It was unusual for Elliott to attend evening mass, since his nights were almost always spent in his office, reviewing the playbook or watching that day’s practice film. With the arrival of a certain blond siren that afternoon, however, he’d been compelled to leave his den television paused mid-play to seek refuge from thoughts that continued to harass him. The fact that he’d strayed from his productivity had Elliott’s jaw bunching as he parked in the church lot.
Schedules. He lived for the known. Having no confusion over what would happen each calendar day at a specific time. Meals were uncomplicated in his house, but they were nutritious. He cooked, Alice loaded the dishwasher, and they went their separate ways without any fanfare.
Their home wasn’t a warm, loving environment, and in truth, Elliott had no clue what that kind of place would look like. His marriage had been a tense, quiet affair that had ended in the same manner. The relationship between him and Judith had been an almost identical reflection of his parents’ marriage. Respectful, but not romantic. Being that they were both devout Catholics, it would have remained that way, too, indefinitely.
He could still remember getting the phone call that Judith had been found unconscious in the driveway and taken to the hospital. Receiver pressed to his ear, he’d sat there trying to remember the last time he and Judith had actually spoken. He’d been horrified to realize he couldn’t. It might have been a full week of nothing more than brisk nods on his way out the door, football already infiltrating his mind. That’s the way it had been since the beginning, but he’d only acknowledged the unfairness of their noncommunicative relationship when speaking was no longer possible.
He’d been a terrible husband. Hell, he hadn’t been one at all.
The months that followed had been a blur of trips to the neurology unit at the hospital, where Judith lay in a coma, team meetings, discussions with doctors, interviewing babysitters for Alice, and practice, practice, practice. One afternoon, he’d stood on the field, his neck so tight, he could barely move it in any direction. Then this voice, throaty and musical all at once, forced him to turn around and everything in his world had burst into vivid color as Peggy passed.
From that day forward, he’d lived for the single glances they would trade, even though wanting anything from another woman made him a certified bastard. His only salvation was they’d never exchanged a word. Not until weeks after Judith’s inevitable departure.
Now, church served as a reminder not to allow failure again. To keep his focus forward on realistic goals. For him, those goals didn’t include relationships with women. One woman, in particular. The structure of mass, the ceremony of it, kept him centered in a way that had gone missing when a certain student had graduated and left, at his urging. With a married Peggy flitting around his town tonight, he needed concentrated routine more than ever, or guilt and regret would worm their way into his consciousness.
So Elliott had taken himself to church. Alice had been closeted in her room since Peggy left, refusing to open the door for dinner, so he’d further hoped she would eat if alone in the house, with no chance of running into him.
The church was located near campus, at the end of a street with several restaurants and small shops geared toward students. Even in the darkness, Elliott could make out a stuffed likeness of himself in the window of a Bearcats gift shop and cringed. Why couldn’t the church be in a quieter section of town?
A group of people piling out of a restaurant punctuated the evening with their boisterousness, one of them pointing at him and lifting a cell phone to snap a picture. Elliott put his head down and trudged toward the church steps before they could get brave enough to engage him. Over the last three years, people had begun approaching him less and less. At one time, he hadn’t scared everyone quite so much. Had he? No, he recalled shaking hands and suffering through selfies on a daily basis. High-fiving kids. Something about his demeanor now appeared to…put them off. He could see it in the way people looked at his face and backed away, as if an emotion he refused to name was etched there. The solitude suited him, though. If he engaged with others, their reactions would only confirm what he’d decided to believe. That he was better off alone.
Already pulling the rosary beads from his jeans pocket, a familiar laugh reached Elliott from across the street.
He stopped short, his gaze zeroing in on Peggy where she leaned against the brick wall of an establishment. Surrounded by men. Just…crowded by them on all sides in a way that built a roar in Elliott’s throat. His vision seemed to zoom out and in, screwing with his depth perception, so he attempted to focus on the church doors and ignore the compelling instinct to cross the street and extricate the little vixen from her group of adoring fans.
Don’t do it.
He didn’t have the luxury of walking around Cincinnati without being recognized. They would wonder about his connection to Peggy and that could only lead to uncomfortable questions, including the timeline of their relationship. Furthermore, he’d sent Peggy away with a firm rejection earlier that evening. If he approached the situation now, she would know he’d been full of shit.
Elliott ascended the church stairs—one more, two—and stopped once again, cell phone flashes going off in his periphery.
