Play Hard: Bad Boy Sports Romance

by Abbi Hemp

  She broke away.

  “Good game today.”

  “Thanks. How did you do on your final? Did they post the grades yet?”

  “Passed,” she said, head held high and proud.

  “That’s my girl.”

  She kissed me again then said, “Uh oh.”

  “What?” I asked, following her gaze.

  When I turned around, I saw frat-fuck Derek walking toward us.

  “What the fuck does he want?” I mumbled, stepping forward and stretching my arms.

  “Hold up!” Derek said, raising his hands in the air, palms out. “I’m not here to cause trouble.”

  “Damn straight. What do you want?”

  “I came to apologize. After I heard what happened in the park, I felt bad about that night…”

  He stopped talking.

  “Go on,” I said. “What about that night?”

  “I was wrong, okay?” He turned to look at Haley. “I’m sorry, okay? So sorry.”

  He took a step toward her. I put out my arm, stopping him.

  “Watch it,” I said.

  Haley hopped down from the hood and walked over.

  “You want to make up for it?”

  He nodded.

  “Anything. I can give you money, or…”

  “I don’t want your money,” she said, cutting him off. “But I do want you to volunteer for at least a few hours at a battered woman’s shelter.”

  “I don’t usually…”

  “Hey,” she interrupted again. “You asked. That’s what I want. You probably won’t, so it doesn’t really matter. You’re just saying sorry to keep out of trouble. I didn’t report you to the police then, and I’m not going to do it now.”

  I placed my hand on the small of her back, so proud of her in that moment.

  “I’ll do it,” Derek said. “I promise.”

  “Good. Please leave now. I don’t ever want to see you again.”

  He turned and skedaddled away. I stepped in front of Haley and put my hands on her hips. Our eyes locked on each other. All the other people in the parking lot faded away.

  “I love you, Haley Harrison.”

  “I love you so much, James.”

  Our kiss lasted until the last car had left the parking lot over an hour later.

  FORTY-ONE

  James

  Three Years Later

  I pulled up to the two-story Colonial and parked on the street.

  “It’s a nice one,” Haley said. “They’ve sold it already, though.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, look at the sign.”

  She turned to me. I grinned, unable to keep the secret any longer.

  “What?” she asked suspiciously.

  I opened the center console and took out two keychains with two keys each.

  “You know who bought it?”

  “Yes. We did.”

  Her eyes widened as she squealed in delight, just the reaction I’d been after.

  “Let’s go inside and check it out.”

  “When did you do this?” she asked, opening the passenger door of my Camaro.

  “I started the process a month ago. After I knew what you wanted in a house, all I had to do was find one that matched. With all the studying you’re doing for grad-school, I figured I would take care of it for us.”

  I stopped beside her on the sidewalk in front of our new home.

  “When did you find the time?”

  “Between practice and when you got home every night. Took me two weeks to find the perfect place.”

  “Can we afford this?”

  “I wasn’t a first pick in the draft, but we got enough for a down payment on this place.” I put my arm around her waist. “Oh, and something else.”

  She turned her head.

  “Something else?”

  I nodded.

  “It’s in the garage.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “I did.”

  After getting the clicker out of my front pocket, I opened the door of the garage. Inside, a forest green Mercedes sat all bright, shiny and new.

  “James!”

  “That’s an odd name for a car, but okay,” I teased.

  She stepped in front of me and hugged tight while resting her head against my chest. I rubbed her back, loving to see her smile.

  “You work so hard going to school and chasing your DNP degree…”

  “I love you, James. So much. Can we go for a drive? Oh, wait. I want to see the house first. I feel like a little girl on Christmas morning.”

  “It’s not over yet,” I said seriously, reaching into my pocket again.

  She stared into my eyes, her face expressionless. I pulled out a velvet covered case and got down on one knee in front of her.

  “Haley, you’re the woman for me. You’ve been by my side since the beginning, not knowing if I would make it all the way to the pros or not. I love you with all my heart and soul. Would you do me the honor of marrying me?”

  “Yes!” she cried, pulling me up. “Yes, silly. So many times yes.”

  I took her hand and slipped the ring on. We had met a little over three years earlier, but I felt as if we had been together for a hundred years at least – in a good way – like we were two old people who had met and married right after high school.

  She kissed me. Neither of us cared who saw us in the exclusive, upscale neighborhood, but I led her to the front porch. After unlocking the door, I picked her up and carried her over the threshold as she giggled, overwhelmed by happiness.

  FORTY-TWO

  James

  Six Years After That

  Nine years after meeting Haley one night on campus, I found myself preparing mentally for my last play of my final Championship Game as a professional player. My six-year career as a pro had paid handsomely, but I wanted to retire before I got hurt seriously.

  I’d taken a few lumps over the years, even breaking a bone in my leg, but overall I had gotten lucky. Haley had saved me in so many ways, I credited her with my luck on the field. All I had to do was get through one more game, and I would be able to walk away.

