As I see it, I only have two options here. One, I can tell him the truth and deal with the consequences. The other option is to come up with another lie and pray the truth never comes out.
With a sigh, I run a hand through my hair. Paxton is a good man. I hope he still thinks I’m one as well once I tell him the truth.
Chapter Seventeen
Bria
I lace up my sneakers and jog in place, warming my muscles before the grueling torment they’re about to undergo. It’s ten after five and Tatum is loosening his back muscles and glancing between his watch and the parking lot.
“No one else is coming. Let’s get started.” Yesterday at practice, he invited the rest of the team to join us for training. Apparently, none of my teammates are jealous of his special attention anymore.
“What’s the plan, Coach?” He smirks every time I call him that.
“I already told you the plan. We’re running the cross-country track, doing drills, then suicides.” I groan.
“I didn’t think you were serious.”
“Do you think I talk just to hear the sound of my voice?” He deadpans.
“Sometimes, yes.” That, at least, elicits a smile.
“Let’s go, Campbell. Try to beat me.”
We run together, though he starts to pull ahead. I dig my heels in, pushing myself harder than ever before. On the plus side, being slightly behind allows me to ogle Tatum’s ass. The view alone is my motivation to not win.
I pump my arms until they hurt and catch up to the man who owns the fine ass I was staring at.
“Tired yet, Bri?”
“You wish.” The corner of his mouth tugs up and I almost trip because I’m too busy staring at his handsome profile.
“Staring at me won’t help you win.” My cheeks heat and I focus on the trail in front of me.
We cross the finish line and I walk to where I left my bag, digging through it only to realize I forgot my water bottle.
“Shit,” I murmur.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I forgot my water. I’m gonna run to my car. I have to have a spare bottle in there.”
“Have some of mine.” He holds out his Gatorade and I shake my head.
“No, it’s okay. I’ll be right back.”
“Bria, take the damn drink.” I comply and thank him, taking a long swig of the sweet beverage.
When I set the bottle down, he picks it back up and takes a drink. There’s something about knowing his mouth is wrapped around the same bottle mine just was.
“You looked good back there,” he tells me, effectively snapping me out of my daydream about his mouth and mine.
“You looked pretty damn good yourself.” I speak without thinking and my jaw drops at my boldness. “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“What did you mean?” He looks at me, his chestnut eyes staring into my soul. He raises one eyebrow, a cocky, confident look that could eviscerate even the sturdiest of panties.
I flick my ponytail over my shoulder and hold my head high. “I wouldn’t want to be inappropriate or make any more mistakes.”
He grits his teeth. “What I said to you the other day was the mistake.”
I inhale on a silent gasp.
We’re caught in a standoff. Our eyes are locked and saying all the things we can’t. Right now, I want to storm over to him, to bunch his shirt in my hands and lift onto my toes, plastering my mouth to his.
But I can’t. Because he’s my coach and despite what he’s saying to me now, his previous words still ring loud in my head. He thought I was a mistake once and I never want to feel as low and pathetic again as I did that day.
“We should, um, keep going. What’s next?”
For the rest of the morning, we focus on foot drills and we end with a few laps around the track. He doesn’t make me run suicides after all.
“Good work today,” he tells me as we pack up.
“Why did you say it?”
“Because you did a good job today?” The sentence comes out like a question and I shake my head.
“Not that. The uh…when you said what happened was a mistake. You obviously meant it if you said it.”
“You caught me at a bad time and I was lashing out. I didn’t mean it.” His tone tells me he’s sorry. Every word is laced with regret and his voice is apologetic. I want to believe him, but why should I? It was one kiss. One kiss does not a relationship make.
“Prove it,” I dare him. Actions speak louder than words and if he can manage to prove to he didn’t mean what he said, then I’ll trust him. Until then, I’m keeping my distance.
“What do you want me to do, Bria? Do you want me to kiss you again? Because I think you do, but you don’t want to admit it. I think you feel this thing between us as much as I do. I think I hurt you and now you’re afraid to want me. The thing is I can’t prove it to you unless I kiss you again. Once I do, it’s a waiting game to see if I lash out again. And Bria, when I kiss you again, I’m not going to be able to stop.”
Every word he’s said has brought him closer to me. He’s taken slow, measured steps until he stops right in front of me. I lift my chin to look into his eyes and see all of my emotions mirrored back at me.
“You’re still my coach. This still can’t happen.” The logical part of my brain speaks up and I want to strangle her. I don’t know why I’m fighting this, but the fear of getting hurt is somehow managing to outweigh my desire for him.
“So, we don’t tell anyone.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
“What changed your mind?” I’m staring at his lips willing them to come closer, to touch mine, but needing him to answer the question equally as bad.
“You.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It is, Bria. You’re captivating and all-consuming. Your spark and drive is unmatched. I’ve put you through hell for weeks and you’ve done it all. You’ve surpassed all of my expectations. There’s something about you. I’ve been drawn to you since the first practice and it’s more than your looks. But when we kissed, it’s like you branded me and now it’s all I think about. I was pissed off. I’m stuck in a messy situation, and I don’t want to bring you into it. But you’re here.” His pointer taps his temple. “And you’re not leaving and all I want to do is grab you and kiss the fuck out of you.”
