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"Don't be mad," I say pleadingly.
He shakes his head, tosses an arm over my shoulders and kicks his feet up on the coffee table. "I'm not mad, I'm relieved. You have any idea how many times over the years I've tried to get you to admit you were crushin' on Findlay? Probably hundreds. I'll give you credit—you played it so cool that I started to doubt what I'd been able to see with my own eyes. Doubted it so much that I was half convinced you were secretly in love with me and just couldn't say it. Talk about a fuckin' nightmare, E. I love you to death, but I couldn't lay pipe in you."
I shudder and make a gagging noise as I slap my hand down on his leg. "Love you sooo much it's borderline ridiculous— but if your p ever even tried to come near my v, I'd die. Incest is not best. I don't even care that technically we're not related—you're the only brother I'll ever have. And also the only one I'll ever want, too," I throw in for good measure.
He throws his head back and laughs. "Kiss ass. I'll forgive you on one condition."
I'm no fool. His conditions are always crap, and I know it. "How much is it going to cost me?" I ask suspiciously.
"It's free. My laundry hampers are overflowing, and they've got your name all over them."
I love Miles, but my God is it annoying how much he hates doing his wash. He's got four giant hampers in his closet—the fact that he's saying they're overflowing means there's like six hampers worth of laundry. Total pain in the ass but if it gets him to forgive me for being a tool, I'll drag it to the house now that I have a laundry room and have it all finished in less than two hours.
"Just confirming— once I do the laundry you'll forgive me for being a dummy?"
"If that laundry is clean, folded and put away, I'll write the whole thing off. But from now on, no more secrets. Ever."
"None," I vow.
Miles holds out his free hand, pinky extended. Lifting my right hand, I chuckle as we pinky swear.
"Now I'm going to put it to the test," he announces. "You still a virgin?"
My face feels hotter than a bottle of fresh hot sauce. "Nope."
"Heh." He laughs. "Guess I’m going to have to start calling you teacher fucker."
"Hey! He's not a teacher."
"Semantics," he retorts. "He's off limits as hell, and if you get caught, he's losing his job."
"You're wrong about that."
"How?"
I spend the next ten minutes filling him in on everything that's gone down, pinching myself from time-to-time as I realize that this is all happening.
* * *
Elena
Six Weeks Later
"Baby, did you move my lucky hat? I put it here on the counter before I left for work this morning. I need it for game day tomorrow, but now it's gone."
I chuckle as I peek my head out our bedroom door to yell down to the kitchen. "It's up here. Come get it."
Hearing his footsteps on the stairs, I race across the room and jump up onto our bed, positioning myself, so I'm sitting right at the edge facing the door. Naked—save for the hat on my head.
"Trying to steal my—"
His words fade away when he sees me. I giggle when his giant smile morphs into a predatory look. "Fucking look at you," he growls as he crosses the room to me.
I hold out my hand, halting his movements. "Get naked and wait for further instruction, Coach."
"You taking charge today?"
I grin and wiggle my brows. "I so am."
He groans before he quickly divests himself of his shoes, socks, team shirt, black athletic pants and gray boxer briefs. As always, he takes my breath away. Naked Colin might be my very favorite thing in the world.
"What now?"
I crook my finger at him in a come-hither motion. When he reaches the bed, I motion for him to stop before I reach behind me and grab a pillow. Climbing off the bed I walk around to stand in front of him before I drop the pillow on the floor and get down on my knees. He watches me through hooded eyes, his expression reverential as he takes off the hat I'm wearing and tosses it over his shoulder.
"Seems like I'll be needing hair grip," he growls.
I lick my lips slowly as I stare into his eyes and slowly begin running my hands up his thighs. "Looks that way," I agree.
When I reach his upper thighs, I gently scratch my nails down a few inches before repeating the maneuver on the way back up. Just when I'm back where I started I lick my tongue over his swollen head to collect the pre-cum at the tip. His cock jerks against my tongue as a gravelly sound escapes his throat. His gaze is trained on my tongue as I trace circles over the tip. "Fuuuuck," he groans.
