Deep Desire (Going Deep Book 4)

by Virna DePaul

  Deep Desire

  Going Deep Series Book 4

  Virna DePaul

  Contents

  Description

  More From Virna DePaul

  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

  Books by Virna

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Description

  Wide receiver Gabe Murphy took his team into the playoffs last season before suffering a shoulder injury that some say he will never recover from. After his former team dumps him and he gets picked up by the Savannah Bootleggers, Gabe is determined to play better than ever, only this time he’s not getting attached—not to his new city, his new team, or his beautiful new athletic trainer, Zoe Reynolds.

  Zoe’s newest client is carrying a chip as wide as his broad shoulders, but she sees the kindness and vulnerability hiding behind Gabe’s cocky grin and chiseled body. She’s going to train him, and help him move on. She just has to keep herself from falling in love with the stubborn man—hard to do when they end up living together.

  Soon, Gabe learns Zoe’s battling her own demons. Will he be able to let go of the past and open his heart again? And will Zoe cheer Gabe on to victory, both in football and in love?

  More From Virna DePaul

  BAD BOY DOCTORS SERIES

  KISS TALENT AGENCY SERIES

  HARD AS NAILS SERIES

  GOING DEEP SERIES

  BEDDING THE BACHELORS SERIES

  HOME TO GREEN VALLEY SERIES

  ROCK CANDY SERIES

  THE RED HOT COPS SERIES

  THE SPECIAL INVESTIGATIONS GROUP SERIES

  THE BELLADONNA AGENCY SERIES

  THE PARA-OPS PARANORMAL SERIES

  Nailing Studs

  Sext Addict

  His Royal Hotness (A Royally Hot Romance)

  Seal of A Lifetime

  Chapter 1

  Gabe Murphy wasn’t going to let a daytime temperature of over 100 or a few fifty-pound boxes get the best of him.

  Hoisting one box onto his shoulder, he heaved it off the moving truck and carried it into his new house. Luckily, his shoulder held up fine, despite everything it’d been through the last few months.

  As one of the NFL’s top wide receivers, Gabe had taken his former team, the Chicago Noise, to the playoffs last season. Without him, the Noise wouldn’t have gone as far as they had. And how had he been rewarded?

  He hadn’t.

  After he was hurt and became a free agent, the Noise didn’t renew his contract. Never mind all the amazing catches over the years, the MVP Award, or any of the media firestorm and praise for #44 Gabe Murphy. They’d tossed him away all because of one stinking shoulder tear. True, it was a severe tear and his performance hadn’t been up to par even after he’d been cleared to play—he’d missed several key passes in the final playoff games last season—but all he’d needed was a little more time to get his range of motion one hundred percent back.

  The whole situation reminded him of his grandfather’s favorite book, Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, when that one dolphin says, So long, and thanks for all the fish. Fish—that was all he’d been to the Noise. Now that his bucket was temporarily half-empty, he may as well have been chum.

  See ya, Gabe, don’t let the door hit you on the way out…

  Whatever—didn’t matter. He’d worked with a trainer and physical therapist all summer and he was almost to 100%. The Noise was part of his past now and Gabe had a new team: the Savannah Bootleggers. When the season opened, Gabe was going to prove that all the rehab and strength training he’d been doing had paid off. That he was just as good a player as he’d been before he’d torn his labrum.

  His shoulder had given him a minor setback. Nothing more, nothing less.

  He put down the box he was carrying, wiped his brow and headed to pick up another box outside, passing a tiny presence hovering in the doorway. Tiny, but deadly.

  “Whoa, that’s a million-dollar shoulder there, buddy,” his sister said, arms crossed over her chest. “You might want to slow your roll and let the movers finish their job.” Michelle, a.k.a. Murph, was five-foot-two and the bossiest sports agent in the business. She was also his sports agent.

  He breezed past her.

  “Seriously, Gabe,” Murph called. “You shouldn’t be putting unnecessary stress on it. Save it for your appointment with your new trainer this afternoon. Last thing we need is to cancel because of another injury.”

  He grabbed a heavy box of plates and silverware and strode by her again. “I’m not…”

  Even the word injury didn’t settle right with him. He was not injured. An injured player never recovered. An injured player did not return with a vengeance after a downfall to prove the critics wrong. Gabe was going to do all that and more.

  “I’m not going to hurt it again.”

  Gabe set the box down on the dining table, then lifted the hem of his shirt to wipe the slick sweat off his brow. It was middle of July, hot as balls, muggy as hell. Apparently they were in the middle of a heat wave, with no relief in sight. It’d only been two days since they arrived, and damn did he miss Chi-town already.

  “I’m just saying,” Murph said. “You don’t want to take unnecessary risks.”

  He waited until one of the movers left hearing range before responding to his sister. “Hey, I don’t need you telling me what I can and can’t lift,” Gabe said, harsher than he intended. He took a deep breath. “I know my limits, Murph.”

