Play Hard: Bad Boy Sports Romance

by Abbi Hemp

  “Careful,” he said with a grin, sweat pouring down his face.

  “That was so good.”

  I hugged him tightly, pressing my cheek against his chest. He made me feel so damn safe. I never wanted to let him go.

  He leaned back. I looked up and into his eyes.

  “I didn’t mean to get jealous, but I feel for you.”

  “You feel for me, huh?” I teased.

  “I’m not comfortable with my feelings. All I’m good at is playing football. I score points and work out for a living. All these emotions you make me feel…”

  His voice drifted off.

  “I love you too,” I said then stood on my toes to kiss his mouth.

  I felt his hands move to my ass cheeks, squeezing them as our tongues danced together. He didn’t need to say the words. The way he kissed told me everything I needed to know. Joy spread through my body, not going away with the afterglow.

  We slept together in my bed that night. It was the best rest I’d gotten in weeks, months, or maybe even years. Tony had his problems, but I found myself attracted to his sense of sportsmanship. Well, that and the way he made me feel when we were alone.

  EIGHTEEN

  Andrea

  The next day at work, with Tony still on my mind, Kenneth walked into the cafeteria. When I saw him coming over, I closed the lid of my laptop. Spending my lunch breaks writing my novel had been working well, and I didn’t want to jinx it by showing it to him or anyone else before it was ready.

  “Hey, Kenneth,” I said then smiled.

  “Hey, Andrea. I’ve got good news.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’ve found a publisher for your first novel.”

  “Get out of here,” I said.

  “After that guy came over last night, I went home and had an email from a publisher friend I know in New York.”

  I stood up.

  “What publisher?”

  “Well, I can’t say yet, but they’ve agreed to send you an advance for the book.”

  That doesn’t make any sense, I thought, but quickly pushed it aside as happiness hit me. I moved forward and hugged Kenneth.

  “Thank you so much.”

  “It’s nothing,” he said, his hands on my back.

  Why isn’t he pulling away? Did he just grab my ass?

  I pulled back and looked at his face. He had a familiar look on his face, but I disregarded it and his hands on my ass because the thought of becoming an author made me happy.

  “No more Scott,” I said.

  “Well, it’s not a huge advance,” he said quickly.

  “I know, but it’s a step in the right direction. Maybe in a year I’ll be able to quit this place and write full time.”

  “I’d hate to not have you working here. You make it easier to get through the day.”

  “Aww, you’re such a sweet friend.”

  I smiled and patted him on the arm briefly.

  Does he get what I’m trying to politely say?

  He frowned at the word friend. Before I asked if he understood, my phone rang. I pulled it out of my pocket and glanced at the screen. A photo of Tony stared back at me.

  “Hold on,” I said to Kenneth then answered and turned around.

  “Hey, baby,” Tony said. “You busy?”

  “Not really. What’s up?”

  “Can you come over tonight? I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

  “I’ve got some work to do.”

  “At the paper?”

  “No, something else I’m working on. I’ll tell you about it later tonight, okay?”

  “You’re coming over?”

  “You know I can’t resist you.”

  “Did I mention I’ve been working out all day?”

  “Mmm. You’re making me excited. That’s no fair.”

  “No fair?”

  “I’m at work.”

  “Go to the bathroom.”

  “What?” I exclaimed with shock. “No way.”

  He laughed.

  “You’ll have to wait then. What time do you get off work?”

  “I’m leaving early. Right now. I want to share this news with you.”

  “Sounds great,” he said.

  I turned and saw Kenneth still standing next to my table and laptop.

  “Great. I can’t stay long, but I said, but long enough to…”

  “Give me the news?”

  “Yeah,” I said with a slight giggle.

  Why the hell am I acting like a school girl?

  “Bye, Andrea.”

  “Bye, Tony.”

  I ended the call then skipped back over to Kenneth.

  “More good news?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I’m leaving early to go work on my novel. You’re sure this is real, right?”

  I stared into his eyes, wondering about the mind behind them.

  “Uh huh,” he said. “I’ll bring you the contract tomorrow. And a Money Order.”

  “A Money Order?”

  “Yeah, for the advance.”

  “They’re not paying by check?”

  “No. They’re a small publishing house.”

  “That makes no sense at all, but okay. I’m trusting you.”

  A weak smile slid onto his face.

  “Can’t wait to read the first draft,” he said.

  “I’ve not decided if I’m going to let you read it early yet or not.”

  “Well, I can’t wait to pass the manuscript over to the publishers.”

  “Thanks again, Kenneth. You’re the best.”

  I hugged him briefly, sure he understood we had a work friendship and nothing more. After grabbing my laptop, I left the building without going back to my desk. The last thing I wanted was to have Scott assign me a stupid story. If he called, I would tell him I was working on a further article on Tony.

  The truth was that I couldn’t get the football star off my mind. Our love making made my head spin and my teeth vibrate, but beyond all that there was something else. When we were together, I felt more powerful, as if he was feeding me some secret energy all the time.

