Booty and the Beast, page 24
“You’re not letting me get any.”
She rolled her eyes. “Any fatigue.”
“You haven’t worn me out yet.”
She struggled to remain professional. I liked that about her.
“What about overall health?” she asked. “How do you feel?”
“Horny.”
The woman lowered her notebook. “That is your natural state, so I’m going to mark no changes.”
She read the next question and groaned.
“Come on, darling…” I laughed. “Gotta treat me like any other player.”
“If you were any other player, I’d have kicked you out of my office by now.” She read the question as monotone as she could get. “Are you satisfied with what you’ve been eating?”
“Glad you asked. I do have a question about that.”
Her words laced with excitement. “Wait…you do?”
“Yep.” I stepped closer to her, pulling her legs apart. “See…I eat and I eat…but I can’t seem to get enough of it. No matter how ravenous I get, I’m never satisfied.”
She knew the game and finally surrendered. “Oddly enough, I am.”
“Hardly. Ten minutes later, and you want me to eat some more.”
“We should teach ourselves moderation, but…”
“But?”
She welcomed me into her arms, her smile growing. “But a man like you is out in the sun, working hard all day, every day. You’re pushing your body to the absolute limit. So, if you’re hungry…you should eat.”
“What luck…I’m famished right now.”
She giggled as I lowered her onto her desk. I dropped to my knees as she inched up her skirt.
No fucking panties.
This woman would kill me.
The flash of her dark petals invigorated me. For a pussy as lovely as hers, I’d endure another five hours of hard practice on the field.
“Do you offer this menu to anyone else?” I said.
“Oh no…” Her fingers tickled her slit, parting it for my conquering lick. “This is a special diet. Carnivores only.”
“A buffet for me? What did I do to earn this honor?”
She gripped my hair, pulling me closer to her slit. “It’s not what you’ve done, it’s what you’re gonna do.”
A knock interrupted me as I captured her perfect nub between my lips. I swore, but she was quick to stand, ensuring her dress fell neatly back to her knees.
“Looks like times up,” she said.
I’d only had a taste. A tease. I needed much more.
“This isn’t over.” I warned her.
“Is that a promise?”
“That’s a guarantee.” I kissed her. “Tonight: my face, your pussy. Sound good?”
“As long as I can tear you away from workouts before it’s too late.”
I backed toward the door. “Why? Got something interesting planned?”
She shrugged. “Well, I wanna make sure we have enough time for that curious thing you mentioned. That is…if you still want this booty?”
Christ. I gripped the doorknob to stay standing.
“Fuck lifting. Fuck the damned practice. Let’s go home now.”
She pushed me through the door, but, for the first time in my life, the last thing I wanted to do was run onto a football field.
Lachlan met me in the hallway with a goofy grin.
He glanced from me to Charisma. “Why do I think you’re getting something that’s not offered on our menu?”
“I’m just doing my job,” she said.
I patted his shoulder. “And, Christ, do I love her job.”
It was the first time I’d been late to practice, but the coaches forgave it. The team had doubled down on the nutritional regimen to ensure they were in shape for the next exhibition game.
I had my diet worked out. The only problem was that I couldn’t stop thinking about the damned nutritionist.
The game was hard enough without diverting my attention away from the routes, the drills, and the balls thrown in my direction. The hot, stagnant summer air did nothing to clear my head. Usually the outdoors, the sun, and the sweat helped me to focus. This time, it made it worse.
I couldn’t rid her scent from my body.
That pristine, vanilla perfection. Clean and crisp.
I could taste her.
Smell her.
Imagine every inch of her skin.
My fingers ached for her curves. Instead, I punished my hands by repeatedly catching as many laser precise passes from the quarterback as I could get. Jack had a cannon for an arm, but the sharp sting of the ball struck my suddenly wooden hands and bounced off.
Once was bad enough.
Twice and I had reason to worry.
It was like my head hadn’t connected with my fingertips.
Hard to work when my body craved Charisma’s touch. Instead of her feather-gentle caresses, I got pounded on a crossing route by one of the defensive ends who’d forgotten the training camp meant minor physical contact only.
I landed on my ass in time to watch as Charisma crossed from the practice facility and onto the sidelines.
And immediately, my concentration shattered.
I couldn’t focus. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t even keep my gaze fixed inside the huddle. Something about the woman drew my stare.
Too beautiful. Too perfect. Two goddamned amazing for me to focus on keeping my ass alive on the field.
It never been this hard for me to pay attention before.
On any other day, at any other time, I would’ve lined up for the snap, perfected the drill, and run my routes with absolute precision.
Today?
My head and body had disconnected.
Jack smacked a hand against my helmet.
“You listening, Walk-On?” Jack asked. “We only got a forty-second play clock. Don’t make me repeat myself.”
Shit.
“You know I just like hearing the sound of your voice,” I said.
“Get your head in the game.”
I gritted my teeth. “I got this.”
