DICK-FACE DECIDED NOT TO press charges, so there was no bail. My brother and sister-in-law are on a list of people who are not speaking to me, Danny being at the top of that list.

I work out Saturday morning and run into several teammates. They can barely control themselves, and laughter breaks out every few minutes. I'm not laughing. I have no idea what came over me the night before. I barely remember my fist connecting with Dick-face's face. I do remember Danny yelling at me.

How many times can one guy fuck up?

I'm betting on a million, so I have a long way to go.

I head home and swim laps in the indoor pool. My brother and I loved this house, or at least we did until my mother died. The love for the place returned slowly for me, but, by that time, I was an adult and the only running around I did was on a rugby field.

Thinking about my mother doesn't help my current state. A twenty-seven-year-old man who seriously misses his mommy is pathetic. Punching a guy in the face is pathetic. Losing Danny is the height of pathetic.

I have a housekeeper, but, with nothing better to do, I straighten up the place. I put a load of laundry in and do everything I can in order to stay away from the liquor cabinet. If I start drinking, I won't stop.

I finally shower, throw on a pair of sweatpants and one of my old shirts with more holes than material, and sit down in the family room where the comfortable furniture is. I flip through the television channels and eventually settle on ESPN. I fall asleep on the couch and wake up the next morning with the same station blaring.

This becomes my life, until Joel decides he'll speak to me again.

***

"What the hell are you doing?" Joel asks. He's sitting on the couch, after grabbing the remote and turning down the volume on the television.

I give him a dirty look. "What the hell does it look like I'm doing?"

His scar pulls his lip when he smiles, and it pisses me off that he has something to smile about. Empty frozen food containers along with empty bottles of water litter the table in front of the couch. I haven't moved very far in three days. I called Monday morning to let Joel know I wasn't opening the front office. He hung up on me.

Now it's Tuesday, a little after ten in the morning, and I'm guessing he didn't open the office.

"It looks to me like you're swimming in self-pity, with a touch of idiot thrown in."

"That about covers it," I grumble.

"You are going to work tomorrow."

"I'll go to work," I grumble yet again.

"You know, Danny's name is all over town. She's backed out of the holiday rugby match."

The holiday match is something we do for charity every year. Our mother actually started it. It's co-ed, for all ages, and was played on the college rugby field until Joel and I got The Slam's stadium built.

"Let her know I won't be there, and she'll change her mind."

Joel stands and collects an armful of empty containers. He gives me the big-brother look. I haven't seen it in years. "You let her know," he says as his eyes narrow. "I'm heading to work. We have a business to run." He deposits the empties in the kitchen trash and leaves.

***

Work sucks, working out sucks, but heading home to an empty house sucks more. It's Friday night before I make my first trip to the tavern since I punched Dick-face. The place is hoppin', with holiday cheer in the air, and it only worsens my mood. I take a look around and spot a group of women, all who play for Danny's team, and then I spot her. The conversation at her table stops, and the team's eyes turn my way. I meet Danny's gaze. Two seconds later she turns around, dismissing me. I decide to watch television at home and leave the tavern.

I find my spot on the couch and snag my phone off the table. This is all I have to give Danny, so I do it.

I won't be at the holiday match, go ahead and play.

I don't receive a reply and didn't expect one. She's finished with mefriends, lovers that never happened, and most likely friendly acquaintances. I'll live with it. Once the holidays are over, I'll start again and fuck the women who are my type.

I run through the channels, looking for a game, and I'm on my third run-through when the doorbell rings. I toss the remote aside and walk barefoot to the front door. I pass the window and see Danny's Ford parked out front. I can't take much more, and I have a feeling Danny coming here is not a good thing.

Danny gives me barely a minute to look at her. She throws herself into my arms and her lips hit mine.

Fuck, she can kiss. I think the last time we really kissed she couldn't have been into it as much as I thought because, this time, it's unbelievably fucking great. I try to say something.

"Don't talk. You want a night with me, you got it."

That stops me cold. The last thing on earth I want is just one night with Danny. I pry her hands from around my neck and squeeze them between our bodies, in an attempt to put a little space between us.

I pull my head back and separate myself from the sweetest-tasting kiss I've ever had. "Not one night, Danny," I breathe against her lips.

She leans in. Her voice is a husky croak, "I'm so mad at you, Van Stelson. I wanted you to open that door so I could give you a black eye. Now I just want what you give every other girl. One fucking night."

