Hail Mary (BSU Football Book 2)

by JB Salsbury

  Hail Mary

  JB Salsbury

  Copyright © 2020 by JB Salsbury

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  On the Sideline

  Also by JB Salsbury

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Emery

  I remember the day I went numb. When I locked my heart in an air-tight box and buried it deep so that I could no longer feel pain. With five little words my world crumbled around me.

  May she rest in peace.

  I wondered through my bone-crushing heartbreak when the peace would come for me. Is there only peace in death? When I kissed my mom’s cold, pale cheek for the last time I wished I could find that peace alongside her.

  Instead, I found it days after we lowered her body into the ground forever. At nine years old having just lost my mom, I watched my dad, the only person I had left in the world, load my suitcases into the back of his truck. My eyes burned from what felt like an endless cycle of crying.

  But on this day I didn’t cry.

  I remember climbing into the truck but not feeling the seat under my thighs. I was floating outside of myself for a five-hour drive that was a blur of uninspiring landscape and crippling silence.

  There was no fear or nervousness when we arrived at Pontus Academy, the place I would call home. There was no joy or excitement as my eyes scanned the white columned buildings and perfectly landscaped gardens. I locked my hands behind my back and with a benign smile pasted on my face, I greeted people without remembering their names or registering their faces.

  I was an empty shell. A china doll filled with nothing but air.

  My dad kissed me on the forehead. I felt no warmth from his lips.

  He called me his brave little girl. His words were static in my ears.

  He drove away without looking back.

  I was nine years old when I learned peace comes easily to the unfeeling.

  I swore to never feel again.

  Chapter One

  Spider

  Chaos.

  The only word to describe a college bar after a winning football game.

  We played UNLV and wiped the field with their asses, 34-10.

  “It’s tradition.” Loren, my roommate and the team’s wide receiver, slides another shot of tequila in front of me and holds up his own. “One shot for every touchdown.”

  My teammates all hold up their shot glasses and together we throw back the fourth of five total shots. I chase mine with beer and scan the crowded space.

  I spot the members of our team first, mostly because they tower above everyone else and take up the most space. There are also the die-hard football fans, the guys with their faces painted in school colors who started drinking before the game. Only the ones with the highest tolerance to booze are left standing. And then there are the women. The Jersey Chasers. Every single one of them a feast for the senses. They smell good, look tasty, and they rub up against me with their soft, pliant bodies.

  “Heads up,” Loren says with a chin lift toward the end of the bar. “Incoming.”

  A sultry brunette heads my way, denim-encased hips swinging. “Hey, Spider.”

  “Calista.” I give the girl a head to toe. She’s one of my regular hook ups. Gorgeous, feisty, and she’s portable, always down for a no-strings arrangement in the nearest bathroom, alley, or backseat of a car.

  “Great game today.” A sexy smirk pulls her lips as she gives me a once over with her big brown eyes.

  “Thanks.” I pluck a strand of her long hair and rub it between my fingers. “Can I get you something to d—”

  I’m shoved from behind. Not enough to actually move me from my leaned position against the bar, but enough to get my attention.

  I turn around to find a petite blonde woman who looks entirely out of place.

  “I’m sorry,” she says, her blue eyes boldly holding mine. “Someone pushed past me and I lost my balance.”

  I narrow my gaze, taking in her conservative black dress buttoned up to the white collar around her neck. Every strand of her pale blonde hair is held in place by a black silk headband.

  She waves a delicate hand to get the bartenders attention, her short nails painted pale pink that has me guessing her nipples are the same color.

  “Mina!” I call to the bartender and her eyes snap to me.

  She hands off the pints of beer she was filling and steps in front of me wiping her hands on a bar towel. “What do you need, Spider?”

  I look down at the pretty blonde who once again holds my eyes without hesitation. A clean, sweet-looking woman like her should be scared of a man who looks like me. She doesn’t seem the least bit intimidated. “What do you want to drink?”

  She pulls her eyes from mine and leans over the bar with her elbows braced on top. “Can I get a chardonnay, please?”

  The corner of my mouth lifts on it’s own. Who the hell is this little woman? Ordering a fucking chardonnay in a college dive bar? And even as the very thought seems utterly ridiculous, I can’t see a woman who looks like her drinking anything else. Champagne, maybe. She looks expensive, way out of my pay grade. And yet, I find myself leaning closer.

  Mina shocks the shit out of me by producing a wine glass for the woman. “Nine even.”

  “Put it on my tab,” I say and watch the mini-nun-looking woman smile up at me.

  “Thank you.” She holds the glass up in a mock-cheers and then takes a sip. Her nose wrinkles at the first taste and the look is fucking adorable.

  A warm hand slides around me from behind. I look down to see Calista’s hand creep up the hem of my T-shirt. The bite of her long nails against my abdomen feels like a warning.

