefulness as it soars through the sky.

Minutes seem to turn into hours as time passes before my eyes. A soft knock and my door widening catches my attention, startling me. My heart races in surprise and then quickly races for another reason.

"Hey." Her warm voice fills the quiet room. "I saw your light and thought I'd check on you."

"Couldn't sleep."

Nibbling on her bottom lip, I take the opportunity to scan the goddess in front of me. She's dressed in an oversized black tee with a skull on the front and the name "Machine Gun Kelly" in pink font. Her long legs are on full display, and her jet-black hair is on the top of her head in a messy bun.

"Want some company?"

Shuffling over, I pat the spot next to me, inviting her into my space. She tentatively places one foot in front of the other as she closes the door behind her. She scans the walls as her feet carry her toward my gaze. With soft touches, her fingers trail across the surfaces she passes. The first thing that catches her eye is my framed jersey on the wall.

"How did I not notice this the other day?" Amusement laces her voice as she takes in my signed jersey. It's from a fan-favorite tight end who is now retired but once played for a popular northeastern NFL team.

"You were too busy meeting my mom."

"She's so cute."

"Don't tell her that. You'll become her favorite, and I'll be booted to the curb." Bret flashes me a warm smile over her shoulder.

"Don't worry, your spot is safe, Mama's Boy." She points to the jersey. "Was he your favorite tight end?"

"He was. He was incredible on the field and his personality was the best—the things he would say and do. I loved watching him. My parents—they, uh…" I pause, rubbing my hand down the back of my neck. "They got me the signed jersey for Christmas. It was the last Christmas I had with my dad."

Her beautiful smile morphs into sadness, and I hate that I was the cause of it. "Oh my gosh, Crew, I had no idea." Her movements are rushed as she climbs into bed beside me and flings her arms around my shoulders. The embrace she wraps me up in has her clean fragrance mixing with the cinnamon sugar of her favorite late-night treat, enveloping my senses.

Reluctantly, she pulls away, and her emerald-green eyes stare back at me, a soft sheen covering them. "It's okay, Rebel. It happened a long time ago."

"Rebel?"

"Yeah, your rebellious streak looks good on you, Bret. "

She slides away from me, creating space between us, as her cheeks pinken. I instantly hate the space she made between us. "You know, I kind of like that nickname."

Moving my sketchbook from my lap, I lean over Bret to place it on my nightstand. Her hand reaches out and stops me. "Crew, did you draw this?"

It's my turn to blush as I hold the notepad before me. "Yeah, I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd sketch for a bit and get my mind off the game."

"May I?" she asks, reaching her hand out.

I hand her the sketchbook and watch her analyze the eagle. "This is incredible. I had no idea you drew."

"It's nothing." A hand slaps my stomach as her jaw drops.

" It's nothing ," she mocks. "That's bullshit, and you know it. This literally looks like a black-and-white photograph."

Closing the cover, she sets it on the table before turning to face me. Rocking back and forth, she lowers until her head is resting on her hands on my pillow. "Tell me more about the Crew Riggsby, the legendary tight end on the CTU Eagles."

Mirroring her, I slide until our bodies are at the same level. "What do you want to know, Rebel?"

She hums, tapping her finger against her chin. "Tell me about your family. Are you excited to see your mom at the game this weekend?"

"Yes, I'm very excited to see my mom. As you pointed out, I'm a mama's boy. Well, to be honest, everyone is a fan of my mom. She's the sweetest, most thoughtful person. But I'm the middle child of three. All of us are four years apart. Jett, my older brother—"

"Wait," Bret interrupts. "Crew? Jett? I'm sensing some kind of military vibes with your names. "

"Yeah," I answer with a chuckle. "My dad was in the Air Force. He served for twelve years and loved his unit. I'm just glad he didn't name us Goose, Iceman, or even Maverick."

Bret's laughter fills the space at my Top Gun reference. The sound of her laugh is intoxicating. I could get drunk on it alone.

"Okay, do you have, like, a sister named Delta?"

"Ha. Ha. No, my sister's name is—" I pause and let the moment build. "Saylor."

"Jett, Crew, and Saylor, cute." She smiles as she shifts closer to me. "How old is your sister then?"

"Saylor is sixteen, and she's going through a bit of a rebellious stage. Like a pretty raven-haired girl I know." I wink. "But luckily for my mom, she had to deal with Jett. He gave my parents a major run for their money. So much so, my dad left him with an ultimatum to either get his shit in check or join the Air Force. He joined the Army to piss my dad off. Since he enlisted, he hasn't been home except for the occasional break. It's hard on my mom, but she handles it well."

"Your mom is a saint."

"You have no idea."

The gap between us has slowly disappeared to the point where we are almost touching. Silence falls over us as I stare at her emerald eyes, I can't help but trace the golden hues that mix with the forest green swirls. Her eyes are mesmerizing.

"What, uh, what happened to your dad?"

