Playbook (The Holland Brothers 2)
Chapter 22

London is muttering into my chest, something about jumping out a window.

Chuckling, I drop a kiss to her forehead. “Still want me to take off my shorts?”

She groans and climbs off me. As she stands in front of me in nothing but her panties, I seriously consider shutting and locking us in for the foreseeable future. She is stunning. Her long brown hair hangs over her shoulders, perfect tits peeking out at me. Her panties aren’t as sexy as the red ones she had on the other night, but she’s the kind of girl that doesn’t need any of that to be sexy as fuck.

I get out of bed and stand in front of her, running my hands up and down her arms. “Second-guessing coming home with me?”

“No,” she says with a shake of her head. Then a sheepish smile. “Maybe a little, but not because I don’t want to finish what we started.”

“You don’t have to go.”

“It’s fine. I should get home anyway. This was…” She trails off. “An interesting day.”

“We could go to your place, and I could show you just how much more interesting it can get.” I wrap my arms around her, holding her hostage.

“Alec is home, and I don’t think I can sneak you in without answering a hundred questions first.” She wiggles out of my hold and quickly gets dressed.

“It looks like you should have been shopping for more than a bed.” She motions with her head toward my makeshift nightstand. A moving box propped up next to the bed.

“Why? This one works just fine.” I reach into the box and pull out a strip of condoms.

She laughs. “Oh my god. That’s the most bachelor thing I’ve ever seen.”

I give her a sheepish smile before I drop them back inside. Yeah, she’s right. I probably do need a proper nightstand, but picking out all that shit is exhausting.

I reluctantly pull on my T-shirt and adjust my dick, hoping he’ll get the message this isn’t happening today.

I hug her again when we’re both fully clothed. “Don’t go.”

The front door closes, and the house gets louder immediately. I recognize Tripp and Merrick’s voices through the walls.

“Your teammates are going to think we were in here having sex.”

“We would have been if they’d waited another fifteen minutes.”

“This is probably a bad idea,” she says.

“Probably.” I suck her bottom lip into my mouth. Her arms go around my neck and it’s several seconds of kissing each other like it might be the last time before she pulls back. She looks beautiful with puffy lips and flushed cheeks, and I get off on the fact I did that to her.

She puts a foot of distance between us, then her gaze drops to the bed. “More fan mail?”

I forgot about the envelope Archer dropped off. I step forward and pick it up. My brows furrow. My name and address are handwritten on the front, but it’s the return name that makes me pause. Sabrina Whitlock. Sabrina. It’s probably a coincidence. I haven’t had another text from her in a week or so. But my stomach swirls with unease anyway.

“Brogan?” London says my name, head dipping to catch my gaze.

“Sorry.” I shake my head and shove the letter into my pocket. “Nah. Just junk mail. I don’t give out this address.”

“Maybe a stalker fan then.”

I snag her arm and tug her back to me. I really don’t want her to go. I press my lips against hers. “I hope she’s cute like you.”

“I am not a stalker,” she says.

“Just a fan who once sent me her panties.”

“Those weren’t mine.”

I gasp like I’m shocked. “No? Say it isn’t so. I’ll have to dig through my collection and toss those out.”

She makes a deep hum of disapproval, and I get more than a little enjoyment out of the possible jealousy I detect.

She pulls back again, this time moving toward the door. “Walk me out?”

“Duh,” I say, stepping into my shoes before joining her. “What kind of boyfriend do you think I am?”

“The kind that isn’t real,” she says quietly as we walk hand in hand down the hall and into the living room where Archer is chilling with Tripp and Merrick.

I slap her on the ass. “My dick is really hard. That real enough for you?”

Her mouth parts in shock and then a surprised laugh escapes her lips. The guys in the living room glance up as we come into view. Archer’s smirking but the rest don’t give the fact that London and I were just in my room together a second thought. Why would they? They already thought we were sleeping together. Something I hope to make a reality very, very soon.

“Six!” Tripp says.

“What’s up, guys?” I squeeze London’s hand a little tighter so she can’t flee like I’m sure she’s considering.

“Archer says you’re unbeatable on the new Street Fighter and I want to test that theory.”

I laugh. “You got it, but first I’m gonna take London home.” I glance at my girl. I really want her to stay, even if it’s not to make out. “Unless… you changed your mind and can stay a little longer?”

Maybe now that she’s faced everyone and seen it’s no big deal, she’ll hang. Although, who am I kidding? If she does, I’m probably dragging her right back to my room.

“Actually, I already called an Uber,” she says and lifts a hand. “Bye, guys.”

To everyone else it probably doesn’t look it, but I can tell she’s rushing out. I walk her out to the car waiting at the curb.

We stop a foot away and I take her hand. “Damn. I was really hoping to drive you home so we could make out some more. My truck has plenty of room in the back.”

She giggles. “A selling point I’m sure you’ve tested on many occasions.”

I have, but I don’t know if I’ve ever wanted to as badly as I do now. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Working.”

“Right.”

She seems amused as she watches me try to figure out when I can see her next.

“Tomorrow night. Some of us are going to Tripp’s place to watch Monday Night Football.”

“Wouldn’t that be weird?”

“No. Not at all. There’ll be other people too.” I squeeze her hand. “Come with me. Please?” I’m not above begging.

“Yeah.” She nods. “All right.”

She steps away from me. I hold open the door for her as she ducks into the car. Then shut her in and watch as she leaves.

Inside, I replace Archer in the kitchen while our guests are playing video games. His smirk grows as I get closer.

“Interesting day,” he says quietly, also signing.

“You’re telling me.” I take a seat at the island and the envelope in my shorts digs into my thigh, reminding me of the letter.

I take it out as Archer fires off the obvious question I expected. “So, I guess things aren’t so fake anymore?” He shakes his head.

I grin, drop the envelope on the counter, and drum my fingers on it excitedly as he adds, “I never thought I’d see the day, you with a real girlfriend.”

“Why?” I ask, a little defensively.

“Maybe because you’ve said time and again that you don’t want one and that these are the years to have fun and not take anything too seriously.”

I have said that. Many times. “She’s cool as fuck and I hope there’s a lot more making out, but it’s not like that. We’re just having fun…and kissing her is the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”

God, it’s been so long I don’t even know what it’d be like to date someone for real anymore. I don’t think I’d be sacrificing fun with her, but the idea still gives me pause.

He laughs, then tips his head toward the envelope on the counter. “Junk?”

“Where’d you replace this?”

“With the rest of our mail.” He glances at the stack of junk magazines and marketing brochures. “Who’s Sabrina Whitlock?”

“I’m not sure.”

“You’re acting funny. What aren’t you saying?”

“Nothing.”

“Okay. Then just open it.”

I do, and that uneasy feeling I had at seeing her name spreads and intensifies.

Brogan,

My name is Sabrina. I’ve been trying to contact you via text, but I must have the wrong number. I think I’m your sister.