Page 30 of The New York Nighthawks: Vol 1

Naomi wasn’t sure what direction she wanted to go in her life yet, so she moved with me to New York City after graduation. She was going to handle my social media while she figured things out. And she was excited that she and Ember—who had been accepted to NYU—would still be close.

Somehow, I got roped into helping this faceless friend move into her dorm.

I stepped off the elevator on the third floor and ignored the stares from the female freshmen hanging around in the hallways and common area. Even though it was unlikely that any of them actually knew who I was, I was used to the gawking. I was a defensive lineman, six foot five inches and two-hundred-and-sixty pounds of pure muscle. Learning to ignore the jersey chasers wasn’t hard, though. I’d never been into the casual thing. Besides, I was about to start my rookie season, and that had to be my sole focus. I didn’t have time for a woman.

“That one,” Naomi said from beside me, pointing at the next open door on the right.

I turned my feet to enter the suite’s living area and stopped dead in my tracks.

The first thing I saw was gorgeous red hair pulled back from an Elvin-shaped face with big emerald-green eyes, a sprinkling of freckles over her nose, and lips meant for kissing and sucking cock.My cock.

I shook my head to clear away that unexpected thought, but I still couldn’t tear my eyes away from the ginger beauty.

She was on the shorter side, probably around a foot and a half shorter than me, but she had curves in all the right places. A thin T-shirt clung to her generous tits, and the soft material rode up at the hem, showing a sliver of her pale, freckled stomach. Her purple shorts were a little small, in my opinion, but they showcased spectacular legs that would look amazing wrapped around my waist.

For fuck’s sake, Scott. Get your mind out of the gutter.

Then she walked toward me, and her round, breeding hips swayed seductively as her tits bounced, straining against her top. That shirt would probably tear open if it tried to contain her breasts while she was pregnant or breastfeeding.

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

I needed to have my head examined. Since when did I think about pregnant women and kids? Keeping my head in the game was my number one priority.

“Let me take that from you.”

My knees nearly buckled at her slightly raspy, unbelievably sexy voice. My cock was hard as a fucking rock, and the only thing hiding it was the damn box. “Just tell me where to put it,” I barked. I hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, but I was fighting the urge to drop the box and back this girl up to the nearest wall for a hot fuck.

“Ignore him, Ember,” Naomi sighed, before cuffing me on the back of the head.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This was my sister’s best friend?

I shouldn’t be fantasizing about this girl. Or any girl right now, dammit.

Naomi drew my attention again when she introduced us. “Nix, this is my bestie, Ember Walsh. Em, this burly grizzly bear is my brother, Nixon.”

I grunted in response, and Ember frowned, planting her hands on her curvy hips.

“I’d say nice to meet you, but I’d be lying.”

Naomi snorted, and I tossed her a glare.

“However,” Ember continued, tilting her head and studying me with narrowed eyes. “Since you did come to help me move, I’ll pretend anyway. You can put it right over there, thank you.” She pointed at an empty corner, and I stalked over there to set the box down. Then I quickly adjusted myself before turning around.

Ember and Naomi were whispering to each other, and then Ember laughed. The husky sound went straight to my cock. I practically jogged from the room to get another box, sucking in a huge breath of fresh air the second I was outside.

I picked up a box labeled, “Delicates,” and groaned at the images flashing through my mind. It was light, so I grabbed another and headed back inside.

“A fling with a hot football player would do you some good, Naomi,” Ember was saying as I walked back into the room.

I immediately dropped the boxes and glared at the girls. “First of all, my sister doesn’t do that kind of thing—”

“Flings?” Ember interrupted.

“Sex,” I practically choked on the word. “Second, even if she did”–-my stomach roiled at the idea of my sister doingthat—“do that, flings are never a good idea. Girls are too emotional.”

Ember put her hands back on her hips and huffed. “Sometimes, women need a little meaningless relief, too. And a sexy football player is perfect for that kind of thing.”

“How would you know?” My tone was tight from trying to rein in the rage that burned in my gut at the thought of Ember with…any man who wasn't me. I shoved that thought aside to examine later. Or never.

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