Knot so Lucky (The holidates series Book 2)

crew, yesterday

TJ: Hey, dick, get your ass down here. We’re at XS. It’s time to celebrate.

Nate: We got booze, girls, and more girls. Especially this one chick. She’s wild.

TJ: Yeah, fireworks are going off in more ways than one tonight.

I groan, staring at the group chat filled with endless badgering by these assholes as I talk to my agent.

“So, the trade’s looking good?”

“Yes,” Barrett answers enthusiastically. “The Niners are thrilled to steal you away. And I’ve been reassured they understand where you’re coming from and are happy to give you a reset. But that means you have to stay away from anyone and anything that could get you into trouble before contracts are drawn up and signed. Right now, we only have a verbal agreement.”

I’m nodding but still smirking.

“Does that mean no clubs tonight? Because the boys are blowing me up.”

She laughs.

“Club life is fine. How about avoiding public statements telling the team owner to suck your dick?”

“Fair.” I chuckle.

Another message pops up as if those two know I’ve gotten the okay.

Nate: You can’t skip out on Fourth of July. It’s time to eat BBQ and pussy. Who are you? GET HERE!

TJ: Come on, dickhead. What are you gonna do…wash your hair? Say affirmations in the fucking mirror? Get your fucking ass down here.

Nate: I’m enough. I love me.

TJ: Five inches is average.

Nate: Nobody chokes, but they like it.

TJ: They aren’t faking. Women are just silent when they come.

Nate: We’ll do this all night.

TJ: Don’t make us use our powers for evil.

Nate: Get. Down. Here.

I can’t help but fucking laugh. Barrett chimes in.

“I’m going to assume you’re laughing at messages from Tweedle-Dumbass and Tweedle-Dipshit. You know they owe you for what you’re doing.”

I shake my head.

“They don’t owe me anything. If one of us succeeds, we all do. Plus, there’s no better defensive end or wide receiver in this league.”

“Yeah, but they aren’t you, Crew. And you know that.”

I shrug off her compliment.

“Let me know when the contracts are ready. And maybe try to have some fun this weekend?”

“Contracts and money are my good time, silly. You have fun…just not too much.”

I laugh as I hang up before finally answering TJ and Nate.

Me: Be there in fifteen. And that wild girl you’re talking about…I call dibs.

I don’t even have to look to know they’re texting back an array of fuck you’s and eat a dick’s.

There’s nothing better than a little competition to make shit interesting.

Even in the dim lighting, I can see them—my friends and the horde of women surrounding the table. Jesus.

Fuck it.

We’re young and about to seal the biggest trade deal in the league. The three of us are on our way to winning a Super Bowl. Life doesn’t get any better.

“Crew” is bellowed above the music as TJ waves me over, smacking Nate’s shoulder, who looks over and points at me with a grin.

As expected, they’re both already plastered.

I smile as I walk past bouncers who nod their heads and even more people who stare and pretend not to notice me. Until some girl pushes through the crowd and grabs my arm. She’s giggling and drunk, staring at me like I’m about to change her life.

Hard pass, sweetheart.

“Oh my god. You’re Crew Matthews,” is slurred in my direction. “I told my friends if I saw you here, I would totally leave with you tonight.”

She’s biting her lip, trying for sexy. But I’m not interested. I gently peel her hand off my forearm and flex my jaw before I speak.

“Thanks for the offer, but I just got here. Another time.”

She licks her lips and winks, but thankfully, security steps in, ushering her away. My head turns back to Nate and TJ, who are cheering and holding up liquor bottles, making me laugh again.

Jackasses.

The minute I reach the red velvet ropes quartering off the table, a drink is shoved into my hand.

“Took you long enough,” TJ yells.

Music thumps, making us have to lean in to speak. But Nate slaps my shoulder, pointing toward the half wall lined against the back of the booth.

“Bro…”

As I look, some girl with a smile that could stop traffic is lifted by security over the back, her feet landing on the shiny black seat of the booth.

Her eyes are bright and her hair a little wild. She looks like she’s been dancing all night. She’s got a bottle in her hand with a sparkler stuffed inside, spraying bright crackling streams of light into the air, creating a spotlight on her.

“Happy Fourth of July, bitches!” she screams, making everyone around her go wild.

