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R OWAN

It’s been two weeks since I bared my soul to Adam, if that’s even his real name, and I’ve been embarrassed to show my face in public. Not that anyone but Adam knows my deepest, darkest desires.

And not that Adam knows my real name or what I look like.

It hasn’t been too hard to be anti-social, as that’s my new norm. Not that I begrudge my best friends for falling in love and spending all their time with their spouses, but I do feel lonely from time to time.

We got together at Riley’s when the Revs were away, the day after I admitted my desires to Adam.

He didn’t message me again for two days, but we picked up where we left off, before I told him I wanted to get railed into oblivion.

Our conversations have been relatively tame. I expected him to be a typical male and harp in on the sex stuff. To ask me to send him naked selfies or elaborate more on my sexual desires.

In a way, I want him to ask me, but I also don’t. I’d feel too...dirty. And while I want to experience a sexual encounter that will leave me unable to walk or even talk, I don’t want that with a stranger.

I want it with a partner. With someone who will give me after care. Someone who wants to go on dates with me and embrace my sweet side while keeping our sexual lives private.

Those are big wants.

Especially when I don’t feel comfortable voicing them.

Wrapping my hair around my hands, I twist an elastic around the mop and loosen a few chunks to make the perfect messy bun.

Paisley is coming to the game this afternoon, so I’m wearing Nash’s jersey instead of Walker’s. I typically alternate between the two anyway, supporting my best friends’ husbands.

Since it’s supposed to stay in the mid-seventies all afternoon, I slip on a pair of cut-off denim shorts and slide my feet into low-top white Converse.

Normally, I carpool with the girls, but since this is Emmett’s first game, Riley isn’t sure how he’ll do. At four months, he’s still spending the bulk of his days nursing, pooping, sleeping, and giving the occasional giggle.

Paisley swears she won’t get bored at the game, but Kendall wanted to drive just in case. At least it’s a preseason game and the starters won’t be playing too much. That leaves me with Jackson and Taylor, which I don’t mind. They’re fun to be around, especially since they know less about football than me.

Until Jackson reconnected with his brother, he and Taylor had never watched a game. Now, he’s the loudest one in the stands cheering on Walker and constantly yelling out, “That’s my brother!” It’s adorably sweet.

“Want to stockpile some snacks before hunkering down in our seats?” Jackson asks as he loops his arm through mine.

“I filled up before you picked me up, but I wouldn’t turn down a seltzer.”

“I got it.” Taylor taps me on the nose. “The usual, Jack?”

“You know it.” Jackson sighs as he watches Taylor head toward the concession line. “Even among all these jocks, my husband is still the hottest man here.”

“I agree.” I bump Jackson’s hip with mine and we head toward our seats.

We’re the first to arrive and we lean against the railing, our gazes landing on an endless smorgasbord of muscular asses encased in the most delicious tight pants.

“If I wasn’t so in love with my husband, I’d so tap that ass.”

“Which one?”

“Yes.”

I snort. “Tell me you’re at least lusting after the right team.”

“Declan Anderson is a beaut, and he knows how to handle balls.”

“Jackson.” I smack his arm.

“You’re right. He’s too young for me. Besides, it’s absolutely cliché to pine after the quarterback. Darius Johnson has a biteable ass, and I’m sure his Johnson is—”

“He’s happily married.”

“Hey, can’t blame a guy for looking.” His face lights up and he waves his hand like a five-year-old spotting their parents in the crowd at a school play. “Hey, brother!”

It’s so cute how proud he is of Walker.

Walker comes over to the railing and raises his arm to give Jackson a fist pump.

“Is Riley still coming?”

“Nice to see you too, little Bankes.”

“Emmitt had a blow out right as she was strapping him in his car seat. She should be here soon,” I say.

“I wish she would have ridden with you guys. Stubborn woman.”

Miles claps Walker on the shoulder and looks up at Jackson, tipping his chin in greeting. “Hey, man. Good to see you too, Row, even if you’re wearing the wrong jersey.”

“Agreed. I thought it was my turn. You should be wearing number thirty-three.”

