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  What I didn’t tell him, what he’d never understand was . . .

  I didn’t want normal.

  RUSH

  Lucas

  NO SEX DURING training camp.

  It wasn’t a team rule for the Bears, not yet anyway. But after the Rams coach cut a player last season when he invited a woman into his dorm room, everyone around here was waiting for the addendum to be posted, the meeting to be called, the hammer to fall.

  Hey, I got it. Rules were rules, and breaking a team rule was a fireable offense. After all, training camp was designed to give focus, and insubordination indicated a lack of discipline.

  But did wanting to fuck a woman mean you weren’t committed? Fuck no! Besides, how was having intercourse with the opposite sex any worse than staying up late watching porn and masturbating?

  The answer was . . . it wasn’t.

  Not my place to point that out. And at least the whole no sex thing wasn’t a team rule that I had to worry about breaking—not yet anyway.

  But was what I wanted to do even worse than breaking a rule? I wanted to fuck Gillian, and she was not only the coach’s daughter, but also an intern for the team I was now a part of.

  She was forbidden fruit.

  It didn’t get more off-limits than that.

  Did it?

  The truth was, for the first time in my life, I was worried about doing the wrong thing. In the past, what I wanted I always went after one way or another. I knew I could have her, but what would that do to her reputation?

  Ruin it?

  I didn’t want to put her in that position.

  I’d asked a few of the returning players about her. No one said much, no one commented. Nothing negative. Nothing defamatory. Good thing for them too. She was quiet. Nice. Beautiful. And everyone around here seemed to respect her.

  Perhaps I should do the same.

  Seconds before the hall lights flicked off, I flung my door open with a million thoughts of Gillian scattering through my mind, and the feel of her lips against mine still burning in my brain.

  What the hell was I going to do?

  As soon as I shut the door, I made the mistake of looking to my left and found myself staring right at Thor’s balls. At least his hand was covering his dick.

  “Oh, baby, don’t stop. Make it last all night,” he gritted out with his phone lying beside him on his pillow.

  “Fucking A, Thor!” I yelled as I whizzed by, flying into the bathroom. “Next time give me some kind of warning,” I shouted before slamming the door.

  Sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, I turned on the shower to block out the noise and then cradled my head in my hands.

  She was pure temptation.

  The way she spoke.

  The way she moved.

  The way she laughed and the way she made me laugh.

  What she did to me.

  The semi I was sporting from sitting so close to her on the bridge was throbbing in my pants.

  Since I was stuck in here until Thor got his rocks off, which by the sounds of things was going to be never, I was left with no choice but to do the same.

  Too bad I couldn’t make a booty call, but I wouldn’t even if I could. I wasn’t going to do that. I was going to grow up and think of someone besides myself for once.

  The mirror started to fog up and I still couldn’t stop thinking about her and the way she made me laugh tonight. The way she called me on my shit. The way I felt so comfortable around her.

  I’d had my share of girls, but I never talked to any of them like they were friends of mine. I had a goal, and I didn’t let anything or anyone get in my way. Women could only drag you down. Look what happened to my old man. Ruined after my mother left. Because of this, I always kept the girls in my life an arm’s distance away.

  Fuck, I should be more like my brother. He’d tell me to fuck that shit and deal with what you have. And he wouldn’t be wrong.

  Stripping off my clothes, I was harder than a rock the moment I let myself think about her—her perfect body and how much I wanted to be with her. I stepped in the pint-sized shower with my cock in my hand, but I wanted it to be her hand curling around me and feeling how hard she made me.

  It was wrong.

  I knew it was.

  The thing was, I couldn’t stop myself. I closed my eyes and gently rubbed first around my cock, then my balls.

  Fuck, that felt good.

  I started to picture her with me—in the shower with me, us exploring each other’s body for the first time. Fuck, I wanted to feel her hands gripping me. Her lips kissing me. Her legs wrapping around me.

  My fist pumped at a quicker pace, and as I licked the water from my lips, I thought of her hair, her face, her body . . . the ways I wanted to touch her, where I wanted to touch her, how I wanted to touch her. Then, in a way I knew was so wrong, I imagined driving my cock into her sweet pussy and when I did, it made me want to come hard and fast.

  The pressure welled deep, and a tingling radiated from my cock. As my orgasm started to build, so did the contractions—it felt like electricity shooting through me.

  When my dick twitched, I couldn’t hold on any longer. As I started to come, practically spasming in my hold, the incredible feeling built and I finally let myself go. That’s when I crossed that threshold over and over until I was spent.

  My chest rose and fell and I slouched back against the shower thinking about how many hours it was until I would see her.

  Once my breathing returned to normal, I lathered up with soap, rinsed it off, and got out.

  Wrapping a towel around my waist, I listened at the door and heard nothing from the room. Thor must have been done.

  Ready for bed, I wiped the steam from the mirror and gave myself a quick look. Blue eyes and brown hair reflected back, and I tried to see the good in them. The part of me I had buried long ago, or maybe the part of me I never bothered to uncover.

  I hoped it was there, because if not . . . I was so fucked.

  And not in the good way.