Nate beelines for her as TJ hollers, and the DJ starts spinning more bass, calling everyone’s eyes to the sky.

TJ leans in, saying something I don’t hear, but I nod anyway because I can’t take my eyes off her. She’s winding her hips, her head thrashing back and forth as sparks shoot up into the sky behind her, exploding in the air.

Fuck.

“Who is that?” I thunder to TJ.

Bright pink rains down, crackling as it decorates the sky, but this chick doesn’t even look up. Why would she? She’s the main attraction. But whoever she is, she’s singing at the top of her lungs while holding the bottle in the air as more people cheer in celebration.

She’s in her own world. But I’m mesmerized.

I’m going to eat her the fuck up.

TJ taps my arm, and I make a considerate effort to look away. But she’s fucking something. When I finally do look, it’s directly into TJ’s smirking face.

“That’s your dibs… Her name is—”

“Mine.” I grin. “Her name is mine.”

TJ laughs, then nods. “It’s also Eleanor.”

I watch Eleanor climb onto Nate’s shoulders, high above the crowd. Rightfully so, because this girl is fucking hot.

She’s holding Nate’s hand, her other in the air holding the sparkler bottle toward the sky as more fireworks explode and the crowd cheers. TJ whistles toward the sky just as the beat drops, and everyone starts jumping, like a massive wave dipping in slow motion.

My brows pull together, not liking what I’m seeing because even though Nate grips her thigh as he joins the motion, bouncing with her on his shoulders, she lets go of his hand.

Nope. She’s going to fall.

I shove my drink into TJ’s hand as I barrel past him, cutting around the inside of the table. Eleanor holds the bottle higher, dancing with her arms, just as Nate falters and lets go of her leg.

That’s when it happens. In a split second.

She falls backward, losing her grip on the bottle, dropping it as she tumbles, headed for the floor. People around lunge, but instinct takes over all three of us.

Nate stops some guy from trying to push me out of the way, TJ’s hands reach for the catch, and I make the play.

The entire sky is lit, fireworks detonating one right after another as Eleanor stares up at me, held like a bride in my arms. Caught.

“I got the bottle.” TJ smirks as all the sparks begin dying out.

“And I got the girl.”

Eleanor’s head falls back, her laugh filling my ears before she slips her hand down my chest, pats it, and shrugs.

“This is a helluva way to ask for my number. But okay.”

I look down as she bites her bottom lip, so I wink, shifting her around so her legs wrap around my waist, palms laid gently on my shoulders.

“Crew,” I offer, our eyes locked.

“Eleanor.”

My head tilts.

“Drink? Then your number?”

Her brows raise.

“Shots… then, maybe.”

The highlight of my Friday night slides down my body before looking up between the three of us, setting her eyes on me, then Nate, before landing on TJ as she grins.

“Come on, fellas. Let’s have some fun.”

“Shots. Shots. Shots.”

Eleanor and I reach out, grab our respective tequilas, and gulp them back before snatching up lime wedges and sucking the juice.

She licks her lips, staring back at me.

“You’re more fun than I gave your assumed six-pack credit. I thought football players were all healthy and shit.”

“Limes are a fruit.”

My tongue darts out, feeling a piece of lime left behind before I draw it into my mouth and smirk. Because she’s staring at my lips again.

Damn, she’s as bad as a dude.

We’ve been doing this all night—flirting, bantering, and flirting some more. Down to fuck has been volleying between us like we’re playing for the championship at Wimbledon. Except on my side of the court, there are three of us playing to win. Not that we’re gaining any points. This fucking girl’s been running game since she showed up, and my balls are firmly in her hand.

“Where the fuck did you come from?” tumbles out of my mouth as I stare down at her.

“Does it matter?” she teases, blinking up at me as she licks the salt rim of her glass. “Cuz I bet you already know where I’d like to end up.”

Her eyes tick between me and then over to the guys before she grins.

A long, drawn-out “Fuck” rumbles in my chest as I tip my head back to the ceiling, simultaneously reaching for her waist.

Our eyes meet again as I pull her flush to me.

“You’re a fucking wild card, you know that?”

Nate comes around behind her, twisting his hand around her hair before gently tugging her head back as he lifts a bottle with a pour spout attached.