  I grip her wrist and turn around to face her, giving the blonde my back. “Not tonight.”

  Her seductive smile falls instantly and is replaced by fiery eyes. “Why not?”

  “Do I need to give a reason? No means no.”

  “Fine.” She turns on a heel and walks away, most likely in search of the next football player willing to jump into her pants. She won’t have to look hard, there are plenty of them here.

  “Yo, Spider! Last shot!”

  I’m grateful to see the little blonde is still in her spot next to me sipping her wine when I take the shot of tequila from Loren. I hand it to the girl. “Here. This probably tastes better than that shit wine.”

  She brings it to her nose. “Oh wow.” She blinks rapidly as if the fumes made her eyes water. “What is it?”

  “Patron. Tequila.” I push up close to her, feeling her dainty shoulder press into my ribs as I reach beyond her to grab another shot from the line up.

  Loren sits on top of the bar and raises his glass. “Last touchdown shot of the night!” The bar erupts in cheers. “To
an undefeated season!”

  The place goes crazy with drunken applause and I watch in rapt awe as the girl beside me sips her shot once, twice, and then takes the whole thing into her mouth as if she’d done it a million times before. She cringes, coughs, and covers her mouth as her watery eyes find mine.

  “Good, right?” I throw back my shot tasting it less than the first four.

  “Delicious,” she says through a lilt of laughter. “But I think I’ll stick with my wine.”

  “Suit yourself.” My mouth feels loose, my pulse throbs harder than usual, and I realize I’m a little drunk and a lot turned on by little Miss Goodie Two-Shoes. I watch her as she watches me and I wonder what kind of beauty hides under her clothes. If given the chance, I’d have to be cautious with her. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was a virgin. She’s giving off the small town, church girl vibe, and the animal in me would give anything to corrupt her. Not that she’d give me the chance.

  She’s much better suited for Loren, the Ken doll look-a-like who grew up on a farm milking cows and bailing hay. He’d respect her boundaries and her body.

  Me? I’m already thinking of the hundred different things I’d like to do to her.

  “Spider?” Her soft voice calls me from my thoughts. “Do you want to dance?”

  My booze-riddled mind is slow to register. “I don’t dance.”

  Her mouth tips up on one side and she grabs my hand under the bar. “Let’s go.”

  Emery

  I got him.

  I knew I would. I’m aware of what men see when they look at me—naive, pristine, virgin. The perfect canvas for corruption. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

  I stepped into the bar tonight knowing exactly what I was looking for. The options of men are endless. When I spotted the one they call Spider across the room—all those tattoos, the lip piercing, the fuck-everyone-attitude etched into his expression, he is everything I’d been looking for.

  He wasn’t kidding when he said he didn’t dance. He stands still as a statue on the dance floor only moving to draw from his beer as he watches me sway to the music. His gaze is like fingers against my skin as he searches, explores, and tries to figure me out. Heat flickers in his eyes when he studies my lips and I’d bet my pearl earrings he’s wondering what my mouth tastes like.

  I move closer to him, put a hand at his waist, and stare directly into his hauntingly dark eyes. So brown they’re nearly black and the darkness that calls to me like a bottomless abyss where feelings don’t exist.

  “Do you want me to kiss you?” I already know the answer, but I’ll make him say it anyway.

  “I want you to do a hell of a lot more than kiss me.” He runs his fingers through the ends of my hair while he studies my neck as if he’s thinking about biting it and drinking my blood. The very thought sends a thrill through me.

  “Like what?” I slip my hand between us and palm the semi-hardness behind his zipper. “This?”

  His eyes widen minutely and his lips peel back over clenched teeth. “Yes. Just like that.”

  I squeeze him until a hiss escapes through his teeth. “I’d like to kiss you now.”

  He snags the back of my neck and brings my lips to his. I struggle to stay on my toes as he hovers his lips close to mine. “What’s your name?” he breathes against my mouth, his lip ring brushes against my skin.

  “Does it really matter?”

  His dark brows pinch together seconds before he presses his lips against mine. I tilt my head, part my lips, and lick into his mouth. The sharp flavor of alcohol mixes with the taste of sin and the promise of pain that I suspect is uniquely his.

  The boys in boarding school only ever tasted like tobacco and breath mints.

  I moan into his mouth, claw at his shirt to get closer, and shove my hand behind the button of his jeans until he teeters on his Converse.

  “Fuck,” he says, breaking the kiss with wet lips that he licks and savors. Sometime during the kiss, he tangled his fist into the back of my hair, holding my head in place. “You’re not what I expected.”

  No. Shit.

  “Come home with me.” I don’t ask because I won’t take no for an answer like the last girl did.

  A wicked grin tilts his lips. “I’ll get the Uber.”

  Fish in a barrel.