“Your turn?” Miles asks. “She’s never worn mine. Jackson, go get Row an eight-six to wear.”

“Now if you said a sixty-nine...”

“Jackson,” I gasp, pretending to be shocked. “Paisley wanted us to match so I promised her I’d wear her daddy’s jersey.”

“How do you think that’s going to make Emmitt feel?” Walker pouts.

“Since he’s only four months, I’m sure he’ll retaliate by spitting up on me.”

“That’s fair.”

“Bankes. Buck. This isn't a social hour. Get your asses back on the field,” one of the coaches calls from the sideline.

“See ya later, Row.” Miles taps my foot and jogs back out to the field.

“If he wasn’t such a goofball, I’d tap that ass as well.” Jackson’s eyes follow Miles out onto the field.

“You mean if you weren’t happily married.”

“You’re so vanilla. My husband would love to have a threesome, and you can’t deny the hotness factor in Miles Buckingham. With those long legs and long arms, he could wrap Taylor and me in a perfect Miles sandwich.”

Okay. I’m not gonna lie. The image of all those naked, tangled limbs is pretty damn hot. Not with Jackson and Taylor though. They’re too much like brothers to me.

But naked Miles? I’m absolutely on board. With shoulders so wide they need their own zip code, washboard abs that would have the women from the eighteenth century begging to wash their laundry down his torso, and full lips that not only curve in the most devilish manner, but also speaks the funniest, flirtiest, most hilarious words.

I don’t think I’d want to be in a threesome, but watching one? Hm. Yeah. I’ll be adding that to my dark fantasy. Especially if Miles is part of it.

My stomach flutters, and not the way it did a few minutes ago when I was checking out the holy grail of asses. Picturing Miles tangled up with other women has my insides feeling...off.

It must be because I think of him the same way I think of Jackson and Taylor.

“Aunty Rowan. We’re twins!” Paisley’s excitement has me spinning around, a smile on my face as I scoop her up into my arms.

Her hair is in two high ponytails with Boston Revolutions scrunchies around each. Under her eyes are two swatches with Nash’s number on it.

“You are the cutest Revs fan here, Paisley pie.”

“You’re cute too.” She squishes my cheeks then squirms her way out of my arms to lean over the railing and wave to her dad.

“We would have been here earlier to watch the guys warm up, but little P here felt the need to point out every Humphries jersey we walked by. Which turned into Miss Social Pants telling everyone wearing the jersey that Nash is her daddy.” Kendall shakes her head with a grin.

“And you’re my mommy.”

“True dat.”

We settle in our seats, and when Riley arrives, we take turns holding Emmitt, as well as taking turns walking around the stadium with Paisley when she doesn’t want to sit still anymore.

At the end of the game, we make our way through the throng of Rev fans celebrating the win and hang out in the waiting area for friends and family.

One of the amazing perks of being tight with a few of the players. Connections and all.

“There’s my wife and son,” Walker says, ignoring the rest of us and scooping Riley and Emmitt into his arms like he hasn’t seen them in months instead of a few hours.

“Great game, Daddy.” Riley tips her head back to kiss her husband.

“Get a room,” Miles says behind him, smacking Walker on the back.

“Gladly.” Walker nestles Emmitt against his chest.

“Kidding, Bankes. You coming out to celebrate tonight?”

“Nah. I’m sure Riley and the baby are tired.”

“Emmitt can sleep anywhere. Riles, you want some adult time, don’t you?” Miles drapes his arm over her shoulder.

“I’d love to, but I don’t think bringing a four-month-old to a bar is a good idea.”

“Uncle Jackson will babysit.” Jackson takes the sleeping baby from his brother and lightly taps his back. “You kids go have fun. It’s been forever since you let me hang with my nephew and we’re due for some male bonding time.”

“You watched him last week.” Riley strokes Emmitt’s cheeks.

“For an hour while you took a long bath and fell asleep reading a book in the tub. My boy and I need a solid night of partying together.”

“You hear Uncle Jackson,” Miles says. “Kendall, you coming too?”

