Score: A Stepbrother Sports Romance (15 page)

T
here are
dreams that after you wake up from, become lost in the veil of awareness. Then, of course, there are others where you wake up, but you’re still
in
the dream.

That second one is me, right now. Only it’s not a dream anymore.

I am very much awake, and in bed with Dalton, after the single hottest night of my life.

Holy crap.

I can feel my heart beating in my chest as I blink, fully taking it all in. I’m still in his arms, still only wearing panties and a t-shirt, and still tingling from the earth-shattering orgasm of the night before.

Right, the one Dalton Cole gave me, right before I stroked his legendary cock to completion on my skin.

Yeah, this is very much not a dream.

He stirs behind me, his breath teasing warm across the back of my neck as his arms flex, moving to circle me tighter and his lips trail over my shoulder.

“Hey,” he murmurs, lazily stretching behind me.

“Hi.”

I’m awkward, and frozen, and suddenly at a loss for what to say. And I shouldn’t be, but I am.

I turn toward him, biting my lip. He’s still shirtless, laid out in my bed with just a sheet slung over his body. Sunlight streams across his skin, and he grins at me. Those twinkling eyes, those dimples, that handsome, chiseled line of his jaw.

Jesus he’s unfairly good looking.

I’m clutching the sheet to myself, and he grins. “Well, look who suddenly got bashful.”

I blush. “It’s- it’s different.”

“How?” His grin widens.

I chew on my lip. “The sun’s out.”

Dalton laughs. “Are we vampires or something?”

“No, Dalton-” I take a breath, rolling my eyes. It’s just-”

What, it’s just that now we can see what we’ve done? We’re not half-asleep and it’s obvious what happened shouldn’t have now that the lights are shed on it?

Or is that I’m still hanging onto my own ridiculous idea that I’m “just experimenting”? Is it that I’m still telling myself that all of this is just “biology” and “trying something new” with a well-versed instructor?

Maybe
.

Except I don’t have the
foggiest
idea how to say that to Dalton. Because even
Dalton
doesn’t deserve that. Even epic manwhore, king of the campus, freaking underwear model Dalton Cole deserves more than that from me.

“Look, I just-”

“Hey, kiddo!”

I actually jump at the sound of my dad’s voice from downstairs.

“
Shit!
” I hiss, scrambling out of bed as I hear footsteps coming up the back staircase.

“You up, Hails?”

I’m yanking sweatpants up my legs as I whirl and look at Dalton.

He’s grinning.

God,
of
course
he’s grinning. Of
course
he’s still shirtless, and carefree, and laying in Coach Garrison’s
daughter’s
bed like this is no big deal.

“Dalton!” I hiss.

“What?”

“You need to
go!
” My eyes are wide and my pulse racing in my veins as I stare at him like he’s insane.

He looks around, furrowing his brow. “Go
where
, exactly, darlin?”

“
Away!
” I’m ducking my face in front of the mirror on my wall, pushing the tangles of hair out of my face.

I turn back to see him shrug and look around. “I mean, what do you want me to do, click my heels three times?”

“Dalton!”

I scowl as he slips out of bed, that cut, chiseled body of his uncoiling like some sort of jungle cat. “There’s
one
door, darlin. You want me to hold it open for Coach on the way out?”

“
Ugh
, NO.”

He shrugs again, throwing his hands in the air. “
Well?
”

The footsteps continue to climb the stairs as my blood pressure goes through the damn roof. God,
why
are we even in this moment where I’ve got Dalton half naked in my bedroom?

…Right, because I asked him to here.

Nice move, psycho.

“Can you hide?”

“Hailey?”

The knock on my door has me jumping out of my skin, but it also seems to
finally
have an effect on Dalton too. His eyes dart to the door, and the first time maybe ever, I see something that looks a little bit like fear there.

Well, maybe not
fear
, but “less cocky”.

It’s a start.

He gives me a final look before he darts into the adjoining bathroom and shuts the door just as my dad knocks again.

