Dating the Defensive Back (The Nash Brothers Book 1)

God Bless Gray Sweatpants and Their Inventor

After I greet my brother and sister-in-law with hugs, I send Grayson out to my car for the huge box I packed to bring over.

“Grayson’s brother asked me to bake for the charity ball, and Grayson said I could use his kitchen since it’s so much bigger than mine. And now that you’re here, I’m definitely putting you to work.”

Beckett laughs. “As fun as it sounds to be put to work while we’re on vacation, we’re taking the girls to the children’s museum tomorrow, and then we have tickets to the Heat game.”

“If we’re not too tired when we get home, we’d love to help,” Rachel says.

They’ll be too tired, but it’s fine. What they just told me is that Grayson will be home alone tomorrow, which means he can help me.

You know, in between sex and stolen kisses. Oh, and he can help me with my orgasms.

“How was practice?” I ask Grayson.

“Day three was tough, but I’ve got this.”

“Yeah, you do,” I say, and I hold my hand up for an awkward high five.

He chuckles and slaps my hand, and I nearly grab his in the process before I remember that as far as anyone here is concerned, we’re just faking. We’re nothing more than friends.

This is going to be a tough four days.

“How was Coach Turner today?” I ask. While he really likes the defensive coordinator, Andy Glen, he mentioned that his position coach, Jordy Turner, hasn’t given him the warm fuzzies just yet.

“Tougher on me than on Pat again,” he admits, and Beckett looks between us with a crinkled brow.

“You two talk about that stuff?” he asks.

“You know this guy,” I say, rolling my eyes as I jerk my thumb in his direction as I try to cover for my blunder. “Once he gets started, he never stops talking.”

“Yeah, she’s attended some events with me where she caught us talking about Turner. He’s not been overly welcoming to me so far, but I’ll win him over,” Grayson says, ignoring my jab.

The boys chat about Grayson’s new team while Rachel helps me unpack my box and my bag filled with supplies and ingredients for the desserts I’ll be making.

I’m keeping it simple and delicious with mini fruit tarts, cake pops, truffles, and petit fours. I’ve spent the last week working on prep. I’ve already made the shortbread crusts for the fruit tarts along with the truffles, which are currently stored in the refrigerator in Grayson’s garage.

I still need to make the cake pops, the filling for my tarts, and the petit fours. Erin, the woman who runs the Aces charities, told me the final count for the ball is just under twelve hundred people. With an estimate of three desserts per person, well…it’s a lot of desserts for little old me to undertake, which is why I have tomorrow and Saturday off from the bakery. I’ll spend all day tomorrow baking and dipping, and I’ll put the final touches on my desserts Saturday before I deliver them to the banquet facility.

And then I’ll have to get ready for my date since I’m attending this who’s who of Vegas event on the arm of the newest, hottest teammate of the Aces.

I stay and chat with my brother and sister-in-law, and they call it a night pretty early since they traveled halfway across the country today. I do a little more prep work in the kitchen, and Grayson asks if he can help.

I tell him to sit since I know he’s suffering after minicamp the last three days, and he watches me work while I ask him questions about camp as I prep so I’m ready to go tomorrow.

It’s as I’m wrapping things up and getting ready to leave that he stands and walks over toward me. I turn to face him, and he backs me up until my ass hits the counter. He leans forward, placing his palms on the counter behind me, and my breath hitches when he’s so close to me.

He drops his lips to my neck. “I miss you,” he groans.

“I miss you, too,” I whisper.

His lips move to mine, and it’s a short kiss that’s far too brief.

“I think we should tell him,” I say softly when he leans his forehead down to mine.

“We can’t.”

“Why not?”

He sighs and pulls back. “He’s got his own shit going on, and the time isn’t right.”

I narrow my eyes. “His own shit?”

He presses his lips together and takes a step back, and I don’t like that he’s putting physical distance between us when we already have physical distance between us.

I grip his biceps and pull him back into my orbit. “What’s going on?”

“I promised I wouldn’t say anything.”

I nod. “Okay. Okay, don’t say anything.”

“Rachel’s pregnant,” he blurts.

I gasp.

He rushes to add, “She’s not very far along. They didn’t want to tell anyone, but she asked for water instead of wine…so I had a feeling.”

“Oh, God. After the two miscarriages, I don’t blame them for not wanting to say anything. I promise I won’t say a word that you told me. And you’re right. We can’t tell them right now.”

“We will. When the time is right, we will. I promise,” he says softly.

I nuzzle into him for a beat, and then I pull back. “Thanks for telling me.”

He nips my lips with his for another kiss that’s far too short, and then he backs up out of my reach.

I take it as my cue, and he walks me out.

When I arrive back at his house the next morning, Grayson answers the door.

Without a shirt.

Wearing only gray sweatpants.

God bless gray sweatpants. And their inventor.

My eyes flick down to the bulge in those sweet, sweet sweats, and I can see the rather grand outline of his semi-hard dick.

Sigh.

I snag my bottom lip between my teeth as that familiar feeling of need darts right through me straight to my core.

I clear my throat. “Is my brother here?”

