Winning It All (Hometown Players Book 4)

by Victoria Denault

  I nod. “That neighborhood is fucking horrible.”

  “Totally!” he agrees with a grateful smile, because clearly she hasn’t been agreeing with him.

  “I thought she was looking into a new car?”

  He sighs and sits on the edge of his desk. “She was, but she honestly can’t afford anything decent. She’s got student loans and she won’t take money from our parents. I’d give her a raise, but I can’t. Business is steady but slow. And the commercials I had planned won’t be as effective as I thought they would be.”

  “About that,” Avery says and he looks as awkward as he sounds. Avery isn’t great at taking responsibility for his actions, mostly because he’s never had to. People let him get away with shit because he’s Avery Westwood. “Can I talk to you about that?”

  Trey shrugs. I don’t want to stick around for this. As fun as it would be to watch Avery apologize for probably the first time in his life, all I want to do is see Shay for myself and make sure she’s okay. “Is she still at the police station?”

  “Not sure. Want me to text her?”

  “Nah. I’ll do it. Thanks, Trey.” I start to leave but his words stop me.

  “So, like, this thing with Shayne…” I turn back to look at him. “I hear you’re dating or something?”

  “I’d like to think so,” I answer, because I would like to think so. But I would also like to think the woman I’m dating would tell me about any life-threatening situations she was in, so at this point…I’m not sure what the fuck we’re doing.

  He gives me a half smile as if to show he’s only half joking when he warns, “She’s a smart-mouthed, obstinate pain in the ass, but I love her dearly, so I will fucking end you if you hurt her.”

  “Fair enough,” I reply and nod solemnly like I’m accepting his terms—and I am. If I hurt her I will let him kill me.

  I text her as I walk across the parking lot. Hey, babe. Where are you?

  She responds right away. Are you back?

  I am. And I want to see you. Do I head to the police station or your house?

  There’s an expected pause after that text. But as I climb into my car she responds.

  I’m in a cab on the way home. Meet me there?

  On my way, I respond.

  I buzz her when I get to her door because no one is walking out and leaving the door wide open like last time. She doesn’t ask who it is; she just opens the front door. I take the stairs two at a time until I’m on her floor. No passed-out smelly drunk guy this time. She has the door open before I can knock. Her pretty gray eyes land on my face and flare. “Holy shit! Your face!”

  She reaches up and gently cups the side of my face next to the cut and rocks up on her tiptoes to examine it. She’s barefoot, wearing a pair of very tight, very short workout shorts and a vintage T-shirt with the Eagles’s band logo on the front. “Does it hurt?”

  “Not as much as finding out from your brother that you were mugged,” I tell her and reach up and remove her hand from my throbbing face, lacing my fingers with hers, and stare down at her intently.

  She looks genuinely perplexed, which perplexes me. “You’re in playoffs.”

  “Yeah. So?”

  She looks even more confused by that and tries to pull her hand from mine, but I’m not having it. She stares right in my eye and explains. “You can’t focus if people are yammering at you about crap. I was fine. And there was nothing you could do from San Francisco anyway.”

  “I could have listened,” I tell her, and I’m really amazed I have to. “Trey said you were upset. Even if it was just over the phone, I could have been there for you.”

  She looks even more confused than before, and I have no idea why. What the hell does she think, that I would be annoyed by finding out she was attacked? What the hell is wrong with…

  “Is this about your dad?”

  “What?” She bites her bottom lip and her eyes shift to the scuffed hardwood, and I know it is about Glenn Beckford. Fuck, how did I ever idolize this guy? I take a deep breath and pull her into the apartment. I walk her through the room, past her sketchy cat, who’s giving me the hairy eyeball again, and into the bedroom. The light beside her bed is on and the sheets are rumpled like she was in it recently.

  “Sit,” I command, and just like I knew she would, she hesitates. I fucking love the way she challenges me, but I add the word please.

  She lowers her cute little ass to the edge of the mattress at the foot of the bed, but she keeps her eyes cast downward. “Eyes up.”