  The crowd went wild, a sound I would miss after I retired. Working every day with Haley at the King Sports Medical Center would be even better as we both sailed gracefully into old age. After this last play, I would be able to start my new life even closer to her.

  We were already rich beyond our wildest dreams, but we enjoyed helping other athletes, even if they didn’t always have the money to pay for treatments. The defensive line settled down a few feet in front of me. I prepared to catch the ball and pass it to the end zone.

  Ironically, I found myself in exactly the same position as my last college game. We were down by three points and close to their end of the field. All I needed was one player to get open and to throw a ball to him while avoiding getting hit by the opposing team. Simple!

  I stared at Curtis, number fifty-seven, hoping he had it in him to hold the line and protect me long enough to get a good pass off. The only thing running through my mind was to not throw the ball too high again like I had back in college. You got this. Do it!

  “Hut, hut, hike!”

  The ball in my hands, I scanned the end zone, looking for anyone who was open. Nothing! Fuck! I moved back a step, hoping someone opened up. No one did. Someone broke past Curtis and came toward me. He whirled around and chased after the guy.

  Fuck this noise!

  Tucking the ball under my arm, I took off toward the end zone. The move surprised my teammates and theirs as I ran forward, zigging and zagging to avoid all attempts to tackle me. Somehow, I made it across the line and stopped.

  The fans went wild in the stands as I jumped up into the air and slammed the football into the ground. My teammates ran over and picked me up. I lifted my hands in the air. While the adoration felt satisfying, it was nothing compared to the birth of our children.

  John, two-years old, and Mary, three-years-old, were the loves of
my life. Everything Haley and I did was for them in one way or another. We had a good life, but I wanted something even better for them, the American dream. They were with a babysitter for the night.

  As they carried me across the field toward our locker room, the noise and chaos continued in the stands while my own mood settled down. I wanted to get my uniform off, shower, and meet Haley at the King Sports Medical Center. She was waiting there to show me my new office.

  Six years playing for a professional sports team had felt like at least twenty-years, but I wasn’t ready to retire for the rest of my life. Besides raising our children, Haley and I planned to run the most successful sports medicine center ever. It was a big goal, but together we would achieve it.

  Play hard or go home was still my motto.

  * * *

  On the top floor of the twelve-story modern marvel of architecture and technology, I followed Haley to my office. Up to that point in time, I hadn’t seen it, concentrating solely on my football career. Outside the glass windows that took up the entire outer wall, I saw the lights of the skyline in the distance.

  “I think you’ll like it,” she said.

  After nine plus years together, she knew me and I knew her. Together, we sailed through life effortlessly. The best part about switching careers was I had just turned thirty-years-old. Haley, two years younger, had many fine years ahead of her too. The world was ours.

  “Wow,” I said as we came to the corner office opposite hers. “That view.”

  “Right? We have the best views in the whole building.”

  I slid my arm around her waist, still loving the way she felt. We stood side by side, staring out the windows and admiring the view.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I asked.

  “You’re not too tired after the game?”

  “I’m less tired now than I will be when we’re back with the monsters, I mean our kids.”

  She smiled. The moon hung in the distant sky, doing its small part to help illuminate us as we embraced. I would never tire of removing her clothes and seeing her naked body, or feeling her soft, smooth skin press against mine.

  Time had been kind to both of us. Even wrinkled and old, she would be a perfect ten in my book. I looked forward to the many years we would share together, a team of two as one.

  Our lips met in a kiss at least as intense as our very first. We made love with the moon shining bright in the distant sky. She showed me her love, and I showed her mine. I had played hard, but I intended to love even harder.

  Big Jock

  ONE

  Andrea

  The thought of being late made me move faster as I desperately worked my way through the crowd of people. As a woman in the male-dominated sports department at the Denver Post, my days and nights consisted of trying to prove myself worthy. And that meant getting an interview with Tony Carlotti.

  When the news broke about him being suspended from the team for the rest of the season, the sports editor told me to check it out and get an interview because I was at the game already. He and the rest of the guys in my department all hated Tony. I think a lot of it had to do with their jealousy of him.

  I turned the last corner and headed down the concrete hallway to the locker room of the Denver Wings, the hottest football team in Colorado. Okay, they were the only major league football team in Colorado, but still, they were expected to go all the way to the championships, at least with their star Quarterback.

  The roar of the crowd in the stands faded as I walked down the ramp, deeper into the stadium. Tony had been ejected from the game, but no one had word on what punishment he would face for losing his temper and punching another player. If I got lucky, I would be able to interview him alone.

  As I got closer to the locker room, I wondered why other reporters weren’t already gathered around like vultures. Had they not seen what I had on the field? I reached a set of double doors at the bottom of the ramp. Never afraid, I opened one and peered inside the locker room. No one?