“Shot, hot stuff?” he offers, his eyes connecting with mine for a moment before he smiles down at her.

Eleanor licks her lips before she leans further back and opens her mouth.

My fingers dig into her hips, keeping her pressed against me as my bottom lip draws between my teeth, then slides out slowly, my eyes never leaving her. Nate lifts the bottle and pours the liquid directly down her throat.

Goddamn, the dirty shit I’m going to do to you tonight.

The minute he’s done, she says, “Lime,” before swiping her fingers under her bottom lip. TJ holds it up, wiggling it between his fingers.

“Come and get it, sweet thang,” he drawls from beside her, but something about how she’s corralled us in around her makes me impatient.

Fuck flirting. I want her. Now.

The last thing I hear is “Oh damn” before I steal the lime, suck the juice, and seal my lips right over hers.

Nothing about Eleanor backs down or even fucking hesitates.

Her tongue dives inside my mouth as my palms cup her face. I’m hovering over her, the tips of my fingers touched by the dampness just underneath her hair from the balmy night.

Music bounds around us, and I can feel her chest rising and falling quickly because neither of us can get enough. We stumble as her fingers crawl up my back, the taste of tequila and lime bleeding between us, maybe making us drunker, but it really only serves to make me want to taste every fucking inch of her.

I suck her bottom lip between mine, letting it glide out before I dive back in, dipping my tongue inside her warm mouth again.

She moans. And my fucking dick twitches.

Goddamn, that was hot. More.

The last bit of sober me says to stop. To pull away and not fuck this chick in public. But drunk me is more fun and more convincing. So, I drop my arms, disconnecting hers from me before I wrap around her waist and lift her off the ground.

Her legs don’t wrap, but our mouths pick up the pace, and the gasp she lets out is eaten by our tongues swirling. Eleanor’s hands ghost over the back of my neck before she’s wrapped around it, hugging me close as we get sloppier and more desperate.

Fuck, she’s a good kisser.

I growl, rumbling my chest, my breath heaving as she pulls away, just as breathless. Her eyes are locked on mine, and she has a smile on her face.

But we’re silent, staring at each other as the thump of the bass rattles our bones. She parts her lips to speak but doesn’t need to say shit. Because from the way she kissed me back, I know whatever happens tonight will be the time of my fucking life.

“It’s about time, QB,” she pants. “I thought I was going to have to pull an audible.”

My lips part to say, Come home with me. Right fucking now, but her friend Millie pops up, a hand on each of our shoulders breaking our drunk bubble. Our heads shift simultaneously as Millie smiles big and bright back at us.

“We’ve got a party bus, hoes. Let’s go. We’re blowing this joint.”

I can’t help the grin on my face as I take another swig of drink number too fucking many. But who cares. Everyone’s wasted, and the night hasn’t stopped looking promising.

Mostly because Eleanor’s ass is directly in front of my face as she stands between my legs throwing dollar bills at TJ, who’s swinging around on the gold stripper pole in the middle of the bus like the jackass he is. My eyes tick up to Nate, who’s sitting across from me, relaxed, his eyes firmly planted between my Wild Card and her friend Millie.

I know exactly what he’s thinking—the guy loves a good threesome where he’s the star of the show, but nobody’s fucking Eleanor without me in the goddamn picture. He looks up, chuckling as he meets my gaze, and I mouth, Dibs, bitch. Not that he gives a shit. So to further my claim, I put a hand on her hip and jerk her backward onto my lap, giving him a fuck-you look before I laugh. She squeals, but it morphs into a laugh too.

I tuck her against me, my lips finding her ear, the liquor I just drank still fresh on my lips as I keep what I say hushed.

“How long do you plan on making me watch the dudes on this party bus eye fuck you before you let me do it for real?”

She turns her head, giving me her profile and a shit-eating grin.

“Your eye’s gonna fuck me? That’d be a first for me.”

I grumble, biting at her cheek, but she likes it. I know it because she smacks my bicep before turning all the way around to straddle me. My hips thrust upward, bouncing her on my lap as I grab the sides of her dress to make sure it doesn’t hike up over her ass. Even still, she keeps talking shit.

