“I’m so sorry, Tatum.” I reach across the table and hold his hand. He shrugs and a sad smile pulls at the corner of his mouth.
“What about you? How did you start playing?” He slides his hand from under mine to cut a piece of his steak.
“Almost the same. My mom wanted to get me out of the house too, but…it was to get me away from my dad.” Even saying the words, talking about my dad, causes bile to rise in my throat. My anxiety skyrockets and I take a sip of my drink to re-center myself.
He looks at me with furrowed brows and a frown. “Putting it lightly, I would say my dad was very controlling. He hit the booze hard, but hit me and my mom harder.”
I try to use a tone of joking to cover up my pain, but when I glance up, I nearly break. Tatum’s jaw is locked and his fists are wrapped so tightly around his utensils I’m afraid he’s somehow going to bend the metal.
“So, yeah, my mom wanted me out of the house as often as possible. I’d go to camp in the summer to stay away. I played the sport year-round and got a full ride to school.” I shrug as if my sperm-donor wasn’t the scum of the earth and didn’t break me over and over again. He’s affected every aspect of my life and I’m glad he’s gone.
“Bria,” my name is a breath of sadness and pity on his lips.
“Don’t. It’s okay now. He’s dead and he can’t hurt me anymore. I’m stronger now because of him and I don’t take shit from anyone.”
“I could’ve told you that.”
I smirk at his response.
We eat in quiet for a while. I’m sure the things I told him are swirling around his head because every time he looks up at me, he has a sadness in his eyes that wasn’t there before. This is why I hate to tell people about my dad because it changes everything.
“What about your mom?” he asks after a while.
“She’s great, truly. Her only regret is not getting us both out of the house and away from him, but I believe he would’ve found us anywhere we went. She protected me as much as she could and I don’t hold any of it against her. Once you’re in an abusive relationship…I know how hard it is to get out. For a very long time, I still loved him, you know? He was my dad. I felt obligated to love him and wanted to feel it back. But I don’t owe him anything. I don’t owe anyone anything.” I take a sip of the drink and ask for another as our waitress walks by.
“When I used to play, I would think about him because he was the whole reason I got into the sport, you know? I was trying to escape him and the thing I loved only reminded me of him. Not anymore. I play for me and for my mom, to prove to her that none of what she did for me was in vain. All the money and the practices she put into it…I didn’t want it all to go to waste.” My cheeks heat at the emotional monologue I unloaded onto him.
“I’m sorry you went through that. You are so strong and beautiful and talented. I’m sure your mom is very proud of you. I know I am.”
“Thank you. But don’t ever look at me with pity in your eyes again,” I joke, pointing my fork at him in faux-threat.
“I was never looking at you with pity, Bria. Maybe pride and a whole lot of lust, but never pity.”
Chapter Twenty
Bria
Lust. He was looking at me with eyes full of lust. I snap my gaze to his, and there, I see it. His pupils are dilated, making his brown eyes appear black. The corner of his mouth pulls into a cocky smirk as he watches me take him in. I suck in a sharp breath and he heard me, causing his smile to spread wider.
I don’t know where we go from here. I mean, I know where, because we have to go back upstairs to our rooms. Our hotel rooms where no one is here to spy on us or catch us or stop us from doing a myriad of things we definitely shouldn’t be doing.
And God, the things I want to do to him.
“How was everything?” the waitress asks us and Tatum’s eyes never leave mine.
“We’ll take the check.” She scurries away. I’m sure she knows exactly where our heads are. Tatum’s voice was gravelly and his eyes are devouring me the same way he devoured his steak.
I finish the rest of my drink and half of me wishes I had another, but the other part of me is glad I’m not drunk. I wouldn’t want booze influencing any of Tatum’s or my decisions tonight.
He bills the dinner to his room and leads me back to the elevators, his palm burning a hole through my lower back. I’m glad we’re not the only people in the elevator or I’d probably jump his bones without a second thought.
Despite the four other people in the car with us, the air is still charged with electric possibility. My mind is focused on the small circles Tatum’s thumb is rubbing on my back. Either my lower back has a direct nerve to my groin or it’s a side effect of having a super-hot coach touching me.
The doors open on the tenth floor and I step around the other people to exit with Tatum right behind me. We turn right out of the elevator and head down the hall to my room. I open my clutch and pull out the white key card as we approach my door.
My hands are shaking as I insert the key into the slot and open the door. Without a word, Tatum follows me right inside. I toss my purse on top of my suitcase which is lying on the floor by the bed and turn. I’m unable to get a word out before he’s on me.
In a sense, it’s a blessing. I don’t have time to over think or to make stupid small talk when we all know where this night is going. Instead, I focus on the man in front of me.
He kisses me with purpose and devotion. One hand is wrapped in my hair while the other clutches my hip. He backs me up against the wall and kisses me with a passion I’ve never felt before in my entire life.
My mouth is as eager as his. I use my tongue to taste him and explore him. A moan spills from the back of my throat as I devour his mouth.
God, he’s an amazing kisser.