  FUMBLE

  Gillian

  IT WAS SUCH a girl thing to obsess over a guy.

  In my freshman year of college, I had this roommate who was infatuated with this boy she knew from high school.

  She talked about him all the time. I still remember his name. Mike Talone. That was how much she talked about him. She went out where she knew he’d be, just so she could run into him. She waited in front of the window in the stairwell of the academic building between classes until she saw him coming down the sidewalk, just so she could see him.

  The whole thing was crazy.

  It drove me mad.

  If he liked her, he would have asked her out, taken her up on one of her dozens of offers to have sex, said hello to her for heaven’s sake.

  He never did.

  I often wondered if she was still obsessing over him.

  But now I felt like karma was being a real bitch because here I was unable to stop thinking about Lucas. It had been three days since our date, which wasn’t really a date. Other than coming down for therapy each morning, I hadn’t seen him. He hadn’t said a word to me other than what was necessary, and nothing about that night. Not about the stream, or the bridge, or the kiss.

  God, I really hated when I acted so much like a girl.

  Feelings were so not my thing.

  Shaking it off, him off, because I wasn’t going to be like my freshman roommate and obsess, I got to work getting ready for the players’ first week de-stress session.

  Every year my father marked the weeks of training camp with a special event. The first one was always something to make the players laugh. The second one was a night off. The rest depended on where he was in the team selection process and what he had left to accomplish.

  Marking week one last year, my father had a synchronized swim instructor come with her class of women, who were all in their sixties and seventies, to teach the guys how to do skulls, the egg beater, and even lifts.r />
  It was really funny.

  To mark the completion of week one this year, I would be teaching yoga to the players. As Drake and I pulled the mats from the cart and started setting them on the floor of the college basketball court, I took a certain satisfaction in knowing whom I was going to use to help demonstrate at least one of the moves.

  I couldn’t wait.

  Payback.

  The door swung open. “Who wants to take bets on how much junk is going to be hanging out all over this floor?” Austin asked as he strode in the room.

  Austin was the third athletic trainer intern. This was his first year at any football camp and it was proving to be an experience for him, and us. To be honest, I wasn’t sure he liked it very much.

  I was busy arranging the college-owned yoga mats on the floor when I glanced up to speak. “None, I hope. The email that went out to the players was very specific. It stated they should not wear their baggy gym clothes. That tight clothes were recommended.”

  Austin grinned. “Yeah, like I said, let’s see how many show up ready for their junk to fall out.”

  Drake shook his head. He didn’t really like Austin and his carefree attitude very much. “Hey, Gillian,” he said.

  I looked over my shoulder at him. “Yes.”

  “What’s the reasoning behind wearing tight clothes, other than Austin’s concern?”

  Straightening the corner of the last mat, I stood. “It makes it easier for me to see how a student’s body is set all the way from their shoulder blades to their feet. That way I can easily help adjust the pose if I need to.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “You should come with me to a class. There’s a studio in Bourbonnais that I really like. I go on Wednesday nights after dinner.”

  He made a face. “I want to, but I don’t think so.”

  “Why not?”

  He shrugged. “Are there any guys in the class?”

  I laughed. “Sure, there are a lot more than you’d think. Come with me this week and if you don’t want to take the class, you can wait in the coffee shop next door.”

  Drake glanced at the mats laid throughout the room. “I’ll think about it.”

  “The coffee shop also sells boba teas.”

  He walked toward the front. “Sold. I’ll go with you.”

  “What the hell is bobboo?” Austin asked.

  “It’s boba, and it’s a tea mixed with fruit or milk, to which chewy tapioca balls and fruit jellies are added. It’s delicious and really good for you.”

  Austin plopped down on one of the mats. He, like Drake, was here to help me with the class. Liam, the second assistant trainer, was supposed to join us as well, but he wasn’t here. That was fine because other than Drake knowing a tiny bit, neither the interns nor the trainers were familiar with yoga, so it wasn’t like they were going to be able to help.

  “You should wrap your legs around your head while the players are walking in. That would totally freak them out,” Austin said, while doing a few sit ups.

  That wasn’t a bad idea. In fact I was totally going to do that.

  Drake shot him a glare. “Stop sweating on the mats and work out on your own time.”

  “Austin,” I said, “why don’t you get the water bottles and place one in front of each mat.”

  I wasn’t in charge, but Austin needed someone to lead him. All the time. He got easily distracted, and this annoyed Drake. I chose to take Austin for what he was, which to be honest I hadn’t quite figured out yet.

  “Yeah, sure. I’m on it,” he said eagerly.

  Today was Sunday. My father always allowed for prayer time in the morning. Players were invited to attend a service at the college chapel after breakfast. It was strongly encouraged, although not required.

  Lucas did attend after he met with me in the training center. He looked good in a suit.

  There were no position meetings on Sundays, which allowed the guys to sleep a little later. And there was also only one practice, but it was an hour longer than usual. At least, the afternoons were free. However, all the players were required to attend the mandatory team dinner at six.

  The clock struck three and Drake opened the gym doors to a horde of big players in various states of dress. Some sported cycling gear, some wore their football girdle without pads, others had on basketball shorts.