  She looks up only to glare at me. I grin and my dick starts to get hard. “So your dad used to zone out during playoffs?”

  “He was never all that zoned in when it came to family,” she mutters and sighs. “But I know that this is why you guys play the sport. To get to the playoffs.”

  “Yep.” I nod and start to unbutton my shirt, toeing off my shoes at the same time. “But there are two kinds of players. The ones who use it as an excuse to mistreat and ignore the people who love them, and the ones who find balance.”

  “Haven’t met one of those balanced ones yet,” she mutters.

  “Yes, you have,” I say flatly and unbutton my cuffs. I came straight from the airport and the team plane so I’m wearing a charcoal dress shirt and black dress pants.

  She looks up at me wordlessly, but there’s skepticism on her pretty face. Man, her dad did a number on her. She bites her bottom lip as I shrug out of my shirt. I try not to flash her a cocky grin but man, I love the way she looks at me. It’s wild: she always looks like she’s struggling to control herself. It’s a battle she knows she’s going to lose, and I know she sees that as weakness but I see it as a sign we’re meant to be. Even though I haven’t known her long, I know her well and I know that she hates when things get under her skin, but she doesn’t hate me and I’ve rattled her in a delicious way since the second we met.

  I reach for my belt. “You’re wearing too much clothing.”

  She smirks as she looks down at her T-shirt and tiny workout shorts. “Just because you tend to put on stripteases in my apartment doesn’t mean I have to join in.”

  I shrug and my pants drop to my ankles. “Too mesmerized by my fantastic body to move? Oh well, I’ll have to help you.”

  She’s still got a sexy little smirk on her face as she returns my shrug. “Meh. You’re body is okay, but mesmerizing is a stretch, Frenchie.”

  “I dare you to say you’re not so turned on right now your skin is tingling.”

  “I’m not.”

  I step out of my pants and walk toward her. I bend and capture her mouth with mine while my hand goes straight for the small space between her legs and I cup her sex. My fingers slip into the leg of her shorts and press up. I grin against her lips. “Liar.”

  I push her down on the bed with the weight of my body and lie on top of her. I don’t want to remove my hand from between her legs, but I do because there’s something I need to know. I pull back from the kiss and stare down at her. “Are you okay? Honestly? Tell me.”

  “Yeah,” she says softly. “It was scary, but I’m okay.”

  I feel my shoulders relax as she runs her fingertips over my back. I drop my full weight onto her and nuzzle her neck, inhaling that intoxicating scent that is all Shay. Her hands run up my neck and into my hair and she whispers, “I’m better now that you’re here.”

  For her, I know that’s a huge thing to admit. She doesn’t want to need anyone to feel anything and I am the last person she wants to need. I almost tell her I’m falling in love with her, but I want to do it when I don’t have a hard-on pressed against her. So instead I kiss her, pushing all my emotions into the way I move my lips over hers and the way my tongue moves in her mouth. Her fingers tangle in my hair and I start to push her T-shirt up.

  I wanted this to be slow and deliberate, but the kiss and the emotions passing through it are like kindling on a fire, and everything starts sparking at once, and the next thing I know all our clothes are go
ne and my uncovered dick is precariously close to heaven. And I feel every muscle in my body strain as I fight against just sliding into her.

  “Condom,” she reminds me softly against the shell of my ear before she bites down on the lobe.

  I groan and drop my head into the crook of her neck. “I forgot to bring one.”

  “I bought some,” she whispers, and pulls her hand off my back and reaches toward to night table.

  She hands me a box of Magnums and I grin. “You’re the best girlfriend in the world.”

  She looks almost fearful when the words leave my mouth, and it makes me worried. Are we not on the same page here? After all this? Before I can ask, and before the uncertainty I’m feeling starts to deflate my dick, she kisses my lips and rolls us over so she’s on top, kneeling between my legs. “Put it on.”

  She almost growls the words and my dick gets harder. “Bossy.”

