Bleacher Report (2) (The Rookie Hawkeyes Series)

I stare at the rideshare pulling up to the curb, standing in the doorway of my townhouse with Hunter in front of me—backpack slung over one shoulder, small rolling bag at his side, and a twinge of disappointment pulling tight in my chest.

I know he has to go—some important meeting for a sponsorship deal—but that doesn’t make it any easier.

It’s only been four days since our so-called hall pass expired, and even though we’ve stuck to our rules since, it’s been…different.

Late-night card games. Ice cream sundaes. That ridiculous night he showed up with bright pink face masks and challenged me to a round of Would You Rather? that revealed more about him than I ever would’ve expected.

Small things.

Easy things.

Things that are starting to slip under my defenses, making this fake thing between us so much more comfortable than any of the real relationships I’ve had before.

‘Don’t let anyone steal my spot on that couch while I’m gone. Promise?’ Hunter says, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

I roll my eyes, trying—and failing—not to smile.

‘I make no such promises, Reed. That couch is fair game.’

He laughs, stepping closer, tugging me gently toward him by the belt loop of my jeans.

Then he kisses me.

Soft and tender, nothing like the heated, desperate kisses we’ve shared.

This one is slow. Savoring.

The kind of kiss that makes my heart flutter and my bare toes curl against the cool metal door stoop.

He pulls back just a breath—his eyes locking on mine.

‘Shit, sorry,’ he murmurs, the apology brushing my lips. ‘I know we said no kissing without warning. You just looked too good standing there.’

Heat blooms in my cheeks, my whole body suddenly too aware of how close we are.

“It’s okay,” I whisper. “I don’t mind.”

Hunter gives me that smile—the slow, devastating one that curls at the edges like he knows exactly what he’s doing—and presses a kiss to my forehead before pulling away.

“I’ll call you later, Passenger Princess,” he says, tossing the nickname over his shoulder like he’s trying it on for size and already knows it fits.

I watch him walk toward the rideshare, my chest tightening a little more with each step he takes.

He pauses with one hand on the door. “Oh—and I left a present in the house for you. Good luck finding it.”

I blink. “You left me a present? Where?”

He grins. “Telling you would ruin the fun, wouldn’t it?”

And then he’s gone—climbing into the backseat, the car pulling away with a quiet hum. I stand there a moment longer, hand still on the doorknob, heart thudding in my chest like it’s not quite ready to be alone.

When I close the door, the house settles into a silence that feels bigger than it should. Too still. Too empty. Like maybe the space Hunter’s worried about losing…isn’t just on the couch.

I pad toward the bedroom, peeling off my sweatshirt, preparing for bed and trying to shake the weird flutter still lingering in my chest.

This is an arrangement, I remind myself. A temporary fix. No matter how easy it’s starting to feel—or how much I might wish it wasn’t pretend—I can’t let myself get caught up in the moments between.

I reach for the nightstand drawer to grab my lotion—and freeze.

My trusty vibrator is missing.

In its place, there’s a neon yellow sticky note folded over something. My fingers brush the paper, heart skipping like it already knows I’ve found clue number one.

Written in his sharp, confident scrawl:

Looking for something, Peyton?

You’ll have to work for it this time. Follow the clues—if you dare.

I stare at it, half-smiling, half-scowling.

Damn him. The man really left me a sexy scavenger hunt.

And I’m already hooked.

I stare at the note, a mix of confusion and intrigue swirling inside me. Of course Hunter would pull some kind of prank, even when he’s not here.

Tucking the note into my pocket, I start searching the room, looking for any other signs of his mischief. It doesn’t take long before I spot a pink sticky note, this one taped to the lamp on my dresser.

Warm and cozy, where I like to rest my head. That’s where your next clue will be found instead.

I roll my eyes, a smile tugging at my lips. ‘Typical Hunter,’ I mutter, already heading for the bed.

Sure enough, there’s another note nestled between the pillows, this one slightly crumpled.

Feeling thirsty, are we?

The kitchen is where you’ll find the next piece.

Shaking my head, I make my way downstairs, my phone buzzing with an incoming call from Hunter. I debate ignoring it, but my curiosity gets the better of me.

