Filthy Forward : A Hero Club Novel

by Kelsey Cheyenne

  I’m shameless as I continue to rub myself against the wall of muscle known as Tatum’s quad. I’m halfway to where I want to be, balancing on the edge of bliss.

  I’m ready to climb him like a goddamn tree when the door to the gym opens. We break apart, our heavy breathing enough to give us away, but his erection is our nail in the coffin.

  A woman in a maid’s uniform flits her eyes back and forth between us, a frown full of disdain pulling at her lips.

  “We don’t do that here,” she tells us and holds the door open, urging us to leave.

  We grab our things and head back to our rooms. Like a gentleman, he walks me to my door and every needy fiber of my being is begging him to stay.

  “Goodnight, Bria,” he whispers in my ear before planting a kiss on my cheek. I reach out and grab his hand to stop him.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come in?”

  “I’m sure I want to, but I shouldn’t. I’ll see you in the morning.” He winks as he walks back to the elevator. Somehow, I don’t think my work out tired me out like I’d intended. Instead, I feel more amped up than ever, desperately needing release.

  There is a myriad of reasons why I’m not looking forward to going home today. For one, the car ride home will probably be awkward and full of tension.

  Also, now I know the truth about Tatum. I know his secret. When my friends start speculating or making comments, will I be able to lie? Will I be convincing? What if he and I are weird at practice? Will my friends be able to tell we made out? Can I lie to them? Obviously, I’m freaking out and need someone to talk to, but I can’t talk to anyone about it except, well, Tatum.

  There’s a knock on my hotel room door and I open it, seeing the hottest man to ever walk the face of the earth on the other side. God, he should not look this good. It’s not fair.

  “You ready to go?” I nod and grab my things, though he insists on carrying my bags downstairs for me.

  We make our way to the car and I hop in while he throws our bags in the back. I pull out my phone and text my friends to see if I’ve missed anything over the course of the weekend. It seems like another party came and went—no surprise there.

  We hit the road and Tatum pulls into the first gas station he sees to load up on his junk food. It’s like he’s planning for the apocalypse while we’re driving. It’s ridiculous.

  I wait in the car and his phone starts vibrating in the center console. He must’ve forgotten it without realizing. It stops ringing, but in the next second it starts up again. And again, as if the person calling is pressing redial over and over. I’m not one to pry, but it must be an emergency if the person is this incessant. I pick up the phone, but it says Unknown Number. I don’t want to answer it in case it’s a spam call or something. But I don’t want to ignore it if it’s something important.

  The phone starts vibrating again in my hand, but I’m in luck when I see Tatum walking out of the store. He climbs into the car and I thrust out my hand, giving him his phone.

  “I wasn’t prying. Someone called you like, seven times. I don’t know who it was or anything because it said Unknown Number and I didn’t answer it but it must be something important so…here.”

  His mouth pulls into an amused smirk as he takes the phone out of my hand. Apparently, my rambling is charming. Who knew?

  He puts the phone down and it doesn’t ring again, but my mind continues to wonder who it was and what they wanted. Do spam callers ever call multiple times in a row? Do people block their numbers anymore? Every moment spent with Tatum seems to be full of questions, and I don’t know if I can handle any more answers.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Bria

  While there were parts of this weekend I thoroughly enjoyed, there’s a part of me also glad to be back at school. I missed my friends, and they all but pounce on me the minute I walk through the door.

  I deposit my bags in my room and Morgan joins me, sitting cross-legged on her bed. Lindsay sits beside her and I fall back into the comfort of my twin bed. I do wish I could’ve brought the hotel bed with me.

  “How was your weekend?” Morgan asks. She’s overly-eager, making me think she suspects something more went on.

  “It was weird. You know, being home…you know how my mom is.” I shrug and they nod. I swallow over the lump of the lie, but they don’t seem to notice.

  Since my sperm donor died, my mom has been scared to let anyone in and she’s been insanely protective of me. Not that I blame her in the slightest. She’s been through a lot and I do need to get home soon to visit her for real.