We broke the huddle, and I lined up as the play was written. The ball snapped, and I darted downfield, rushing ten yards before my cut.
Jack braced to pass.
I turned.
…And the ball grazed off my fingertips.
Son of a bitch.
The whistle blew, and Coach Sawyer hollered from the sidelines.
“Gotta catch those, Hart.” The man wasn’t irritated yet, but he had removed his hat and ran a hand through his thinning hair. “Don’t miss easy passes. Jack’s throwing you gifts.”
The fuck was wrong with me?
I jogged back to the huddle in silence, tightening my gloves as if they’d been the problem and not the fucking fog clouding my thoughts.
We lined up again, and I visualize the route as Jack audibled the play and adjusted the snap count. I knew where I had to run, when I was supposed to turn, and how many seconds I had until the ball would hit me square between the numbers.
This was mechanical. Instinctual.
“Hike!”
It was a simple post downfield. Three steps, a juke, then turn.
I spun and held my arms out.
The ball was nowhere to be found.
Coach Sawyer blew the whistle again. “For Christ’s sake, Hart. Where the fuck are you going?”
Christ, I had no idea.
I turned around, facing the huddle. Jack signaled toward me and jerked his thumb in the opposite direction from where I stood.
Damn it. He was right.
I ran the route wrong.
I never ran routes wrong.
A pit swallowed my guts, leaving a gaping, festering ache were my pride should’ve been.
What the hell was wrong with me? I couldn’t afford these mistakes. Not now. Not ever.
I hurried back to the huddle, but Coach Sawyer blew the whistle and sent us to the locker room.
Lunchtime.
And not a moment too soon.
I wasn’t someone who allowed himself to get angry. A man needed to stay calm to do his job. No unnecessary emotions. Nothing that would make him look bad when he survived on first impressions.
I grabbed a water bottle, but it didn’t taste good. I spat it out, then threw the fucking bottle into the benches.
Jack jogged to my side. He read my expression, but he spoke anyway.
Didn’t know if that made him a good leader or an overconfident idiot.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Everyone has an off day.”
My voice turned to gravel. “Not me.”
“First time for everyone.” He followed my gaze, smirking as it settled on Charisma. “I told you she was trouble, Walk-On.”
He pitched a ball to the trainer and hustled to join Lachlan and Coach Owens as they headed into the locker room.
I froze.
What the fuck was I supposed to do?
I’d never allowed anything to distract me from even one moment of the game. But today, I fought with myself to keep my focus fixed on the next ten yards.
What had been second nature turned into awkward fumbling.
It was what the team had waited for. Mistakes. Errors. Simple confusion. My spot on the team was not guaranteed, and every drill became either the chance to earn my position or lose everything.
Making the team wasn’t only a goal. It was my life. My future. The only option I had to make something of myself, get out of debt, and achieve everything I’d ever wanted.
This past year had been the longest of my life. I’d hit rock bottom, grabbed a shovel, and destroyed myself while wallowing in the mud.
I couldn’t lose this chance now.
I couldn’t let anything ruin the opportunity.
I couldn’t afford a single distraction from the work I had to do on the field.
The revelation hit me like a gut punch.
Charisma had been the best and worst intrusion into my life. I’d chased her for so long, but now that I finally had her?
What the fuck was I supposed to do?
I never thought my career would come down to choosing between the opportunity of a lifetime and the woman of my dreams.
And I prayed to God that I wouldn’t have to make that decision.
I knew exactly how it would end.
I would hurt Charisma Cassidy all over again.
And this time, it both of our hearts would be broken.
19
Charisma
“I think it’s time I see other football players.”
My declaration meant nothing while I massaged Nick’s back.
Still, my mother didn’t need to know how we’d planned our impending breakup.
Naked.
In bed.
My skilled hands gently caressing the sculpted muscles of his back.
“If you keep running into the locker room after me, you’ll see all of them,” he said.
“Do not tell my mother it’s an option.”
“Yeah. She’d go running in after you.”
He relaxed on my bed, shirtless. He’d also removed his pants. Not sure how that would help me rub his shoulders, but I didn’t mind. Only wondered if the man would ever put them on again.
Nick flinched as I rubbed the layer of cold lotion over his bruised shoulder blades. The man was one giant black and blue mess. Usually, it took until mid-to-late season before players looked as rough as him.
He was working too hard.
And it would only get him hurt.
“We’re just lucky she’s over the athlete phase,” I said. “When I started out with the Rivets, you’d think I’d wandered into a bachelor buffet. She wanted me to sample from the offense, the defense, everything.”
“Test out the tight ends?”
I slapped his ass to prove my point. “She would’ve pimped out a punter if it meant settling down with a Rivet.”
“But you never wanted a player?”
“Not at all.”
And I knew how hypocritical it sounded while straddling the man’s waist, digging in deep to release the knots plaguing his back.
Which, of course, Nick loved.
“Wonder why I’m so special?” he asked.
The man was entirely too proud of himself. I couldn’t let it stand.
