Keira felt stupid. Her head throbbed, and she swore she could see her pulse pounding in her eyes. Small flurries of black dots flicked across her vision and for the third time in a row, she sneezed. It was dumb to huddle in the stadium, near the fifty-yard line right alongside the other idiots, just to watch her boyfriend running around the field.

Winter camp, she guessed, held over the long weeks between the end of the regular season and the playoffs. At least, that’s what she’d gathered from Kona’s promise that the camp was very important. His enthusiasm made her want to be there, despite the worsening sickness that clogged her sinuses and made her lightheaded.

She was pretty sure she had a fever, was even more certain that those frowns Kona wore each time she sneezed were meant for her. But he had worked so hard since he’d been benched and wanted so much to play and play well. Kona had sworn he hadn’t touched a needle since she caught him in the locker room. His doubled efforts and late nights in the weight room had been proof enough for her. So what if she felt a little shitty? He was her boyfriend, and she wanted him to know she supported him. Even if it was in something as mind-numbing as football.

The stadium wasn’t filled to capacity, but the open practice had drawn several pro scouts and a large cluster of alumni, many of whom gave passing greetings to her and made brief, superficial inquiries about her mother and stepdad. Still, despite the small crowd, Keira felt out of place.

She pulled the wool blanket further around her shoulders, and when she caught a whiff of that scratchy texture, another sneeze shot out of her mouth. Keira didn’t bother to watch for Kona’s glare, she could feel it as he rounded the corner of the field and ran past her.

“You sound like death.” Luka had lost his uniform and was bundled up in a thick jacket and dark jeans as he slumped in the seat next to her.

“I’ll live.”

“So this is what love looks like?” Keira shook her head at Luka’s wrinkled nose as he waved his hand in her direction. “I’ll pass, I think.”

She felt another sneeze threatening, itching in her nostrils, and Keira dug a Kleenex out of her coat pocket. “Is…is…” She closed her eyes, trying to fight back the sensation in her sinuses, and the urge to sneeze passed. “Is that your way of saying I look like shit?”

“What? Me, insult a beautiful girl? Are you crazy?” Keira wiped her dripping nose and waved off Luka’s small nudge against her shoulder. “Especially not my twin’s beautiful girl.” Kona ran past them and both Keira and Luka followed his quick movement. “Um, don’t tell him I said you were beautiful.”

“You’re such a chicken shit.”

“Nah, but my brother is stupid when it comes to you.” When Kona turned a corner and his eyes flew back to them, Luka moved to a seat in front of her. “Okay, maybe I’m a little bit of a chicken shit.”

Kona and Luka had gotten past their anger from the locker room—from Luka filling Keira in on Kona’s juicing— but that hadn’t stopped her boyfriend from glaring at his twin when he spoke to her in the cafeteria or offered her a plate at Thanksgiving. Kona knew Keira would never look at Luka the way she did at him, and with any other guy that smiled at her or nodded a greeting, the ones Kona barely noticed. Still, she hadn’t thought it important to tell him that Mark Burke sometimes called, just to check up on her. She didn’t think there was a need to invoke Kona’s jealous tendencies. Besides, Mark wasn’t interested in anything but friendship with her, and Keira wouldn’t look twice at him anyway. But Luka, Keira thought, seemed like a threat to Kona. She didn’t know why, though she guessed some lingering anger at his twin and more than a little bit of sibling rivalry had something to do with Kona’s attitude.

Keira also thought Kona might be a little jealous that Luka had played in every game that season.

“Why are you out of uniform?”

“I didn’t slack. Haven’t been pulled off the field, and this shit,” he pointed to Kona beginning to struggle as he ran, “is because he’s gotta earn back his spot. Plus,” Luka’s gaze flicked to the left and he nodded in the direction of two men dressed in dark suits and long coats. They didn’t fit in with Robins’ relaxed gray slacks and CPU jacket. “The scouts are starting to hunt for fresh blood, and I think Coach wants to show Kona off a little.” Luka looked up at Keira smiling. “Just don’t tell him that. He still needs to sweat a little.”

“You still pissed, Luka?” Another drip and Keira swiped at her nose again with the Kleenex. “You barely said anything about me giving your brother stitches, but you’re still pissed at him for making a mistake?”

Luka turned around, moving his arm to the back of his seat. “Keira, no offense, but you’re just his girlfriend. He’s my brother. He’s my twin, and he put me in a shitty position. And he acts like I’m trying to steal you or something.” Luka looked back at the field to watch Kona talking to Robins, sweat coating his T-shirt and jogging pants. “I can almost understand you knocking the shit out of him, because I know how he can push buttons, but I don’t get how he could get messed up in that shit for so long or put me in the middle of it.” Keira sneezed again, and this time her entire body bent forward, moving her hair over her face. Luka tried to repress his laughter, tried to brush off how ridiculous Keira knew she looked by moving his hand against her forehead. “You all right?” She nodded, hurrying to clean her face before Luka’s laughter got too obnoxious. “Anyway, we still need to have words. I don’t completely believe that he can stay away from that shit or what Ricky wants him to do.”

