Page 13

It Was Just For Show

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

That kiss…whoa.

Wow.

I’m without words, and words are my trade.

It was the stuff of romance novels, that’s for sure. The way his palm came up to wrap around my neck, the way he pulled me into him, the way he kissed me like he needed my lips for his very survival.

Whew.

I’ll be dreaming of that for a while, that’s for damn sure.

I’m grounded back into reality when I realize it was just for show .

Tyler is still standing across from us, and my gaze edges to him for a second before I glance back at Miller.

Tyler is looking at me with some combination of rage and curiosity, while Miller is looking at me with pure adoration.

Man, he’s a good actor. It’s nothing short of totally believable .

“Well, we better get to packing,” I finally say to Miller. I turn back to Tyler. “We do have a wedding to plan, after all.”

He raises his brows. “And when, pray tell, is said wedding projected to take place?”

“Maybe before next season starts.” The lie is out before I can stop it, and I feel Miller’s heated gaze on me immediately after the words fall from my mouth.

“So, like…in the next few months?” Tyler asks.

I nod. “Yep. That’s before next season.” I smirk at him, and oh my God, why am I still talking? “If we can’t make it work since there’s so much to be done, then likely at the start of the offseason.”

Miller clears his throat. “Nice seeing you again,” he grunts toward Tyler, and then I spin on my heel and head toward the guest room to finish grabbing anything left in this apartment that belongs to me.

Miller makes eyes at me over the bed as if to say, “ Before next season starts ?”

I shrug and widen my eyes back at him as if to say, “ I’m sorry. but I had to! ”

He lets out a soft sigh as if he’s relenting—maybe even considering a June wedding—and one of the things I can appreciate about our friendship is the fact that we can have these silent conversations where we both know exactly what the other one is thinking, no words exchanged.

Tyler isn’t in the family room anymore when we emerge with the rest of my things, and that’s it. We don’t bother with goodbyes. Instead, we walk out, me with one box, Miller carrying two, and we head down to our rental SUV.

“Where to?” he asks once we’re sitting in the car and the boxes are in the back.

“Same hotel we stayed at the night I broke it off with Tyler?” I suggest .

He nods, and we head in that direction.

“What do you want to do with the boxes?” he asks.

I lift a shoulder. “Drop them at my parents’ house, maybe. Or, I don’t know. I could just drive them back.”

“Let me look at my schedule tomorrow, but that could work,” he says.

“I meant by myself. I don’t want to put more on your plate.”

“Are you kidding?” he asks. “A road trip with my favorite author? It’s not more on my plate. It’s a dream come true.”

A thrill lights up my spine when he calls me his favorite author. Something about his approval is just everything to me.

We end up in a room with two queens this time, and I’m not sure why I was hoping those rooms were sold out again.

Miller takes a quick shower, and when he emerges, he’s just wearing a pair of mesh shorts.

No shirt.

Good Lord, those abs.

My eyes zero in on them for a second before they flick up to his, and he totally catches me staring.

My cheeks redden, but I don’t let him see me sweat. “My turn?”

“Yeah,” he grunts, and I practically run into the bathroom.

I take a minute to stare at myself in the mirror as I draw in sips of calming air. What the hell is wrong with me?

That kiss affected me more than I realized, I think.

I have to remind myself that he’s just being a good friend. He dropped everything to be here for me. He’s willing to drive me back to San Diego with my three boxes filled with what amounts to a bunch of meaningless junk.

His hand on my neck.

I’m his favorite author.

His lips on mine.

He’s my best friend .

His tongue brushing against mine as butterflies raced around my chest and my stomach flipped.

God, this is so confusing. Why can’t I stop thinking about the kiss?

Maybe I’m just horny. I wrote a sex scene this morning and a different one yesterday. Tyler and I hadn’t slept together in a while before we ended things. Maybe I just need a quick orgasm to help alleviate some of this nonsense running through my brain.

I wasn’t planning on taking a shower, but I find myself turning on the water, undressing, and getting in.

I turn it to hot, and I stand under the stream of water, breathing in the steam as I bring my fingertips up to rub slow circles around my nipples.

I grab one between my thumb and the side of my finger, rubbing it there and working overtime to quiet the moans I want to let out.

I let go with one hand and let my fingertips trail down my torso toward my pussy, and I slip a finger in, not wasting any time as I pump my finger in and out. I pull it out and slide it over my clit, rubbing myself there as I tug on my nipple at the same time.

I snag my bottom lip between my teeth and bite down hard as the pleasure starts to push me toward the peak. My fingers both start to move a little faster as I climb higher and higher, and I push my fingers back inside as I feel myself tipping over the edge.

His hand on my neck, pulling me closer.

I finger myself harder as I start to fall apart, my body thrashing instinctively as the pleasure ripples through me.

His lips on mine. His tongue brushing mine.

I pull my fingers out to focus on my clit as pulse after hot pulse throbs down low, and all I see is his face .

As my body starts to calm, I move over to the little shower bench and slump down onto it for a few beats as I let the warm glow fall over me.

And now I need to go out and face him.

He’s in his bed, sitting up against the headboard and scrolling his phone when I emerge in a loungewear set. I feel his eyes on me, but I’m too embarrassed to look at him. It’s like he’ll sense that I just fingered myself in the shower while I was thinking about him, and that feels too heavy.

I’ve never done that before—thought of him while I did anything sexual. I’ve never seen him as anything more than a friend.

But suddenly…

What? Suddenly what ? I wish I had the answer to that. All I know is that I want him to kiss me again.

And this time, I don’t want it to be for show.

I brush away those thoughts and feelings, instead focusing on him for a change since it feels like everything lately has been very me -centric.

“Do you want to do more planning for your charity project?” I ask.

He glances up from his phone. “Funny you should ask. I’m actually looking up some things now.” He flashes his phone at me, and I climb onto his bed next to him.

Dangerous, I know. I do it anyway.

I adjust the pillow behind me and lean against the headboard the way he is, and he settles his knee against my thigh once I’m comfortable.

“I wanted to plan out more of the curriculum for each day, and I liked your idea of doing a small chunk of information for a variety of topics each day,” he says, his tone excited and enthusiastic.

“If we do a weeklong camp, let’s say we get eight to ten hours a day of instruction, plus up to a few hours for scrimmage or technique or whatever.

We could be up and at ’em bright and early for workouts, do classroom stuff a bit, drills, break for lunch, more classroom, more drills, break for dinner, review film, bed. ”

“Is that sort of like training camp?” I ask.

He nods. He opens a note on his phone, and I can’t read it, so I scoot closer to take a look at it. I’m so close I’m practically leaning on his shoulder, and his clean scent wafts to my nose, causing a pulsing, searing ache to land squarely between my legs.

Were his shoulders always this broad? I glance down beyond his phone at his thigh.

Holy hell…were his quads always that thick?

He’s got this, like, massive quadzilla thing going on that’s leaving me a little breathless.

Those thighs are powerful and sexy and probably useful for more than just football games.

Oh God, Sophie. Get control of yourself.

It’s just Miller. It’s just my best friend. Why does the way he smells suddenly make me want to get naked right here in this bed beside him?

And the passion with which he speaks as he talks about this camp he’s putting together…

It’s hot.

Really hot.

And those quads.

God, this is getting confusing.

Really confusing.

And I don’t even have anybody to talk to about any of it since he is the one I’d normally turn to.