All In: Playing to Win (Gambling With Love Book 5)

by Hart, Lane

  There's a series of large canvases containing football players caught by the camera at exactly the perfect moment. One is a Colt's wide receiver leaping up in the air to catch an impossible pass. Another is a Falcon's running back diving headfirst for a touchdown. There's also one with a Bengal's tight end at the exact moment he hurdles clear over a defensive lineman. And then my eyes reach the center photo and all the others disappear.

  It's a little larger canvas than the rest suggesting it’s her favorite, and I can see why since it's the most powerful one.

  It's a big football player holding onto a tiny cheerleader like his life depends on it. The cheerleader's legs are wrapped tightly around his waist, her arms looped around his neck, climbing him like she can't seem to get close enough.

  It's a photo of us.

  I look down at Natalie who’s wearing the same outfit as she was in the photo. Her face is pressed against my chest, and luckily she's still practically unconscious. I turn off the light and ease out of the room, unable to handle the emotion threatening to suffocate me after seeing...hell, it feels like I just trespassed into Natalie's heart.

  I try to shake off the compelling image and all the questions it causes when I finally find her bedroom. There’s a sharp, agonizing sting in my chest that I just want to go the fuck away. I don’t need more guilt or worry to add to my already massive heap. I don’t like knowing that I’ll likely end up hurting Natalie more than I even realized.

  Shutting out those unfamiliar and unwanted emotions, I snap myself back to her room. Her queen-sized bed is perfectly made, not a wrinkle in the white comforter that holds a big plush, blue and black wildcat in the center of the pillows. The one I sent to her in the gift basket. It’s nice to know she'd at least kept some damn thing from me.

  Toeing off my shoes, I lay Natalie down and then climb up to stretch out beside her.

  With her eyes closed, cheeks flushed and a small but satisfied smile on her face, she is absolutely gorgeous. A few minutes later she starts blinking her bright green eyes open before covering them quickly with her arm.

  "Oh God," she mutters.

  "What?" I ask, lifting her arm so I can see her face.

  "You wore me out," she admits, making me smile. "I need more cardio."

  "No you don't, but I'm all in for doing this more often to help build your stamina. Anytime you want," I tell her and she gives me a smile. "You know, I was sleepwalking until you opened the door in this outfit. Now I'm wide awake."

  "I was wide awake until I answered the door. Now I'm exhausted."

  "We can hang out here in your bed until whenever you're ready," I assure her.

  "Give me a few more minutes and I'll be good to go. Well, after I change."

  "Aw. You mean you're not going to wear the uniform with no panties to the park?"

  She giggles sweetly. "No, only you get to see me this way."

  I brush a few loose strands of her hair that has fallen from her ponytail, behind her ear. "You look just like you did on the field that day - a sweet, sexy little knockout."

  "You're definitely bigger. You bulked up in the pros," she says as she runs a hand down my t-shirt covered bicep.

  "Had to. I'm playing with the big boys now, and they hit a helluva lot harder than the college guys."

  "I worry about you. Don't get hurt. Alex Marshall sucks."

  "Oh really? So you don’t think he could take my job?" I smirk.

  "No. I was just sort of mad at you for being late."

  "You're a ballbuster. I really am sorry about that. In my defense, it had been a horrible morning. The owner had words with me and Jake, and threatened to end our careers."

  "What?" she exclaims and I realize I've said too much.

  "It was a stupid misunderstanding, and it's all worked out now." Because of you, I leave off. "I was just so pissed after the meeting that I had burn off the anger before I bit someone's head off."

  "Then I bit your head off for being late," she says.

  "I deserved it. And you calling me out and not putting up with my shit was sort of a wakeup call. You made me realize what an ass I was being and that I want to be better."

  "You're not an ass," she says with a smile then cuddles up to me, resting her head on my chest.

  This is the moment. The one where I should come clean with her and tell her the truth about everything. How it may have started out as me trying to keep my contract, but that I want to keep seeing her. What if she gets pissed and throws me out? I don’t want to throw this away. Being with her is too good.

