Double Coverage Read Online Free Page A

green sundress she wore hugged her curves in a way that made him happy to be a man. She looked at him as she passed; there was no recognition in her green eyes, and she sure as hell wasn’t someone he knew. The reluctant smile she gave him turned sultry, but she kept on walking until she disappeared into a red SUV.
    “Damn.” Regret made him watch as she drove away. If only he’d been here earlier. Her hair would be more than just a little tousled, and she sure as hell wouldn’t be walking away this early in the morning.
    * * * *
    How many people had she run into on the way out of the hotel? How much speculation and gossip would be flying about her and Trig when she returned for the evening festivities? “If I go back. I don’t have to go back.”
    Damn, what the hell had she been thinking, going up to Trig’s room? Curiosity, lust, stupidity? Whatever it was, she sure as hell wished she could undo it, or at least have had the sense to leave before dawn to avoid the stares. The walk of shame. Oh dear God—she, Kailey Whitmore, had taken the walk of shame for the first time in her life.
    Now, because she couldn’t contain her libido, she was late for the meeting she’d been anticipating since before she even knew about the reunion. Not to mention the drive across the bay into Mobile. She hated driving through tunnels, hated the irrational fear that the damned thing might break and flood while she was inside. And Christ, but Trig made love like a damned machine—he just kept going and going. How many damn times had she come? She couldn’t remember. Three before he even managed to get her naked.
    Oh, shut up. Just shut the hell up . However, her brain just kept on whirling away, turning over every minute detail of the last few hours.
    “Who the hell was that guy in the limo?” she asked the steering wheel, remembering the big man climbing out of a stretch limo just as she let herself into her car. He’d stared at her as if he was planning to have her for his next meal. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t place him.
    Funny that she could hardly place any of her classmates, but all of them knew her. Okay, not necessarily by sight. Apparently, she’d changed a great deal since her braces-and-glasses days. But they all knew her, every last one of them. She had no recollections of any of them whatsoever, which was why she’d sought refuge at the bar with no one but the safe bartender and a trio of appletinis for company.
    She wouldn’t go back; that was all there was to it. She would go to her meeting at the university and then directly to the airport. Forget all of her belongings. She’d have the rental company send them to her when she called and canceled her month-long lease. It was a mistake coming home. Yes, a mistake.
    A spiraling, clenching, tingling feeling started in her stomach. Oh, but Trig’s cock had felt so good, and she wanted more. So much more, she squeezed her legs together, hoping to stop the throbbing before it started. She shouldn’t think of Trig and his talented tongue or his magnificent cock, she told herself, not if she wanted to get through this interview with her dignity intact.
    She pulled into the exit lane just the other side of the tunnel, the radio blaring Pink’s CD. All of her anger and determination came racing back. With effort, she put a mental block on her night with Trig. She focused on her notes and all of the things she planned to say.
    And just who the hell was that guy in the limo?
    * * * *
    Trig stumbled out of the elevator, bleary, rumpled, and starving, to the sound of crowing. Why was there crowing?
    “Woo-hoo, look at what the cat dragged in.” That wasn’t crowing; that was Bullet. Oh fuck.
    Robert “Bobby” Brady, otherwise known as Bullet—because who the hell wanted to go through life as Bobby Brady and because he was the fastest animal on two legs—was the best wide receiver in the NFL and his best friend. Or he used to be, back in the day.
    “Rumor