Closing his eyes, he prayed for patience. Wisdom. But all he could see was Peggy with someone else later tonight. Hands all over her thighs, a stranger’s lips kissing her mouth, getting the eye contact she’d once reserved for him.
No. Dammit.
He turned on a heel, hitting the street before common sense could kick in. Satisfaction burned in his gut when Peggy saw him coming and her smile disappeared. And yeah, normally Elliott didn’t give a rat’s ass about his ridiculous, local legend status, but when the men around her backed away and started hooting at his approach, even more satisfaction found the mark. Having no choice but to shake their hands—even though he sorely wanted to break them all—Elliott kept his focus trained on Peggy.
“You’re late for church,” he said hoarsely, noting the way her nipples turned to points when he spoke. “The service is about to start.”
Her smoky laughter turned every one of her admirers’ heads back in her direction. “I’ve already had enough wine for one night.” That dimple appeared. “It was blessed by a bartender, instead of a priest, but I’m not picky. Especially when I can get my version of spirits for free.”
The harem of men laughed, one of them having enough nerve to rest his hand above Peggy’s head on the brick, bringing them far too close. “Where have you been hiding, beautiful?” the fucker asked, making Elliott’s molars gnash together.
“She’s been hiding with a husband in California,” Elliott ground out, splitting the scene in half. “Let’s go, Peggy. You’ve got a lot to pray about.”
Elliott refused to regret the harsh words. He took Peggy’s hand and pulled her from the stunned group, crossing the street toward the church as people stopped and stared. She moved at a sedate pace beside him, stumbling along with his strides with an expression of shock frozen on her face. “Wow. You are the king asshole.”
“It was for your own good.” They moved up the stairs one at a time, organ music beginning to drift from inside. Peggy’s hand was icy cold inside his own, but he steeled himself against sympathy. She’d always been good at providing that, while he’d been made of stone. Stone only Peggy had ever succeeded in crumbling, but he’d built it back stronger when she’d left. “Whatever you were planning on doing, you would have regretted it later. When you got home. You’re better than that.”
At the big double doors, Peggy tugged out of his grip. “Better than what? Someone who hurts the people who love them?” She laughed. “I’m not better than that, actually. I’ve become the master.”
Lord, she looked lost and gorgeous and exhausted. His mind sought a way to play defense against the bad parts, but they all involved touching her and he couldn’t. Couldn’t. “You’re not the master. That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” She didn’t look convinced and he mourned the ability to reach her, even though he no longer had the right. Someone else did, dammit. The reality made him nauseous, but he pushed through because he hated the lack of animation in her eyes. “Come with me. We’ll light a candle for your mother.”
A sound puffed past her lips. Her hand lifted, rubbing at something beneath the collar of her shirt. Her heart? “Do you ever wish you were a million miles away…and then a second later, you can’t stand the thought of being anywhere else, but right where you’re standing?”
Countless times. He’d just never allowed himself to articulate the sense that he should be somewhere else. Namely, in California, fighting to get Peggy back. He’d slammed that notion in a box and sealed the lid long ago, pretending it didn’t exist. Pretending was how he survived.
The connection between them snapped as it had those years ago before they’d ever formally met. The desire to hold her, touch her, whisper his secrets in her ear was getting too powerful. So he took a pair of mental scissors and tried to cut the connection. “You’re talking nonsense, Peggy, and it’s making us late for mass.”
Relief wrapped around him when Peggy’s claws came out, her eyes brightening with temper. She sauntered closer, eliminating the scant distance between them, and tilted her head back to keep their gazes locked. “You know, I wouldn’t have regretted anything that happened tonight. Not even a little. Because at least I’d be living, instead of preparing for my own funeral.” Her words tagged him like darts, but nothing compared to the lust that swam in his stomach at having her so close, all that vitality crackling in his blood like it was contagious. “Ten Our Fathers and seven Hail Mary’s. That ought to make up for how many times you’ve thought of fucking me today.”
She was gone from his sight in a flash, her curls whipping against his cheeks in the wind, leaving him paralyzed on the church steps. Hurt and rage and need rose up in his throat and expanded, making it difficult to breathe. He couldn’t enter the church in that state, would never be able to sit still. Which had to be the reason he went after Peggy, following her where she’d disappeared around the side of the church. As soon as he rounded the corner, he caught sight of her on the stone pathway, arms wrapped around her body as if to stave off the chill.
“Peggy.”
Without stopping, she turned, continuing to walk backward, farther into the darkness. “Get lost, Elliott.”