He raises a brow and slowly shakes his head. “They left for the museum an hour ago.”

“You know I have work to do, don’t you?” I say, a whole big dose of sassiness in my tone as I set my hand on my hip.

“Yep. And I have work to do, too.” He yanks me into his house, and I giggle as I fall into him. He kicks the door shut behind me, and his mouth falls to mine. “I need you here with me,” he says, his words punctuated with kisses. He tightens his arms around me. “Fuck, I missed you. More than I thought I would.”

“I missed you, too,” I admit. More than I thought I would, but I can’t add that to my previous statement as he has intensified the kiss and now his tongue is thrashing wildly against mine and God do I want him.

So I’ll be a few petit fours short of the extras I was planning to make.

This will be fully worth it.

We don’t make it past the entryway. He shoves his hand down into my leggings. I didn’t dress up to come here and bake, and he groans as he feels how wet I already am.

I mean…have you seen him? And those sweats? Of course I’m freaking wet. He’s walking sex, and I’m absolutely powerless against his magic.

“Oh fuck,” he snarls at me as I grapple for his cock. I rub him on the outside of his sweats, and then I dip my hand in and fist him. I stroke down his generous length before I stroke back up, and he shoves his hips toward me to show me he likes that.

“Fuck it,” he mutters, and he pulls his hand out and yanks my leggings down. He pulls them all the way off, moving down so I’m no longer able to feel him, and when he straightens up again, he lifts me by my ass. I link my legs around his waist, and he yanks his sweats down, pulls himself out, and aligns with my pussy.

He thrusts his way in as he holds me. He shifts us until my back is against the front door, and then he really starts to move.

He drives into me as I grasp on around his neck, unable to really move or do much of anything except enjoy the ride.

And holy hell, am I enjoying this ride.

My body gives way before I even know what’s happening, and I cry out as I start to come, my walls gripping onto him as pulse after pulse of pleasure racks through me.

“Fuck, yes, baby. Squeeze me with that perfect cunt,” he murmurs as he wrings out every last ounce of my energy.

He keeps driving into me as my orgasm starts to wane, and he shoves up hard twice then lets out a low growl as he starts to come. I watch his face as it screws up with pleasure, and I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anything more gorgeous than Grayson Nash as he gives into the pleasure he’s taking from my body.

“God, I love you,” he murmurs as he carefully pulls out of me and sets me down. I feel his come as it oozes out of my pussy, and he reaches down to feel it, too.

His eyes absolutely light up as he feels the hot come he just pumped into me. He slides it around, focusing on my clit, and there’s something so hot about feeling his semen as it combines with my own juices that the edges of pleasure start to pulse around me again.

I fly into a second orgasm, my body quaking as I grip onto his arm for support. If I don’t grip onto him, I’ll collapse onto the floor.

His mouth shifts down to mine, and he kisses me slowly, sensually, as he keeps fingering me through my orgasm. I drag in a heavy breath as the intensity fades, and he pulls his fingers out.

“Goddamn, that was hot,” he mutters.

“Wanna help me bake now?” I ask brightly, and he laughs. “I’m teasing. I actually need to sit for a minute. And maybe a cup of coffee or a diet Coke or something.”

“You got it, Cookie.” He lifts me into his arms.

I smile at him as I wrap my arms around his neck. “You haven’t called me that since…”

“Since I found out your real name? Yeah. But you once told me some people call you that, and I think it fits.” He sets me down outside his first-floor bathroom and nips a kiss to my lips. “Be right back.”

He returns a minute later with a washcloth and my pants, and then he gives me some privacy.

I take care of cleaning myself up and getting dressed again, and I collapse on his couch for a few minutes. He joins me with a cup of coffee.

“How do you like it?” he asks.

“Cream and sugar? Or…sugary creamer?”

“You got it,” he says, and he brings me a bottle of vanilla creamer.

He settles in beside me as I sip my coffee, and we just take a few beats to be together. It’s lovely. It’s how I envision our future—quiet moments on the couch as we sip coffee and enjoy each other’s company.

It feels like these moments are going to be fewer and further between as his season gets underway, so I will bask in every single one that I get.

Once my cup is empty, I force myself off the couch to get started on the day’s tasks. Grayson helps me out, and he makes me lunch and forces me to eat when it’s time. He forces dinner down me, too, and the way he takes care of me is really sweet.

He helps me where he can, and by the time we hear the doorbell telling me my brother and his family are back from the baseball game, my last batch of petit fours is done, and all I have left to do tomorrow is decorate the ones that haven’t cooled yet.

I’m exhausted.

Between two orgasms this morning then being on my feet baking all day, I’m not sure I’ll be much fun at tomorrow night’s ball.

And it’ll be weird pretending not to be in love with him for Beckett’s benefit.

I rush to the door to greet my nieces since I haven’t actually seen them yet, and they both yell, “Auntie Ava!” when they see me.

I squeeze them both, and we’re regaled with tales of the fun day this party of four had. I can’t wait to see what life’s like for them when they’re a party of five.

But first, we have to get through the charity ball tomorrow night.