  “Hello?” I called out as I leaned in, my press badge dangling down from a lanyard.

  When no one answered, I cautiously went inside. The fact there were no security guards, police officers or anyone else around surprised me. The game was still going on, but Tony Carlotti was big news, especially after what happened on the field just half-an-hour earlier.

  Already known for his temper, Tony had lost it and attacked a teammate and someone on the other team.

  I crept forward, digital voice recorder in my hand. The other players were on the field, but I hoped to catch Tony before he took off for the day.

  I walked to the back of the locker room, the smell of sweat almost overpowering. Undeterred, I opened a wooden door and peeked my head in. My eyes immediately focused on the tall and beefy football hero as he stood underneath a shower and soaped up his body.

  While I should have shut the door and waited for him to come back, I was mesmerized by his naked body so fit and toned. Okay, I’ll be honest. The huge cock dangling between his legs scared and fascinated me at the same time. How can it be so BIG?

  He turned the water off and spun around before I had a chance to shut the door. Our eyes met. A wicked grin came over his face as he stared at me, not attempting to cover himself at all. I glanced down at his dick again. Horrified, I shut the door and took a few steps back.

  Did that just happen? So HUGE! I need to go.

  I rushed across the carpeted locker room, hoping to escape before he came out.

  “Hey,” he called just as I reached the double doors.

  Slowly, I turned around, half-hoping he had covered himself and half-hoping his incredible cock was still out. He had a towel wrapped around his waist, but I noticed a distinct bulge.

  “Can I help you?” he asked. “You’re not supposed to be in here.”

  “I’m with the media,” I said, trying to control my emotions.

  My knees wobbled a bit as he crossed the room, bit I tried to keep my cool.

  “Yeah, but you’re still not supposed to be in here.”

  He stopped about ten feet away from me.

  “I have a press pass,” I said, lifting my badge.

  “I can see that, but you’re still not supposed to be walking into the showers.”

  “I’m sorry. I was just looking for you to get a quote about what happened today.”

  “Who are you with?” he asked.

  “The Denver Post.”

  “A newspaper reporter?”

  He shook his head.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I was hoping you were television news or something.”

  “Nope. It’s just me.”

  I cursed myself as my gaze drifted lower on his body again.

  “My eyes are up here,” he said, chuckling.

  “Can you put some clothes on, please?”

  “Why? I’m not ashamed of my body. Don’t you like it?”

  He removed the towel and stood tall with his chest puffed out. I glanced down at that magnificent cock one more time. When I looked back up at his face, he smiled.

  “You like what you see? Do you want to touch it?”

  “No, I don’t want to touch it. Can you answer a few questions for me?”

  He took a deep breath, his face looking like he was considering giving me some answers. As he opened his mouth, the double doors opened. A crowd of players and journalists flowed into the locker room, not even noticing Tony standing there naked.

  People streamed around me as I berated myself in my mind for missing my chance. Tony wrapped the towel around his waist then turned and walked away as a few reporters with microphones and a camera guy behind them approached.

  I knew I wouldn’t be able to get anything with so many other people around, so I left. As I trudged back up the ramp to exit the stadium with everyone else, the image of his long, thick dick played itself over and over in my mind. Why had I been such a spaz?

  No answer came to me by the t
ime I made it to my car outside. With the traffic, it would take me at least an hour or more to get back to the newspaper offices. Scott Harrison, the sports editor, blew up my phone the entire trip, but I ignored him.

  He would demand an answer, but I wanted to have the discussion in the newsroom where there were witnesses. Every time he called me on the phone, he berated me endlessly, but our encounters in person were a bit tamer. I need all the help I could get.

  TWO

  Andrea

  The hustle and bustle of the newsroom made me feel better when I got back to work. One of the main reasons I’d become a journalist was the energy and excitement. With all my time spent with the diving team in college and all the sports I watched, the sports department had seemed like a perfect fit.

  As I got closer to Scott’s desk in one corner of the sprawling newsroom dedicated to the sports department, I remembered why I’d grown to hate my job so much. I’d only been at the newspaper a year, but it already felt like I’d been working for a decade or more at least.

  I saw Scott leaned back in his expensive leather chair, watching as two reporters tossed a football back and forth. When the pigskin almost hit my head, I stopped and put my hands on my waist.

  “Really?”

  “Hey, Andrea, what’s up?” Scott asked. “You get the quote.”

  “That’s what I want to talk to you about,” I said, stopping beside his desk.

  He put his hands behind his head and leaned back even further, acting like his rail thin body made all the women go wild.

  “You didn’t get the quote, did you?”

  “I tried, but it wasn’t possible.”

  “What did I tell you about trying, Andrea? You need to do or not do. That’s the only options.”

  “I know, but…”

  “No buts about it.”

  He raised his hands just in time to catch the football as it soared over his head.