“Is that a preview of what I should expect?” She steals my drink, blowing an errant hair from her face and taking a sip before adding, “Because pass. So disappointing. I had such high hopes for you at the club.”

Her leg lifts like she’s going to crawl off me, but I hold her in place, anchoring her pussy to me.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going? We’re not done.”

She bites her lip before taking another sip of my drink. It’s sexy. But that’s not what’s got my attention. It’s how her hips rock forward, ever so slightly, inconspicuously, as we stare at each other.

“Feel good?” I whisper, but she just grins.

I bet if we sat here like this long enough, she’d slowly get herself off, rubbing that desperate little clit over my cock while a whole bus full of people partied around us, and nobody’d be the wiser.

That thought has my dick growing. Her smile gives away that she can feel it too.

I lick my lips, jerking my chin for her to give me a kiss, but she shakes her head. Such a little tease. My hand is already in her hair, gripping it at the nape of her neck.

“I’m not asking. Gimme that mouth,” I say with all the gravel in my voice.

I pull, but she pushes back against my hand, resisting, her grin never leaving.

My jaw tenses because not fucking her is becoming painful. I’ve never wanted a woman more.

I smirk. “You’re gonna fucking kill me. You know that? Put me out of my misery and tell me you’re coming home with me tonight.”

She shrugs, but the glint in her eyes is teasing. “Maybe,” she whispers before her voice goes back to normal. “Or maybe I’ll go home with someone else. I haven’t decided yet.”

Oh, she thinks she’s funny. All right. Let’s play.

I steal my drink back, finishing it before setting the empty cup on the seat.

“Someone else, huh?” I repeat, my head turning side to side as I chuckle before I bring my face closer to hers. “Your pussy might as well have Property of the Raiders stamped on it. Who’s getting through me?”

Her lips slowly form a pout before she presses forward, lingering only briefly until she barely pecks my lips. As she pulls away, she throws out her challenge. “I guess we’ll just have to see.”

There’s a shit ton of conversation happening around us. Even that dumbass DJ Millie is with set up his turntables inside the bus.

But Eleanor and I…we’re in a bubble.

This fucking chick. She knows exactly what she’s doing. And it’s working.

This time, I let her crawl off me, but my eyes are still locked on hers. And as she stands, I do too. Whoa. I’m fucked-up.

My hand darts out, grabbing the stripper pole to keep me from swaying too far forward because I almost engulf her beneath my stature.

“What’s it gonna take for you to say yes to me?”

She smirks, giving a little shrug.

“Probably more than you got, QB. But go ahead. Give it your best shot—”

The music dies down, and I can feel people staring at us, but I couldn’t care less. I don’t even care if they hear us or if I look like a beggar.

She issued a challenge. And I’m going to take it.

The three milliseconds my drunk mind takes to formulate what I’m about to say is just enough for me to think I’m a fucking genius. So with all the goddamned audacity I have, I open my lips to speak with far too much confidence.

But I’m cut off, interrupted as she grabs that fucking stripper pole with one hand and the other uses TJ’s shoulder to help her stand on the bench seat.

The bus slows, stopping as cheers erupt, and she laughs, pointing at me as she announces shit to the whole bus.

“Crew here wants in my perfectly lovely panties. I think he should try harder to convince me he’s the man for the job.”

“Miss, I can’t go if you’re up there,” the driver calls out, but nobody’s listening. They’re too invested in this fucking silly spectacle. A whoosh of breath leaves me as I smile, my hand gripping the back of my neck.

“But,” she continues, “if I’m gonna fuck someone in Vegas…in Sin motherfucking City…it should be epic. Right?” More cheers. “So tell the room, QB—how is big dick energy slathered in red flags epic? That just sounds like a Wednesday night.”

The whole bus erupts in hollers and oooo’s.

“Enjoying yourself?” I chuckle.

She nods, but I shake my head before I turn to my friends. Big mistake.

TJ’s clapping and laughing as Nate nods, his eyebrows raised, waiting for my answers. They’re enjoying this way too much.

“Well? Answer her,” is said from the back somewhere. I reach for her, ready to throw her over my shoulder and walk her back to my fucking penthouse, but she steps back, her ass hitting the window.