  I do what she demands and she leans over me, her hair dropping down around her, creating curtains on either side of our faces. Her gray eyes look dark, almost like charcoal, and her pink lips are pulled up a little in a devious smile. “I’m in charge tonight.”

  She reaches down and grabs my dick, firm and hard, and I fight the desire to buck up into her grip. Because she wants that. She wants to know I fucking love it when she’s bossy and that it turns me on when she tells me what to do. But my competitive nature won’t let me give her that satisfaction. So I make sure my ass stays flat against the mattress, even when she starts to stroke me.

  Her lips move back to my ear, her long hair blanketing my face. “I’m going to ride you until your eyes roll back in your pretty little head.”

  This girl. Fuck.

  Before I can unscramble my brain enough to give her a snarky answer, she’s sliding over my shaft and I am lost. Lost in the feel of her and the way she makes me feel. She’s got her head tipped back and her spine is slightly arched and her naked body is on display and I have never seen anything more spectacular in my whole life. This woman, her spirit, her body, her smart fucking mouth is it for me. I know this. And I suddenly need her to know it. I reach for her arm and I push up into her and try to tug her down. She resists. Her eyes flutter down to mine. “I’m in charge.”

  She lifts up, then rolls her hips, grinding down onto me, causing ripples of pleasure to shoot down my spine. Her hand, the one I tried to grab, slips over her taut stomach and then lower. She touches herself, fingers exploring and rubbing as she rides me, her breasts bouncing. I am so close to coming I see stars.

  I sit up and grab the back of her neck before she can stop me. I crush my mouth to hers. When we break apart her pace picks up. Her hand slides back to her clit and she lets out the most fantastic little moan as she starts to come and oh fuck…

  Panting, I drop back down on the mattress and watch the show. She’s coming. I can feel it, and I push up hard and let my own release take over, reaching up to pull her down on top of me. I run my hand through her silky hair and whisper, “You’re borrowing my car.”

  “What?” she murmurs back sleepily.

  “You’re going to use one of my cars until you get your own.”

  “No, thanks,” she replies, her voice less groggy.

  “I’m not offering. I’m telling.”

  “Excuse me?” There is zero sleepiness in her voice now.

  I may be ruining a moment, but oh well. I press my lips to her neck for a chaste kiss before giving her a snarky response. “You got to be bossy and now I do.”

  “I’m not taking your car.”

  “Then you’re moving.”

  “Are you kidding me right now?”

  The moment is definitely lost. I gently pull out of her and try not to groan my protest. As soon as we are no longer attached, she gets off the bed and starts to put her clothes back on. But I’m not having it. As she reaches for her underwear, I take them out of her hand and toss them across the room.

  “I didn’t sign on for this,” she rants and walks over to where her underwear landed by the bathroom door. “I don’t need another dad or anyone who thinks they can tell me what to do.”

  “And I don’t need a girlfriend who is too stubborn to be safe,” I reply and again take her underwear from her as she tries to pick them up. This time I toss them toward the living room, and when she glares at me I grin and wink.

  “Fuck off,” she hisses and storms past me. Giving up on the underwear, she tries to pull her T-shirt over her head. I hold onto the hem, making it impossible for her to lift her arms and pull it over her head. She tries to pull away. I step into her and push her against the wall next to her dresser. My naked body is pinning her now and the spark of rage in those gray eyes is like the flash of a lighthouse light—a bright, undeniable warning.

  “I am not some fucking puck bunny you need to support,” she protests in a low voice. “I don’t need you to take care of me.”

  “And I’m not some asshole who doesn’t give a shit about your well-being.”

  I yank the T-shirt from her arms and throw it over my shoulder and close the space left between us. My lips are a fraction of an inch from her smart mouth and I want to close that space too, but she would probably slap me. It’s not even that threat that stops me, though. It’s that I have too much that still needs to be said. “I care about you. More than I have about anyone in a long time. Maybe ever. And I’m not going to let you do risky stupid shit to prove some kind of point you don’t need to make.”

