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  Drawing her knees up, she started to raise her head as well. Tucker kept a firm hold on her shoulders, pressing her tighter to the mattress. “Just your ass. I’m going to show you exactly who you’ve invited to your bed.”

  She rested her head on the pillow, equal parts excited and terrified, Tucker’s sexy threat ringing in her ears. Sex was so much more intense this way.

  Before she had too long to consider that fact, Tucker placed another stinging smack against her ass, then his cock was back inside, pounding against her sensitive flesh. She came on the third thrust. She cried out loudly, but Tucker paid her no heed. On and on, he moved inside her. The second orgasm came right on the heels of the first. Or maybe this was still the first and she was setting the world’s record for longest climax in history.

  It didn’t matter because Tucker wasn’t anywhere near finished. If it weren’t for his firm grip on her hips, holding her up, she would have collapsed on the bed. Instead, he continued his beautiful, hard, delicious thrusting. And she didn’t have the ability or the will to call for a halt.

  Slowly she began to recover enough from her orgasms to start to participate once more. She pushed her hips against Tucker’s, her own motions increasing the stimulation.

  When Tucker realized she had revived, he changed the game once more. Her pussy clenched around his cock as he withdrew, the action causing both of them to groan.

  “Come here.” Tucker had perched on the edge of the bed. Reaching for her hand, he drew her closer until she sat facing him on his lap, her knees resting on the mattress beside his ass.

  They both sighed as she slowly slid onto his cock once more.

  This time, Tucker set an easier pace, the two of them kissing, their bodies connecting in a wavelike rhythm that was no less potent than their previous fast and furious tempo.

  Tucker left no part of her untouched as the brutality of their earlier fucking turned to the sweetest lovemaking she’d ever experienced. His hands caressed her back and sides, then gently pushed her tangled hair away from her face. He cupped her cheek, whispered the word “beautiful,” then proved to her just how much he meant it.

  Lela’s hands rested on his shoulders as she reveled in his touches, kind words, and gentle care. She’d been lonely for so long. Having him back was the answer to a prayer she’d never let herself pray. Her throat closed on unshed tears—of happiness, of relief, of fear.

  Tucker tilted his head and she worried she’d given herself away when he frowned. “Don’t be afraid.” His words traveled to her on a whisper, but they did little to soothe her anxiety. She’d lost him before and the pain had been unbearable. She didn’t want to go through that again.

  He pressed his lips to hers. “Lela. I’ll always love you.”

  At that, he lifted her, laid her on her back and rocked into her. Within seconds they hit the wall together, coming at the same time. Then Tucker placed his chest to her back as he spooned her. He kissed the nape of her neck and she listened as his breathing slowed, sleep taking him.

  It was only then that Lela let reality slip back in. She’d let her hormones convince her that simply having him here was enough. And as long as Tucker was kissing her, holding her, she’d believed it.

  What the hell was she supposed to do now? Nothing had changed between them. As far as she knew, Tucker didn’t intend to remain in Quinn any longer than it took for Coach to get back on his feet. And when he left her—again—she’d be left to pick up the pieces of her broken heart. Again.

  She hadn’t done such a great job of getting over him the first time, so she had no hope of doing so now.

  Which meant she was destined to be in love with Tucker Riley for the rest of her life. A fact that pretty much ensured she was going to die a lonely, childless spinster.

  Dammit. She hated this time of night. Everything always felt so dire and helpless. She tried to console herself, to tell herself she’d feel less freaked out in the morning.

  Maybe.

  Or maybe not.

  God. What had she done?

  Tucker rolled over, his hand flying to his forehead, a blinding pain jerking him awake. His stomach roiled. As he sat up, it took him a few seconds to recall where he was through the agonizing haze.

  Shit.

  Lela.

  He didn’t want her to see him like this. He hadn’t told her about his headaches or all the reasons he’d returned to Quinn.