I feel myself dripping into my panties and I need friction to release the built up tension inside of me. Our bodies are pressed tight together and with my back also against the wall, I’m unable to move. My hands roam over the contours of his back and under his shirt, feeling how his muscles flex when I touch him.
His dick is long and hard, pressed against the zipper of his jeans, desperate for escape. I hike one leg up, using the angle to rub his cock against my aching pussy. My damp panties stick to my skin and as I rub against Tatum, they supply just the right touch of resistance.
His hands travel down to my ass and he lifts me up. On cue, I wrap my legs around his waist and he keeps me pinned against the wall. Except now, I can’t rub against him. Luckily, he takes over.
He thrusts into me through our clothes. The tip of his penis hits my clit every time, sending a jolt down my spine and inching me closer to where I want to be.
The only thing I need to make this better would be for us to take off our clothes.
His mouth leaves mine, moving down to explore my neck and my exposed shoulder thanks to my shirt. A trail of wet kisses is left behind everywhere he touches and soft nips give me the perfect combination of pleasure and pain.
My head falls back against the wall as my moan fills the room. This is the most erotic moment of my life. Tatum is sex on a stick and the way he’s kissing me, how he’s gripping my ass in his hands, the way his cock rubs against me in just the right way, has me teetering on the edge. I’m afraid this is a vivid sex dream and if it is, I don’t ever want to wake up.
“We should move this to the bed,” I whisper in his ear while he sucks on my neck.
He carries me to the mattress and lays me down, hovering over me. I push up his shirt until he gets the hint and takes it off. I watch his muscles move as he tosses it to the floor. My fingers reach out almost on their own volition, tracing over his pecs and abs. I’m mesmerized watching them flex with my touch.
When I hit the waistband of his jeans, his mouth attacks mine once more. He groans into my mouth as his knee pushes mine to the side. He fits between my thighs like it’s where he was born to be.
I whimper as he starts dry-h
umping me. I’m so wet he can probably see a stain through my jeans.
My hands trail up his body and around his neck until my fingers intertwine in his obsidian locks. I tug on the strands and it sets him off.
He’s aggressive with his kisses. Our mouths collide, teeth clashing, as he bites my lip and tongue. Nothing he does is close enough. He uses one arm to support himself and the other is exploring my side. His hand rests at my hip, the tips of his fingers finding a home under the waistband of my jeans near the top of my ass.
He breaks the kiss and moves back to my neck, peppering soft kisses on the sensitive skin. When he comes up for air, we stare at one another. His hair is wild from my fingers combing through it and tugging on the ends. He’s a wet dream come to life and I want to move this up a notch.
I sit up and he moves to give me space. Reaching for the bottom of my shirt, I slowly lift the fabric, maintaining eye contact and watching his chocolate eyes widen.
“Bria,” he starts and places a hand over mine, stopping me. My face falls and he shakes his head. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I want you so bad my cock is throbbing. It’s painful and I’m ready to explode in my goddamn pants. But I have no intention of fucking you tonight, despite how badly I want to.”
“Wh—why?” I feel like a slut asking him why he doesn’t want to sleep with me, but I’m a woman with self-esteem and I need answers before I start thinking the worst.
He lifts my hand and places my palm over the crotch of his pants, over his erection. “Feel that? That’s what you do to me. If I didn’t want to fuck you, my dick would not be hard and none of this would’ve happened. I didn’t even plan for this to happen, but then I opened the door and you looked fucking incredible and smelled so sweet—I had to have a taste.” He leans in, pressing his lips to mine and I melt at the contact.
“You’ve already caved on this; why not go a little further?” I say before kissing his neck.
He groans. “You’re the devil.” He pushes off the bed to retrieve his shirt. I decide to play a little dirtier, praying it works to my benefit.
“But if you leave I’m going to have to take care of myself anyway. It’d be much more fun if you helped me.” I twirl a lock of my hair around my pointer finger and bite my lip in hopes I look seductive.
“Bria, if I touch you, I’m not leaving here without getting inside of you and I don’t have a condom.”
“That’s fine.” My heart is racing and he drops his head back. I hope I’ve defeated him and he’s caving to my whims.
“Fuck.” He drags a hand through his hair and glances at me one last time before shaking his head. “Goodnight, Bria.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Tatum
“Fuck, yes. Bria. Goddammit.”
I moan and brace a hand on the shower wall as I come to the thoughts of Bria Campbell. The little vixen is a temptress and it was all but impossible to walk away from her.
Damn, what I would’ve given to sleep with her tonight.
I know with every fiber of my being that I should not kiss her again or even put myself in the position where kissing her would even be a possibility. But I also know there’s no way in hell I can stop myself. The mere thought of her gets me riled up and wanting to do unspeakable things to her tight little body.
Once the shower runs cold and all evidence of my orgasm is down the drain, I shut off the water and climb out. Tomorrow will be a test for us. While we can’t let my teammates know anything is happening between us, I also want her to impress them. How ass backwards is that?
I throw on a pair of fresh briefs before climbing into bed. My mind won’t shut down. It’s too busy replaying the Bria Campbell show, focusing on her moans, her round ass, her flat abs. If I don’t stop I’m going to get hard all over again.