I take a deep breath, hoping to God my sins of last night aren’t plainly written on my face as I pull open the door.

“Hey, sport.”

I smile, clenching my hand into a fist at my side and forcing myself to smile and breathe. “Hey, Dad.”

“You got a minute?”

He follows me into the room, and for a second, a spike of fear lances through me.

Dalton’s
jeans
are on the floor.

I quickly kick them under my desk with my heel as my dad turns to close the door. God knows
where
Dalton’s shirt is - probably and hopefully still tangled up in my mess of a bed.

Dad turns to me, a concerned look on his face. “You okay, kiddo?”

I shake my head quickly. “Yeah, dad, I’m gre-”

“I heard about last night, Hailey.”

My heart almost climbs right out of my mouth, the blood draining from my face before he puts a hand on my arm. “The party, honey.”

Sweet
sweet
relief floods through me.

Yeah, going to a party I can explain…fooling around with his new wife’s
son
is another matter altogether.

My cheeks go red as I quickly look at the floor. “Dad, it was just a party and I only had
one
dri-”

“Hailey, honey, I don’t care about the party. And right
now
at least, I don’t care about you having a drink.”

His voice is heavy with emotion, tired and yet concerned.

“I care about you being
safe
.”

His eyes harden before he suddenly brings me into a hug. “Jesus, honey, I’m so sorry about what happened.”

Oh, that
.

As horrible as it sounds, I’ve actually almost entirely forgot about the incident with Henderson in the aftermath of what happened later with Dalton.

“I’m really okay, dad.”

“Thanks to Dalton.” My dad shakes his head, emotion creeping into his eyes as he grits his teeth. “Thank
God
your stepbrother was there.”

Uh, yeah…

He hugs me again before he pulls back and looks at me, blinking quickly. “I’m sorry, honey.”

I smile weakly. “Dad, I really am okay. Dalton and my friend Roxie took care of me and then he brought me home.”

Dad’s face goes grim. “Heather’s going to start proceedings to see if we can have that shit-bird removed from classes pending a formal inquiry, and I should mention it goes without saying that his ass is off the team.”

I quickly shake my head. “No, Dad, I don’t need you guys pulling special strings for me.”

He frowns. “Honey, we’d do this if it was
any
student that got attacked by that piece of shit. But you’re my
daughter
, and I plan on stringing this little prick up by his balls.”

I groan. “Dad, everyone’s just going to think you’re making an example of him because my
dad
is Coach Garr-”

“You’re
Goddamn
right they will!” Dad’s voice rises sharply as his eyes flash. His mouth tightens. “You’re
damn
right they will,” he says quieter with a shake of his head. “
No one
gets away with trying to lay their hands on my little girl like that, do you understand?”

I nod as the smile creeps across my face. “I got it.” I throw my arms around my dad. “And thank you.”

He squeezes me back tightly. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m really fine, Dad.”

He pulls back and shakes his head. “I’m just so thankful that Dalton was there to get you out of that whole thing.”

That whole thing and my panties, actually.

My face goes red at the thought, and I quickly shake those memories from my head.

“Hey, what say you and me go out for burger or a shake sometime, just the two of us like we used to?”

He ruffles my hair in that way that used to bug me when I was little because it felt like something he should be doing to a son, not his daughter. It was one of those things like him calling me “sport” that used to grate on me, before I realized that
that
was just my dad.

Who loves me.

I grin, nodding. “Name a time, and I’m there.”

* * *

T
he bathroom door
creeks open after he heads back downstairs.

“Well,” Dalton steps out, running his hand through his hair and shooting a look at my bedroom door. “I’m officially terrified of your dad now.”

“Feeling guilty?”

I say it quicker and with more fire than I meant to, and his look sours.

“I distinctly remember someone
asking
me to stay last night.”

“Yeah, well…”

My face goes red as I trail off.

“Oh,
what
?”