Before she can respond, Taylor scoops up Paisley. “I’d like more time with Princess Paisley. What do you say? Want to hang out with Uncle Jackson and Uncle Taylor tonight while the big kids do their boring big kid stuff?”

“Will you let me paint your nails?”

“Only if you let me paint yours.”

“Deal!” Paisley squeals. “Can we go now?”

“So easily replaced,” Nash grumbles, coming up behind Kendall and kissing her cheek.

Kendall turns in his arms. “She knows how much you love socializing and dancing with your wife.”

“I didn’t say anything about dancing.”

“I’ll cover for you, Potato,” Miles offers, then looks at me for the first time. “You coming too, Row?”

“I rode in with Jackson.”

“We can give you a ride home,” Kendall offers.

“I can too,” Miles says. “Probably a safer bet going with me, so you don’t have to put up with their groping and shit.”

“You said a bad word, Bucky.” Paisley points at Miles. “You have to put a dollar in the swear jar.”

“Got me there, Pickles.” Miles takes out his wallet and pulls out a ten-dollar bill. “Here’s an advance for next time.” He opens her crossbody bag—because why wouldn’t a pampered little six-year-old have one when they’re all the rage—and tucks the money inside.

“Great. It’s settled.” Jackson takes the diaper bag from Riley. “Have a good time, kids. I know the house code, unless you changed it.”

Walker shakes his head. “Same as always. Thanks, man.”

“There’s freshly squeezed milk in the fridge and bags in the freezer if you need more.”

Miles chokes and pounds his fist on his chest. “Freshly squeezed? Shit. Now I have inappropriate images of Riley squeezing her—”

“Fuck off, Buck,” Nash growls.

“Daddy!” Paisley holds out her hand, palm up.

“Take it out of Buck’s ten.”

“I’ve got you, Paisley.” Taylor hefts her higher on his hip. “Have fun tonight.”

“You’ll need to take my car to hook Emmitt’s car seat in.”

“And I have Paisley’s booster seat,” Kendall says.

Riley, Walker, Kendall, and Nash follow them out to the parking lot, leaving me with Miles and a few other guys.

“Looks like I got ditched.”

“I gotcha, Row.” Miles rests his giant hand on my lower back and guides me out of the stadium and to his truck.

He helps me into the passenger side and gives me a wink before rounding the hood and climbing in behind the wheel.

“Thanks for giving me a lift to the bar. I can hitch a ride home with Kendall and Nash later.”

“Not a chance I’d leave you to suffer a twenty-minute ride with those two.”

I chuckle. “Nash isn’t a big fan of PDA. I’m sure he’ll keep his hands to himself when I’m in the car.”

“It’s not Nash I’m worried about.”

“True.” I giggle. “Kendall’s got it bad for him. They’re perfect for each other though. I wouldn’t call them a grumpy sunshine pair since Kendall is more snark and sass than sunshine, but I love them together. And I love Paisley for Kendall too.”

“Do you want kids?”

“I mean, yeah. Someday. Putting myself through a rigorous nursing program didn’t leave much time for dating, and I don’t have the energy to be a single parent.”

I cringe at how pathetic I sound. No need to advertise how pathetically single I am and have been since forever. Not that he doesn’t know.

“Well, now that you have a more regular routine, maybe you’ll meet someone?”

“Maybe. Since my nine-to-five keeps me busy and exhausted on weeknights, it’ll have to be someone with a similar schedule who isn’t pushing for midweek dates. I’m luggage as soon as I get home and can barely find the energy to squeeze in a few workouts during the week.”

Again, not the best way to promote myself. Not that it matters. Miles is like family. He’s always around and is fun to hang out with.

The fact that he’s the hottest guy I’ve ever met doesn’t hurt either. Not that thirty-one is old, but at this age, I’m not looking for meaningless hookups, and that’s what Miles excels in.

I inwardly snort. Not that it matters. Miles and I are friends. If there was anything between us, it would have happened by now. Since he’s never made a move, it’s fair to say we’re in the friend zone, and I’m okay with that.

Less pressure.

Although, the pressure between my legs is something fierce.