And that’s exactly what he does.
I moan into his mouth. We’re both sticky and sweaty, but I don’t care. I grip his shirt in my fists and tug his body against mine. His left hand cradles my face while his right pulls on my ponytail, angling my head to where he wants it.
I open my mouth and his tongue invades mine. He tastes like coffee and I’m addicted in an instant. I want more than this. I want his mouth exploring every other area of my body, not giving a fuck that I just finished running miles upon miles and I desperately need a shower.
My hands release his shirt, exploring over the contours of his back. He’s so muscular and big compared to me. My hands come to a rest against the curve of his ass and I grab him like I’ve been fantasizing about.
I rub against him, trying to gain more friction, when I feel it. His cock is long and hard, pressed against my abdomen and begging for attention. I slide my hands around from his ass and manage to squeeze my hand between our bodies. I cup him through his shorts and a guttural groan pours out from his throat. It’s the most erotic sound I’ve ever heard and I want to hear it again.
I palm him, rubbing him through the shorts, giving me a certain level of friction he obviously enjoys.
He breaks the kiss. “Bria, if you don’t stop I’m going to come in my pants.”
Fuck. Hearing him say those words, to know how much I’m affecting him, arouses me to levels I never knew existed. I want to take him home and have my wicked way with him.
But I can’t because I live in the soccer house and asking him to take me home seems slutty and presumptuous. Not to ment
ion, I really do need to shower.
I look into his eyes and lick my lips.
“We should stop.” He nods. I garner all of my strength to step away from him since it’s the last thing I want to do. His eyes don’t leave my mouth and I bite down on my plump bottom lip. “I have to get ready for class.”
He nods again.
I grab my bag and back away. Once I turn to walk to my car, he calls my name. “One last thing.” He half-jogs to catch up to me.
In an instant, his mouth is back on mine and my bag slips down my shoulder, falling to the ground. We make out for what simultaneously feels like forever and yet is nowhere near long enough.
“I told you, once I started kissing you I wouldn’t be able to stop.” I chuckle and run a hand through my hair, flattening out the wisps. A sexy grin pulls at his lips after he plants one last gentle kiss on mine. “Remember the game I was telling you about up in San Francisco? It’s next weekend. Do you still want to come?”
I forgot about it and didn’t believe the invite was ever serious. “Do you want me to come?” Considering everything happening between us, it feels like a stupid question but one I needed to ask.
“I wouldn’t have invited you if I didn’t.”
“Then I’m in.”
“Were you going to bring any of your friends?” He’s reaching, looking for a particular answer
“No.”
“Good.”
My cheeks heat further and this time when I head to my car he doesn’t stop me. I don’t know the logistics of what next weekend will bring; are we flying there? Driving? Am I driving myself? Do I need to book a hotel room or is he booking one for me? Or, oh my God, does he think I’m going to stay with him? I can’t bunk in his room. Shit.
I make a mental note to ask him all of these things as soon as possible. But in the meantime, I’m going to count down the days until the game. One way or another I’m getting an uninterrupted weekend with Tatum.
Sexy-as-sin pro soccer player slash my coach, Tatum Trevino.
I shouldn’t want him and I shouldn’t be excited by the prospect of going away with him. I also can’t freak out about it or tell anyone.
Regardless, I am excited and I do want him, and next weekend can hurry the hell up already.
Chapter Eighteen
Tatum
The room is tense as I sit and stare at my friends sitting across from me. I spilled my guts out, told the entire ugly story from start to finish in hopes of getting legal advice. Or any advice at this rate. Or any words able to fill the air and break the unbearable tension threatening to swallow me whole.
“Are you going to say anything?”
Chance looks at his wife, waiting for her to say something. She’s the reason we’re here and why I finally spilled the beans about my suspension. She can give me an unbiased, outside opinion and with her background as an attorney, I’m hopeful she can offer some guidance.
Her lips are pursed, but she stays quiet as she studies me. Her green eyes scrutinize me and I feel the weight of her judgment. With a sigh, she sits back in her chair. Chance’s hand rubs circles on her back while Aubrey rubs her forehead with one hand.
“Could you make this situation any more difficult?” I rub a hand through my hair while I wait to see if she’ll continue. “I know Mitch is your friend or teammate or whatever, but I urge you to come forward with your side of the story. Mitch got himself into this situation. He didn’t have to cheat on his wife, but he chose to, and still chooses to, and he should deal with the repercussions. You didn’t choose this and now it’s affecting your life and career, your livelihood. It’s not fair to you to let this ruin your life.”
“That’s the thing. It’s my side. Will it even matter unless she recants her story? I’m fucked. Once the word gets out, it’s all over for me. Fuck.” No one will believe me over her. No one. And, yeah, when situations like these arise, I do think there should be investigations, but when you’re the one in it and it’s false, God it fucking sucks. “Even if I do come forward with Mitch, wouldn’t he be like, an unreliable witness or something since he was drunk? I mean we all were. Son of a bitch. How do we make her tell the truth?”