  "So, I think my legs work again. I'll go ahead and get ready, so we can leave."

  "Sure. There's no rush. I'll just wait for you in the living room," I tell her as I reluctantly let go of her, making the decision to keep my ulterior motives from her, at least for now.

  ...

  I look down at my buzzing phone and see that it's my manager, Dean. Shit.

  "I better take this. It'll only be a sec," I promise Natalie, and then I duck under the metal rail to get out of the White Water Falls line so I can answer with some privacy.

  "Dean? What's up?"

  "Hey, have you seen the News & Observer website this morning?" he asks.

  I make it a point to not read the newspaper. "Nope, should I?"

  "Oh yeah. Pictures of you and your new girl are making headlines again. It's good. All good. Jerry's going to be ecstatic."

  "You sure?"

  "Uh-huh. You can see the goodness oozing off of this woman. She's beautiful and not the least bit slutty. No tits or ass showing, and she looks at you like you're more than a dollar sign. All that’s missing is her halo."

  "Huh. You got all that from a picture?" I ask.

  "Yeah, this time it's several amateur shots from the Comedy Zone. You two look good together. She coming to the game tomorrow?"

  "Yeah. Lower level, front row," I say quietly, looking back over to where Natalie waits for me. Her blonde hair is still pulled back in a ponytail and she's wearing a woman's gray Wildcats tee with curve hugging jeans. She simultaneously manages to look adorably cute and sexy as fuck.

  "Perfect. Be sure to interact with her before, during, or after the game so that the cameras see it," Dean suggests.

  "Okay."

  "Keep it up and you won't have anything to worry about," he says then hangs up.

  I really don't like hiding the whole truth from Natalie, especially after last night.

  "Everything okay?" she asks when I take my place with her again in line.

  I nod and pull the bill of my Carolina baseball cap lower on my head. So far so good on not being recognized. Although, a little noticing would be what Jerry would want. Maybe before we leave the park.

  I'm sinking to a new low using someone as good as Natalie this way. But it's not just to save my job anymore. I think I really am starting to feel something for her. Being with her is a lot different than being with Lacy. It’s better and more comfortable, like we don't have to even try to have fun together, it just happens. Natalie makes me happy, filling in a puzzle piece of my life I didn't know I was even missing until now.

  I lean against the metal bars that make the ride's zig-zagging line and then pull Natalie's back against the front of my body, wrapping my arms around her waist.

  "Are you having fun?" I ask, moving my lips along her ear. She squirms but nods. When she tilts her head up to look up at me with those stunning jade eyes I can't resist kissing her lips. I turn my cap around, and when our mouths meet I lose myself.

  Apparently our mid-line make out session goes on a little too long.

  "You guys mind?" asks the guy behind us.

  When I look up I notice the line has indeed moved several feet forward, and we're holding everyone up.

  "Sorry, man" I tell him then turn my cap around to shade my face again.

  "Zack Bradford?" he asks. Well, being anonymous was fun while it lasted. All thirty minutes. Hard to lay low when I stand taller and bigger than everyone els
e at six-five and two-forty.

  I nod in the affirmative.

  "Holy shit!" the guy exclaims. "Check it out, Mark. It's Zack Bradford!"

  "Wow! Can we get a picture with you?" the friend Mark asks.

  "Sure," I agree, not like I have anything else to do in line. Well, except maybe make out with the beautiful woman I'm with.

  "Do you want me to take it?" Natalie asks, and they nod enthusiastically before handing over their phones. After a few snaps she calls it good and hands them back.

  "Thanks, Zack. You ready for tomorrow's game? Is this your girlfriend?" the guys asks.

  "We're just friends," Natalie responds before I can. The "just friends" response is usually my line, and it bothers me. Not only because Jerry insisted on a girlfriend, but because we were just making out and had hot car sex last night and sofa sex just a few hours ago. We are definitely more than friends. Ah, damn it! She only agreed to four dates and this would be it unless we renegotiate.

  "Baby, you wound me. ‘Just friends'? You know we're more than that," I tell her in what I hope is a teasing tone then wrap my arms around her waist again to demonstrate. "Are you embarrassed to be seen in public with me?" I ask her the ridiculous question she once asked me.