  He staggered from the bed and tried to quietly gather his clothing. Tucker stumbled slightly on the stairs, carrying everything with him to dress in the dark living room. Tugging out his cell phone, he saw it was only a little past three a.m. He called for the cab to return, praying the driver recalled the address. Tucker was having a hard time concentrating on anything besides not getting sick.

  Once he was fully dressed and the cab was on the way, he glanced around the room, hoping to find some paper and a pen. He needed to leave Lela a note, some sort of explanation for his middle-of-the-night escape. Unfortunately, he found nothing.

  Then another sharp pain pierced his temple. His stomach lurched once more. Tucker left the house quickly, doubling over in the front yard. How the hell was he going to make it back to the hotel without getting sick?

  He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, sucking in one deep breath after another, trying to will the pain away, fighting to contain it until he could get back to the privacy of his hotel room.

  Mercifully, the cab arrived and Tucker climbed into the back, giving the driver the name of his hotel. During the entire ride, he concentrated solely on remaining upright, paying attention only to his breathing. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. In. Out.

  He made it back without being sick. And somehow he made it to the room. Tucker collapsed on the bed without taking off his clothing or his shoes, closing his eyes and praying for oblivion.

  It was only when the pain subsided later the following night that he recalled he’d walked out on Lela without a word.

  Chapter Six

  Lela sat on the edge of the pier, her cell phone in hand. Her girlfriend, Charlene, had texted just as she’d been about to dive into the lake.

  She’d spent the better part of the morning working in her garden, weeding, watering and picking the vegetables that were ripe. She loved summer’s bounty, enjoying dinners made only of food she had grown herself. Tonight, if she could summon the energy, she would cook up some sautéed zucchini and squash, sliced tomatoes drizzled with balsamic oil and fresh corn on the cob. However, something told her that—just like last night—she wouldn’t have an appetite.

  “No word from Tuck?” Charlene texted.

  Lela sighed as she typed out the word, “No.”

  “Bastard” came back, and Lela grinned. She’d been blessed with some amazing girlfriends. Her mother liked to refer to Lorelie, Annabelle, Hollie, Paige, Miranda and Charlene as Lela’s gang, claiming when the whole group got together, things got wild…and loud. Lela had to admit there was some truth to that, but her friends could also be counted on to lift a margarita with her anytime something great happened, as well as share her indignant anger whenever someone pissed her off.

  Yesterday had passed in a haze that started at six a.m., when she woke up and realized she was alone. Tucker’s desertion had blindsided her, left her questioning everything that had happened.

  It wasn’t that Lela had expected any lasting commitments or promises from him. How could he offer those when his time in Quinn was limited? Training camp started soon. She’d taken him to her bedroom knowing the affair would be brief. But she hadn’t anticipated being treated like some casual one-night stand who wasn’t special enough to spend the entire evening with. She had called him at least half a dozen times and left several voice mails.

  She’d run the gamut of emotions yesterday, from confusion to annoyance followed by a brief bout of depression when he still hadn’t returned her calls. Finally, around eight, Miranda and Lorelie had shown up with a bottle of Jim Beam and
Pitch Perfect on Blue Ray. They’d gotten drunk and sung along—loudly and off-key—and taken Lela from hurt to pissed off.

  It was a talent her group of friends possessed. Mob mentality. If someone hurt one of their own, the liquor flew and the pitchforks came out. It was actually kind of fun to get worked up, proclaiming the guy an asshole and swearing off men forever. She, Miranda and Lorelie had declared they were better off without two-legged creatures who possessed penises and her friends had spent a great deal of the night making her laugh.

  With the help of the bourbon, Lela managed to sleep for a few foggy hours without wondering why the heck Tucker had left so suddenly and without an explanation.

  “Yeah, I guess,” Lela texted. “Probably not my brightest idea. Starting up with him again. May be smarter to just move on.”

  Charlene’s reply was slow in coming. When it did, it simply said, “Mmmhmm,” a sure sign her friend knew as well as she did Lela was nowhere close to getting over Tucker.

