Dirty Player(7)

“Then you need to work harder.”

“And you need to get out of this office. Come to Kolby’s house with me tonight. He’s throwing a pool party.”

“Beaux—”

“Just a small gathering. Nothing big, I swear—not with our game in a couple days.”

My cheeks heated as I asked, “Will Oliver be there?”

“Fucking hell,” he moaned and dragged a hand through his hair. “Probably.”

“I probably shouldn’t.”

“You’re probably right.”

“I’m going.”

He grinned. “I figured you would.”





Chapter FOUR





OLIVER



The small crowd gathered on Kolby’s outdoor patio made my skin itch.

Over a dozen kids jumped and splashed in the pool. Long Styrofoam noodles, plastic wings, and inflatables tossed all over the place made the simple act of walking a minefield.

I was trying to relax. It wasn’t easy. Every year, the men on my team became younger and faster. They were tougher. They fought harder, partied louder, threw away their millions as soon as it hit their pockets.

For some, it filled them with a greater drive to succeed, to be the next big name known and shouted in small-town basements and garages all over the country for three months a year. For others, it became one big unending party…until the party came to a crashing halt.

I still hadn’t figured out our new quarterback. Beaux Hale had talent. That couldn’t be argued. But the man owned a fucking a RV that he drove around the country during the off season, partying wherever he parked it. He was determined on the field, a fucking clown off it. It was hard to take him seriously, and as his captain, it was fucking with our teamwork on the field.

I pushed him hard because his arrival meant we finally had a chance at the fucking coveted ring. Eight years in the league and I’d come close twice during my first two years. For the last six, it’d been a crapshoot.

Realistically I had two, maybe three decent years left in me. At thirty, I was becoming an old man. The pain in my knees, the hits to my ribs, the sore muscles…all of it took longer to recover from. I fucking ached everywhere already and the season hadn’t really begun.

I wanted to walk away with that damn golden ring so badly I could taste the metal in my mouth, between my teeth.

It was all so fucking close with the team we had this year. Hale was being touted as the guy who could take us there.

I was an asshole because I doubted he had it in him, but I hoped like hell he did.

Unfortunately, I kept thinking about the way his sister’s ass had felt in my hands last week on the dance floor. The fact that she’d doused my lust with her threats and then Beaux had made it clear at practice he’d follow through with them had made me a bigger asshole than normal.

Kolby, on the other hand, was the first rookie I’d ever met who seemed to have his eyes focused on the only two things that mattered: his daughter and his career. At his party, he was in the pool with her, holding on to her stomach while she flapped and kicked, making more of a splash than getting anywhere.

But he was patient, focused on only her and the other little kids around.

It forced a weight to my chest. One I hated thinking about so much that I refused to do so—but when I saw moments like that, I couldn’t help it.

I’d lost every fucking thing I ever wanted and it was all Serena’s fault. Not that I gave a shit about the money I was still forced to send her. Spousal support, my ass. She’d walked away two years into our marriage, and six years later I was still paying for her to go do whatever the fuck she wanted.

Our phone calls were once a year, her calling me, me letting it go to voicemail. The taste of regret and disgust were heavy on my tongue every time I heard her voice wondering when her annual payment was going to be deposited.

I figured the next conversation we had would go drastically different.

An elbow bumped mine and a cold beer was placed in my hand. “Take this and drink it. You look like you want to kill someone.”

I glanced at Danny Rudolph. He was only a year younger than me and had been traded to Raleigh the same year I had been—the year after everything in my life went tits up. He hadn’t known me before, when I had my shit together, but he’d been there since my downfall.

“I don’t want to kill anyone,” I said and realized where my glare had been.

On her.

Shannon Hale. She ignited something inside me that went beyond the thought of an hour or two between the sheets before I kicked her out of my bed, like I did with most women since Serena. It had been different from the moment I saw Shannon.

Something dark and twisted, something that told me I’d be able to do whatever I wanted to her and she’d only scream for more.