  “What did I miss here?”

  “Sam was extra obnoxious with you gone. It’s like you died and made her Queen, which we all know wouldn’t happen because you’d appoint me,” Morgan says with a laugh. “Let’s see, I hooked up with Chris, Lindsay finally got with Nate—they’re kind of a thing now.”

  “Dude, I’m sitting right here,” Linds argues but blushes.

  “It’s about damn time that boy wised up,” I tell her.

  “What else, what else…” My best friend taps her finger on her lip as she searches her mind for more gossip. “Oh, I think Tatum was away this weekend too. There were reports all over these gossip sites saying he went to see his team play this weekend or something? Some people are saying he wasn’t alone.” She wiggles her brows while I try to maintain the plastic smile burning across my face.

  I’m wracking my brain, wondering if there were cameras in the suite. Did the game pan over to us at all? Could they? Why did I have to sit in front of the glass? Do they know something? Why else would they bring it up?

  “You should stop reading those gossip mags. They’re nothing but trash,” I say with a laugh and hope it’s at least half convincing.

  “I tell her that all the time,” Lindsay adds, though my roommate waves us off.

  My phone rings on my nightstand and I’m beyond grateful for the distraction. Morgan, being nosy as hell, has to see who’s calling me, and her brows furrow as she takes in the caller ID.

  “Why is your mom calling you? Weren’t you with her all weekend?”

  “I must’ve forgotten something.” I shrug and hit the little green button on my screen. “Hi, Mom.” The urge to leave the room is great as my friends scrutinize me.

  Though my friends think I spent the weekend at home, in reality, I haven’t had a chance to talk to my mom in a few weeks. She, of course, wants to catch up on every little detail right now, which is impossible since I’m being watched like a hawk.

  For the most part, I try to keep my answers short and sweet. The vaguer, the better in my opinion. But my mom is suspicious, considering I tend to be an open book with her. It’s the only way to keep her from panic spiraling and thinking something is wrong.

  Like she is now.

  “Sweetheart, are you okay? Is someone with you? Do you need help? Are you feeling unsafe? Is there anything I can do? Should I call campus authorities?”

  “Mom, take a breath and slow down. I’m fine, I’m just exhausted and I wasn’t expecting your call. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry. You know how I worry and you haven’t been home in ages. I miss you.”

  “I miss you too.” I risk a glance at my friends and their expressions match, full of confusion with their heads cocked. “Look, Mom, I have to go, but I promise to call you soon, okay?”

  We hang up and I lean back against my bed, but I don’t have a minute to relax before I’m pounced on.

  “Girl, I know you and your mom are close, but you were with her all weekend. Shouldn’t she be glad to be rid of you? Not calling you up within hours of you leaving?” Every word Morgan speaks is laced with suspicion. One eyebrow is raised and her lips are pursed like she’s already caught me in my lie. She has, but I refuse to admit it to her.

  “You know my mom and everything we’ve been through. She needed to make sure I got back safely. I’m her only kid and she’s alone in her house. I’d be worried if she didn’
t miss me.”

  Lindsay looks like she’s already moved on and couldn’t care less, but my best friend continues to doubt me.

  “Morgan, what is going on with you?”

  “I don’t know. You’ve been different lately and distant. I feel like I hardly know you anymore, like I never see you.”

  Training has consumed the majority of my time, as well as my secret rendezvous with my trainer.

  “Plan a day for us and I’ll be there. I promise. I’ll even leave my phone behind if that’ll shut you up.”

  I don’t like the way her eyes turn mischievous and her smile becomes devilish as she says, “Deal.”

  “You look like you’re sleeping out there. Get your head in the game or get off the goddamn field.”

  Tatum has spent the entire halftime break screaming at us. We’re down two-nothing against a team we should be obliterating. It’s embarrassing, but it’s my fault as well. I’m off my game and the team is feeling it.

  “Sorry, Coach,” we mutter in unison.