  Lela rubbed her forehead, a slight hangover making her irritable. Fucker. He’d been back in town less than three weeks and he’d thrown her into a complete tizzy.

  “I’m going to go swim.” Lela wiped away the bead of sweat rolling down her cheek.

  “Ok. I’m around if you need to talk later,” Charlene offered.

  “Same goes for me.” Lela knew Charlene was reeling over Wade’s return to Quinn. Coach’s heart attack had forced both of them to face some demons from the past. It was going to take them some time—and probably several cases of wine—to come to grips with the fallout.

  They said goodbye and Lela set her phone on the pier. Rising, she held her nose and jumped in, anxious to wash away the sticky sweat from her morning’s work. She’d always been the type to clean or garden or drive herself to exhaustion whenever something bothered her. Usually the busy work relieved the stress and made her feel better.

  The gardening hadn’t worked. So, Lela moved on to plan B.

  The lake.

  Swimming around for a little while, she finally rolled over onto her back, floating weightlessly on the placid lake, her arms outstretched, the cool water a welcome relief on her overheated skin.

  Lela’s eyes were closed to block out the bright sunshine. While her face remained above the water, her ears were beneath it, the surrounding sounds muted. She loved floating on her back, disappearing into this peaceful world where she had no more significance than a feather as she let the water take her wherever it wanted. Her only job was to keep enough air in her lungs to remain afloat.

  Some people found meditation soothing. For Lela, the water comforted her, all her worries drifting away on a breeze.

  Unfortunately, no such reassurance came today. She was still pissed off. The longer she floated, the madder she got.

  How dare he walk out on her like that? No note. No goodbye. She wasn’t some faceless stranger he’d picked up at a bar for a quick screw. They had a history. At some point, they’d been friends. In love.

  Maybe he’d lied about still feeling that way, but she hadn’t lied to him. She’d meant it when she said she still cared. And for him to tromp all over her heart as if she weren’t worthy of more respect enraged her.

  Fuck it. She released a long breath, letting her lungs deflate, her feet drop. She dove under the water and started to swim back to shore. She was driving over to Tucker’s hotel and she was going to tell that asshole where he could get off. She wasn’t some weak-willed woman who was going to let him treat her like shit and get away with it.

  She came up for air and to see how close she was to the shore. She was just about to go back down when she spotted him. Lela stopped swimming and began to tread water.

  Tucker was sitting at the end of her pier, his bare feet dangling over the edge, barely skimming the surface of the lake. No more than twenty feet separated them, but she didn’t seek to shorten it. It was apparent he’d been watching her for some time. And while his face appeared contrite, she wasn’t going to pretend what he’d done was okay.

  He’d hurt her. Again.

  The old adage Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me drifted through her mind.

  He held her gaze, then when he realized she wasn’t swimming closer, he called out, “Thought I’d come take a look at your lawn mower.”

  She narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth to tell him to go fuck himself.

  Before she could speak, he added, “I’m sorry, L.B.”

  She considered accepting the apology, but discounted it in an instant. It wasn’t enough. He owed her an explanation as well. “Why did you leave?”

  He glanced around at the surrounding houses. There were a few kids swimming several piers down, but they were too far away to hear them.

  If she were feeling more generous, she’d swim over to him. She wasn’t feeling that nice.

  “Lela. I shouldn’t have left without saying goodbye, but—”

  “You’re right. You shouldn’t have.” There was no way Tucker could miss the anger in her tone.

  “I was sick.”

  She frowned. She’d considered many reasons for his sudden departure, but she had to admit poor health hadn’t entered her mind once. Probably because he’d been well enough to fuck her senseless for several blissful hours.

  She felt the need to get a better look at his face, to see if he was telling the truth. Lela began to swim closer to him.

  When she reached the pier, he remained silent as she climbed the ladder. Tucker handed her a towel. “Thanks.”

