Page 70 of Tempting the Player
When it’s time, Hendrick and I take Flynn to basketball practice and when we get back, Archer and Brogan are home. Not long after, Knox shows up too. I was surprised when he immediately started making dinner—fajitas—but no one else said anything so I guess that’s the norm. Interesting. I didn’t picture Knox as the cooking type. He finishes that and leaves the rest of us to eat while he picks up Flynn. He wouldn’t hear of anyone else doing it.
We’re all in the living room. I gave up control of the TV so Archer and Brogan could play video games. Knox and Flynn eat standing next to each other in the kitchen. It’s adorable. Same pose, same expression. The pace at which they eat is even identical.
Knox heads to his room as soon as he’s done. Flynn tries to do the same, but Hendrick stops him.
“Do you have any homework?”
Flynn freezes and stares at his brother like it’s the strangest question he’s ever been asked.
“Yeah, a little. Why?”
“Let’s do it.”
“I was going to work on it in my room after I shower.”
Hendrick says something too low for me to hear, but Flynn relents with a sigh and heads off to his room, presumably to get his schoolwork.
“I think I’m going to get ready for bed.” I stand and then look around. “Where would that be?”
“You can have my room,” Hendrick says.
“Where are you going to sleep?”
“The couch.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him that’s silly, but a sullen Flynn comes back with his backpack over one shoulder.
“It’s fine,” Hendrick says as they move to the dining room table. “Night, Jane.”
22
HENDRICK
By Thursday,all my brothers are in love with Jane. Archer and Brogan are up and showered fifteen minutes early so she can have the shower as soon as her alarm goes off. Flynn spends far less time in his room when she’s here, and Knox leaves every morning telling me to “say good morning to Hollywood for me,” which I never do.
And me, well, having her safe at my house where I don’t need to constantly scan our surroundings, I find it’s a whole lot harder to ignore how much I want to look at her and talk to her. She’s sleeping in my bed at night. It’s a fantasy and a nightmare. Basically, I’m frustrated as hell, and I have no one to blame but myself. I’m currently working out that frustration in the garage while she practices French.
I have my earbuds in, listening to music, while I pound the bag. I have no idea how long I’ve been out here, but sweat drips down my brow and my heart thumps wildly in my chest. Any frustration I’ve burned off is back as I realize I’m going to have to go back in there and spend the next few hours pretending like her presence doesn’t make me want things I have no business wanting.
Movement catches my eye and I glance over to the door expecting Flynn to come out and ask when we’re leaving for practice. Instead, Jane stares wide-eyed as she steps into the garage.
I remove one ear bud. “Hey, everything okay?”
“Uh-huh.” Her gaze snaps up. “I needed a break. I’ve done more studying this week than I have in my entire life.”
Nodding, I take out the other ear bud as she walks closer. Tentatively, she reaches out to touch the worn black bag. Her eyes flit up to mine, then drop to take in my bare chest and stomach. “You do this a lot?”
“Yeah, guess so.”
“I can tell. You’ve got some serious muscles going on.”
Her honesty and obvious appraisal of my body make me laugh. She throws a half-hearted punch that the bag absorbs without budging.
“Not like that.” I come around and take her hand, pry her fingers open and move her thumb. “Now make a fist while keeping your thumb on the outside.” When she complies, I say, “There you go.” I extend her hand. “Keep your wrist straight and hit the bag with this part of your hand.”
I demonstrate by placing her hand in the right position. Neither of us moves as we stand there frozen with me caging her in, my fingers wrapped over her wrist as her hand presses into the bag. That coconut and vanilla scent and the way her body fits against mine makes my dick stir.
“Like this?” she asks in a quiet, throaty voice.