Keira’s eyes flicked to the field, to Kona shaking hands with one of the scouts on the sidelines and then her gaze moved right, straight into the wide, calculating smile on Professor Alana’s face who sat quite a few rows away. Keira didn’t like how the woman grinned at her or how her eyes flicked between Keira and Luka.

“Why’s your mother here?”

Luka followed her gaze and then stood up. “Oh. She and Kuku are taking me car shopping.” He patted his jacket pocket and grinned at her. “Unlike my twin, I was never into cars or buying old beaters to fix up. I’ve saved up for three years and am finally gonna get something sweet.” Luka nodded to his mother before he smiled at Keira. “Listen, you’re good for him, and I hope he stays clean, but seriously, Keira, get your ass to the dorm and take some meds. Love or not, don’t get sick for him.”

Keira watched Luka move down the aisle and join his mother on the stairs before the woman waved him in front of her. She leveled one final smile that was wicked and threatening at Keira and the girl’s stomach coiled tight. Keira doubted it was the cold that had her stomach rumbling. There was a scheme in Professor Alana’s eyes that warned her that the flu was the least of her worries.

His Wildcat was sick. He’d known that before he finished with camp and found her shivering in the stands, barely able to keep her head upright.

“Stubborn brat, why the hell did you stick around?”

Keira had only managed to blink at him, a weak, forced smile pulling her lips before she sneezed twice, and Kona led her out of the stadium and back to her dorm. He’d skipped classes the next day to stay with her and then hauled her into the infirmary at noon, despite her pathetic fussing that she “didn’t need a damn doctor.”

Three days hopped up on amoxicillin and she had a little more color in her cheeks, but a low fever still lingered and the coughing was getting worse.

Kona nudged her awake, placing a glass of water on the bedside table as he opened the syrupy medicine bottle.

Bright blue eyes blinking, Keira smiled, something she hadn’t done all week, and Kona let some of the tension in his shoulders ease. “Time for medicine?”

“Yeah, baby, sit up.” He spooned the syrupy stuff past her chapped lips, and she took it gladly.

“How is it you haven’t gotten sick?” she asked, brushing Kona’s hand aside when he touched the back of his hand to her forehead. He frowned, forehead pulling tight, and Keira rolled her eyes. “It takes a couple of days for the fever to leave.”

“It’s been three, Wildcat.” Kona slid closer, moving his fingers to her neck, feeling along her glands. “At least these aren’t swollen anymore. How’s your throat?”

She slapped his hands off her neck. “Still scratchy, but better than yesterday.” When he started to push back from her, Keira grabbed his hand. “How are you feeling?”

“I don’t get sick.” Keira shook her head. Kona knew she thought he was full of shit, but he wasn’t lying. His mom had always told him he’d taken the warrior genes in the womb since Luka was always down with one childhood sickness or another, and Kona had never so much as got the sniffles. “Seriously. I’ve never even had a fever.” He leaned closer, kissing her neck. “Except when I kiss you.” 

Keira’s voice was deep, sounded thick and when she laughed at him, that crackling sound settled into a coughing fit. He pulled her against his chest, rubbed his hand down her back and for the hundredth time cursed Keira’s cousin and the funk she’d brought into their dorm. Leann’s bed was made, hadn’t been slept in all week. She’d chickened out of staying at the dorm once Keira got sick, scared she’d have a relapse, and Kona was left to play caregiver. He didn’t mind, but some things Kona couldn’t do; Keira had absolutely refused his help when she had to piss and hadn’t had the energy to even grab a shower in the past few days. Kona loved the girl, but three days in bed, sweating out a fever, had made her a little ripe.

When Keira’s cough settled, Kona let her go. “You think maybe you wanna try to grab a shower?”

Her smile was lopsided, very cute. “You trying to get me naked, baby?”

“Always, Wildcat, but mostly I was thinking that a shower would break up some of that crap in your lungs, make you feel better.”

She only hesitated for a moment, then her shoulders dropped and she let Kona walk her into the bathroom. The room was small and too damn girly with soft beige walls and a fluffy rug and makeup and hair things scattered over the cabinet above the toilet. It barely fit a toilet, pedestal sink and full tub and shower—still pretty fancy for a dorm room.  It was nice at times to have connections. Kona standing in there with her was a bit of a squeeze, but he helped her out of her pajamas, slipped off her thong and even managed to keep his hands to himself when she sat on the closed toilet lid completely naked as he turned on the shower.