  She used it to dry off quickly, then she wrapped it around herself before sitting next to him. “Sick how? You seemed fine when we went to sleep.”

  He didn’t reply right away. Once again she was struck by the notion that he was going to lie to her and it annoyed her.

  Her temper flared and she rose. “Forget it, Tucker. Forget it all. We both knew going in nothing was going to come from this. Our futures aren’t any different now than they were after graduation. We’d be smarter to let it go here. Now. Before we do or say things that can’t be undone. It was really great to see you again.”

  Tucker stood, his face troubled, his eyes betraying a bit of anger. It struck Lela as odd. What the hell did he have to be mad about? She hadn’t told lies about her feelings to get him into bed. She didn’t run off in the middle of the night, then come back with some lame excuse. What had he expected? That she’d take his apology at face value, tear off her clothes and ring the bell for round two?

  “Lela. I really am sorry. I—”

  “I heard you the first time.” She couldn’t stand here any longer. Her heart was pounding, her chest tight. She was afraid of crying in front of him. She wouldn’t do that.

  “I get migraines. Bad ones.”

  She paused, uncertain how to respond, afraid to put her trust in him again. What if this was a lie too?

  But what if it’s the truth?

  She didn’t reply. Instead, she let the silence between them grow.

  Finally, Tucker sought to fill it. “I took a hard hit in that last game.”

  Lela recalled the sack. It had been a brutal tackle from behind that had slammed Tucker’s head into the turf with such vicious impact, Lela had feared he’d been killed. Especially when he didn’t move for several minutes afterward.

  “I know,” she whispered. “I saw it.”

  “Knocked me out. I had a concussion.” Every word Tucker spoke seemed to be dragged from him against his will.

  Lela considered what he was saying, the consequences of that injury. “You’ve had headaches ever since?”

  It had been months since that game. If he was still suffering from that tackle…

  A light went on. “You’re not going back to the team, are you?”

  Tucker winced as if she’d struck him. Then he lifted his shoulders. “I haven’t decided yet.”

  She tried to understand. That didn’t seem like a decision that would be his to make. “Have you been cleared to
play?”

  He nodded.

  She scowled. “Do your doctors know about these headaches?”

  Tucker didn’t reply. He was lying to the doctors. She could see it on his face.

  “Tucker.” She would make him answer her question.

  At that moment, Tucker’s phone rang. She hoped he would ignore it, but she should have known better. She’d backed him into a corner. The call would save him.

  For the moment.

  He pulled his cell from his back pocket, frowning when he read the number on the screen. “It’s Lorelie.”

  Lela felt a shard of panic.

  God. Coach.

  Tucker answered. “Hello? Lorelie?”

  Lela tried to read his face, wishing she could hear what Lorelie was saying. When he muttered the word, “Fuck,” Lela’s fear became full-blown.

  “What? What is it? Coach?”

  Tucker shook his head, but continued to listen as Lorelie spoke.

  “Thanks for calling,” he said after several moments. Tucker lowered the phone but didn’t bother to put it away.

  “Coach is okay?”

  He nodded, though the action seemed sluggish, as if he was struggling to focus.

  “Tucker. What happened?”

  “It’s my dad. He’s in the hospital.”

  Lela wasn’t sure how to respond. She knew he and his father were estranged. She didn’t even know if Tucker had tried to contact the man since his return home. “Is he okay?”

  Tucker shrugged. “He tried to kill himself.”

  “What?”

  “Apparently he polished off a fifth of bourbon, then put a gun to his head. His hand slipped when he pulled the trigger. The bullet skimmed the side of his skull.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Neighbors heard the shot and called the cops. He’d passed out in a pool of his own blood. They have him bandaged up and in the hospital. A room on the psych floor.”

  “Oh, Tucker. I’m sorry. I—”

  “I have to go.” His response was wooden, abrupt.

  “Are you going to the hospital?”