I release one of her hands and bring it from between us. I turn her around quickly so she doesn't have a chance to stop me. I lean in against her back, so every inch of my chest and thighs touches her. I kiss just below her ear before whispering, "I don't want one night with you. I want all your nights. Until that happens, nothing else will." I kiss her neck, and she makes a low sound that makes me press my dick against her ass.

Desperation replaces the croak. "You're turning me away?"

"No, Danny Brighton, I'm starting something besides friendship between you and me. No one-night stand."

She says nothing for a moment, and when she does speak it's not what I expect. "I'm horny," she practically whines in a very un-Danny-like voice.

If my dick wasn't in such pain, I'd have laughed. I owe her an orgasm. I look around the room and spot the ottoman. I walk us backward, and turn a bit until she's close enough. My fingers go under her jacket and her shirt until I find the fastening to her jeans. I keep kissing her neck as I unzip and start pushing her jeans and panties down her legs. The jeans aren't tight, so they drop easily, and she steps out of them.

"This is payback, isn't it?" she moans when I palm her ass.

Hell, her skin is so fucking soft. Under the soft she's firm, the globes of her ass muscled. I like the soft, the firm, the muscle. Like all of it a lot. "No, this is for you," I whisper and slide one hand over her ass, heading to her outer thigh. I then smooth my hand across more soft skin and head to her inner thigh. I lift her leg until her foot rests on the ottoman. Now I have her right where I want her.

I nibble gently at her shoulder, and finally hold the skin between my teeth as my fingers slip through her folds. She's so fucking wet, and I'm not surprised. Danny would never do anything halfway. The skin at her shoulder tastes like honey. Danny the fucking jock tastes sweeter than any woman I've nibbled on. I find her clit, and circle it with my fingers. Her arms come up and her hands sink into my hair, tangling and pulling. Thank fuck, I didn't cut it.

"Van, please."

"What do you want, Danny girl?" I whisper against her throat.

Her breath hitches when I slip one finger inside. "I want you to fuck me."

That's not gonna happen this time. I slip two fingers in, and her hips buck. "Anything but that, Danny girl."

"I hate you," she cries out in frustration.

I pump my fingers, and find her clit with my thumb. She wiggles back against my cock, and I thrust against her ass as I drive my fingers in. God, I can smell her arousal, and I want a taste so fucking bad. Not tonight. I'll taste her for the first time when she's totally and completely mine.

She starts rocking into my hand, and I use the other one to burrow beneath her shirt and explore more soft skin until I have her breast. She's wearing a real bra and I don't even care what color it is. I push the cup aside and she fits my hand perfectly. Her nipple is pebbled and more than perfect. I'll taste her there, too. But not tonight. God, this is going to kill me.

She makes these sounds that go straight to my dick. Finally, her body tightens. "Let go for me, Danny girl, I've got you."

I bite her shoulder with a little added pressurenot gentle. I pinch her nipple. She cries out, and my fingers press deep inside as her muscles clench around my fingers. I slow it down, and use long deep strokes until the last quiver pulses against my fingers.

Keeping a tight hold on her, I fall back on my mom's uncomfortable-as-hell sofa. Danny makes a gruff noise of surprise, and I love the sound. So not girlie.

"At least let me put my pants on." She wiggles and fights me half-heartedly as I laugh and bring her tightly against my body. All that's really bare between the two of us is her ass and my feet. I open her jacket farther with one hand and try to wiggle her arm out.

"What are you doing?" she asks.

"Getting you more comfortable. It's too hot in here."

"I am not getting naked on the sofa your mother loved."

It's too much for me and I start laughing. "You gave me a blow job on this sofa; it's my favorite piece of furniture in the entire house, and I just gave you an orgasm on the ottoman."

She ignores me and turns, accidently elbowing me in the throat. I grunt.

"Sorry," she says after she stands up. She hikes up her jeans and fastens them while I watch. "I'm still pissed off at you," she says and bends at the waist. She gives me a quick kiss on the lips, with no tongue, and pulls back as soon as my hands go to her hips. She steps away and my hands drop. She walks to the front door and leaves me again.

I tilt my head back until it hits the hard-as-brick back of the sofa. Funny that I didn't notice this when I got my blow job. I smile up at the ceiling. The ball's on Danny's side of the field now, and it's up to her to make the next move. If I even try, I'll fuck it up.