Draw Play: A Sports Romance

by Tia Lewis

  Draw Play

  A Sports Romance

  Tia Lewis

  Salted Pen Publications

  Contents

  Mailing List

  About this Book

  1. Jake

  2. Claire

  3. Jake

  4. Claire

  5. Jake

  6. Claire

  7. Jake

  8. Claire

  9. Jake

  10. Claire

  11. Jake

  12. Claire

  13. Jake

  14. Claire

  15. Jake

  16. Claire

  17. Jake

  18. Claire

  19. Jake

  20. Claire

  21. Jake

  22. Claire

  23. Jake

  24. Claire

  25. Jake

  Stadium of Lights

  1. Max

  2. Abby

  Coming Soon

  Threat

  1. Nicole

  2. Nicole

  3. Drake

  Thank You

  Mailing List

  About the Author

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  Copyright

  Copyright © 2016 by Tia Lewis. All rights reserved.

  Printed in the United States of America.

  First Printed in August 2016.

  First Edition.

  ISBN-13: 978-1536985238

  ISBN-10: 1536985236

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, please contact: info@authortialewis.com. www.AuthorTiaLewis.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is a crime punishable by law. No part of the e-book may be scanned, uploaded to or downloaded from file sharing sites, or distributed in any other way via the Internet or any other means, electronic, or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000 (www.fbi.gov/ipr/).

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Published by Salted Pen Publications, Minnesota.

  Draw Play: A Sports Romance

  Edited by: Lawrence Editing, Dawn Thompson & Donna Rich

  About this Book

  Jake

  I can’t believe my coach assigned me a tutor. I dominate the field and between the sheets—who cares about grades?

  But Claire doesn’t treat me like I’m stupid. When we’re not busy arguing like idiots, she actually encourages me. Something no other woman had done before. And with those sexy curves of hers, I know just how to thank her. And thank her thoroughly.

  Claire

  I hate football players, but I need the money. Jake is just as cocky and arrogant as the worst of them … but his touch sets me on fire.

  I have to believe he’s different, that he won’t use me and break my heart. Because I can’t stop wanting him. I just hope I survive the ride.

  Draw Play is a very steamy standalone, full-length football romance novel with an HEA and no cliffhangers.

  Author’s Note:

  This e-book is intended for mature audiences only. It contains graphic adult language and explicit sexuality. This e-book is not intended for readers under the age of 18. Reader discretion is advised.

  Dedication

  For readers who can’t get enough of steamy sports romance novels!

  1

  Jake

  I couldn’t believe what a nightmare it was, getting back from summer break. Had I actually looked forward to being with my team again?

  “Come on, fellas!” I could have strangled Zack for being such an obnoxious prick. He was barely tolerable the year before when we were juniors on our way to the national championship. Now that we were seniors and it was “all on the line,” he’d kicked it up a notch. I could tell from the looks on the other guys’ faces that I wasn’t the only one wishing I could punch him. But I knew it was impossible to get away with hitting University of Michigan’s star quarterback. They’d bring the burning torches and pitchforks to my room at the frat house.

  “Zack, give us a break,” I muttered. When I glanced up from my position on the rowing machine, I saw Preston grinning at me. He was the only one who heard, or that was the way it looked.

  I wasn’t the only one who took it easier than I should have over the break. I did my conditioning work and kept myself running and lifting weights. Still, I’d slacked off. It seemed like just about everybody had, except Zack and Max. It made sense. They were the two with the most hope in the upcoming draft, being the team’s best football players. I was a decent center, but not in their league. Besides, I’d had other things to keep me busy all summer.

  The first hard workout after getting back to campus was painful. Zack wasn’t making it easier. I took off my soaked yellow Michigan Wolverines T-shirt to mop the sweat off of my face. The whole weight room reeked of pungent sweat and frustration as we worked off months of taking it easy.

  “Uh-oh,” Zack laughed, pointing. “Jake’s showin’ off that six-pack again.”

  “It’s an eight-pack, dick.” Everyone laughed, including Zack. At least he had a sense of humor—still, I worked hard on my body, just as hard as anybody else. He acted like he’d never taken his shirt off to impress chicks while we played a pick-up game on campus.

  I tuned him out and put my heart into rowing, working the stiffness out of my muscular legs. I’d been playing center since I first learned to hold a football. It wasn’t the most glamorous position. I didn’t get all the easy tail Max did, being the top running back. But I gave full effort to everything I did. And I still got more than enough tail when I wasn’t playing or training.

  “How was your vacation?” Preston asked. He was beside me, on another rowing machine. As a running back, working his legs was always a top priority. He was one of the fastest guys on the team and one of my closest friends. I spent most of my time with him and Brad Cramer, another running back.

  “It was the usual. A culture shock, after being around you guys.” Playing ball with the rich kids sometimes made me forget the world I came from. I doubted any of my teammates knew how it felt to get nothing for Christmas, but that was my reality. Football was my only ticket out.

  Preston laughed. “Yeah, I hear you.” No, he didn’t. His family was almost upper-middle-class and even had a pool in their lavish backyard. I had visited him over the summer and swum in it myself. I grew up in a run-down rowhome in what used to be a nicer part of Detroit but fell apart when the factories shut down long before I was born. I never even sa
w the “good old days.” If I wanted to cool off growing up, I had to turn on the fire hydrant with the other kids on the block.

  “Ready to get fucked up tonight, Wolverines?” Brad shouted, walking past me. “Gonna be some fresh pussy there, fellas!” That was how he always talked about women. They were fresh meat to him. I wasn’t a hypocrite—I had my share of one-night stands. That was all I had, generally. I’d decided when I hit college after my only girlfriend had broken up with me, that I wouldn’t tie myself down. It had worked for me so far.