“Nothing, I just-”

“Can’t believe how good I made you feel?” Dalton flashes a lopsided grin at me.

“
No
, I can’t believe I
did
that.”

“You’d be surprised how much fun you can have when you let yourself go a little.”

I’m shaking my head as I suddenly whirl and glare at him. “You know what, maybe you
should
feel guilty for once in your life.”

He frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I shake my head, pushing my hair out of my face. “Dalton, I mean I was
attacked
last night.”

“Yeah, I was there, remember?”

And this is where I should stop. This is where I should take a breath and realize it’s not
Dalton
I’m mad at, or that I’m not
mad
at all.

I’m scared.

I’m scared of what last night means with him and I’m scared that “experimenting” goes a little further when you wake up in each other’s arms.

But I don’t stop, or breathe, or listen to what’s really going around inside my head.

I lash out.

“Oh, to swoop in? To pick me up? Carry me home?”

I glare at him. “To climb into my bed?”

Dalton’s face goes dark. “Okay,
listen
, darlin,” he spits out.

“Is this one of your
moves,
huh? Get them while they’re emotionally unstable?”

His eyes narrow. “That is
not
what last night was and you damn well know it.”

And I do, but I can’t stop it. It’s like every second guess or fear I’ve got stashed inside about what it is I’m doing with Dalton comes pouring out of a tap, and there’s no turning it off.

“I think you should go,” I say quietly.

“Yeah, you know what?” He’s shaking his head as he yanks his jeans up. He gives me one last look. “I do too.”

The door slams behind him.

I’m slumping down on the floor next to the bed we shared the night before, dropping my head into my hands and sucking in rattling lungfuls of air.

Nice going
,
weirdo.

I
’m grumbling later
as I storm into the locker room back on campus.

That was a mistake, I shouldn’t have stepped foot in that room last night.

Well, no, that much is bullshit. What happened
last
night
is fucking awesome. What happened
last night
is burning like a little match inside my head, putting this ridiculous grin on my face, however pissed I am.

It’s
this morning
that has the scowl lingering there when the smile fades, though. It’s this morning, and Hailey’s little panicky meltdown, not to mention her shit attitude after that little heart-to-heart with her dad.

That’s
what’s got me shaking my head, and muttering about my choices.

Because Hailey Garrison wasn’t some fling, or just “some girl.” And I don’t exactly know what she
is
, but I do know one thing.

She wasn’t ready for that.

I mean,
clearly
she wasn’t, that much is obvious. It’s that geeky inexperience and innocence about her that attracts me. It’s what gets my cock harder than steel just from a flash of her eyes or a sassy comeback from her lips.

But it’s also that she’s
actually
inexperienced and innocent. She’s not used to this - “this” meaning “interactions of an adult nature”, like last night.

Like sex.

I shake my head as I jerk my locker open.

“Dalton.”

I freeze at the sound of Coach’s voice from behind me. Slowly, feeling my pulse skip, I turn to see him standing in his office doorway, his arms crossed over his barrel chest and a dark look on his face.

“Coach?”

“In my office, son,” he says gruffly, unblinking, unemotional.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I swallow, my feet moving in slow motion towards his office. He moves back behind his desk easing his frame into his creaky leather chair as I step inside. He slowly shakes his head before looking up at me with a piercing look.

“Dalton.”

Oh holy shit, he knows.

The fear lances through me, and for a second, I wonder if he’s still got it in him to chase me if I make a break for it.

He knows what I did with Hailey last night, and he’s about to kill me.

“Coach, I-”

“I want to talk about Hailey, son.”

He crosses his arms across his chest again, leaning back in that chair and keeping his eyes locked on me. “What the
hell
were you thinking last night?”

My heart’s about to explode right out of my chest, and I can feel a cold sweat break out across my back.

“
Fuck
, Coach, I-”

“Language, son.”

Coach is old-school like that - considering some words to be ‘cuss words’ not appropriate for his locker room.

