Awake At Dawn (Wildflower Series Book 2)

“GREAT GAME, MAN.”

Phoenix Jones, our kicker, clapped me on the shoulder as we walked into the locker rooms.

“Thanks, Jonesy. You, too. Way to come in clutch on that last field goal.”

I meant it. He’d won us our first preseason game tonight. If there was one thing I could count on during a Knights game, it was that Phoenix would pull through for us when we needed him.

“You good?” He gave me a quizzical glance as we trailed through the locker room to find our bags. “You’ve seemed a bit off today.”

Playing for the same team for six seasons meant the guys on the roster knew me too well. Which was great when it came to our work on the field but not so great when they saw right fucking through me.

I sighed. “I think it’s just taking a bit for me to gel with the lineup this season.”

“I didn’t mean you seemed off on the field,” Phoenix said, cocking a brow. “And I think you knew that.”

Goddamnit. He was right; it had been a cop-out response. The team played surprisingly well tonight, and I felt great about our chances this year. We had a few rookies, but our starting lineup was solid.

Honestly, I should be on cloud-fucking-nine right now. It was the start of a new season, and the anticipation and high hopes usually made me jittery with excitement. The adrenaline of getting back onto the field and hitting those plays just right usually gave me a high that extended long after I left the turf for the night. But my mind kept drifting to the scene right before leaving my apartment. Gemma and Winnie sitting on the couch, both looking slightly…dejected.

I didn’t expect this. I didn’t expect Gemma to give a fuck when I left for my games because that just wasn’t something I was used to—having people around to miss me. And rationally, I knew she likely didn’t miss me. With everything she was going through, she probably just didn’t want to be alone. And while she had other people she could rely on, she still insisted on keeping them all at arm’s length.

Which meant I’d left my lonely, pregnant roommate to sit at home with my dog while I was in another state getting pats on the back for a few good plays. What if she got sick like she did at the restaurant the other day? What if something happened? Something with the baby, and she stubbornly refused to call anyone for help?

I thought leaving Winnie would be my biggest worry. But Winnie had someone taking care of her. My question was…who was taking care of Gemma?

She would say she didn’t need anyone to take care of her, and she didn’t need anyone to worry. She was capable, independent, and incredibly strong. She was. But everyone should have someone to lean on.

“Just getting used to being on the road again,” I finally said to Phoenix because it was the closest thing to the truth.

Phoenix nodded in understanding. Being a professional athlete was often glamorized. The money, the women, the fame, the game. It left little to complain about, and I fully knew that, but traveling wore on a lot of the guys. It always left me feeling ragged by the end of the season. But I was already feeling that way in the preseason, which was new. And not a good sign for the few months ahead.

“You’ll be back home to your girl soon,” Phoenix said as he sat on the bench lining the lockers.

I’d been about to shuck off my jersey when I paused, whipping my head around to look at him. Did he know about Gemma? Because that sure as fuck wasn’t good, considering our arrangement was supposed to be a secret.

“You got a puppy, right?” Phoenix clarified, mimicking my confused expression. “Winnie? I assumed it was a girl.”

“Oh, yeah.” I nodded, giving him a half grin as a bucket of relief crashed over me, making my shoulders slump. “My friend’s sister is watching her while I’m gone.”

Friend’s sister. Gemma was my friend’s sister. It would do me good to fucking remember that every once in a while.

“Yeah?” Jonesy perked up with interest like he did whenever a member of the opposite sex was mentioned, and I gritted my teeth. The two of us usually hit up the bars together, taking turns playing wingman, and I hoped he didn’t ask me to play wingman for Gemma. Because like hell was that happening. “Which friend?”

“Julian,” I said, wishing I hadn’t mentioned anything about Gemma. “We played at OSU together.”

“Briggs, right?” Phoenix asked, as perceptive as fucking ever. “It’s a damn shame he didn’t go pro.”

“I know,” I agreed because it was the truth. Julian could have had an equally successful career in the league.

Phoenix went off, talking about Julian and college ball, letting the conversation drift away from Winnie and Gemma as we changed. He thankfully forgot about them. Me, on the other hand…I annoyingly couldn’t get them off my mind.

Once Phoenix wandered away to chat with some of the other guys, I pulled out my phone, tempted to text Gemma. A different kind of nerves twisted inside me at kickoff tonight, knowing she might be watching, might see my every move on the field. I wondered if she turned on the game at home.