  He scoffs. “I don’t want apologies. I want to win. Get your asses back on the field and kick some ass.”

  Before jogging back onto the field, I take a large gulp of water and toss the bottle in my bag. Coach Trevino grabs my arm and with a slight tug, yanks me toward him. I protest, but it falls on deaf ears.

  “What the hell is going on with you? Is it this thing between us? Because if I’m the one making you play like shit, then whatever this is needs to stop. It’s embarrassing.”

  I rear back. I couldn’t be more shocked unless he actually slapped me across the face. He cannot be serious.

  “Don’t be so full of yourself. Not everything is about you. Sometimes we have off games and make bad plays. I’m not so obsessed with you I can’t think straight. Get your head out of your ass, Coach. It’s embarrassing.”

  I storm onto the field with steam pouring from my ears. The nerve of that guy. Am I not allowed to have one bad day? Goddamn, I want to smack the pissy look right off his face.

  The minute the whistle blows indicating the start of the second half, Tatum immediately starts yelling. How can any of us focus when all we can hear is him?

  I get possession of the ball and make my way down the field. For some reason, Coach has put Samantha as the other striker. She’s open and I’m about to be double-teamed.

  Much to my dismay, I pass her the ball, but she stands there like she doesn’t know how to use her legs.

  “Move to the ball! What are you doing?” I scream and she scoffs and not-so-subtly uses her middle finger to scratch her cheek to flip me off. Bitch.

  I run to drop back on defense, but it’s useless. The other team has scored yet another goal. At least this time, Paxton pulls Sam from the game. We kick off the ball at the whistle and despite our efforts, we lose. No, we don’t just lose, it’s a goddamn shutout.

  I hang my head as I walk off the field. Both coaches look pissed with red faces and blood pressure that is bound to be through the roof. Tatum looks like his head is ready to explode, but Paxton starts the lecture before he gets a chance.

  “Ladies, what happened out there should never have happened. You are all lightyears better than that team. If we want to make the finals and take this team to the championship, we need to do a lot better than what we did out there today. That was humiliating. Go wash up. I’ll see you at practice tomorrow.”

  Without another word, the coaches leave as the other team boards the bus. I lag behind, needing to talk to my hotshot coach before I leave. I’m still fuming because of what he said to me and I won’t take it lying down. He’s the one who brought it up, not me. Maybe he’s the one who is too focused on me, not the other way around.

  “You coming, Bri?” Morgan adjusts the strap of her bag over her shoulder as she stands over me. I push down my socks and pull out my shin guards before answering her.

  “You go ahead. I’m right behind ya.” Feigning like I want to stretch some more, she leaves. Once I’m the last person left, I head into the field house.

  The door is loud as it slams behind me and I’m glad. I want Tatum to hear me coming, to feel my wrath from down the hallway. I only hope Paxton is already gone. I don’t want to worry about him overhearing.

  I’m crazed as I step into the office and kick one of the chairs, causing it to scrape against the concrete floor with a groan. The sound makes my ears bleed, but I’m too pissed off to care.

  “I figured you’d come.”

  His cocksure smirk enrages me. Caramel eyes glare at me, a contrast to his grin. Either he’s a sociopath or plain psychotic.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “I’m not in the mood for this, Bria.”

  “You think I am? Do you think I enjoy sneaking around and staying late to fight with you?”

  “Sometimes, yes. I think you enjoy sneaking around.” If I weren’t so annoyed by him, I’d agree with him. But I won’t give him the satisfaction.

  “Screw you.” I open my mouth to continue yelling, but his phone vibrates on his desk. Unknown Number. Shocker. “Need to take that? They seem to be desperate to contact you.”

  “That’s none of your concern.”

  “Have you had a psychotic break? Who even are you right now? One second you’re pushing me up against the wall and sticking your tongue down my throat. Now you’re being a major dickwad.”

  He pushes out of his chair and comes around his desk to face me. He invades my space until we’re inches apart. My breathing quickens, both thanks to adrenaline and pure desire.