‘Where did you put it?’ I ask, cutting right to the chase.

I can practically hear the grin in his voice. ‘Put what?’

‘Don’t play dumb with me, Reed. The sticky note in my nightstand? Where’s my vibrator?’

He chuckles, the sound low and warm. ‘Oh, that. Couldn’t wait until my flight took off before needing a little help, huh sweetheart? You could have asked me to take care of you before I left.”

“You moved my vibrator. You’re a monster,” I tell him.

“We both know that deep down, you’re excited to find my little present.”

I roll my eyes, already heading for the kitchen. ‘You’re impossible, you know that?’

‘Ah, ah, ah. No spoilers,’ he teases. ‘Follow the clues, Peyton. You’re smart, I know you can figure it out.’

I sigh, scanning the kitchen for any sign of another note. My eyes land on the fridge, where a bright yellow square is stuck to the door.

‘Keeps my drinks nice and cold, where I like to store my snacks. Check inside, that’s where your next clue will be stashed.’

Pulling open the fridge, I spot another note attached to a bottle of water. ‘Hydration is key, especially when you’re…well, you know.’

I groan, cheeks flushing at the implication. ‘Hunter, I swear to God—’

‘Shh, you’ll scare Sproutacus. He doesn’t like it when mom and dad fight.’

I glance over at the Chia Pet sitting on the counter. ‘You’re enjoying this way too much, aren’t you?’noveldrama

‘Maybe a little,’ he admits, a teasing tone to his voice. ‘But come on, Peyton. Where’s your sense of adventure?’

I shake my head, but I can’t fight the smile that spreads across my face. ‘All right, fine. Lead on, you ridiculous man.’

I follow the trail of clues, each one more cryptic than the last. The living room, the laundry room, even the guest bathroom—every time I think I’ve got it figured out, Hunter throws me a curveball.

By the time I make it to the last clue, tucked inside one of the kitchen cabinets, I’m equal parts exasperated and amused.

The final destination is where I like to get all hot and steamy.

Open me up and you’ll find your prize.

I stare at the note, brow furrowed. Hot and steamy…the oven? No. The bathroom? My eyes widen as realization dawns.

‘The shower?’ I ask.

He says nothing. “Hunter, is it the shower?” I ask as I practically sprint to his shower in the hallway, but I don’t find anything besides less of his things on the counter since he packed them with him.

Seeing the bathroom almost bare of his belongings makes me feel—lonely?

Maybe, but wherever these misplaced feelings are coming from, now isn’t the time to unpack them.

“Did you find it?” he asks smugly,

“It’s not in there and you know it,” I say and then run to my room, and then to my bathroom. But again…it’s empty. “It’s not in my bathroom either. Where is it?”

“Keep looking. What got you hot and steamy the last time we were together?”

I think for a second. “The dryer!” I practically shout and race out of my bathroom, bedroom, and then down the hall.

I can hear him muffling back laughter.

“I’m going to get you back for this, by the way.”

“You’d better mean that Peyton. Don’t tease me.”

I grumble at his enjoyment as I push through the half-open laundry door. Nothing is sitting on top, so I yank open the door. He must hear me.

‘Well, well, look who figured it out,’ he teases. ‘Go on, open it.’

Sure enough, there’s a neatly wrapped box sitting inside the dryer drum, a bright red bow perched on top.

“You put my vibrator inside?” I ask, like it’s the most outrageous thing imaginable.

“Yeah…that’s where it goes. Inside.” His voice drops lower, full of wicked amusement. “I’ll be happy to demonstrate on you when I get home, if you need a proper tutorial.”

I blow out a loud, exaggerated sigh, pretending he’s annoying me—pretending I’m not already grinning like an idiot. My fingers work quickly at the wrapping paper, anticipation buzzing under my skin.

When I finally pull off the lid, my breath catches.

Nestled inside the box is a sleek, glittery turquoise dildo—Hawkeye’s green, no less—and it looks suspiciously like a certain part of Hunter’s anatomy that I’ve become intimately familiar with.

‘What the—’ I sputter, heat flooding my cheeks. ‘Hunter, did you…?’

He chuckles, low and rich, clearly enjoying himself.

