Hard Tackle (A Stepbrother Warriors Novel) by Celia Loren Read Free Book Online

of my mouth, and I try quickly to
stifle it. "What?" he asks, sounding a little insulted.
    "Sorry, I just…I just realized how much he would
dislike you," I admit, beginning to laugh again.
    "Hey!"
    "I mean, if he knew you were propositioning me! But,
well, also because you're wealthy and probably never had to have a job."
    "I have a job," he replies indignantly.
    "I said had to have a job." He falls into
silence for a bit, and I worry I've hurt him. Sometimes it just seems like his
ego is so big, that would be impossible. But that's no excuse for me to be
mean. I open my mouth to apologize.
    "What would you do? If you didn't have to work in the
diner," he asks before I can say anything.
    "I want to get an MFA in writing," I whisper. It's
my wish that I can barely allow myself to know that I want.
    "My dad could probably—"
    "No," I interrupt him. "Driscolls don't
depend on anyone. It's practically our family motto. I'll earn the money
myself."
    "How long will that take?"
    "A while," I respond, feeling a lump in my throat
at the thought. Well, at least I don't have to worry about rent.
    "Should we turn back?" he asks.
    "You tired?"
    "No. You?"
    "No."
    "Then let's keep going."

 
    Chapter Eight
     
    I tap my pencil against my nose as I stare out at the ocean,
my damp hair leaving a dripping trail down my back. When I got back from my run
with Jack, which turned into a much longer one than I had planned, he left me
at foot of the stairs with these words: "My door is always open."
    I turned them over and over in my mind while I showered, and
now I can't stop thinking about him. I wish I'd made a good girlfriend at
school so I could have someone to talk to about this. I always had my mom, my
brother, and Andrè and Silvio, but I can't talk to any of them about this
situation for obvious reasons. I smile, thinking of how torn the brothers'
allegiance would be…their hero athlete trying to score with their little Bree.
    I'm surprised to find that I keep coming back to one central
question: why not sleep with him? He said he could make me feel
beautiful, and something about how he looked at me made me believe him. I'd
never consider him as relationship material, but that's a plus, since he's said
he's not interested in relationships.
    He'd have to wear a condom, that's
a given. I'm clean, but I'm not on the pill, and he didn't say anything about
being exclusive. I wrinkle my nose…would I be OK with him sleeping with other
women while he's sleeping with me? For that matter, what if I want to sleep
with someone else? OK, that option is less likely, but still. I suppose I'll
have to be alright with it.
    And really, he's probably a good
person to learn about sex from. I mean, the idea of me being some well-trained
sexual badass…that sounds fucking cool. If I knew I could drive Miles wild in
bed, I bet that'd help me look him in the eye.
    My door is always open …shit.
Am I really thinking about doing this? I really am. I stand up and take a deep
breath. Now that I've made a decision, I want to go to his room right now. But
maybe there are some things I should take care of first.
    I head into my bedroom and put my
pad and pencil back in my desk. I walk into the bathroom and turn the shower
back on. I washed off after my run, but I wasn't really thinking of anything
but the hair on my head. I run my hand over my legs…stubbly, as usual.
    I switch out my old razor blade for
a new one, and slap some conditioner on my legs, figuring it'll help to get a
close shave. I shave my calves and then my thighs, for a change, going all the
way around. I pause as I stare at the mound of light brown hair between my
legs. It's not like I haven't seen reruns of Sex and the City . I know
what most women have going on down there.
    I tentatively reach my razor down
and begin narrowing the strip, then trimming down the hair. It ends up a little
shorter than I intended, but I think it looks nice. I rub my thighs together
experimentally, and am