Clearing my throat as the emotion builds, I stare at her eyes and allow the green to calm me. "He was in a farming accident. It was the summer after Jett graduated high school. We were moving equipment, and a distracted driver forced him off the road. "

"Oh my god." Her voice is a whisper as I watch tears form in her eyes. Dad's accident was a tragedy and one that could have easily been avoided if only people would respect farmers on the road.

Fingertips trail the stubble lining my chin, and I fight the urge to kiss her. But I don't have to fight the moment for long. Bret's eyes bounce between mine, and I can feel her hesitation. Something is holding her back from kissing me, and I think it runs more deeply than the fact I'm her dad's player.

"Rebel," I say her nickname in a whispered plea. Her eyes widen, and I see the moment she accepts the pull between us.

Her soft touch trails up my jawline, under my ear, until her hand is gripping the back of my head. With a slight tug on my blonde hair, she's erasing the gap between us as my heart rate spikes. Her plump lips find mine, and I melt into our connection as her body sags in relief. Everything about this kiss feels right. Having Bret in my bed feels like a dream, and in one minute, I'm going to wake up just like all of the other times I've imagined this scenario.

But it's not a dream as I feel Bret's warm, wet tongue flick against the seam of my lips. Granting her the access she desires, I wrap my arm around her back and pull her on top of me as our tongues tangle. Her legs land on either side of my naked torso. The only thing separating us is our underwear. She feels so good on my lap.

So fucking good.

I have no idea what we are doing, but I know I don't want to stop—not now, not ever.

Her teeth graze my lip as she bites down, pulling my bottom lip. My lip pops out of her mouth as she rides my erection through our clothes. We're making out and dry-humping like horny teenagers.

She reaches over and flicks the lamp off cascading us in darkness. "I don't want anyone to be alerted if someone comes out of their room. "

I hum in understanding as I run my hands up her back, beneath her oversized tee, as I move them toward her front. Cupping her perky tits in my hands, I squeeze gently as I pull them toward me. Brushing my thumbs against her peaks, I flick the metal piercings. I've never been with a woman with nipple piercings, and it's so fucking hot.

Our lips separate as she lets out a long moan, her head tilting toward the ceiling. I'm quickly smashing my mouth against hers to quiet her noises. As much as I want to hear her moans, I can't let the guys know that we're in here together. Bret's the first to break the kiss—pieces of her hair have escaped her messy bun, framing her face as her chest heaves.

"Of course, I felt something Crew. I haven't gotten you out of my head, but we can't do this. We can't be more than roommates."

Finally, she answered the question I had asked her on her first night here. It's the answer I've been desperate to hear, but then she had to add a "but." Of course, I understand her reasoning, but it doesn't mean I have to like it. My ego feels like a deflated balloon.

"How can you say that when we fit together so well? You've spent the last ten minutes riding my dick while your tongue was down my throat."

Her shoulders sag, and I hate that she's feeling this turmoil. "Tonight is a one-time thing. It has to be."

"So, if you're saying tonight can never happen again, I don't want you to leave here without coming first."

"One time, Crew." The words no sooner leave her lips, and she reaches between us, gripping the hem of her shirt and tugging it over her head.

"Fuuuck, you're gorgeous." I palm her tits in my hands, pulling her toward me where our lips find each other again like two magnets .

Her hands slide down my chest as she digs her small, dark painted nails into my skin. The pain of her scratches is a welcomed feeling, especially when she glides those nails over my abs and reaches below my boxer briefs to free me. I feel her hand wrap around my shaft, and it's my turn to moan into our kiss.

Pulling away, her heated gaze slides down my face. "This has to be quick."

"Believe me, the way you're pumping my dick, I'll be coming in no time, but not before you." I thrust my hips upward into her hand. "But you have to be quiet."

She scoffs. "How do you know I'm not a silent screw?"

"I bet you're a screamer." I tweak her nipple as my words leave my lips, and she moans in pleasure, proving my point.

Flipping her onto her back, I kneel between her legs. Gripping her panties, I slide them down her legs. My fingers glide over her wetness, and she flinches. Snapping my eyes to her, I pause.

"Is this okay?"

She gives me a stiff nod, and it's not the reassurance I want. "Rebel, we don't have to do this."

"N-n-no, I want this, Crew." She stammers over the words.

"If you want me to stop at any point, just say the word, and I'll stop. I don't want you to regret this in the morning."

"I don't think I can regret you, Crew Riggsby." Her soft and earnest voice has my heart pumping faster.

Trailing kisses across her hip bone and down the apex of her thighs, my nose brushes against her wet center. With an inhale, I moan as her arousal fills my nose. I'm desperate for this woman who has driven me wild.

Her fingers latch on to the longer strands of my hair as she guides me to where she wants me .

"Feisty girl."

"We have to be quick, Crew," she whispers, thrusting her hips in the air, begging for my touch. "Taste me already."

I groan as I do what she says. My tongue flicks out as I lick her from seam to center. Her legs shake as my tongue comes into contact with her bundle of nerves.

Reaching out, I position my body so that her legs are draping over my shoulders, and my hands are gripping her tight ass as I feast on the delicious pussy spread out for me. She moans and writhes as I devour her. Fingers tangle in my hair as she guides my head exactly where she wants me.