‘Yep. Had it custom-made, just for you. An exact replica of your favorite phallus,’ he says, completely unbothered. ‘You know…since I can’t be there to take care of you myself.’

I’m torn between mortification and…something else.

Something hot and needy that coils low in my belly and refuses to be ignored.

‘You’re unbelievable,’ I mutter, even as my fingers trace the smooth, glittering silicone.

‘Oh, I know,’ he says. ‘But admit it, Collins. You love it. I even made it Hawkeye’s colors—I thought you’d appreciate the team spirit.’

I open my mouth to respond—but he keeps going, tone dropping into a mock-serious deadpan.

‘And don’t even think about returning it. I don’t want my cock ending up in some stranger’s hands. Plus…That molding wax got everywhere. I was pulling it out of my ass hairs for a week. And the expedite fee they charged to get it here before I left town? Straight highway robbery.’

A choked laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it.

God help me, this ridiculous, infuriating man.

I bite my lip, cheeks burning, as my fingers keep skimming the surface of the gift.

Equal parts thoughtful and depraved—and so very him.

And yeah…it’s doing things to me that I really shouldn’t be thinking about right now.

Hunter’s voice softens, the teasing falling away.

‘Hey,’ he says gently. ‘You okay?’

I swallow hard. ‘Yeah, I’m… I’m fine. Just, um, processing, I guess.’

He chuckles. ‘Well, take your time. I’m not going anywhere.’ His voice drops an octave, smooth and sinful. ‘At least, not the fun parts. Do you like your present? It’s an upgrade from that tiny thing in your drawer, right?’

I glance down at the dildo still in my hands, fighting a smile.

Now he’s fishing for compliments.

‘I’m not sure…’ I tease. ‘Maybe we should do a measuring test to be sure which one’s bigger.’

He groans, like I just stabbed him in the heart.

‘You know how to cut a man straight to the core.’

I bite back a laugh. ‘Oh God, I’m sorry. I’m teasing.’

‘No, no,’ he says dryly. ‘I like it. Love being emasculated before my flight.’

I glance down at the dildo still in my hands, fighting a wicked smile.

He’s clearly waiting for praise—and maybe something else.

‘I’m not sure…’ I tease. ‘Might need to take it for a spin before I give a full review.’

There’s a sharp inhale on the other end of the line.

‘You’re killing me,’ he mutters. ‘You’re seriously going to make me hard in a terminal full of families, old ladies, and neck pillows?’

I laugh quietly, brushing my fingers up the length of the toy again, slower this time.

‘That depends,’ I murmur. ‘Are you going to talk me through it?’

I can hear him rustling around like he’s moving. “First, let me find a quiet corner in this godforsaken packed airport.”

There’s a beat of silence for a moment as I wait for him to find a spot, my body already heating up at the idea of having phone sex with Hunter while he can’t do anything to take care of himself.

Then his voice drops—low, rough, and intimate enough to make my knees weak.

‘Get in bed,’ he says. ‘Keep the phone on speaker.’

I don’t even hesitate.

I head for my bedroom, the house suddenly feeling warmer, smaller, tighter around me. I flick off the bedside lamp and crawl under the covers, placing the phone on the pillow beside me. The vibrator—his vibrator—is still in my hand, glittering in the dim light.

‘Clothes off?’ I ask.

‘Mm-hmm. Everything. And lay on my side of the bed. I want to know you’re coming all over my side of the sheets.’

I slide my tank top over my head, shiver as the cool air kisses my skin, and push my panties down my thighs. The sheets catch against my bare legs as I settle back, heart pounding.

‘Tell me what you’re doing,’ he says, voice a soft growl now. ‘Walk me through it.’

‘I’m lying on your side of the bed…’ I say, a little breathless. ‘Naked. Thinking about how good you felt inside me last week. Wondering if this thing you made actually lives up to the real thing.’

He groans quietly, trying to muffle it back from the other passengers within earshot. “Are you wet?”

I drag my finger through my arousal. Wetter than I even realized. Just the sound of his voice is enough to get me dripping. “Yes.”

‘Wrap your hand around it. Slide it through those sweet pussy lips. Get it nice and wet for me first.’

I wrap my fingers around the toy, the familiar weight making me wish it was him in real life instead.