“You’re gonna get it,” I grind out, rubbing the stubble on my jaw because she’s cupping her hand around her ear like she can’t hear me. So I add, “You want epic? Fine, I’ll give you epic—”

But before I can finish, TJ steps up next to her, puts his hands on her waist, and looks up at her with puppy dog eyes as he says, “I’d give you a boombox in the window if you came home with me. We can bring back 1989, sweet thang. Fuck him. I make all the touchdowns anyway.”

Her mouth falls open like she’s shocked as she runs her fingers through his hair before looking back at me.

That motherfucker.

“I don’t know, Crew…TJ’s giving me movie reenactments. That’s a pretty amazing offer. How do I turn that down?”

I shove his shoulder, pushing him away from her, making them chuckle as I growl.

“Get the fuck off her. You can’t make a touchdown with a broken arm.”

But it doesn’t matter what I say to TJ because I’ve got two cockblockers. As I turn back to her, Nate’s already got her halfway down on his lap, saying he’d tattoo her name on his ass.

“Nope,” I grind out, wrapping an arm around her waist and hauling her away before I set her to her feet.

She plops down onto the seat across from them, so I trap her, my palms pressed against the seat on either side of her shoulders.

The smile she’s wearing is so big that it’s infectious, but I keep my face serious, leaning close enough so my tequila-laced words are only for her. But as I do, out of the corner of my eye, I see it—an epic once-in-a-lifetime motherfucking gauntlet to throw down.

Say no to this, Wild Card.

It could be the booze or the fact that she’s made me feral, but what comes out of my mouth surprises me as much as it does her.

“You want epic?” I pinch her chin between my fingers, guiding her face over her shoulder, making her twist to look out the window as I let my lips brush her ear and say two little words that detonate like a bomb.

“Marry me.”

Her head snaps back, almost smacking me in the nose, but I jerk up to standing, falling backward. Luckily, Nate’s hand steadies my back.

“What the hell. Are you crazy?” she rushes out.

TJ high-fives me, saying, “Badass,” before he looks out the window. “You think they got an Elvis suit I could wear?”

Nate laughs. “I wanna be the best man.”

But TJ points at him, saying, “Co…best man,” as Nate bends forward with his forearms on his knees, looking between Eleanor and me, completely entertained and invested.

She’s shaking her head, so I raise my brows in challenge. More seconds tick by without an answer, and now the bus is starting to throw out come on’s and do it.

Even her best friend, Millie, chimes in, “Married today, divorced tomorrow…that’s a conversation starter for sure, bitch.”

I bite my lip, squinting one eye, trying to focus my thoughts—What am I doing? That’s sober me. Who cares. Welcome back, drunk me.

“You wanted epic, right?” I press. “Here it is. Marry me. Then you’re mine. Win-win.”

She’s actually speechless. Just like the whole crew on the fucking bus. Everyone’s just staring at us, waiting for her answer. But she wanted to play this game, and I don’t lose. Even if I’m plastered. I look around the bus, smirking, my arms spread wide.

“Anyone want to try to beat that?” I shrug, boasting my win, “No? Cool.”

An incredulous huff that sounds a bit like a laugh leaves her body before she stands, stepping sideways just a little before she grabs my waist and stares up at me.

“Or are you full of shit?” I press. “Maybe you’re just one of those girls who’s all bark and no bite? Likes the chase but doesn’t wanna get caught.”

Her brows raise as she takes a step forward like a little badass, making the backs of my knees hit the seat so we’re forced to switch positions—now I’m sitting, and she’s trapping me in.

She licks her lips, and I don’t even pretend not to stare at her mouth.

“You think I won’t do it? Or that I’ll just cave and go home with you because you tried some wack-ass reverse psychology?” She laughs arrogantly, like she’s about to mic drop. “No. You’re full of shit. I’m a helluva poker player, Crew. And I’m calling your bluff. You want me, then dun-dun-duh-dunnn, playa.”

We’re staring at each other for what feels like forever. Yes, I threw down the gauntlet. But she’s also right. A part of me didn’t think she’d actually call my bluff. She winks, and that’s when the most dumbass decision I’ve ever made solidifies.

The bus kicks into action, rumbling back to start, so I turn my head, bellowing my words.

“Stop the bus. We’re getting married.”