  Another mover followed the other guy carrying a big box, and he gave Gabe a wary glance. They probably looked like a married couple having a spat.

  “Okay, okay, just trying to help.” She threw her hands up and sauntered off toward the living room. “Big shot thinks he knows everything,” she mumbled to herself.

  “What’s that?”

  “I said, ‘You’re the best!’” she said, faux excitement dripping from her voice. “I love working for you…so…much…”

  Gabe shook his head. He loved his one and only sibling. They could argue ‘til the cows came home, but when it came down to it, they let conflict slide. After their parents died in a car accident when he was six and Murph was five, they were taken care of by their grandparents, Mimi and Pop, but he and Murph had learned to always lean on each other.

  Murph didn’t need shit from him any more than he needed it from her. After all, he wasn’t the only person displaced when the Noise turned its back on him. She’d had to leave Chi-town, too, and he felt guilty for having made her leave her friends behind. As his agent, she didn’t have to physically live in the same town that he did—but Murph had always gone wherever Gabe had gone. That’s the way it’d been their whole lives.

  “I know you’ve got my best interests at heart.” Gabe stepped up to her and held her by the shoulders. “I just don’t want to be treated like an invalid. Everybody’s turned this…setback…into such an issue. I might wish I was still with the Noise, that we were still in Chicago, but I’m making this year my bitch. Just watch.”

  “Gabe, you don’t have anything to prove.”

  “Yes. I do, Murph.” Maybe it w
as childish, but he wanted the Noise to know what they lost. He had a lot to prove—a lot.

  “Fine, I get it. It sucks the mighty one. But we’ll get through this, Gabe. Together.”

  “I know we will,” Gabe said and bent to give his sister a tight hug before pulling away. “What are you doing tonight?”

  “Are you asking me out?” Feigning a fan girl, she brought her hands to her chin in a cutesy pose. “Oh, my God. Gabe Murphy just asked me out. He is soooo fucking hot.” Her laugh was bubbly, and he loved her, but man, was she annoying.

  “Okay, one—that’s just weird.”

  “But true. How do you think I feel hearing that from my friends every day?” she scoffed.

  “And two, we’re gonna need a few cold ones after this move-in.”

  “I’m always up for a pint. First though, I have some errands to run and you have someone to meet.” Murph stepped over to the cluttered dining table, fishing around for something. “Somewhere on this table is the business card of your new trainer. Your appointment is at three-thirty, which is in an hour. If all goes well, you’ll officially begin training next week.”

  “Why wait?”

  She shrugged. “That’s what worked. But once you start, you’ll do five sessions a week for the next six weeks, minimum. You can extend from there if you’re happy with the results.”

  “Sounds good. I could use some structure. Get back into a routine.”

  “You’ll meet at Iron Maiden Gym just for today, the rest of the time you’ll meet here.” Iron Maiden. Iron, ‘cause of weights. Also, muscle. Clever.

  “Can’t we alternate between Iron Maiden and here?” Granted, the gym they’d had installed before they’d moved in was state of the art and he had yet to see Iron Maiden, but he liked to change up his routine.

  “Iron Maiden is fifteen minutes out from the stadium going the other way, so thirty minutes away from here. Why not save yourself the time when the trainer does house calls?”

  “There aren’t any trainers that are closer?”

  “None as good as this one, apparently.”

  “Who recommended this guy? One of your boyfriends?” Murph wasn’t just confident and assertive at work. She had a little black book the size of Texas, and didn’t have qualms about hooking up with a guy or two.

  Or three.

  At the same time.

  Gabe shook the disturbing image from his head then had a horrible thought. “Wait, are you dating this guy?”

  Murph rolled her eyes then grabbed her keys and headed for the door. “I got the trainer’s name from the Bootleggers assistant activities director. But why does it matter? You want the best, right?”

  Gabe nodded. Whoever he was, Gabe hoped he’d be tough as nails, make him work his ass off like his trainer in Chicago. “Right. Thanks, Murph.”

  “No problem. I’ll text you the address of a bar where we can have a drink later.”

  “See you then.”

  Gabe pulled up the directions to Iron Maiden on his Maps app and headed out. As he drove, his thoughts wandered to his goals for this year. Improve his shoulder’s range of motion, get stronger and faster in general, earn respect from fans, coaches, and opposing players alike, work his way back up to MVP status and hell yeah, every player’s dream—win the Super Bowl.

  He arrived at Iron Maiden, got out of the car, then yanked open the door and pushed himself into the air-conditioned two-story facility. It looked a little worn down, but the sounds of weights clanking, big guys grunting through their workouts, and music blasting through the speakers immediately brought Gabe a sense of comfort.

  Some people had spas. Some had yoga studios.

  Today, Gabe had Iron Maiden.