  Now I kiss her, because I’m more scared to see her reaction to that than I am of getting slapped. She responds to the kiss, which gives me courage. “You’ll borrow a fucking car or I’ll buy you a new one.” I swallow and give her the one last option that I can’t deny is a possibility. “Or you can end this thing between us. Those are your only options, Shay.”

  Now I pull back so I can see her reaction. Her jaw clenches. Her eyes narrow. And then she kisses me. It’s angry and hot and I know she hates herself for it, but she’s not picking that last option. I try not to smile against her lips but it’s so damn hard.

  Chapter 39

  Shayne

  “Oh my God, this thing is insane,” Audrey says, the whole sentence coming out like a gasp. Josh lets out a low whistle from the backseat, confirming he agrees with his girlfriend.

  I frown and Audrey openly laughs at me. “You are the only person in the universe who would be pissed at being given a luxury car.”

  “He didn’t give it to me,” I argue as I carefully turn into the gated VIP parking lot for the arena. “I’m borrowing it until I get a new one of my own. Which will be this weekend. I found a great deal on a used Sportage in Everett.”

  “You’re going to go from a BMW to a Kia? Willingly?” In the rearview mirror I watch Josh shake his head in disdain. “Shayne, you’re certifiable.”

  I ease into a spot at the far end of the parking lot, away from where most of the other cars are parked near the entrance. It’s safer that way, so that no one dings Sebastian’s car. When I begrudgingly agreed to his terms to borrow a car, I assumed it would be his SUV because there was no way he’d offer me the Aston Martin. But the next morning he’d driven me over to his place and opened the four-car garage that was a freestanding structure in an alley behind his house and offered me any car in there. Including the Aston Martin. I swear to God he is insane. I picked the BMW after a quick Google search that told me it was the least expensive of the four.

  I was a wreck driving it because I was constantly worried about scratches or dents. But I had to admit, it was an amazing vehicle. I’d never driven anything as state-of-the-art or as decadent. The leather seats felt like butter. They were heated and air-conditioned. It handled amazingly. I was in love. And I was beginning to think I wasn’t just in love with the car, which made me even more nervous than the thought of scratches on the Beemer.

  We all get out of the car and I hit the lock on the key fob. As we walk toward the entrance, Audrey and Josh chatter to each other excite
dly. It’s their first VIP game. I used to do this all the time as a kid, but this is the first one in a long time. And I definitely never thought I’d be doing it again. Audrey links her arm through mine. “I’m proud of you, Shaynie.”

  I glance up at her because she’s in some killer heels. “For…?”

  She smiles mischievously. “For finally doing something wrong.”

  “What are you talking about?” I pause a few feet from the door to dig the passes Sebastian gave me out of my purse.

  “Your one-night stand,” she explains and laughs. “It’s probably the only thing I’ve seen you, little miss perfectionist, screw up since we met. And I’m so glad you did.”

  Josh chuckles, and I can’t help but laugh a little at that too. Then I hear my name called from behind us in the lot and I turn and see my father striding toward us. He’s in a suit, and I suddenly have flashbacks to my youth. Only if he was playing, he certainly wouldn’t be talking to me before a game.

  “Dad. What are you doing here?”

  “I was asked to do an interview at intermission,” he explains. “Seems no one can get enough of my stories about the glory days.”

  Oh, you would be wrong about that, Dad.

  Of course I don’t argue out loud. Instead Audrey steps forward and reacquaints herself with my dad before introducing Josh, who fawns all over my father, telling him what a big fan he is. When their love fest is over, he turns back to me. “What are you doing here would be a better question.”

  “I…I got tickets from…”

  I’m not sure I want to finish my sentence, but before I can even try, my dad, as usual, doesn’t wait to hear what I have to say. “And why are you driving a BMW? I know you didn’t buy it, so who owns it?”

  He glances at Audrey and Josh, who both turn to me. Well, here goes nothing. “It’s my boyfriend’s.”

  Audrey grins wildly at my admission. My father looks flabbergasted. “You’re dating someone?”

  “Yeah.” I shrug. “I’m borrowing his car until I buy a new one, which should be this weekend.”