I’m rambling because I’m pissed. The thoughts are firing in my head in rapid succession and I’m not even sure they’re coherent. I’ve been pushed between a rock and a hard place and I keep searching for a soft spot, for something to give, just a little, but I keep coming up empty.
“First of all, you cannot make her tell the truth. Imagine the media field day if they discovered you tried to coerce your accuser. You’d look guiltier then Weinstein.” She makes a good point, but it’s not what I wanted to hear. “What does your lawyer say?”
“He tells me he’s handling it and to let it get swept under the rug. He and Murray have worked to keep it buried so far, but it’s not like anything has been settled.” I’m using the team’s attorney for now, but he doesn’t seem to be doing much of anything. Granted, I haven’t taken many of his calls, but they haven’t been helpful or full of good news anyway. “That’s why you’re here. It’s why I’m asking for your help.”
“What exactly do you want me to do?” Aubrey didn’t specialize or practice in cases like mine. I’m not asking her to represent me, but I could use her guidance, maybe her assistance.
“Tell me what to do. I can’t sit around anymore and let the season or my career pass me by. If I can’t talk to her…”
“Oh no. Don’t look at me like that.” I glance to Chance but he raises his hands, staying out of it.
When their son wakes up from his nap, he jumps up before Aubrey even has a chance to offer to get him. I look at her, pleading for help with my eyes.
“It’s unethical. It could push her to move forward with the charges, with a trial. Right now it’s what, a threat?” She runs her hands through her auburn locks in frustration. I understand the feeling. “If you settle, you’ll look guilty. If she goes public, she’ll ruin you.”
“She’s already ruining me.”
“Then what do you have to lose?”
In part, she makes a good point. I’ve already lost everything. If she goes public and I fight, I could win. But would I ever win? I would forever be tainted. No one would look at me the same or quite trust me again. I’d have the history, the label; the suspicion is damning enough.
“Everything. I could really lose everything. She’s taken it away from me now, but it’s temporary. I could still get it all back. If I pay her, she’d have to sign an NDA and if she went public after—”
“It would still ruin you. Even if it caused her legal repercussions, a retraction doesn’t do shit.”
“So, what do I do?”
“There has to be more to the story, right? She chose to target you because you’re a public figure with a lot of money. It couldn’t have been coincidental. I can’t believe someone could be so evil to ruin someone’s life for no reason.”
The silence weighs on the room. She’s contemplating her options, biting her lip and tilting her head back and forth like she’s seeing the situation from every angle. When she sighs heavily, I look up.
“Let me talk to her.”
I let out a breath and a smile pulls at my face, the first grin since I got here and told them everything. “Thank you.”
She smiles at me, but the emotion broadens once CJ enters the room, followed close behind by their weird pet goat. I’m grateful for this family, but man they’re a couple of weirdos.
My feet slap the pavement on the track as I try to run away from my thoughts and my demons. There’s one prevailing thought I can’t seem to shake: I shouldn’t have invited Bria to come to San Francisco with me.
If Paxton finds out, he’s going to freak. Since he now knows the truth about everything, he’s not entirely thrilled with my presence. There are times I still catch wariness in his gaze, but he talked to Coach Murray and understands the situation. The whole situation and the entire truth to back it up. He may be o
n my side, but he wouldn’t want me road-tripping with his team captain either.
With Bria, I’m putting myself in a position to do things I can’t take back. Things she and I definitely shouldn’t be doing together. Yet, once the idea populated, I couldn’t think of anything else; the invitation flew out of my mouth and now I can’t take it back.
I don’t want to take it back.
And I’m sure as shit glad she’s not bringing any of her friends.
My phone vibrates with a text and I’m shocked to see her name on it. Shocked but also glad, which scares me. How addicted I am to her; how I look for her at practice and her eyes always seem to find mine too. None of this is normal. I tried to fight it, this thing between us, but it’s so much bigger than her or me.
Bria: what’s the game plan for SF?
Tatum: Can you skip class on Friday?
The game isn’t until Saturday, but it’s a long drive and I want to get there and check into the hotel Friday night.
Bria: Sure, my profs are pretty lax already.
Tatum: If you can drive to my place around 2 we’ll leave from here.
I’d offer to pick her up, but the rest of the team doesn’t know about any of this and I know all too well how gossipy these girls are. They’ll start to talk and more rumors will spread. I don’t want to deal with any unnecessary drama and I can’t risk it.
Bria agrees and I send her my address. I’m used to being on the road, so the trip north is no big deal for me. I hope she doesn’t mind road trips or it’s going to be a hell of a drive.
The week passes as smooth as a razor blade trying to cut through gravel. I was eager for Friday and now the day is here and I can’t sit still. I have a few hours until Bria gets here and for a brief moment, my phone ringing distracts me. I hope she’s not canceling on me last minute.
Filthy Forward : A Hero Club Novel Page 10