I’d grin or laugh about it right now, if I didn’t think I was about to get buried in a shallow grave.

“Sorry, Coach,” I say, clearing my throat. “Last night-”

I take a deep breath before I look him right in the eye.
Fuck it
, if I’m going down, I’m going to go down like a Goddamn man, no sniveling for forgiveness.

“Sir, she was-”

Coach holds up a hand and stops me. “She was
there
at that party.” He shakes his head. “I’m mad enough about that, don’t let me tell you otherwise.” He leans over the desk towards me. “Listen, Dalton. I just want to say-”

‘I just want to say that your career is over, your life is forfeit, and I’m going to take pleasure in cutting your dick off before killing you.’

“I just want to say I really appreciate what you did for my daughter, Dalton.”

Hold the fuck up…
what?

“Coach?”

He chuckles - he fucking
chuckles.
“I mean knocking that shit-bird on his ass, son.”

Oh
that
.

My legs wobble as the adrenaline floods through me.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done - or what
she
would’ve done if you hadn’t been there to set things right.”

I smile weakly, blowing air out through my lips as I run a hand through my hair.

“But Dalton, you’ve got ESPN coming
today.
We can’t afford to have them on T.V. talking about you knocking teammates out.” He grins, “However heroic.”

I grin back. “I mean, Coach, it
was
pretty heroic.”

He chuckles. “I bet it was, son. I’ll tell you, I wouldn’t have minded seeing you knock that little turd on his ass. And again, I don’t think me or my daughter can thank you enough.” He leans back in his chair, fingering his mustache. “I’m serious, by the way. I honestly can’t think about what would’ve happened if you weren’t there. But you’ve gotta rein it in a little. I need that energy on the field, not off.”

I frown. “So, I should
not
hit the piece of shit who’s creeping hard on the innocent girl next time?”

Coach’s eyes narrow. “You know that’s not what I’m saying, son. But it’s about perception, and you’ve gotta think about that when you act. You’ve got a long road ’til the NFL, Dalton. We can get there, but I need you focused.”

I nod, and his look softens into a grin. “So, you ready to bring that same hurt down on the Tigers in a few days?”

“Absolutely.”

He blows out a thin stream of air as he eases back in his chair and grins at me again. ““Good, cause I just kicked my veteran power forward with the broken noses off the team.”

* * *

I
t’s later
, when I’m doing some strength conditioning in the weight room - yeah,
that
weight room - that Coach’s words really sink in.

Stopping a piece of shit from assaulting a girl is certainly one thing. But the press I could get for beating the shit out of the guy is another thing altogether. They say there’s no such thing as bad press, but that’s bullshit.

There’s no such thing as bad press, until you
get
bad press.

I grunt as I muscle the bar bell up from my chest and back onto the bench press rack, and then it’s the other lingering thought that trickles into my head.

Hailey.

Specifically, the terrible way she reacted this morning. Sure, it was her dad almost walking in on us that got her spooked, but it was more than that.

It was
me
. It was that fear and suspicion in her eyes at it being
me
in that room and in that bed when she woke up.

I scowl as I sit up from the bench. I reach for my cell on the towel next to me, and I’m about to fire off a quick text to her when I roll my eyes at myself. I groan as I drop back onto the bench.

For fuck’s sake, who the
hell
do I have myself confused with? Am I insane? I don’t fucking
text
girls after spending the night,
especially
girls who scowl and curse at me in the morning.

Yeah, no way.

Coach is right, the last thing I need are distractions when I need to stay focused. Clingy, confused, consuming distractions like the inexperienced and unprepared Hailey Garrison.

So that’s my plan, I decide as I grab ahold of the bench bar and muscle it back off the rack. This whole back and forth with Hailey has to end, for both of us.

I grunt as I lower the bar to my chest, feeling my muscles tense.

I need to let her down easy, and then move on.

She’ll be fine.

I’ll
be fine.

I’m always fine.