  They swarmed in and found their places without me having to say a word. Lucas took a position on the end, third row back.

  Was he hiding?

  Keeping his distance on purpose?

  I think he was.

  Still, I had found him, and I allowed myself a second to look at him, but only one. He was wearing a tight white t-shirt and a black football girdle. God, the shape of his biceps and his quads were incredible. He wasn’t huge, huge, like a lot of the guys. Don’t get me wrong, he wasn’t small. No, he was just right.

  See, I was obsessing.

  I couldn’t stand it.

  This had to stop.

  Deciding against the Eka pada sirsasana yoga pose, or the leg behind the head move that Austin had suggested, I moved to the front center of the room and sat in Eka pada sirasana or easy pose, which was a basic seated yoga posture.

  Everyone followed me, sitting down, but very few of them folded their legs. That was fine. “Namaste, Bears,” I said loudly. “I’m Gillian, for those of you who don’t know me. And welcome to Yoga for beginners.”

  There were some waves, a few groans, and a lot of laughs. All to be expected.

  Austin’s job was to video the class for playback during the season. These first week treats were always good for a laugh by the end of the season.

  Drake was walking around the perimeter of the room. He had no specific role except to help anyone who required it if I was otherwise occupied.

  “Before we start, who here has taken a Yoga class?”

  There were more hands than I expected, and Lucas’s was among them. Of course I would notice his as one of the first.

  Seriously, what was wrong with me?

  “Good. Great. So for some of you this class might be too easy,” I said.

  The players laughed, and I did too.

  “Yoga,” I said, “is a bona fide science. One of the things it concentrates on is matching your movements to your breathing. Remember, with each breath you can let go of anything.”

  The music was quiet and peaceful.

  Smartly, I had worn gray yoga pants and a black high neck tank top. It wasn’t like I was going to wear what I normally would to yoga in front of ninety guys. I wasn’t a cheerleader, after all.

  And yes that was a dig. I really disliked the way they strutted around with their boobs and asses hanging out. Couldn’t stand it, actually. Besides, it was distracting for the players. The girls would be arriving next Sunday, and I wasn’t looking forward to it.

  Uggg.

  “Okay guys,” I started, “we’re going to begin today with a seated position on your mat. Starting with our seated cat/cow, inhale, open the chest, exhale, rounding the spine, tuck the chin down. Inhale, open, exhale, take it down.”

  The player closest to me went by the name Preacher. He was a veteran and really liked to talk, more like preach. Which was how he got his nickname. “Like this?” he whispered.

  I nodded and smiled at him. “Just like that.”

  For the next ten minutes I added moves to this basic pose, and then we all lied down on our backs.

  “No sleeping,” someone yelled.

  “Really?” I said, “I thought it was nap time.”

  The guys chuckled.

  “Grab your right knee and hug it into your chest,” I instructed.

  I hadn’t so much as looked at Lucas since the class started, but I did now, and when I did, I caught him looking at me. Of course I was teaching the class, and that could be why, but the smoldering look he gave me when our gazes locked wasn’t one a student gives a teacher.

  Barefoot, with his leg pressed to his chest and hi
s blue eyes blazing in my direction, I wanted to crawl across the floor and lie down next to him. I wanted to roll on top of him and straddle him. I wanted to bend down and kiss him, using my tongue to taste him. Not anything like that childish peck I’d given him nights ago. No, I wanted full-on mouth and teeth and tongue.

  Unable to resist, I smiled at him, and when he gave me that easy smile of his in return, not only did my chest do that pitter-patter thing, but this time my belly did too.

  Focus.

  I had to focus.

  Although I didn’t want to, I tore my gaze from his. “Warming up the ankle, we’re going to roll it around,” I told the class.

  Ten more minutes passed before we got to our feet, and by now everyone was loose, and having fun. “Okay, who knows what a Mountain Pose is?” I asked the guys.

  The rookie draft I’d met the first day, Dylan Kutchner, raised his hand.

  I smiled at him, glad to see him back on his feet and in full recovery. “Dylan, come on up and show us,” I smiled.

  He was confident and didn’t hesitate. “Girl, I told you before, it’s Kutch,” he said with a smirk as he walked toward me.

  Some of the guys chatted among themselves. Some drank water. Others laughed. It was all good.

  “Okay, Kutch, show these guys how it’s done.”

  “Sure, girl,” he said. “I got this down.”

  As if liking the attention, he made a show of stretching, cracking his muscles, moving his neck from side to side, and then he stood with his feet together and his arms at his sides. And stood, and stood, and stood.

  “What comes next, Kutch?” I posed.

  There was a blank look on his face.

  I moved closer to him and took hold of his arms to show him. “Like this,” I said. “As you inhale, elongate and extend your arms up, then out.” I paused to look around.

  Everyone was laughing now, but they were also trying to mimic the pose.

  This session was doing what it was meant to do—help everyone unwind from a stressful week.

  “Great,” I announced. “Now, exhale and release your shoulder blades away from your head before you drop your arms back to your sides.”