Dating the Defensive Back (The Nash Brothers Book 1)
Chapter 28

Nightlights and Stuffed Animals

“For the record, I don’t want to go with you to the game if you’re still mad at me.”

I am still mad. First for the omissions, and then for what she just blurted to Graham. Now I have to spend the night, and I have no choice but to stay in her room with her, and how the fuck am I going to keep fighting against my feelings for her when we keep getting slammed into each other?

“For the record, I’m still mad,” I say.

She purses her lips, and I’m not sure what she wants me to say. I can’t just magically get over my anger. She folds her arms over her chest and glares at me.

“But come anyway,” I finish.

She stares at me a long time before she relents. “Fine. I have to get up early tomorrow for work. Are you ready for bed?”

Right. Bed. A thing I’m going to have to share with her tonight. I sigh, and then I nod.

We head down the opposite hallway from the one Kelly and Graham went down. It’s a split floor plan, and we pass a bathroom before we get to Ava’s bedroom.

There’s a nightlight plugged in, and there’s a stuffed animal on her queen-size bed. Just when I was starting to see her as a woman, it feels like we’re reverting backwards.

I blow out a breath. “I can, uh…I can just sleep on the floor.”

“Don’t be silly. We can share a bed without touching each other, right?”

I don’t want to share a bed without touching her, but I hold back from admitting that to her as she grabs the stuffed rabbit off the bed and tosses it onto the dresser.

“Right. Sure. Of course,” I say instead. It’s all lies. I can’t sleep next to her with this throbbing erection, particularly not in a bed that’s smaller than the one I’m used to sleeping in by myself.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’m just going to go wash my face.” She grabs her pajamas, too, and I feel like I’m displacing her.

I’d love a shower and a shave plus a toothbrush myself, but I’m sort of stuck. She leaves, and I drop my jeans and pull off my shirt. I slide into her bed wearing just my boxer briefs, and I shimmy under the covers, doing my best to cover the thick monster so she doesn’t suspect that I can’t seem to get it down when I’m around her. He’s begging me for another shot at that tight little cunt, but I will not give in.

I can’t.

I scroll my phone as I try to focus on something other than sex, and Ava, and sex with Ava, but it’s useless.

I pull up Candy Crush, my classic go-to game every night before I go to sleep. Hey, if she can admit she still sleeps with a stuffed animal, I can admit I play candy games on my phone before bed.

I’m mid-game two when she walks back in.

She’s wearing a silky, short nightgown thing that would look much better on the floor. Does she seriously sleep in that? Or did she choose it tonight to purposely tempt me?

I realize I’m staring as she walks in. She doesn’t look at me, but her face is scrubbed clean, and her tits look fucking amazing in that thing, and Jesus Christ, I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want to be inside her right now.

Fuck.

I force my eyes back to my game as I realize the time ran out and my score is awful. I close down the app and toss my phone on the bedside table. “Is this side okay for me?” I ask. My voice comes out all low and grumbly, and I swear to God I’m not going to be able to sleep until I take care of this raging boner.

She looks up at me all shyly, and it’s my fucking undoing.

I nearly come in my boxer briefs.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” she says softly. She flips off the light and clears her throat as she gets ready to climb in.

“Excuse me,” I say, and I bolt out of her bed and head for the bathroom.

I lock the door behind me, and then I rub one out.

It doesn’t take much.

I’m fisting my own cock as I think about her wearing that little nightie thing, and I come all over my hand.

A sense of relief swells in me, but it’s not enough.

I can jerk it all I want. It’s no substitute for the real thing, the gorgeous woman who has every fucking ounce of my attention as I try futilely to get her the fuck out of my head.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to give it a try.

A little voice whispers to me in the back of my head, but I have to ignore it. I have to.

What would happen if we did give it a try and I fucked her over the way I’m terrified I will? Then I could lose my best friend on top of losing the girl I already care so much about. It’s hard enough to make real friends when you’re a professional football player, and maybe that’s just a small part of why my friendship spanning back to my high school years is so damn important to me. He’s not friends with me because of what I can do for him—and I can’t say the same about the bonds I’ve formed since I snagged my first contract.

It’s not a risk I’m willing to take.

I use the restroom while I’m in here, scrub my hands clean, and head back to the bedroom, feeling a small measure of calmness after what I just did.