  She laughs softly and shakes her head, but doesn't respond to the question.

  ...

  Over the next eight hours we rode every roller coaster and water ride in the park, and hit up several greasy food stands, having more fun than I can remember. My trainer would probably balk at all the shit I put in my stomach today, but I didn't give a fuck. I felt like I earned those cheat foods after all the walking and standing in lines we'd done.

  Even in the shape I'm in I was exhausted by the time we pulled back up at Natalie's apartment. Natalie was a trooper, though, never complaining like most the women I know would have. The woman is just so sweet and...exuberant that it's contagious. I was surprised that she didn't even act jealous when women approached me in the park. Granted, her hand was in mine most of the time, so maybe that's why she didn't seem fazed by the parade of sluts that tried to throw themselves at me. Natalie only gave them kind and friendly smiles.

  Every second I spend with her it seems like she smiles a little longer and laughs a little more. I think she might finally be opening up to me.

  Throughout the day I've learned all sorts of little things about her, like she loses her shit for a Minute Maid frozen lemonade of all things. She always folds her paper straw wrappers into tiny footballs. She squeezes my hand tighter on the uptake of a roller coaster rather than when it's the scariest. And there's a certain way I can stroke my tongue against hers to make her whole body go limp in my arms. That last one is my favorite.

  "So, um, do you want to come up?" she asks, lowering her eyes and tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

  "Hell yes," I immediately respond. I'm not that tired.

  As soon as we walk through her door we're on each other. I'm not sure who is more desperate, me or her after all the teasing, innocent touches during the day. It felt like hours of foreplay.

  "I want you," I tell her as I start working on undoing her jeans while my mouth stays on hers. "Right now. I don't think I can make it to your bed."

  "God yes," she moans breathlessly, tightly gripping my biceps. "Hands below the belt only."

  I pause a second in confusion at her order. She’d said the same thing the night before.

  "Come on, baby, relax," I tell her, knowing it's got to be something preposterous like she thinks she needs to lose a few pounds, or whatever other craziness women unnecessarily worry about. I really, really want to strip her naked and run my hands and mouth all over every inch of her sexy little body.

  I kiss down her neck and my hands move up her sides, lifting her shirt along the way. Natalie jerks completely away from me and the expression on her face makes me feel like I've had a cooler of ice water dumped on my head. She’s suddenly pissed. Actually, angry to the point of tears might be a better description of how she looks.

  "I had fun today, but um, you should probably go," she says briskly, crossing her arms over her chest and avoiding my eyes.

  "Fine," I say, holding up my hands in surrender. "I won't go above the waist, if that's what you want."

  Apparently what Natalie wants is for me to leave, as demonstrated by her heading back to the door and opening it wide. I'm fucking being dismissed. Never before have I been dismissed.

  "Wow. Okay, I'm not sure what the hell is going on, but fine, I'll go. I'll see you at the game tomorrow," I tell her. After bending down for a quick kiss to her cheek that makes her flinch, I leave her apartment in shock, and so fucking confused.

  Chapter Nine

  Natalie

  Front row seats in the Wildcats' stadium are incredible. We're sitting dead center between the goal posts, so whenever one of the teams get ready to score on our end of the field, it's going to be awesome! Even my coworkers who don’t know offense from defense are excited. It feels like we can almost reach out and touch the visiting team, the Giants, warming up in front of us. Of course I look over at the other end of the field for Zack, but don't see number fourteen on the field.

  I have on my required black, number fourteen Bradford jersey and am trying to enjoy the crisp autumn air and have fun with my friends. I still can't shake off the awkward way things ended last night though.

  I had so much fun with Zack this weekend, and sex with him is amazing. But it's stupid of me to cross that line when I'm not able to get naked with him. And I know I'm not ready for that kind of exposure. I can't possibly open myself up to Zack when it'll most certainly end with his rejection.

  It's still bizarre how just last week I was watching his Thursday night away game against Atlanta at home alone, secretly crushing on Zack, and since then we've dated and have even been intimate.