Her back bows off the bed, and I grip her hips to keep her in place. "Yes, oh god, right there."

Removing a hand from her hips, I slip two fingers inside her tight, wet pussy. Flattening my tongue, I apply pressure to her clit as I pump my fingers deep inside her. Bret's legs squeeze my head, and if this is how I'm going to die, then I'll die a happy man.

"Fuck, Crew. I'm going to come."

She tries to pull away, but my hand on her hip holds her in place as I work her clit until she's clenching my fingers as pleasure erupts from her. Her hips ride against my face as the orgasm crashes over her like waves. Sitting up on my knees, I stare at the beautiful woman sprawled out beneath me. Her face is flushed and perfect. She leans on her elbows, nibbling on her lip as she stares at me.

With a crook of her finger, she beckons me to her. "You're pretty good at that, Riggsby."

"Pretty good?"

" Very good." I chuckle as my lips find hers. Hands roam down my body. Her fingertips kiss against my skin until she's slipping long fingers beneath the band of my boxers .

"These need to go," she mumbles against my lips. She doesn't have to ask twice. Breaking the kiss, I stand and slip out of my boxer shorts. Bret watches as my hard cock springs free, and I watch as her eyes widen.

"Are you sure?"

She nods, and I groan.

"Rebel, use your words."

Letting out a huff, Bret nods again. "Yes, I'm sure."

Reaching down, I stroke my cock as I watch her naked and perfect in my bed. My dick aches, and I can't wait until I slide inside her. Fumbling in my nightstand, I pull out a condom before gripping it in my teeth. The foil packet rips, and I glide the rubber on. Bret's eyes track the movement, and the way she's devouring me with her eyes makes me ready to come on the spot.

Leaning forward, I let the tip of my dick rub against her entrance. She moans at the contact, but before I have a chance to press her down into the mattress, she's pushing me away.

"Lay on your back."

Eyes wide, I do as she says. Bret tosses her leg over my hip and straddles me. My hands cup her perky tits as my thumb grazes over her piercings. She hovers over me before reaching below us, where she grips me. Guiding my cock against her soaked pussy, she uses the tip to hit her clit.

My hands reach around her back as I pull her toward me. Sucking a nipple in my mouth, I bite down as she rubs herself against me. "It feels so good."

"Imagine what it would be like when I'm fully seated inside you." She groans as she guides my cock to her entrance. I flick her pebbled nipple and work the metal as her pussy swallows my cock. She's so tight, her walls squeezing my thick erection. I have to take a deep breath before I come.

"That's it, Rebel. Ride me. Let me play with your pretty tits while you fuck me." Rocking forward on her knees, Bret begins to quicken the pace as she grinds down. Her clit grazes the base of my dick. She whimpers each time she skims my skin.

Our eyes meet, both reflecting dark desire. Everything about this moment feels so perfect. How am I only going to be able to have her only one time? I don't think I'll ever get enough of Bret Campbell.

Her pussy squeezes me, and I can feel the orgasm building. "I'm going to come."

"Thank fuck," I grit out. "I don't think I'm going to last long. You feel so fucking good, Rebel."

Removing my hands from her breasts, I grip her hips and help her movements. A low animalistic growl leaves my lips as she bares down faster and moves up and down. On her knees, she rides on my cock, and I stare at her, the bounce of her tits and the way they graze my skin. I can feel my balls tighten and my thighs stiffen. My orgasm is building.

"You're so deep. Oh my god, I don't think I've ever had someone hit that spot." Bret's head is tilted back, eyes fluttering close as she keeps one hand on my stomach while the other slides over her mouth to help muffle her moans.

"You're so perfect. This pussy is made for me. So tight. So wet. So perfect. How will I ever go on now that I've had you?"

Shock flashes across her face, and I hope I haven't ruined this moment. Bending over, her lips sear against mine as I grip her hips tight, gliding her up and down my cock. Her legs shake, and her pussy clenches so hard it almost hurts.

"Come, Rebel. Come for me."

My thrusts become deeper and rougher as we both use each other to seek out the release we're so desperate for. She screams in my mouth as she explodes. It's hot, it's animalistic, it's everything.

Chests heaving, we both collapse on the bed. Her legs tangle with mine as her black strands escape her messy bun. Turning my head, I stare at her flushed cheeks from the orgasms. But before I can pull her to my side, she's sliding out of my bed as I roll over to my side to watch her. I know she needs to leave. We can't get caught, but I hate watching her search my room for her shirt and panties in a rush to leave.

And I hate that our one time is over, and it had to be quiet and quick.

I take another glance at her perfect ass as she slides her panties up her legs. Too quickly, she's dressed and ready to escape to her room. Leaning over me, she bends down and kisses me. It's a softer kiss than the heated ones we shared earlier. This kiss isn't welcoming. It's almost like she's saying goodbye.

Which I know she is.

We can't do this again. That was our agreement.

Even though now that I've had her, I never want to let her go.