  “Is that what you prefer? You want me to cage you in, to push my body against yours, to feel your heart race with excitement.” I’m backed against the wall as promised. If I move six inches to my right I’d be halfway out the door. “Do you enjoy the thrill of getting caught, Bria? Because if you don’t lower your voice, Paxton will hear us. He’s right down the hall, you know.”

  He pushes away from me and leans against his desk, leaving me to slump against the cold wall. Bastard.

  “God, you’re infuriating. I didn’t come here for this.”

  “Then why did you come, Bria? I’m busy.”

  “Because the comment you made out there was out of line. Anyone could’ve heard or seen. Whatever is going on with you, leave me out of it. Leave us out of it. Not only are you pushing me away, but you’re being reckless while you’re at it.”

  His head falls and he releases a deep breath. I know he’s going through a lot. There’s a lot of weight on his shoulders and he’s in a constant state of anxiety, waiting for the truth about him to be released. I get it, but that doesn’t give him a free pass to be a jackass.

  “You’re right. I’m—”

  “Damn right, I’m right. Oh, sorry, please finish your sentence.”

  His smirk returns and this time it meets his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m taking my shit out on you and you don’t deserve it.”

  Fighting with him is kind of fun, but I would never admit that to him. “Thank you. Now chill out and shut up because you pissed me off today.” I sit in the chair across from him, glad our tiff is over.

  “I pissed you off? You’re the one who played like shit!” My mouth opens and he shrugs. “It’s true. I won’t sugarcoat it.”

  “Fine, but I told you I had an off day and it had nothing to do with you.”

  “Are you sure?” He takes a step toward me and his eyes narrow in on me, his target. Suddenly I’m prey and I wiggle in my seat, eager for his next move.

  With measured steps, he inches toward me. I’m rooted in my spot, my eyes never leaving his. When he reaches me, his hands grip the arms of my chair and once again I’m trapped.

  He leans down and presses a kiss to my lips. I’m acutely aware that the door is open, my coach is right down the hall, and any noise I make will echo in this concrete dungeon.

  Tatum doesn’t seem to have a care in the world as he grips the back of my neck, holding my head to his. Our kiss is one for
the books. It’s passionate and intoxicating. It’s full of sex and promise…and promise of sex.

  In the back of my mind, I swear I hear footsteps, but I know I’m simply being paranoid. Everyone is gone and the only person I can focus on is the one whose tongue is dancing against mine.

  The hunger radiating off of him has me whimpering. We can’t keep starting things when we have no intention of finishing them. After a few seconds pass, I hear the door to the outside slam. Tatum jumps away from me like his ass is on fine.

  One of two things just happened. Either the footsteps I heard were real and we’ve been caught or, and I’m hopeful for door number two, someone is about to walk through the door or past it.

  We wait a few beats to see if anyone comes, but no one does.

  Fuck. I know in my gut that someone saw us. Finding out who it was could make or break us.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Tatum

  My feet pound the pavement at the same rapid pace the thoughts I’m trying to outrun infiltrate my mind. I’m finding it’s an impossible feat.

  The last thing I need right now is to seem like a fucking predator. Someone caught me and Bria together, but they haven’t come forward. Yet.

  I swear, between this chick accusing me of assault, getting kicked off my team, falling for Bria, and now getting caught with her, I’m getting a goddamn ulcer.

  Falling for Bria. Shit. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but the thought snuck up on me before I could control it. I shake my head, willing the thought away. There are more important things to focus on than my growing feelings for Bria Campbell.

  Running has always been my escape from my own mind, but not today. Not with all the bullshit going on in my life, drowning me. I’m living in a constant state of anxiety, waiting for the hammer to swing down and take me out for good.

  I round the corner and make my way back up the hill to my house. As I near the entrance, I notice a car already sitting in my driveway. When I get closer, the visitor hops out of the car. I wasn’t expecting this today, but in some way, it’s a relief. I need to get this over with.