  Speaking of maiden, a drop-dead gorgeous woman spotted him through an office with glass walls, said something to a man standing next to her (probably his new trainer from the way they were both looking at him expectantly), and opened the door. She was about five-foot-seven with long brown glossy hair that swung so fucking cutely in her ponytail. She wore no make-up, and she didn’t need any.

  She had big green eyes, cheeks like small apples, and a heart-shaped face. Even the way she moved her perfectly fit body, which included small, firm breasts pressed together inside her sports bra and tank, was effortless. She was serving smooth curves and skin, and he was hungry. Clearly, she worked out, but there was nothing hardcore, cut, or overblown about her. He instantly dubbed her “Georgia Peach” because she was so damn luscious.

  Then came her smile.

  It lit up the whole room. Gabe found himself feeling like he was the only person in the entryway, like time had slowed down just so he could watch her move like an instant replay.

  He cleared his throat and gave the big guy, who’d stepped out of the glass room to join them, a hearty nod. The guy smiled but then walked away.

  “Hi,” the woman said, all breezy and bouncy. She extended her hand. “You must be Gabe.”

  For a split second, Gabe’s polite brain went AWOL. He imagined taking her hand, whipping her around, and pressing his hard cock up against her bouncy ass in those tight leggings. He imagined her naked and spread out for him. Hell, he imagined a lot of things, but he pasted a polite smile on his face even as his balls tightened painfully. She was gorgeous and he was seriously attracted to her, but he was here to focus. Sweat. Get his A-game back. Nothing could distract him.

  “I am.” He slipped his hand into hers, felt the warm, small delicateness of her hand in his. “I have an appointment here at 3:30?”

  “Yes. I’m Zoe Reynolds…” she said, shaking more sturdily than he’d expected. Her ponytail bounced with every ounce of energy she had. “…your trainer. Also, the owner of Iron Maiden. I know we’ll be meeting at your home gym, but since you’re here, I’ll show you around.” She tossed him another luminous smile before turning and giving him a royal view of her perfect round ass.

  Aww, so cute. It almost sounded like she said she was his…

  Wait…

  His trainer?

  The gym’s owner?

  Gabe pulled his tongue back into his mouth and swallowed all his preconceived notions about gyms and women and business owners and athletic trainers. Okay, so he was being an asshole, but he hadn’t had sex in months, and she was beyond gorgeous.

  How in the ever-loving world was he going to be able to concentrate on training and football now?

  Chapter 2

  Zoe had seen footage of Gabe Murphy playing ball—who hadn’t? The man was an animal on the field, and the fans gobbled up his intensity. Hell, Zoe gobbled up his onscreen intensity. She’d also seen him in a soap commercial where the camera focused on lather dripping down his chest onto his rippled abs right before it moved up to his face where his cheeks blended into a mischievous smile.

  No question he was a hottie.

  Still, something intangible hadn’t translated through the lens of the television cameras. Yes, that soap commercial had caught that handsome face, square jawline, and those firm, sculpted lips. But with him standing a foot away from her now, there was so much more to soak in. Longish, wavy hair that could’ve been called “brown” but was really more like deep caramel. Stormy blue eyes that seemed to pierce right through her. A few days stubble along his jawline. The full tribal tattoo that covered his left shoulder—his injured left shoulder—partially visible under his sleeveless tank.

  Feeling almost dizzy, her body responding to Gabe in a way she couldn’t remember responding to a man so quickly before, Zoe took in a slow, silent breath before speaking again.

  “Over here we have the free weights. That corner over there, the machines…” As she gave him the tour of the facility, the machines, weight racks, and such, she couldn’t help but feel dwarfed by his sheer size. He towered over her by at least nine inches. When they’d shaken hands a moment ago, his had engulfed hers in a strong, gentle grip that had sent a tingle straight up her arm.

  They stopped in front of the chest press where sh
e tried to focus on the pure steel of machines instead of her client. “So, there you have it. It’s not the Ritz, but it’s home. Any questions?”

  Gabe crossed his arms, which only accentuated the size of his biceps. She forced her eyes to his face. “Actually, yeah. I’m a little surprised,” he said.

  “By?”

  Raising his arm, he rubbed the back of neck, looking appropriately sheepish as he said, “Well, you’re a woman…”

  “I see…” Now it was her turn to cross her arms. “So you think, because I’m a woman, that I won’t be able to train you as well as a guy.”

  “No, that’s not it. I only meant that it’s a complication…you know what? Never mind.” He let out a massive sigh like he was the most misunderstood Neanderthal on the planet. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Zoe took a deep breath. She was certainly disappointed by his attitude, but it was nothing she hadn’t run across before. “Actually, I’d hate to start on an awkward foot. Why don’t you tell me what you meant because you do know I don’t have to be a man to know how to train one, right? Much like an OB-GYN doesn’t need to have a baby in order to deliver one.”