Sure enough, I unlocked my phone to find a picture of Winnie in front of the TV, the game on in the background. My stomach turned, making me feel like I was free-falling for half a second.

Hmm, I only see Winnie in this picture. Is she the only one who watched the game?

Was I fishing for a picture of Gemma Briggs so that I had one on my phone that no one else did?

Maybe.

But a second later, I got one.

And goddamnit, it was a good one.

It was a selfie—a little blurry with shitty lighting, but her smile was as bright as the sun. And she was wearing my fucking green-and-white jersey while sitting on the couch in my apartment. Our apartment.Property of Nô)(velDr(a)ma.Org.

My cock twitched in my pants. Life would be so much easier if I weren’t so undeniably attracted to her. Why couldn’t my cock twitch that easily at the first look of the girls Jonesy tried to set me up with when we went out for drinks earlier this summer?

Ahh, there she is.

Did she already own that London jersey, or had she bought it recently? Or did she go into my closet to find something to wear? All of those options pleased the fuck out of me. I needed to know the answer, but I didn’t dare ask.

SHE’S JULIAN’S SISTER, NOAH: She’s here, and she’s proud of you for kicking ass tonight. It was a great game.

My chest warmed annoyingly, and I struggled to find a response. People often gave me compliments, but it was usually because they cared about the Knights. They cared about the stats and the numbers and anything that would make those two things look good—like me. And since people didn’t typically care about the preseason wins or losses, people didn’t usually watch. They didn’t bother talking to me about these games. Because what I did didn’t really matter all that much. I mean, it did to my coaches and my teammates, but that was it.

SHE’S JULIAN’S SISTER, NOAH: We should get Winnie a little London jersey. That would be so cute!

I had mixed feelings about that one.

I’m well aware of my cocky asshole status, but don’t you think dressing my dog up to look just like me would take it a step too far? I don’t need people thinking I’m that full of myself, Em.

SHE’S JULIAN’S SISTER, NOAH: Oh, come on. I’ll just have her wear it when it’s just us at home watching the games.

Is this game-watching going to become a regular occurrence?

While my chest tightened at the thought of continuing to leave her and Winnie at home over the season, I did like the idea of having a cheering squad just for me in my own living room.

SHE’S JULIAN’S SISTER, NOAH: Of course. I always watch the Knights games.

SHE’S JULIAN’S SISTER, NOAH: My dad got us into football young.

Ah, so it wasn’t about me, then. That made sense.

Good man. See you when I get home, Em.

SHE’S JULIAN’S SISTER, NOAH: Safe travels, Noah.

Our plane landed on the tarmac in Boston well after midnight, and my limbs felt sluggish as I made it to my car. It was a struggle to stay awake on the drive home, but I woke the fuck up as soon as I walked into my apartment.

Low, desperate-sounding moans filtered through the door off my kitchen. Gemma’s door. Those mewling whimpers were her noises, and it was unmistakable why she was making them.

My dick immediately stood at attention as I listened to a high-pitched gasp, sharp and needy. And then it happened again…and again, and I realized that I was about to listen to Gemma come. I couldn’t get myself to stop listening, either. I should walk away, give her some privacy, but her moans were the hottest fucking thing I’d ever heard, and I desperately wanted to know what she sounded like when she hit her peak.

A brief but intense cry pierced the air, and I knew that was it.

God, what I wouldn’t give to see her pretty face right now. To see lips parted in ecstasy, to see her lost in her own orgasm. I bet she looked so goddamn good.

It wasn’t until the apartment grew quiet that a sickening realization hit me. I’d been so consumed by listening to Gemma that I didn’t stop to consider who was responsible for making her sound like that. For making her come like that.

I whipped my head around, looking for a pair of shoes by the front door or anything that might indicate she had someone over, but before I could further my investigation, she emerged from her bedroom.

Shit.

Gemma jumped when she saw me, letting loose a tiny scream. I couldn’t blame her; it was the middle of the night, and I stood in the dark kitchen, my hands gripping the barstool as if holding on for dear life. I hadn’t even realized I’d moved this far into the apartment, too busy being drawn by the sex-fueled noises coming from my roommate’s room.

Once she realized it was me, Gemma quickly stepped back into her bedroom like she was hiding something, and my suspicion flared.

“Do you have a guy over?” I asked abruptly.

Too abruptly.

God, what the hell was wrong with me? I sounded mad. I hated that, considering I’d told her she could have guys over. But I didn’t know how to withhold the burning in my chest from the thought of another man making Gemma moan like that.