  And I noticed something special in the way he looked into my eyes. Even as a writer, I found it difficult to put into words that gravitational pull between us, dragging us closer and closer together with each minute and moment we spent in proximity to each other.

  Simply put, I found myself hopeless falling for him.

  For better or worse, I wasn’t able to stop the process.

  NINETEEN

  Tony

  The game was about to start, so I sat down on the couch and waited for Andrea to come over. She didn’t know I had placed a half-million-dollar bet on the Mustangs to win, and I wasn’t sure if I should tell her about my occasional gambling. I could stop whenever I wanted.

  While I might have made a mistake inviting her over during the game, she might bring me good luck. If nothing else, I enjoyed having her around. Even when we weren’t fucking, she had a way of making life more enjoyable. Would our relationship last? I had no idea.

  Anchors on the television pre-game show talked amongst themselves. Most journalists and media people pissed me off because they sat on the sidelines and passed judgement on what I did on the field. Andrea was different in that she had competed before. She understood.

  I grabbed my water bottle and took a long drink. The doorbell rang as I set it back down on the coffee table. I stood and headed to the front door a few hundred feet away. She got here quick, I thought as I opened the door and smiled. Her flawless face defined perfection.

  “That was fast,” I said. “Come in.”

  “I told you I was leaving work early.”

  “No need to get snippy,” I said. “I’m about to watch tonight’s game.”

  “Where’s your entourage?”

  “They’ve not been around as much. It’s just you, me and the game tonight.”

  “I’m not in the mood to watch a game,” she said, pressing her body against
mine. “I need some loving.”

  “We can do that too, but I need to watch this first.”

  “Need to watch it, huh?”

  “Yeah. Come on.”

  I turned and walked back into the living room with the television broadcasting the game. It still hadn’t started, but I didn’t want to miss a single minute. I glanced over at her a moment then turned my attention back to the wall-mounted television.

  “There’s only two more quarters. You can go upstairs and start without me if you want.”

  “Are you fucking serious right now?” she asked.

  I turned and saw her eyebrows bent down and a frown on her face.

  Great, I thought as I sighed. An emotional breakdown. Not what I need right now!

  “Come on, baby. I thought you were coming over earlier when we talked.”

  “I went to get coffee and got inspired. After sitting down to write, I lost track of time. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I think I might be quitting the newspaper.”

  “Uh huh. Interesting,” I said, not even paying close attention.

  “Will you stop watching for a minute and talk to me?” she asked.

  I sighed again.

  “Look, I have a lot of money riding on this game.”

  “You gamble?” she asked.

  “Yeah, sometimes. It’s not a big deal. Well, usually. Tonight’s game is different. It’s my biggest wager yet.”

  “How big?” she asked.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “It’s my money.”

  “I’m just worried about you.”

  She put her hand on my arm. I turned to face her. We made eye contact.

  “I’m fine,” I said. “This game is a sure thing. Once I win, I’ll be relaxed, and we can do whatever you want. I’ll owe you one, okay?”

  “A sure thing? There’s no such thing.”

  “Not usually, but for people like me, they do come along. My guy online is always accurate. Well, mostly.”

  “Your guy online?”

  I watched as her frown deepened.

  “Look, it’s not your money, okay? I need this win.”

  “You need the win? I thought your signing bonus was huge.”

  “It was, but I spend a lot of money. This house isn’t cheap.”

  “Then why did you buy it?”

  “I’m just renting it,” I said, feeling stupid and upset.

  “You’re just renting? Are you serious?”

  “Yeah. The payments weren’t too bad at first, but I’ve had so many fines and my monthly expenses are high.”

  “You need to get rid of some of your so-called friends.”

  “Like you?” I snapped, wishing she would shut up so I could watch the game which was starting.

  “Excuse me?”

  She pulled her hand away.

  “You’re the one always bringing up my money. I’m just saying…”

  “I’ve never asked you for money or anything. In fact, Kenneth, my real friend, found a publisher that likes my idea for a romance novel about a sports journalist, and they’re going to publish it. I bet within a year I’m making more money than you.”

  Unable to help myself, I laughed.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Your publishing deal sounds fishy. What’s the company?”

  “I don’t know their name yet, but it’s real. I’ll be getting my advance check soon.”

  I shook my head, still grinning at her naivety.

  “What?” she asked, putting her hands on her hips. “Don’t you think I’m good enough of a writer?”

  “No, it’s not that at all. I bet Kenneth is just trying to impress you.”

  “Whatever,” she said. “I can’t believe you’re jealous of him.”

  “I’m not jealous of him. If you want a man like him, go for it.”

  “Who said I want a man like him?”

  “You’re the one who believes this little scheme of his.”

  “How do you know it’s a scheme?”

  “Well, how many romance novels have you written before?”

  “None,” she admitted.

  “Exactly. You really think a big publisher is going to take a chance on your first novel without seeing it.”

  “Whatever. You’re just jealous. Your career is almost over, and mine is just starting.”