  We kiss feverishly in the back of the Honda Accord while our driver Hector watches from the rearview mirror. At one point I meet his brown eyes through the mirror and wink making him swerve.

  Once home, I drag the tattooed football player through the dark house and into my room. With the lights off, he can’t learn much about me from the space. Not that he could even with the lights on. I haven’t lived here long enough to leave any kind of personal mark by way of photos. He’s clueless as to who I really am, exactly how it needs to be.

  I make quick work of pushing down his jeans and tossing his shirt, then do the same with my own clothes and we tumble to the bed in a tangle of naked bodies and lust.

  I smile into the dark as he rakes his teeth down my throat, between my breasts and settles his head between my thighs.

  “You should know,” he says then bites at the tender skin of my inner thigh. “I’m not the relationship type.”

  Grateful he can’t see my eyes, I roll them hard. “Who says I’m looking for a relationship?”

  “Most girls like you are.” He licks my skin, sucks hard enough to leave a mark.

  Girls like me.

  People are so easy to fool. They make judgments on face value alone never taking the time to peer just a little bit deeper. Not that I’m complaining. I’ve used the simplicity of human nature to my benefit more times than I can count.

  I’d give it all up if I found one single person who surprised me.

  “Maybe after tonight, you’ll change your mind.” I grin at the way his muscles tense and wish I had the lights on to see the panic I’d surely find in his eyes.

  “I won’t.” He squeezes my hips hard enough to get my attention. “Tell me you get that and we can move on.”

  “This is a one-night stand, I get it. Loud and clear.” Of course, I already know this. I never even gave him my name.

  We spend the next hour wading in the waters of sexual pleasure, pushing, pulling, scratching, and biting until we crash, spent and breathless against my bed sheets. My pulse throbs, muscles limp, and my hairline is damp with sweat. Spider knows his way around the female body.

  I study his shadowed form in the dark. “You should probably send for an Uber.”

  “I will when the feeling in my arms and my legs comes back.” He rolls to his stomach and gets more comfortable. “An hour.”

  “Sure. Stay as long as you want.” His colorful arm tucked up under my pillow as his breathing slows to a soft snore. “I’m in no rush for you to leave.”

  I push my body close to his so that I’ll wake if he tries to sneak out while I’m asleep. Eventually I drift to sleep.

  Shortly after I startle awake as I feel him slip from my bed. I watch his tall, dark figure move to the bedroom door, but I make no move to stop him. He’s naked so I know he’s not leaving. Not yet. Maybe he’s looking for the bathroom.

  As he walks out the door I sit up and see him make a left down the hallway.

  I cover my mouth to keep him from hearing my laughter.

  I thought I’d have to do a lot more manipulating to get my plan to work, but he’s unknowingly walking right into my trap.

  I lie back down, close my eyes, and pretend to be asleep.

  That’s when I hear my dad’s deep, booming voice from the next room. “Who the hell… Spider? Is that you?”

  Chapter Two

  Spider

  One more step would mean certain death.

  Naked, with my dick and balls held protectively in my hands, I stand eye-to-eye with the man who could end my life as I know it. I sway on my feet, dizzy from the combination of last night’s tequila and middle of the night confusion.

  “Coach?” My nuts re
treat further into my body as I mutter the word. To some, it’s just a title. To those of us on the Bear State University football team a more accurate translation would be “God.”

  “What the fuck are you doing in my house at two o’clock in the morning with your dick in your hands?” He’s in a t-shirt and his shorts standing at the edge of his bed.

  I left the warm cocoon of a woman’s bed to take a piss. Stumbling down the dark hallway, I must’ve been turned around and walked into the wrong bedroom.

  “I…” I swallow hard and feel the burn of last night’s booze crawl up my throat.

  “Never heard you struggle for words before, Spider. You have a stroke?” His voice shakes like it does when I throw an interception with thirty seconds left in a game.

  “I think maybe I have, Coach.” God’s honest truth. Everything above the neck feels like I’m in a dream while everything below is reacting in a violent flight response.

  He takes a calculated step forward making me flinch. “Emery.”

  “What?”

  His glare widens and even in the dim light I see fire in his eyes. His jaw clenches and unclenches.

  I grip my junk a little tighter once I realize what I’ve done. I never did get her name. “Emily, yeah—”

  “Emery you fucking scumbag!” He’s on me before I can blink, his big-ass hand wraps around the back of my neck as he pushes me out of his room, down the hallway and into his daughter’s bedroom. With a flip of a light switch the foggy details from last night are exposed under one-hundred-volt wattage.

  Emery jerks upright in bed and the sheet falls to expose her breasts. I groan at the bright purple hickeys that mar her pale skin. “Oops.” She makes no effort to cover herself and I wince as Coach’s grip crushes my cervical vertebrae.