But it doesn’t last long.

She’s scrolling her phone now, the light of the screen illuminating her face, and she doesn’t acknowledge me when I come back in.

The moment I slip into bed beside her and get a whiff of that sweet, fresh-baked scent she seems to always have about her, the raging monster is back in action and ready for a go at her.

“Night,” I grumble, turning away from her and closing my eyes.

Her nightlight is right in my eyes. I should’ve chosen the other side of the bed.

I want to ask why she has a nightlight. I don’t. It feels rude and oddly personal even though we’re getting very personal since we’re sharing a bed.

The bed rustles a little, and I assume she’s shifting down and setting her phone down. Before she says goodnight, though, she asks, “Can you tell me why you don’t like Austin now? I’m worried about Kelly.”

I flip over to face her, and I can see her clearly in the glow of the nightlight. We’re closer than I thought we’d be, but the bed isn’t that big, and I’m a rather large dude. “Between us?” I ask.

“Of course.” She looks mildly offended that I’d even ask that.

I study her for a beat before I determine that I can trust her. “Linc said he didn’t react kindly to the fact that Asher was going to start over him.”

“Who’s the better player?” she asks.

“Ask anybody else, they’ll say Asher. Ask Graham, he’ll say himself.”

She presses her lips together. “Thanks for telling me.”

“I’m a little worried he’s using your friend as a way to get close to me, so just tell her to be careful,” I warn.

“I’ll let her know—without saying anything about what you just told me. Thanks for saying something,” she says softly.

I nod a little, and our eyes lock.

I have this sudden feeling like I should kiss her. I want to kiss her.

Don’t do it, my brain screams, but my dick is louder. My fucking heart is louder. I’m about to lean in toward her to do it when she shifts.

“Well, goodnight.” She turns to face away from me.

I’m tempted to be the big spoon and hold onto her, to shift my cock so it settles near her ass.

I don’t.

“Night,” I mutter, and I reluctantly turn away from her, too.

I try not to toss and turn since it’s a small bed that’s rather bouncy on the shifting, but she seems to be sleeping soundly.

I draw in a deep breath as I move slowly to my back, and I stare up at the ceiling as I try to process these unfamiliar feelings. Not only am I spending the night in a woman’s bed without having fucked her properly before we fell asleep, but I’m also going to be dating this woman—publicly, at least.

How the hell am I going to hold back from falling for her when every second I spend with her pushes me further and further in that direction?

The answer is less and less clear every time I ask myself that question.

And the boner? Harder and harder every time I ask that question.

Maybe I should just get up and rub out another one.

I glance at the clock. It’s a little after two, which means I’ve been lying here for nearly two hours trying to fall asleep.

I should go back to my hotel, but I can’t. I need to be here to put in face time with Austin Fucking Graham—and to take the pulse of what he’s doing with Ava’s best friend.

I shift again, and that’s when I hear it.

A yelp followed by a gasp from beside me. She sits up as she pants wildly, and then she starts to cry.

“Ava?” I ask, sitting up beside her.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” she wails, clearly embarrassed.

“What’s wrong?” I reach over to put an arm around her quaking shoulders, and I pull her in a little closer.

She sniffles, and I reach my other arm around her front so I’m holding her in a side hug.

“It’s okay,” I say softly, soothingly. “Whatever it is, I’m right here.”

“I’m so sorry,” she says again.

“Don’t be. Talk to me, Ava.”

She draws in a shaky breath and sniffles again. “I, um…I sometimes have bad dreams. They started when my dad died.” She sniffles again, and I reach over to the box of tissues I saw on the nightstand when I first came in. I hand her one, and she blows her nose and sets the tissue on her nightstand. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be,” I say, my voice quiet and soothing. “I’m right here. Do you want to talk about it?”

She clears her throat. “It usually only happens if I have a drink right before bed, and even then it’s rare. It’s been a long time since I’ve had one.”

“How long?”

“Months. Maybe a year.” She reaches over to her nightstand, slipping out of my hold, and grabs a bottle of water. She gulps some down.

“Do you want to talk about what was in the dream?” I ask once she sets her water down. I keep my voice low and quiet, not really sure how to help her but wanting to do something.