I grab the remote from the nightstand to try and clear my mind. Flipping through the channels, I attempt to focus on Sports Center. Nothing to kill my libido like a bunch of big sweaty dudes playing sports.
ESPN must do the trick because next thing I know, I’m getting woken up by my phone ringing. Blindly groping the bedside table, I find my phone and see who the hell is calling me. Bria. As if I didn’t already have morning wood.
“Hello?”
“I’m hungry.”
“Good morning to you too.”
“Are you dressed yet? I want to eat before we head to the game.”
“Bria, the game isn’t until 4:30.” I glance at the clock which reads 9:30. Damn. I didn’t think I’d sleep so late.
“Well, I’m full of energy. I’m going for a run then getting breakfast. Join me if you can drag yourself out of bed.”
I agree to go for the run with her and when we get back it’s after noon. We shower and get dressed, opting to grab lunch in the downstairs restaurant before heading to the game.
The luxury suites open early to anyone with access and it’s where a lot of people eat and network before the games. A lot of big name people in business have club seats and luxury suites as do celebrities and, of course, the players themselves have their own suites.
Since this isn’t my home field, I don’t know if Murray had to pull any strings to get me and Bria a spot in the box. Not every stadium has team boxes for the visiting team and I can’t remember if San Francisco’s stadium does.
I call my Coach knowing it’s a risk and he might not answer this close to game time. It rings four times and right as I’m ready to hang up, he answers. “Hey, Trevino, I was about to text you. Your e-tickets for the game should be coming through your inbox now.”
“Thanks. Does this stadium have a team suite?”
“Yes. The ticket will get you free parking in the family and players’ lot too. Once you get inside, the elevator will take you up to the suite. Let me know if there’s anything else you need.”
“We’ll be fine. Thanks, Coach.” We hang up and I tell Bria the plan as we head out.
If I weren’t playing soccer, I’d want to spend every game watching from up here. The luxury suites have anything and everything you can imagine or ever want. I almost wish I could live here full time.
Once the game starts, I’m pressed up against the glass for almost the entirety of the game. I’m sure some of the patrons are getting pissed, but my situation is unique compared to theirs. Plus, they all know who I am and don’t mind my intrusion.
On the downside, they all know who I am and are wondering what the hell I’m doing up here yelling at my team instead of down there playing with them.
As luck would have it, the truth hasn’t come out yet. But it seems like I’m constantly holding my breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop and for everything to come crashing down around me.
“It’s halftime. Maybe you can sit down now?” Bria’s cheeks are flushed and her head is slumped down as if she doesn’t want to be seen with me. She’s embarrassed by me. I almost want to laugh.
“Do you want me to sit next to you or should I go in the back where no one will see us together?”
“That would be preferred.” She smirks and I know she’s joking. Little brat.
Once the second half starts, I resume my place against the glass, yelling at how my team is fucking everything up. If they keep playing this poorly, they won’t even make it into the playoffs.
By the skin of their teeth, they manage to make another goal, pulling out the victory. I would bet Murray is as red-faced and pissed off as I am.
I collapse in the chair beside Bria while we wait for the rest of the team’s families to exit the room before we head out. We hang back, not seeing a point in trying to fight to get out the door.
Bria leans into me, her fingers caressing my forearm where my vein is prominent thanks to my high blood pressure over the last ninety minutes.
“You know,” she whispers, “you’re pretty hot when you’re pissed.”
“You must think I’m always hot then, since you’re usually the one pissing me off.” She smacks my arm and I laugh. “Come on. Le
t’s go meet the team.” I pray she doesn’t hear the weight in my voice.
I offer her my hand and she eyes it before taking it. We walk out of the suite and through the tunnels back to the car. She marvels at the stadium, all the suites and the secrecy and protection used to get there.
For a minute, I imagine her in the wives’ suite watching me play with the rest of the team’s family members. But that would involve her and I being together publicly as a couple and me being allowed to play again. I’m not even sure which one is more likely to happen at this point.
The drive to the restaurant is short. Despite there being food at the game, neither Bria or I ate much, knowing we were coming to dinner with the rest of the team afterwards.
I’m jittery for her to meet the team. My left leg hasn’t stopped bouncing the entire drive here. More than that, I’m nervous to face the guys again. I haven’t seen most of them since I got honorably discharged like I’m in the military or something.
I’m not surprised we’re here before the rest of the team, considering they have to go over the game with Coach and some of them meet up with their families first. The first person to show up is Murray; he’s rigid when he sees me, which is not a good sign. He gives me a nearly imperceptible shake of his head and my nerves start running wild.
“Tatum, it’s good to see you.” He gives me the standard half handshake, half hug before turning to Bria.
“Coach, this is Bria Campbell. She’s the captain of the soccer team I’m helping to coach at Palm Valley University. Bria, this is my coach, Frank Murray.”
“It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard great things about you,” Bria tells him with a smile and he returns the gesture.
Filthy Forward : A Hero Club Novel Page 12