Thinking she was draping herself all over Hale to get her hand into his back pocket had pissed me off more than it should have.

The way her gaze had gone a bit hazy when she’d looked at me that first time had made me jealous of the young kid.

“You go after her and you’re looking for trouble. Word is Hale’s her only family. You fuck with her and he’s going to go apeshit on your old ass.”

I had heard that. Their mom died a few years ago. They came from nothing. Word was Shannon was more of a mom to him than his own had ever been. Not to mention they had different fathers, neither of them around. Beaux didn’t hold shit back. He wasn’t ashamed of where he came from.

Plus, Rudolph was right. Guy could probably take me, too, unfortunately. I might have doubted his ability, but he still had an arm of steel, built for throwing. He could be the best in the league if he didn’t always fucking hesitate that half-second in the pocket.

It was going to get him sacked and concussed before the third game.

“I don’t want her.”

The words tasted as nasty as the swig of beer I took to wash away the lie.

I wanted her. I’d thought of a thousand ways to apologize to her for being such an asshole. They all involved her naked, her thick, dark hair spread all over my white sheets. Her jaw slack while I pleasured her, over and over again.

I caught her gaze, that same hazy, wanting look from across the pool where she stood with a half-dozen players and their wives or girlfriends.

Being the prick I was, I dropped my hand to my crotch and adjusted myself where she could see I was already growing hard.

The thought of her…the mere fucking sight of her did that to me.

I hadn’t been this hard, so constantly and so easily, since I was fifteen and Serena let me touch her tits for the first time.

Next to me, Rudolph laughed. It was loud and gathered the attention of most of the people nearby. I glared at him, but still sensed Shannon’s gaze at my back.

A little prickle of interest.

I smirked at my friend. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”

“Hell yeah,” he said, slapping me on the shoulder. “But there’s a lot of things you are and a liar isn’t one of them. Might as well get it out of your system. Let Beaux beat the shit out of you and then we can all move on. You keep looking at her like you want to fuck her naked in front of all these people and rumors will start.”

Fuck. He was right. A football team was worse than a frat house when it came to gossip running rampant.

“I’ll get right on that then,” I muttered, setting my drink down. Last weekend’s splurge at the club where I’d seen Shannon had been the last real alcohol I’d touch until hopefully February—

After a Super Bowl win.

“Can’t you just go find another easy lay and fuck her out of your mind? Pretend she’s someone else? This has trouble written all over it.”

I’d tried that. Saturday and Wednesday.

Unfortunately I’d only pictured Shannon, and the women beneath me, their faces buried in my pillows, hadn’t helped.

I wanted to see her face—those coffee-colored eyes, her pouty lips parched and dry.

“I like your first idea better.” I slapped Rudolph on the shoulder. “You’re right. Fuck her. Get her out of my head. Move on to the next one.”

“This is going to go south real quick.”

I didn’t respond. I was already walking away. Toward the woman I couldn’t stop thinking about. The woman who was barely covered in a swimsuit cover—it was strapless, hitting just below her ass. A bright peach color that showed off her tan, and fuck…those legs.

Toned and long. Painted toenails to match the light blue suit I’d seen her in earlier when I’d first arrived and she was lying out on a lounge chair.

With every step bringing me closer to her, her grip tightened on her water bottle. She moved slowly away from the group of men she’d been talking to. Beaux glanced at me, but he was missing the scowl I had become familiar with this week.

The pink color blossoming on her cheeks held my attention. The slight quirk to her mouth. Lips that tilted up at one corner, practically daring me to do all the filthy things I wanted to.

I’d take her up on it, as soon as she let me. It’d been a while since I’d had to persuade a woman to let me do what I wanted, but I had a feeling she’d make it worth the effort.

“Come talk to me,” I said, sliding right up next to her and not giving her any doubt what I really wanted.

Her eyes flared—hesitant and surprised at my boldness. “We are talking.”