Page 26 of Dream Chaser (The New York Knights Players Club #4)
“We good here?” Matthew asks, agitated.
“We’re fine,” Harper answers. “You good?”
He arches a brow at her.
“What? I don’t get to ask, but you can?”
CJ winks at her. “We’re good, baby sister.”
She waves to the door. “Then go do whatever it is you need to do.”
“Love you,” he says.
“Oh my God, I know.” She forces a laugh.
Jackson pushes up off the floor. “You made me take my boots off for this ?”
“You’re damn right I did.” I laugh.
“See you in the morning for donuts and coffee?” He chuckles.
“Get out.” I feign annoyance, which I still would be if not for the fact that there are far bigger issues than getting busted in my own place with a freaking boy.
They’ve all headed out when Jackson peeks back in. “You have an extra room?”
“Go away,” I huff.
Once they’re gone, I look at Harper, Lexi, and London. “You guys okay?”
“I hated her,” Harper says, curling up into a freaking ball.
“I hated her so freaking much, and then”—she shakes her head—“I didn’t.
No matter what shit she did to me, to Maddox, she saved me from those maniacs, and I understand what she’s been through, because of Maddox.
But he chose to heal. From what I understand, she gets better, and then something triggers her.
I can’t hate her for that, but I can be angry at Matthew.
” She hugs her knees. “I just wish he would see that she may not choose to change, to make up for all the years she couldn’t.
He’s never been the same since … all of that. ”
That being he shot and killed the man who shot and killed their father, Uncle Collin, while he was trying to save Harper. London and Lexi’s father, Brody, he got the man behind it all.
“And that’s Matthew’s choice, too, Harper,” I whisper the truth no one wants to acknowledge.
She nods. “I know. I just … you know, miss him—all of them.”
Silence spreads like a fog, and even though I was not prepared for girls’ night to start at eight in the morning, London, Ava, and Harper are moms, and if they have two hours, I’m gonna give them two hours.
So, I stand up, stretch my arms overhead, and try to pretend like my brain isn’t a mash of overheard threats, unspoken history, and whatever the hell that thing in my chest is—emotional indigestion maybe.
Then I spot it.
The takeout bag from the brewery, still sitting where I shoved it hastily into the trash.
Shit.
Before anyone else notices, I blurt, “I’m gonna head downstairs and grab some firewood.”
Lo blinks. “You’re starting a fire?”
“Well, I’m going to take out the trash, too.”
Riley tilts her head. “You just sat down.”
“Yeah, well, now I’m standing. Look at that, basic kinetic energy.” I scoop up the trash bag, praying no one has x-ray vision and can see the evidence of a late-night Skinner snack attack—two burgers with magic sauce and an extra-large pickle, whose name I haven’t quite nailed down.
“You good?” Lexi asks as I near the door.
“Yup. Great. Living the dream.” I slam the door behind me before they can ask anything else and head downstairs like a woman on a mission.
A mission to hide my feelings.
And a takeout bag that smells like “boy.”
After finding the bundles of starter logs Dad told me were in one of the old recycle bins, I shoot them a text.
Me:
Had planned on coming up, but Ava, London, Harper, Riley, Syd, Mags, and Lexi stopped in. I’ll try to swing up later.
Dad we’ll still judge your love for thrifting, but we’ll do it a little more quietly.”
“Yeah.” I smile. “Wouldn’t want it any other way.”
In the blink of an eye, the moms are gone, and Lexi and Mags are going their own way; Mags to school—she skipped two classes—and Lexi to spend time with her parents, Brody and Emma, Maddox—her brother—and her nieces and nephews.
We all plan to meet at seven, share a meal, and watch some TV … which means I need to get one.
My quiet reflective moment is that—just a moment—when my phone chimes
It’s quiet. Too quiet.
I look at the screen.
Thigh Whisperer.
I sigh. I shouldn’t open it, but of course I do.
Thigh Whisperer:
You’re really going to pretend you didn’t moan my name when I kissed that spot behind your knee?
Heat rushes up my neck before I can stop it. I remember exactly how it felt—his mouth there, soft and slow. If his intent was to wreck me, mission completed.
I type back, fingers steady even if my freaking heartbeat isn’t.
Me:
That was me kicking you in the head. By accident.
Liar.
Thigh Whisperer:
Iz. If that was a kick, I can’t wait for you to do it again.
I squeeze my thighs together, jaw clenching as I recall his voice low in my ear, his hand between my legs, my body betraying me with every gasp.
Me:
Whatever.
Thigh Whisperer:
I memorized every noise you made. And I know the exact sound you make right before you come. It’s my second favorite.
I palm my face as I try to slow my breathing. That sound? Yeah. It escapes when his fingers curl just right.
Focus …
Me:
Thigh Whisperer:
Too late. It’s on replay in my head. Especially the part where you begged. Hot by the way.
Muscle memory kicks in, and my back arches as if his breath is on my collarbone, and I hear it—the way he says my name like a promise and a prayer all at once.
Nope. No.
Me:
My favorite of yours was the grunt, followed by the wide-eyed confusion before you came. You looked like a baby deer in the headlights. Cute, by the way.
I follow it up with:
Me:
Ooo, maybe I’ll name your dick Bambi.
I laugh to myself as I watch the dots bounce.
Thigh Whisperer:
I’m more a twelve-point, and you know it.
Me:
You’re cocky for someone who couldn’t find his shirt.
Thigh Whisperer:
Who said I actually looked for it?
I attempt to come up with a witty, somewhat stabby response when the dots start jumping again.
Thigh Whisperer:
I was too busy watching you sleep.
I bite my lip—hard. This scratched itch, turned overnight guest, isn’t the only one who feels like he’s been ruined.
Me:
You were supposed to leave last night
Thigh Whisperer:
You were supposed to make me want to.
That shouldn’t hit as hard as it does. But it does.
And then:
Thigh Whisperer:
I’ll be back tonight. If you leave the door unlocked. Or even if you don’t.
Me:
It’s girls’ night.
Thigh Whisperer:
We’ll see.