It was the most she’d moved all week, and her motions were slow, sloppy. Kona worried that she couldn’t manage to bathe herself and thought washing her hair was completely out of the question. “I don’t need a chaperone, you know.” She climbed into the shower, smiling as the hot water spilled down her back. “I could use company, though.”

“Keira, don’t be stupid. You’re sick.”

One small glare and Kona knew he’d messed up. She hated being babied. She hated him thinking she was weak. “Hale, get naked.”

Kona stripped off and climbed in behind her. A small voice in the back of his mind reminded him that he hadn’t touched her, not the way he wanted, for days, but he ignored it. He ignored how good she felt leaning on him, how her fit body slid against his as he lathered her back, and she arched into his touch.

“I feel high,” she said, voiced muffled against his chest.

“Actually, you feel fucking wonderful.” He felt her laugh, but the hot water and steam must have been working its magic because no racking cough followed the sound.

“I’m sorry I’m such a mess, Kona.” Keira turned and her arms moved up his shoulders.  She smiled, rubbing her tits against him. “Thank you for taking care of me, baby.”

Kona nodded, closed his eyes, tried to concentrate on scrubbing shampoo into her hair and not the slow kiss she planted on his neck. Predictably, his dick reacted. He grunted, tightened his eyes when she continued to kiss him. “Wildcat, stop it.” She only held on tighter when he moved her head back to rinse her hair.

Her low moan had Kona’s own grunts deepened. “The water feels so good,” she said, stretching her neck against the spray, and Kona’s eyes moved on their own, slipping down her body to those sweet, hard nipples begging for his mouth. When Keira lifted her head and she caught the way Kona bit his lip, how he gnawed on the inside of his cheek, she skimmed one hand from his neck and rubbed her thumb over her breasts, fingers going lower as Kona’s eyes got larger. “You like that?”

He could only nod, his gaze stuck on the way her long fingers disappeared between her thighs. “You need to stop,” he told her, still watching her touch herself. He was mesmerized by the slip of her fingers inside her, how her breathing got heavier the faster they worked. “Keira…” It was warning he knew she would ignore, and though he felt like an asshole, he couldn’t tear his gaze from the movement of her hand; he couldn’t help leaning forward or his lips from covering one hard nipple.

He nipped against that sweet, dark flesh, eyes wide as Keira’s fingers disappeared, in and out, again and again, and then Kona couldn't help it any longer, and touched himself.

“Baby, you’re sick,” he said, before he covered her mouth, before he moved her hand away and pushed his own fingers into that sweet center. “Shit, you’re so hot. So tight.”

“For you, sugar. Only for you.” Then Keira was the one touching him, working those slender fingers around his dick until Kona didn’t think the heat in that small bathroom came from the hot shower spray.

“Keira…” That time, he said her name like a prayer, not a warning, trying to tell himself that he shouldn't take her; she had the flu and what kind of asshole does his sick girlfriend in the shower? But before he could pull away from her, before he could do more than lean against the wet tile, fingers still inside her, Keira’s hand began to move faster, and her teeth raked against his neck, and Kona became a shuddering mess of stupid.

“I’ve missed you.” She gripped him, and Kona attacked her nipple again, moving his hips to match the rhythm she made with her hand against him. “Get inside me. I need you.”

Kona pulled his fingers out of her, already missing that heat, mind already made up before he put much thought into the decision, and he gripped her around her waist, easily sliding her up the tile.

He made three quick, liquid thrusts and then stopped short, finally realizing he was feeling all of her, nothing between them. “Shit.” He was torn between the raw feel of her, the warmth and tightness unlike anything he’d felt before, and that weak little warning that told him he was messing up. Keira lifted her eyebrows, eyes still heavy lidded from the moment, likely from her flu. “I’m not wearing anything.”

She leaned her head against the tile and moved it once. “Right now, I don’t care. This feels, God…” And then Kona caught what that small moan meant when Keira clenched around him.

“Open up, Keira. Open wide…ah…shit…” and then Kona didn’t care that they were being irresponsible. He didn’t care about anything but being deep inside her, touching her, making those moans she released elevate, grow louder.

They’d talk about bad decisions later. They’d worry about consequences when she felt better, when he wasn’t so caught up in how she made his body buzz, in how much the sensation of her, all of her, was perfect and satisfying and just so damn right. They’d talk about how hard, how hot, how right it was to connect with nothing between then; how it meant nothing, would lead to nothing but the slide of their wet bodies working together, him filling her with everything he had.

Tomorrow would be another day, and they’d be fine. They’d be careful later. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?