Once, the only thing that mattered
to me was football—training, playing, and earning my place on the best team at
every level. I had it all, and I threw it away with a semester of drugs,
alcohol, and pissing off anyone who tried to stop me. Now I’m suspended from
the team, on house arrest, and forced to spend six months at home to get my
shit together. The cherry on top of my fuckup sundae? Sleeping in the room next
to mine is my best friend’s girl, Mia Mendez—the only woman I’ve ever loved and
a reminder of everything I regret.
I’m not sure if having Mia so close will be heaven or hell. She’s
off-limits—and not just because she’s working for my dad. Her heart belongs to
someone else. But since the accident that killed her brother and changed
everything, she walks around like a zombie, shutting out her friends and
ignoring her dreams. We’re both broken, numb, and stuck in limbo.
Until I break my own rules and touch
her.
Until she saves me from my
nightmares by climbing into my bed.
Until the only thing I want more
than having Mia for myself is to protect her from the truth.
I can’t rewrite the past, but I
refuse to leave her heart in the hands of fate. For this girl, I’d climb into
the sky and rearrange the stars.
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Excerpt
Mia
I wake to a
thump and sit up in bed. It’s three in the morning and my room is dark, but
there’s more thumping. Someone’s kicking the wall between my room and Arrow’s.
My heart
clenches as I picture him on the other side having wild sex with some girl.
Maybe some old fuck buddy came over after I went to bed. Hell, for all I know
it’s Gwen visiting her stepson’s bed.
I dismiss
the idea as quickly as it comes. Arrow can’t tolerate Gwen, and he may have
changed, but he’s never been one to fuck girls he can’t tolerate.
There’s
another thump, then I hear Arrow’s voice. “No. Don’t.” Rough, choked words. And
more thrashing. “Why?”
I throw off
the covers and run to his room, opening the door without a thought.
I don’t
know what I expected to find. Arrow is sleeping alone, tangled in his covers.
Frozen, I
stare at him. Moonlight spills in through the open curtains and casts shadows
across his face. Sweat glistens on his forehead, and his face twists in a
grimace.
I step
closer. I could touch him, but I shouldn’t. “Arrow?”
He kicks.
His arm flies out and hits the wall.
“Arrow,” I
repeat, louder this time.
He grabs my
hand at the wrist and flies upright in bed as his eyes pop open. He’s breathing
hard, and anguish is all over his face. For a minute, I feel like I can see
inside him—all the terrified, vulnerable parts he hides from the world. I can
see inside him and I know exactly what I’m looking at, because my dreams make
me feel the same way.
“What are
you doing here?” he asks in a low whisper. The anger from earlier is gone from
his voice.
“You were
having a nightmare.”
His eyes
rake over me—greedy, hungry, desperate. “What? No red lace nightie? Or do you
save that for my dad? Like mother, like daughter?”
I gasp
before I can stop myself. Why doesn’t he just punch me? His fist to my face
would hurt less than those words.
I yank my
hand away, spin on my heel, and walk toward the hall. As I reach for the knob,
he’s behind me. He slams his palm against the door, and it closes with a
violent thunk. “I’m sorry,” he
whispers behind me, his breath on my neck. “I’m sorry I said that.”
I keep my
gaze on his hand. Arrow has the best hands. Big, strong, beautiful. And the first
time they touched me . . .
I squeeze
my eyes shut at the unwelcome memory, and shrug. “I need this job,” I say
slowly. “Your stepmother has made it clear that she’ll fire me if we can’t get
along, and we both know your dad will fire me if you ask him to. But please
don’t. Please don’t screw it up for me.”
“Mia,” he
says softly, and I feel him step closer, the heat of his body against my back.
The rough pads of his fingertips brush the hair from my neck, then his breath,
hot and sweet, tickles against that tender skin.
I’m frozen,
divided between the wish for his kiss and the fear of it. “I’m sorry,” I
whisper. Hot tears roll down my cheeks, and I don’t know what I’m apologizing
for. For taking this job? For going with Brogan that night when Arrow asked me
not to? For entering his life to begin with?
Yes. All of
that. More. “I’m so sorry.”
He drops
one hand from the door and the other from my neck. My body grows cool as he
steps away.
“Stop
apologizing,” he says.
I turn the
knob and head to my room. I don’t look back.
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THE BLACKHAWK BOYS, an edgy, sexy
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Secrets. Lies. Passion. These boys don’t play fair. Which Blackhawk Boy will
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