“No,” she murmured before blushing furiously.

“No?” I parroted.

“Hello to you, too, Noah.” Ignoring my question, she ducked her head before finally committing to leaving her bedroom. A dim light filtered out of the door behind her, illuminating the kitchen well enough that I could see the small pink hearts on the pajama shorts and button-up top she always wore. She walked briskly to the cupboard, grabbing a glass to fill with water. “You could have given a girl a heads-up. I didn’t expect you to already be home.”

“Sorry, we usually fly back right after a game,” I explained before circling back to the conversation I wanted to have and trying not to pay attention to how her shorts kept riding higher. “No one’s over?”

“No guy,” she confirmed, focusing on holding her cup beneath the faucet.

“Girl?” I questioned. Didn’t hurt to check.

She shook her head before finally meeting my gaze. It was hooded, that drowsy postorgasm look. But her irises burned bright, even in the dark. She stared at me, daring me to continue my questioning. And man, did I want to. Because if no one else was over—thank God—that meant Gemma had been doing that to herself, and fuck did I like picturing that scene.

And with that thought, I realized my cock was still tenting my sweatpants.

Luckily, I didn’t think Gemma could see it from where she stood.

“So…” I ventured, trying to choose my words carefully.

But Gemma understood me regardless.

“Yeah,” she said, still daring to hold my gaze, refusing to back down. “Sometimes you just have to take care of things yourself, Noah.”

The air in the kitchen sizzled, crackling between us, reminding me of all the recent times we’d cooked together. Except this time, I felt like I was the one at risk of burning. It took everything in me to withhold my offer to take care of things for her. I’d fucking love to take care of her all night long.

“I’m sorry,” she continued, misreading my silence. Her eyes finally broke away from mine as she took a sip of water, and I sucked in, able to breathe again. “I’ll…make sure I’m alone next time.”

I gripped the barstool harder. “Next time?”

Her head shot back up. “You’re not asking me to break up with my vibrator, are you?” she asked, her lips twitching now with slight amusement. She seemed to have gotten over the embarrassment and decided to simply fuck with my head instead. “It’s the only reliable thing I’ve got these days.”

“No,” I said dryly. “I’m not going to make you break up with your vibrator.”

God, how I would love to be the one to reliably give her orgasms. I mean, we could keep the vibrator around for fun, too. But she’d be begging for my tongue instead if I just gave her a taste of what it could do.

My jaw clenched. I stepped back from the barstools, putting some distance between us as I realized my control was slipping. I was so close to saying something I shouldn’t. Or worse, initiating something I shouldn’t. Gemma’s slight grin fell as she watched my tense reaction, her eyes flaring as if she understood the war in my head.

She couldn’t.

Or maybe she could.

Because then her eyes flicked down, zeroing in on my painfully stiff cock. Without the barstools to hide behind, it was more than apparent how turned on I was.

“How long…” Gemma’s voice suddenly sounded hoarse. Her cheeks flamed as she tore her gaze away from my erection. “How long were you listening to me?”

“Only about a minute before you walked out here.”

I could hardly get the words out with how tight my throat felt. I hadn’t felt desire like this in a long time, and it was doing things to my body I didn’t entirely understand. I didn’t feel like I could move, could walk. That was how intensely this girl made me feel, especially as she folded her arms over her chest, inadvertently making a button pop open on her top.

Oh hell, this had to be a fucking test.

If the sudden amount of cleavage wasn’t enough to drive me wild, her nipples had peaked, too. I could see through her shirt how fucking hard they were, and I had a guess why. What I wouldn’t give to suck each one into my mouth until she made those hot sounds again. Until she made them for me.

Goddamnit, I was losing it.

“Gemma.” I pushed her name through my gritted teeth. “I need you to go back to your room.”

She sucked in.

And then took a goddamn step toward me.

“Noah, I⁠—”

“Now, Em. Please.”

I didn’t like the idea of resorting to begging, but I liked what was happening here even less. I refused to cross a line with her. We had a good thing going here, and I needed it to last until the end of the season. I didn’t know what she was thinking as she looked at me with those big blue eyes, but I knew better than to find out.

After a long, heated pause, Gemma nodded.

And then she disappeared into her room.

I sighed heavily, hating the look of rejection on her face as she walked away.

I’d make it up to her in the morning.

Maybe not how I really wanted to, but I’d figure something out.

I had to.

I still had months left of living with Gemma Briggs, and if I didn’t figure something out soon…I simply wasn’t going to survive.