  The announcers on the television announced the kickoff. I glanced over at the screen.

  “Watch your fucking game,” she said. “I’m leaving.”

  “Fine,” I said, wondering why she was being such a bitch. “Call me when you calm down.”

  “I might not call you at all,” she said, walking toward the front door.

  I sat down on the couch, staring at the television as the Mustangs defended against the Cheetahs. Both were impressive teams, but the guru online had said the Mustangs would come out ahead. With the outrageous odds, I stood to end up with three million dollars if they won.

  They have to win, I thought, my knee bouncing up and down as I watched the game. I vaguely remembered Andrea stopping over and getting upset, but I pushed thoughts of her aside. I’ll call her after I win, I reasoned. It made sense. Too much was on the line to fuck around.

  TWENTY

  Tony

  As the game neared the end, I realized the mistake I’d made. Placing a bet had seemed like a good idea at the time, but losing half-a-million dollars on one game was not wise in any way.

  My heart sank as the clock ran out on the game. Fuck. Why did I listen to some anonymous stranger online? The person on one of the sports forums I posted on occasionally had told me this bet was a sure thing, but it wasn’t turning out to be that at all. Fuck!

  I sat back on the couch, hoping for a miracle. My phone rang. It was Andrea. I didn’t answer it, turning my focus back to the game. Half-a-million wasn’t all the money I had in the bank, but it would be a huge hit if I lost it, especially since I’d racked up so many fines and penalties.

  “Fuck,” I said out loud.

  The phone stopped ringing as I sat back up, moving to the edge of the couch. My heart raced as if I was on the field myself as I watched what would likely be the final play. All the Mustangs needed to do was run out the clock. If they did, I lost a huge stack of cash.

  “Come on,” I said, rubbing my hands together.

  When the Mustangs intercepted the ball, I picked up the remote control and flung it across the room at the screen, breaking it. This made me even more upset. I stood up, blood boiling, looking for something to destroy. Instead of breaking anything else, I went to my private gym downstairs.

  I walked over to a punching bag and went to town without gloves, which was dumb, but I wasn’t thinking clearly. Whenever the anger took hold, my body became capable of marvelous feats. It was one of the reasons I did so well on the field, at least when I could control it.

  After the bag, I went to a pull-up bar. Maybe Coach would change his mind and let me play during the playoffs. I had to be ready for that possibility. He knew the team wouldn’t win without me playing.

  Why didn’t Andrea see the importance of my success? Her getting upset while fucking around with that Kenneth dick didn’t sit right with me. Not at all.

  Fuck her, I thought as I pulled myself up, straining with every inch. By the time I reached the top, I felt guilty for cursing her when she wasn’t around. Did she mean something to me or not? Usually exercise allowed me to clear my mind and get into the zone, but it wasn’t working.

  I let go of the bar and let myself fall to the floor. Still not satisfied, I got onto a treadmill and turned it on full speed. The faster I ran, the more blank my mind became. All my problems were washed away as I sweated and concentrated on keeping up with the machine.

  Half-an-hour later, I turned it off, almost collapsing out of exhaustion. My heart racing, I headed to a small refrigerator and got out a cool water. After taking a few big gulps, I walked around the huge room, trying to come down from the exerci
se-high.

  All the while, thoughts of Andrea returned. I walked over to a shelf and glanced at my phone. Zero calls and messages. My life had been going fine before she came into it. I would be able to get back to that without her. I didn’t need any woman, let alone her.

  The adrenaline and endorphin rush gradually faded as I showered all the sweat from my body in the walk-in shower connected to the basement gym. As the cool water ran over my body, I stared at my feet. Even they reminded me of her.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  I had no answers for my questions. After drying off and wrapping a towel around my waist, I turned my phone off and headed upstairs to sleep. In the morning, I would get up and plan my next move. If they didn’t want me playing football, maybe I could get a job on television. I had the right look.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Andrea

  When Tony didn’t answer my calls for whatever reason, I took my laptop into the kitchen. Sitting at the table, I wrote as if my life depended on it. As I reached a sex scene, I slowed down, unsure if I would be able to pull it off without the words sounding flat and mechanical.

  I closed my eyes and thought of Tony, his powerful body and that massive cock. The memories of the orgasms he’d given me all rushed back to me at once. I became conscious of the way my nipples brushed against the fabric of my tight, green tee-shirt.

  A tingling ran from my breasts to between my legs as images and thoughts of a sexual nature assaulted my senses via memory. The mere mention of Tony and his prowess at making love made me wet. I remembered the way he penetrated me, so hard and skillful.

  Ready to begin, I opened my eyes and positioned my fingers over the keyboard. Words flowed as the scene trapped in my head made it to the page. I described his flat, chiseled stomach with abs straight out of a magazine. My heroine made love to my ideal image of a man.

  With each word, desires grew, heightened in intensity. The rest of the world faded away as my fingers flew over the keys, creating a scene one sentence after another. As a first draft, I didn’t stop to think or wonder about the grammar or anything else.