I nod. “Right behind you.”

He leaves, his hand slapping the Wranglers logo on inside wall before he disappears. Then, and only then, does my guard come down. Sinking down on the seat, I curl over on myself. The Toradol dose wasn’t enough. Pain is seeping through. And with a sleepless night from the Adderall ahead, tomorrow will be agony.

Voices from down the hall reach the main room. Turning my head, I see the door of Joe’s office ajar. He’s talking with Porter, the team physician. There’s no time to think through my actions. Rising to my feet, I walk down the long, wide, empty hallway until I reach medical. I grab the handle and give an experimental tug. The door is unlocked.

With a quick glance left, and then right, I push my way inside. Medications are kept inside a locked cabinet, but there’s a portable kit sitting half open on the desk. I head straight for it, ignoring the heavy pounding of my heart. Digging inside, I check each bottle until I find what I need.

Leaving quickly, I pull the door shut behind me and start back down the hall. Porter appears moments later, walking toward his office. A puzzled frown creases his face. “Brody. Can I help you?”

“Nope.” I hold up my opaque navy water bottle, making sure it doesn’t rattle from the pills I poured inside it. “Left this in the weights room earlier today,” I say, nodding behind me toward the gym down the far end of the facilities building. “Just grabbing it before I leave.”

“Oh, right.” Porter nods, his face smoothing out. “Good win today, son. Keep it up.”

He keeps moving. Wiping the sweat of tension from my brow, I head back to the locker room. Remorse sits like lead in my gut, but it’s not heavy enough to stop me swallowing a small handful of painkillers before I leave.

Parking inside the garage, I walk through into the living area. “I’m home!” I shout.

“In the kitchen!” Eddie calls back.

Dumping my sports bag on the floor by the stairs, I head for the kitchen. Jordan turns, wine glass in hand. She’s wearing a strapless black dress, leaving tanned shoulders bare. It reaches just below her knee, showing off toned calves and feet encased in spiky black heels. My gaze drifts back up, landing on the wedding ring adorning her left hand. Finally. My chest expands.

“Jordan.” The word comes out breathless and unsteady. Jesus. I’m getting emotional over a bit of jewelry. I clear my throat. “You look … perfect. Just …”

Shaking my head, I press my lips together.

Eddie has a wide grin. He hands me a glass of wine and leaves.

Jordan runs a hand down the inside of her thigh and arches a brow. “You like?”

“I do,” I croak, taking a step toward her.

“I’m very expensive.” She purses her lips and scans my body, the same way I did to her the day I wore that damn cheerleading skirt. “But for you, twenty dollars.”

I take another step, slowly pushing Jordan against the kitchen counter behind her. “Are you hustling me?”

“Yes.” With her left hand holding a wine glass, she presses her right flat on my chest. Feather light, it trails down slowly. My breath hitches when she reaches my hardening cock. “Is it working?”

“I don’t know. Is it?” My lips curve wickedly. “You tell me.”

Setting both our wine glasses down, Jordan grasps me outside my shorts and strokes with increasing pressure. A groan rises up from my throat. “I’m not sure.” She tilts her head to look at me, a teasing light in her eyes. I love Jordan like this—sexy, cheeky, uninhibited. It heats my blood to a fever. “You might have to take off your pants—”

My lips cover hers, swallowing the words. Our tongues meet, rubbing together with delicious warmth. Her hands slide around my neck. They move upwards, grasping strands of hair.

Without breaking the kiss, I seize the backs of Jordan’s thighs. Lifting her, I set her down on the counter. A sexy whimper escapes her throat when my hands shove the tight material of her dress up above her knees.

She pulls away with a sharp gasp. “Brody.”

My palm travels her inner thigh until it reaches her pussy.

Jordan swallows and lets out another whimper. “We need to talk.”

Now? I run a finger over her panties. She’s hot and wet. “Later.”

“Brody. We …” Slipping the panties aside, I slide a thick finger over her clit. It’s slick and swollen and fucking beautiful. I let out a shuddering breath.

Jordan moans loud. Her head tilts back and I lean in, my mouth landing on her throat at the same time I push a finger deep. “Oh god.”

My finger plunges in and out. I slowly add another, thrusting them both deep and hard. “Don’t stop,” she begs.

Sounds from the living room remind me we’re not alone. “Sorry, baby. I’m going to have to stop, but just for a second.”

Withdrawing my hand from between her legs, I lift her off the counter and carry her into the laundry room. Setting her on the frontloading washing machine, I step back, shut the door, and shove down my shorts. Jordan wriggles, panting as she pushes her dress up higher and spreads her thighs.

Wrenching her panties aside, I rub the head of my cock through her slick heat. When I find where I need to be, I push in, filling her in one swift stroke.

Jordan cries out.

I put a hand over her mouth as I pull out and thrust back in. “Shhh!” My eyes hold hers. I see the plea in them, dark and needy. She wants more.

Removing my hand, I take her hips, holding her steady while my own drive hard and deep. The washing machine begins to bang against the wall from the force of each thrust, but I can’t stop. Grunts leave my throat.

“Brody!”

Jordan’s close. Her body’s trembling and her lungs are gasping for air. “Let go.”

She does, and her inner walls clench so tight, I come with a surprised shout. My hips still, and with my face buried in her neck, my cock pulses its release inside her body. Drawing back, I rest my forehead against hers and cup her face in my palms, our harsh breaths mingling. “I love you. So much.”

Jordan tilts her head and brushes her lips against mine. “I love you too.”

After we both take a few moments to catch our breath, she slides off the machine on shaky legs while I pull up my shorts. Stumbling on her heels, I catch her before she tips over. “Whoa!”

Jordan giggles as she twitches her dress into place, her smooth hair in a tangle and cheeks flushed. “Eddie’s going to know what we were doing.”

“No he won’t,” I lie and open the door into the kitchen.

Eddie’s head is buried in the fridge. Pulling out a beer, he slams the door shut and twists off the top, flicking it in the sink as we both step out. “You know I can never do laundry in there again now.”

Jordan clears her throat, brushing hair from her face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Eddie laughs. “Sure you don’t.”

With head held high, she leaves the kitchen and heads upstairs.

After taking a pull of his beer, Eddie looks at me, suspicion narrowing his eyes. “You’ve had sex in every room in this house, haven’t you?”

My answer is a grin. Swiping the beer from his hand, I follow Jordan.

“Dude!” he yells after me. “That’s not sanitary!”

I find Jordan. She’s in our bathroom. Her panties are kicked off and rest on the floor. Her legs are spread slightly, and she has a washcloth stuck between her thighs. Perhaps I’m oddly perverted, but the sight has my cock twitching hungrily.

Jordan glances up at my entrance, cheeks heating. “You made a mess.”

I shrug and grin. “All in day’s work.”

“Brody!”

The washcloth flies across the room, slapping me in the neck. I laugh. Peeling it away, I rinse it off under warm water and come at her. “Let me help.”

Jordan holds up a hand, warding me off. “Don’t touch me. You can’t be trusted.”

“I won’t do anything other than wipe you clean.”

Her nostrils flare warily. “I don’t believe you.”