  "So," Rachel drawls, then pops a nacho chip dripping with cheese into her mouth. Mmm, I think I need to get me some of those. "How are things with you and Zack?"

  I swear it's like my friends can read my thoughts, or they just couldn't wait any longer to ask.

  "Good," I say quickly.

  "How good?" Tracy asks, stealing one of Rachel's chips.

  "Last night was our fourth date, so that's it for our agreement."

  Was I disappointed it was over? Of course. But last night was all the reminder I needed that this could never work between us. I couldn't ever be intimate with Zack in the ways he wants. And since I wouldn't be enough in the bedroom he'd move on to someone else. That's what he's known for.

  "Did you fuck him?" Amanda blurts out, right to the point.

  "I'm not discussing that with you, and definitely not here," I scoff, and feel my face flame.

  "You did!" she yells.

  "Shh, Amanda," I tell her as I glance around at the other fans, many of which are wearing Zack's number fourteen jersey. "Other people can hear you."

  "Then tell us quietly," Rachel insists. "Come on. You're living every woman's dream."

  Except his ex who I'm not completely convinced he's over. Not that it matters since we're over.

  "We all saw the pictures of you kissing at the charity concert and at the Comedy Zone," Tracy adds.

  "And at Carowind's," Amanda throws in.

  I shake my head. "Let your dirty imaginations think what they will. There's nothing going on. We had a deal and it's over."

  "Whatever you say. I say, you're a very lucky woman," Rachel tells me, and Tracy and Amanda nod their agreement.

  By the second quarter of the game my voice is already wearing out from cheering. The Wildcats are finally on our end of the field in the red zone, hopefully getting ready to score, I explain to my friends.

  On first and goal, Zack fakes the handoff to Marcus Jones, my favorite running back, and keeps the ball to easily run it in untouched for a touchdown. The crowd is instantly on their feet and cheering with the Wildcats going up by ten points as soon as they kick the extra point.
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  Watching the replay on the jumbotron, I smile even wider thinking about how similar the play had been to the one in the UNC v. VT game when Zack and I kissed four years ago. I'm so distracted by the memory that I don't even notice when Zack heads for our section, not until Amanda elbows me. Zack leaps up and sits there, balancing just his ass on the high wall, and holds out the football he was carrying when he scored.

  "This one's for you, baby," he says with a big smile behind his helmet as he waits for me to accept it. A rippling "Aw" sweeps over the stadium like when the crowd does the wave. As soon as my hands wrap around the offered pigskin, Zack is jumping down to head back to the sidelines, high fiving and chest bumping his fellow teammates in celebration.

  I retake my seat, still in a state of shock. He just made a very public display, which would no doubt raise more press on our relationship. It was sweet and...surprising. Was it possible Zack Bradford wants more with me? Was he capable of changing his womanizing ways? And even if such an unlikely miracle was to occur, am I actually ready and willing to take things further?

  "Oh. My. God," Tracy says like she's about to hyperventilate.

  "That was so freaking awesome!" Rachel exclaims.

  A few of the fans around us also make comments to me about his gesture. How uncharacteristic it was for him to do something so sweet in front of the whole stadium and his teammates. The jumbotron replays his hand off to me several times, but finally the game goes on and the focus thankfully shifts away from me and Zack.

  A few hours later I've almost lost my voice when the Wildcats win, twenty to fourteen. After shaking hands with all the Giants, I watch as Zack heads over to our section and pulls himself up and over the wall without his helmet on this time.

  "Hey, ladies," he says, smiling in the way that could cause women to faint.

  "Congrats on the win," I tell him as all the fans around us shout similar things to him and high five him. His eyes stay on mine, though.

  "Thanks, although I credit it to you," he says, before he actually sweeps me off my feet and then sits down with me on his lap. He's still in his uniform and pads, smelling like the warm sun, freshly cut grass, and masculine sweat. For some reason the combination turns me on like you wouldn't believe. "Now, our agreement was that you have to let me sign your jersey. Or my jersey rather, and you can’t auction it."