Page 7 of Touchdowns and Tinsel

"Sorry, but you're not allowed to come just yet... And you'd be shocked by the things we’ve done and how much you enjoyed them," he says cryptically, eliciting a frown of confusion. "Don't worry, Noelle; our secret will remain just that—our fucking secret," he warns, his masked eyes seemingly boring into mine, delivering a silent threat his mouth doesn’t articulate. "Won't it?"

I nod, my heart thundering so loud I'm pretty sure he can hear it. "Ye... yes, our secret is our secret."

As I awkwardly adjust my jacket and fix my pants, he brings his gloved fingers to his mouth, licking my essence from them, only turning me on even more, especially when he makes a popping sound when his fingers leave his lips, another growl floating from deep within his chest.

In an instant, he slips out of the closet, leaving me trembling, every nerve ending ablaze. I take a moment to regain my composure and catch my breath, but the pulsing throb in my clit persists since he got me to the edge but didn't let me fall.

I need to get home.

Stealthily exiting the closet, I hurry down the hallway toward the lobby, relieved to find myself alone. Pushing open the doors, I dash out into the snow, not caring that the ground is slick with ice, and race to my car parked at the far end of the lot, never daring to look back.

The cold air hits me like a slap, but it does little to puncture the haze that wraps around my mind. I fumble with my keys, my fingers trembling from adrenaline and residual arousal as I struggle to insert the key into the lock. My thoughts are a chaotic whirlpool of confusion and desire, muddled even further by the stranger's lingering presence.

Finally, the key clicks, and I dart inside the vehicle, slamming the door shut behind me. I lean back in the seat, desperate to calm my racing heart. For a moment, I can only stare at the snowflakes piling on the windshield, exhaling sharply as I wrack my brain for what just happened. My body is still tingling, each nerve ending, reminding me of his merciless touch.

Who was he? Why did he know me? And how could everything that just happened feel so intoxicating yet so wrong?

I push that last thought aside, shaking my head as I grip the steering wheel, willing my breath to steady. As I pull out of theparking lot, my thoughts drift to Cole, surprisingly forgetting all about the incident in the closet.

The guilt hits me hard like a punch to the gut. He deserves better; he deserves someone whole, untainted by secrets and shame. And yet, can I deny the pull I feel toward him? The way he plays, the way he smiles—everything about him feels magnetic, intriguing in ways I never thought possible. But he's my fucking stepson, and I'm his stepmother—the one who's supposed to raise him and take care of him.

Fuck, I need to be institutionalized.

I blast the heater to ward off the bitter cold creeping in as I drive through the deserted streets. The snow is beginning to stack up, blanketing everything in a muffled silence. Each collision of tires against the slick road sends ripples of anxiety through me.

All I want is for my husband to be alive again, but all I can think about is Cole's face—that innocent, handsome face that used to look at me with adoration when we were in a better place. And now? Now, I feel as if a void has opened up between us, one that I’m not sure I can cross again.

Pulling into my driveway, I take a moment to gather myself before entering the house, noticing Hudson's and Aiden's cars still parked in the driveway covered in snow, exactly how they were when I left for the game. Cole's and Ryder's cars still aren't back, so my shoulders relax slightly, assuming that I'll be alone when I get inside.

One last glance in the rearview mirror reminds me that I’m still me—longing, confused, consumed by thoughts that only seem to grow darker and deeper, all while I'm still in the grieving process, and I don't know how to get out of it.

As I step into the dim light of my home, I'm greeted by silence and also the soft crackle of the dying flames in the fireplace that I could've sworn I extinguished before I left.

I place my bag against the wall, and with heavy steps, I walk into the living room. The flickering flames of the fireplace cast dancing shadows on the walls, but they do little to warm my heart. It suddenly strikes me how eerily empty the house feels without Nicholas’ presence.

Right then, a loud crash echoes from upstairs. My heart jolts as I remember nobody is home. The warmth that flared up inside me at the thought is almost overwhelming.

“Cole?” I call out, moving toward the staircase with cautious steps, heart drumming in my chest. No answer.

I mount the stairs, the wood creaking under my weight, but I can't make out any noises coming from his room. Taking a deep breath in and slowly blowing it out, I decide to retire to my room for the night, not in the mood to investigate every little sound that I hear.

As I walk into my room and flip the light on, I hear the noise again, this time even louder. And that's when I realize that the noise is only the snow-covered tree branches smacking against the French doors that lead to the balcony. I close the curtains, allowing myself to relax, now that I figured out the source of the noise.

After changing and doing my nightly routine, I climb into bed and slide under the covers, turning the light off and the TV on. Rolling on my side, I slip my hand underneath my pillow, relieved when my fingers graze along the barrel of my gun I keep there for protection. Like any other night, I wrap my hand around the handle and grip it tightly, feeling my lashes flutter a few times before my heavy lids finally close.

But I can't seem to get my mind to rest; thoughts of earlier with the masked man and thoughts of Cole torture me, reigniting the fire within. I know what needs to be done—what I so desperately crave.

Turning on my back, I pull the Sherpa blanket down past my hips and glide my hand down the front of my body like the man in the mask did earlier. Slipping it beneath the elastic band of my silk pajama shorts, a jolt rocks my body as my fingers dip into the wetness pooling between my pussy lips.

I close my eyes and focus on the forbidden thoughts swirling around in my mind, secretly wishing for Cole's fingers to be the ones dipping in and out of me. But I can make it work using my own. After all, this isn't the first time I've fucked myself while thinking about my stepson.

four

Cole

Arriving home later than usual, I find the atmosphere charged with tension—a state of emergency has been declared across Massachusetts due to the fierce blizzard. Despite the weather, the guys decided not to leave the party and opted to stay the night. So it’s just Noelle and me in the house tonight, and I can’t help but feel a surge of excitement for the list of endless possibilities.

I slip in through the basement door, tiptoeing quietly up the carpeted steps. The house is enveloped in darkness, with the only illumination coming from the colorful lights adorning the Christmas tree, casting a warm, colorful glow to guide my way.

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