“It’s the same one every time. I’m eight, and all my brothers are with their friends. You’re there, upstairs somewhere with Beck, I guess. And I’m in the kitchen with my mom. The phone rings, and she screams before she breaks down sobbing, and I know something’s wrong. She hangs up and ignores me and calls for Beck, and she tells him that Dad was in an accident at work and he died on the scene, and then Beck tells Alex and Oliver, and nobody tells me. Nobody talks to me. It’s just a rush of people in and out, walking by me, and nobody seems to care that I just lost the most important person in my world.” She draws in a shaky breath, her voice cracking at the end like she’s going to start crying again.

I reach around her and pull her into my chest, and she silently quakes as I wrap my arms around her. I get the very real sense that it’s not a nightmare so much as it’s reliving her reality. It’s a flashback to that day.

I remember that day, too. I was over at their house. Beckett and I were playing some video game that seemed to be the most important thing in the world, and we both heard his mom scream. He went down to check things out, and I stayed upstairs. I kept playing the game.

I didn’t know his dad was dead. I didn’t know the entire family would need the support of their friends in the coming days. I was just a teenager. There was a whole lot I didn’t know about life at all.

Hell, I’m thirty-two now, and there’s still a hell of a lot I don’t know about life.

“It’s okay,” I say, trying to keep my voice low and soothing as I hold her close and rub her back slowly. “That sounds terrifying.” I’m about to say it was just a dream, but the truth is…it wasn’t. It’s her memory tossing one of the worst moments of her life into play by way of her dreams, and that’s a shitty thing for her own memory to do to her.

God, it’s not like we can stop these things. I can’t believe I’m getting defensive about her own memory to her. Have I really fallen in that deep after a single night with her?

It’s not possible. It’s merely my need to protect her—even if it means protecting her from, well…herself.

“It’s why I have the nightlight and the bunny,” she says quietly. “Usually I wake up alone, and those things help.”

I feel like a royal asshole for judging any of that before I knew the truth.

“We all have bad dreams,” I finally say, trying to come up with something to soothe her. “There’s nothing we can do to help that, but I’m right here next to you, okay?”

“Thank you, Gray,” she mumbles into my chest.

I get up for just a beat, grab her bunny off the dresser, and hand it to her. I pull her back into my arms and shift down, pulling us both under the covers but not letting her go. She settles onto my chest with the bunny held between her arm and my chest, and I link my arms around her.

“Tell me a story,” she mumbles.

“About what?” I ask, feeling suddenly insecure. I can’t just whip up a story on the spot, though my friends would say I’m quite the storyteller.

“I don’t care. Just talk so I can fall asleep listening to your voice.”

“Okay. Um…” I glance around the room as I wait for inspiration to strike. I start talking about the first thing that pops into my head, which is the last time I was with my entire family. It was back when my parents were still married instead of going through a divorce, and none of us had any idea where we’d end up a year later.

“About a year ago, we celebrated my grandparents’ sixty-fifth wedding anniversary, and the entire Nash family went to our parents’ goat farm in New York. It was the last time the six of us were together as a family,” I muse, wanting to keep the story light and fun but realizing I’m taking it in a different direction already. I switch tracks. “I pulled up a minute after Lincoln and he hadn’t gotten out of the car yet, so I parked about an inch from his door so he couldn’t open it to get out.” I laugh at the memory.

I go on to talk about how much fun it was spending the weekend with my brothers. As I’m talking, I can’t help but put myself back in the place I was in a year ago.

I was thinking about retiring. Lincoln and I had a long talk well after midnight over beer as we each perched on a counter in the kitchen while everyone else slept.

I still am. I’m fucking tired, and my body is beat to hell. The offseason is no longer a long enough break from it all.

I was starting to see how important family is.

I still am. It’s what brought me to Vegas, after all.

I was starting to think I wanted to settle down. Lincoln was talking about Jolene again, and Spence mentioned he met a girl.

I’m right in between the two of them by age, yet I’m still living life most like Asher. I don’t want to be like Asher.

I don’t want to get in trouble for stupid shit and get suspended for an entire year.

I don’t want to be living with Dad again.

I don’t want to be the spontaneous guy that nobody trusts. That’s never really been me anyway.

But what do I want?

As the woman in my arms lets out a soft sigh and her breathing starts to even out as I talk, an icy fear grips onto my heart.

I think I have my answer.