God knew he was already. Lost in the pounding of his pulse, the heat gathering in his groin. He’d imagined touching her again for so long, and combined with the fall of night, he allowed himself to believe it was just another fantasy. Not really happening anywhere but in his mind. That hint of an excuse was all he needed to quicken his pace to a determined stride, reaching Peggy in seconds and turning her, shoving her body up against the cold church structure.
Ohhhhh Christ. She was warm, though. So damn warm and pliant, her curves interlocking with his muscle—beating his memory by ten thousand miles—her sweet, forbidden scent tackling his senses. His conscience must have had a little fight left, though, because it prodded Elliott’s mind, right when he would have attacked Peggy’s parted lips. “I can’t. I can’t when someone’s waiting for you at home.”
“Is that all that’s stopping you?”
She whimpered the last word, the sound making his balls weigh down with hurt. “Right now it is.” He took her wrists, pinning them high on the wall. “When I come to my senses, it’ll be fifty other reasons. And fifty more reasons on top of that.”
“Come to your senses?” she repeated on a breath. “Because I’m just a mistake to you? A reminder that the Kingmaker has an actual weakness?”
“Yes.” Her flinch scalded him with regret, but he fought through the need to take his words back. “I never lied to you.”
She closed her eyes for a beat, and when they opened, there had been a change. Plans had been made…and they no doubt included the destruction of his will. Clamping that sweet row of white teeth down on her lower lip, Peggy arched her back, drawing Elliott’s attention to her breasts. “We both know how well I can keep a secret, Elliott,” she whispered. “No one will know if you touch them.”
“I’ll know.” Despite his denial, he released one of Peggy’s wrists, letting his hand slide down to her shoulder, his greedy fingertips dragging lower. “God will know.”
“Then I guess it’s a good thing we’re so close to a church.” She pushed up even more, presenting her pointed tits with an innocent expression. “You can go pray about it right afterward.”
The head of his rigid cock pressed against his belt buckle, straining painfully inside his pants. “That’s not how it works,” he rasped. “Prayer isn’t an excuse to sin.”
Peggy’s knee moved up and down the side of his thigh, and just knowing her legs were apart, her pussy out in the open, blasted another hole in his resolve. “No one will know. Touch them. Be as rough as you want,” she breathed. “I remember what you like. How you like to get mad at my body. Frustrated at it for making you want something natural.”
“Nothing natural about what we did.” His touch moved down, stopping a mere inch from her breast, fingers flexing. “You made me behave like a beast. Some of the ways I took you…some of the places…”
She groaned and it broke him. Knowing the memories had caused such a harsh sound of longing brought his clutching hand to her breast, where it kneaded the taut mound once before racing under her shirt. Lust railroaded him, and he was out of his mind with need to feel her bare skin. “Yes, Elliott. More.”
“They’re a little fuller. Bet they’d fill my mouth now.”
Before his growl settled, he was already jerking up the hem of Peggy’s shirt, exposing her braless tits in the moonlight, and diving forward to suck one peak between his lips. Bad. This was wrong. She belonged to someone else, but denial continued to suppress that fact, shouting instead that Elliott had been there first. How could she ever belong to another after the amount of times he’d taken her to bed?
With a possessive snarl, Elliott pressed her to the wall with the use of his mouth, increasing the power of his suck until she cried out, twisting his hair with frantic fingers. She tugged him away with a cracked sob and then her lips were so close. So damn close. The most tempting of fruit. And he descended on their parted perfection like the Apocalypse was upon them.
“How do you do this to me?” he groaned against her mouth. “I can’t even get my dick hard unless I think of you. I bet you love knowing that.” The ensuing kiss was brutal, his tongue driving deep and claiming. “Bet you love knowing that sliver of stomach you showed me today in the car made it necessary to jerk off in my office with the door locked.”
Without giving her a chance to respond, he crushed their mouths together, Peggy’s naked breasts pressing between them as their tongues slipped into a rhythm meant for mating. For fucking. Long, hot slides of lips and tongue that made his cock thicken to such a miserable state, he couldn’t help but take it out on her mouth, flattening her against the wall and angling his head to give himself better access. How could God create someone this sweet and not expect him to succumb? Soft. So soft and yet sharp and rounded in the right places. Her ass, her hips, they were moving between Elliott and the wall, goading him, granting him permission to lift up her cock-tease body and release his seed between her legs.