His voice in my ear is everything—commanding, sinful, and somehow still laced with that teasing affection that always ruins me.

‘Slow. Go slow. I want you aching for it.’

I do exactly as he says—sliding it between my thighs, letting it brush against me, teasing my entrance. My hips lift without meaning to.

“Now, put me inside—just the tip—teasing that pussy. You don’t get the whole thing yet. Not until you beg.”

I moan as I press the vibrator inside of me—Hunter’s tip spreading me open—the stretch feels so good, but I know from experience how thick the rest of his shaft is.

“Now swirl my tip inside of you and then pull out a little before pushing me back in.”

“Hunter…” I mutter as I do as he instructs.

“You want more don’t you?” He phrases it as a question, but we both know I need more.

I make a muffled “yes” sound.

“Are you wet enough to take all of me?”

“Mm-hmm…” I tell him.

“Beg, Peyton.”

“Please.”

‘That’s what I want to hear. Good girl… Now push me in. All the way. Let me hear you.’

A soft moan escapes my lips as I sink it inside, the stretch surprisingly familiar.

‘Holy shit,’ I breathe. ‘You weren’t kidding. This thing’s…accurate.’

‘Now you’re just stroking my ego,’ he rasps, but I can hear the strain in his voice. ‘How wet are you?’

‘Soaked.’

‘Good. Work that little body until you can’t think straight.’

His voice guides me, patient but filthy, every word fanning the fire building in my core. I move with his instructions, chasing the high he’s painting for me with nothing but his voice.

And when I finally come—I cry out—his name is the only thing on my lips.

After a beat, all I can hear is my shaky breath and the subtle crackle of the airport overhead speaker through the phone.

Hunter makes a rough exhale.

‘Goddamn, I’m hard as a rock and have nowhere to go.’

‘You started it,’ I whisper, chest rising and falling fast. ‘Next time, don’t leave your cock lying around.’

A beat of laughter breaks through the phone line, and then his voice drops into that smile I can feel even across the country.

‘That was your retaliation, wasn’t it?’

‘Maybe.’

‘You’re evil.’

‘And you love it.’

There’s another pause, and then I hear a flight being announced over the speaker.

‘They’re boarding my flight,’ he says reluctantly. ‘I’ll text you when I get to my hotel. Night, Peyton.’

I should say something normal. Something casual.

But instead, I smile wickedly at the glittering turquoise cock in my hand, and say sweetly, ‘Does phone sex count against rule number one? Because that’s the best I’ve ever had.’

There’s a rough inhale on the other end of the line. A muttered curse.

‘Goddamn it,’ he growls. ‘I’m standing in line at my gate, and now I have to adjust myself in public.’

Laughter bubbles up in my throat as I imagine him, flustered and hard, trying to casually shield himself from the families and businessmen waiting for boarding.

‘Serves you right,’ I say, grinning.

We say our quick goodbyes and then the call cuts off, and I’m left alone with my racing heart and the obscene gift in my hand.

I stare at it for a long moment, fingers lightly tracing the smooth contours, my mind spinning faster than it should. This was supposed to be pretend. Clean. Professional.

And now? I’m in bed, clutching a dildo modeled after the man I swore I wouldn’t fall for.

The thing is…I don’t want the imposter.

I want the real thing, but I’m not supposed to.

I walk to my bathroom and clean it, then stow it back in my nightstand for future use with zero interest in finding my old vibrator that he hid. Not when I have “him” to use whenever I want.

A few minutes later, a text comes through.

I laugh and then type back, imagining him taking his seat after stowing his belongings in the overhead compartment.

And if this fake relationship keeps heading in this dangerously real direction… I’m going to need more drawer space and a lot more backup batteries.

My phone dings again, and my heart thumps against my chest. I grab it to see Hunter’s reply, but it’s not Hunter—it’s an email from Rebecca.

Peyton,

The second interview was a huge success! But the network wants the New Jersey story. Can you deliver on this?

I blow out a frustrated breath. The network wants the one thing that Hunter won’t give me, and by pushing him, it threatens the possibility of things between us turning real.

I want this network deal. I’ve been working toward this for years, a way to honor my father’s memory. But is losing Hunter worth it?