“Who said I wanted you?” I said.
Nick twisted to glance at me. “You did, honey. Last night. I remember you moaning my name, spreading your legs, and offering me everything.”
And, one of these days, I would seriously regret my behavior.
“You think that means I like you?” I laughed.
He pointed to the scratches on his shoulder. They paled in comparison to the brush burns on his chest from the field.
“Would you call these love bites?” he asked. “Hell, a trainer asked if I needed medical assistance today…or a number for domestic assault help line.”
Like he hadn’t loved it. “Maybe that’s a hint? Maybe I want you to leave?”
“Then why can’t you keep your hands off of me?”
I rattled the egg timer resting on the comforter. “Because you have five minutes left on your massage, and not one second more.”
“Then I better enjoy every moment of this.” He rested again on the blankets, and I pretended not to admire how the thick, hardened muscles flexed and tightened under my hands. “This might be the greatest fake relationship ever.”
Yeah. I was beginning to think that too.
And that was the problem.
“Not sure why you want me to massage you and not one of the team trainers,” I said.
Nick’s voice muffled against the pillows he made from his arms. “Because you lost the bet. You foolishly doubted I wouldn’t be starting by the end of training camp. Well…guess who is slotted as the second receiver for this upcoming exhibition game?”
Sure, he acted cocky, but I knew the announcement had shocked him. Hell, it’d nearly knocked me on my ass.
Not that he didn’t deserve it. Nick was good. I’d watched him during practice. His athleticism, speed, absolute confidence had been unrivaled by even our most senior veterans.
But starting with the offense during his second exhibition game?
I’d never thought that the walk-on would make the team.
Now I wondered what they would do without him.
Still, his ego had inflated enough.
“You’re only starting because Reggie is out for good, and Shawn pulled his hamstring,” I said. “We’ll see what happens for the season opener.”
He wasn’t worried. “I’m going to start, Charisma. I’m starting this exhibition game, I’ll start for the next one, and then my name will come first during the season. You’ll see. I’ll be one of the leaders of this team. Jack Carson’s go-to man. A linchpin of the offense. Pretty soon, every woman in the city will wish they were you just for the chance to touch the beast.” He shifted under my hands. “Don’t forget my neck. It’s feeling a little tight.”
I dug my thumbs in deep. He winced. “Must be from supporting that big head of yours.”
“Don’t hate me because I’m the greatest athlete you’ve ever had the privilege of caressing.”
“Oh, losing a bet is a privilege now?”
“Absolutely. Especially when it’s followed by a night of the kinkiest, naughtiest sex in new, exciting, and potentially illegal ways.”
I hummed. “Isn’t that every night?”
“Are you complaining?”
“Depends. What else are you offering?”
“What else could you want?”
Damn it.
I’d said too much, and I’d revealed even more. Fortunately, Nick was too damned cocky to realize how close I’d come to sharing some very dangerous secrets.
I focused again on his back, running my hands along his heated, perfectly tanned skin.
“We could always break up.” I bit my lip. “We should probably do it soon.”
His words muffled in a pleased, thoroughly relaxed groan. “After the massage.”
“What if I tell my mom we have irreconcilable differences?”
“Like what?”
“There’s the obvious. We don’t like each other.”
Nick laughed. “And you think she’ll believe that?”
I poked at his side. Nick was ticklish. He’d never admit it, but he couldn’t hide his smile.
“She might not believe it,” I said. “But you should.”
“You don’t hate me. Not anymore.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“You can’t get enough of me.”
My hands moved lower, squeezing pure beef. “I have two palmfuls of ass right now. That’s all I need.”
“You could at least give me a reach-around.”
I rolled my eyes. “I know. I’ll tell my mother that you’re just too romantic for me.”
“A little tug is very romantic,” he said.
“In what universe?”
“Mine. You should visit sometime. But, you should know, we have a strict no-clothing policy.”
“I’m gonna need you to be serious, just this once.”
“I’m always serious about hand jobs.”
I smacked his ass once more. “Focus, Nick. We need to start Phase Two of this relationship ASAP. Mom has to be convinced that you have somehow ripped out my heart, torn it asunder, and left me broken and weepy for at least a year.”
“I’m doing my best to not make girls cry anymore.”
“Save your tissues. I never cried over you.” That was a lie. “If we want to make this convincing, you’ll have to do the practiced routine. Fighting. Drama. Slamming doors. Blocked phone numbers. The whole shebang.”
Nick rolled over, not at all ashamed of his nudity, or the impressive hardness spring up to his navel.
“Okay. Let’s say I give a stellar performance, and everyone believes that, for some reason, I’m stupid enough to let you go. What then?”
I rested on my heels. “Hopefully, Mom lets me stay heartbroken for a while. I’ll pretend to be too devastated to find another man, and then I’ll be free to live my life and do my work as I see fit.”
“And what will you do with all your free time?”
I glanced over his body, my hungry gaze resting on the throbbing hunk of meat twitching between his legs.