“Feels like I haven’t come since you left,” he grated against her ear. “Can’t wring it out of myself the way you used to. Fuck. The way you’d smile at me when you’d tighten up your pussy, like you enjoyed killing me—”
“I can do it right now. Smile my good little cheerleader smile while you slide me up. Slide me down. I’ll tighten it up until you can’t breathe.” Her voice trembled, that right knee hooking on his hip like an invitation, the heat between her legs finding his stiff groin, taunting him with the promise of relief. Finally. “I can’t orgasm without thinking of the time you spanked me,” she said in a rushed whisper. “With your rolled-up playbook. You were angry at me for talking to one of the players. Remember—”
“Yes, I damn well remember,” he rasped. “The way your pretty cheeks got pinker and pinker. Didn’t speak to any of them again after that, did you?”
“No, never,” she murmured, pulling his head down for another kiss—
Above them, the church bells began to peel. Shame echoed from the top of Elliott’s skull straight down to his feet, as if he were directly inside the bell itself. Even so, taking his mouth away from Peggy’s was like being at the ocean’s bottom and cutting off his oxygen supply with a hunting knife. But he did it. He managed it, because even if she weren’t married to another man—and she was, dammit to hell—there was no place in his life for her. For anything other than what was already there.
Elliott’s chest heaved as he untangled their bodies and stepped back, doing his best to restore the equilibrium she’d taken. Oh Lord, the way she looked in the moonlight, mouth wet, shirt rucked up above her bare breasts, nipples glowing where he’d sucked them as if he had the right. If her tongue hadn’t been in his mouth just seconds before, he wouldn’t have believed she was real.
“Did you come back here to make my life hell, Peggy?” he growled. “Answer me honestly. Because you’re succeeding.”
“You always did equate me with hell, didn’t you?” she said, almost to herself, before she seemed to snap back to the here and now. “You’re tripping if you think I would drive all the way from California just to bother you, Elliott.”
Burning curiosity bled through in his need. “You never answered me earlier, Peggy. Did you drive here alone?”
Peggy covered herself with a jerky movement, robbing him of those incredible breasts. Want them back. “No. Not alone.”
The ground started to shake under Elliott’s feet. “Your husband is here?”
“I’m not married,” she near-shouted, coming forward to shove him in the chest. “The wedding I invited you to never happened. I called it off the night before.”
There was relief and then there was the almost debilitating rush of calm that dragged Elliott down into a black void of silence. There was no comparison between the two sensations. He’d felt relief after winning a hard-fought game, but nothing in his memory compared to finding out the woman before him hadn’t spent the last three years sharing a marital bed with some faceless stranger. His heartbeat boomed in his ears, stress leaking from his shoulders. The stiff fingers of his right hand flexed with twinges of pain.
Pain the invitation to her wedding had wrought three years earlier when it had been forwarded by the post office two weeks after the nuptials date…and he’d broken his hand trying to punch through a brick wall.
And he could see…he could see by the way Peggy watched him that she wanted this information to change something. To change him. But despite the different world he was living in since finding out she was single, the fact remained that his life would never include her. Would never include anyone else.
In the back of his mind, he heard the ring of a phone. Bad news on the other line. Proof of his failure to be what the people who relied on him needed.
He saw Peggy sobbing as she wheeled her luggage toward the waiting taxi. One he’d called after breaking off what they had. Hating himself the whole time for feeling so much agony. More than he’d felt at his own wife’s deathbed.
Therein lay the issue, didn’t it? Always had. When he looked at Peggy, he felt too damn much, making her a constant reminder of how little he’d felt for someone he’d sworn to serve. In the eyes of God. He would never forgive himself for that.
“Do what’s best for both of us and leave, Peggy,” he said. “I won’t get a moment’s peace as long as you’re walking my campus again.”
Avoiding his gaze, she shrugged. “Deal with it. I’m not here for you. And I’m not going anywhere just yet.” She slinked forward and ran a single finger down his belly, increasing the swelling below his belt as if she harnessed enough power to rule every cell in his body. Maybe she did. “You didn’t know I was an unattached woman when you had me against the wall. That’s called coveting, isn’t it?” That torturing finger dragged lower and traced the outline of his erection, bottom to top. “Better get inside and confess your sins.”
Peggy was halfway down the pathway before Elliott followed, staying on her trail long enough to watch her hail a cab back on the main street and get into the backseat—alone. He turned to face the church, his intention to join the mass in progress, but found himself walking to his truck instead and driving home. He wasn’t fit company for God with Peggy in his head.