  “Hell, yeah,” I said, rowing harder, pushing myself to the limit. “It’s been too long.”

  “No girls where you come from, Charming?” Brad snickered, using the nickname the senior players gave me in freshman year thanks to my looks—“like Prince Charming,” they used to say. How they knew what the hell he looked like, I could never tell. I guessed he had blond hair and a strong jaw, like me. Max and Zack walked past, chuckling at Brad’s joke. I didn’t pay attention to them, or the sounds of grunting from my friends as they lifted weights and ran races on the treadmills. It all faded into the background.

  “Yo, man. Where are you?” I jumped when Preston’s voice fought its way through my memories of Hannah, our relationship, and how she broke up with me shortly after high school graduation. I’d run into her family a few times over the summer. They were friendly people, and they’d told me Hannah was in Punta Cana with her med school boyfriend. She’d always wanted better than what we grew up with in Detroit. I couldn’t blame her.

  “What?”

  “I asked if you wanted to come on a beer run with me later on. It’s my turn to pick it up.”

  “Oh, sorry. Yeah, count me in.” I was glad he interrupted my thoughts since I was starting to go down a dark road.

  I took a shower after my vigorous workout, washing off the smell of the weight room. Even after months of emptiness, we managed to quickly stink up the weight room again. It was a scent I’d always associate with football, the sweat, and discipline that went into it.

  While I washed, I told myself to chill out. I was back at the university, with my team. Life was good. It was where I belonged. By the time I dried and dressed, I was whistling to myself and looking forward to a night of partying and probably getting laid for the first time in weeks. I had a lot of excess energy to burn off—there was nobody back home worth sticking my dick in unless I felt like losing it.

  I was in a good mood until Coach called me into his office when he saw me walking by.

  A lot of things changed with time, but our coach’s black ball cap and navy polo never would. I was pretty sure he wore them to bed. “Sup, Coach? I just got done working out. How was your break?”

  “Good, good. Have a seat, Jake.” I took a seat, surrounded by plaques and trophies. For a tiny room, he managed to fit a lot of hardware inside. I folded my six-foot-four sturdy frame into one of the molded plastic chairs in front of his desk.

  “What’s up, Coach?”

  He pointed to a manila file folder on his crowded desk. “Know whose file this is?”

  I didn’t like what I heard in his voice. The only time he ever sounded like that was when he got ready to tell us bad news. He took off his hat, running a hand over his gray buzz cut. That was another thing that would never change.

  “I’m going to guess it’s mine?” I raised an eyebrow.

  “Good guess. What do you think is in it? I mean, why am I calling you in my office to talk about it?”

  I sighed and shifted under his stare. “It’s because I didn’t do well last semester.”

  “That’s an understatement, Jennings, and you know it.”

  I winced when he called me by my last name. Everybody on the team knew when he did that, it meant trouble.

  “Listen, Coach. I could have done better. But you know better than anybody else how hard we worked last year. You don’t win the championship by burying your head in textbooks. Come on.”

  “Excuse me, Jennings? Then explain how my second-string quarterback maintained straight A’s? Or when last year’s starter pulled a three-point-four GPA? Don’t give me that shit.”

  I winced again. “But I’m not like them. I need more work to get good grades.”

  “You’ve got smarts too, Jake. You and I both know this. Don’t tell me you don’t have it in you to pull down the grades and perform on the field. I’ve been coaching here at University of Michigan for a long time—I can tell the idiots from the rest. You’re not one of them.”

  “Thanks, I guess.”

  He smirked, and his sun-wrinkled faced became even more lined. “You’re welcome, smartass.”

  “I’m still over a two-point-O, so I’m in good shape for this season.” I never let myself dip below the base average for football players on scholarship.

  “You’re just making it, Jake. I’m only hard on you because I don’t want to take any chances this year.”

  “Coach, you don’t have to worry,” I insisted. “Look at the rest of my transcripts. The proof’s right there. I always end up pulling through.”

  “You’re right. But like I said, I don’t feel like taking any chances. We’ll be coming off a championship this year, so you know the rest of the conference will be on us. I need my best players out there. Besides,” Coach added, eyeing me up, “the last thing you need is to sit out your final season. You saw the scouts running around after the guys last year. That’ll be you, this season. You can’t fuck it up. We’re the Michigan Wolverines!”

  “Okay! I got you, Coach. I won’t,” I said, standing.

  “Damn right, you won’t. So, that’s why I’m assigning you a tutor, who’s going to keep up with all your classes and report your grades directly to me. Every paper, every exam. Everything.”

  “Whoa! What?” Stunned, I had to sit back down. “You can’t be serious. I’m telling you, I’m not playing around. I got this!”

  “I’m not playing around, either. If I had it my way, you’d move out of that frat house and into your own apartment. I’d lock your ass up every night so you could focus and study. I hear about the stories that go on in that house. Girls, partying, and drinking. Just straight foolishness.”

  “Coach,” I interrupted.

  “Since I can’t do that, this is the next best thing. A tutor, Jennings.”

  Speechless, I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

  “Don’t act like I’m cutting your balls off. You’ll see it’s for the best by the end of the semester when you’re pulling better grades. Then you don’t have to worry about finals making or breaking you.”

  I shook my head. “Is there any other way? I don’t have time to meet with a tutor. We have practice, games, and workouts—”

  “Make the time. Besides, you should be making time to study, anyway. This way, you won’t be alone. You’ll be held accountable.” He winked. “It could be fun.”

  “Man, fuck this,” I mumbled.

  I wasn’t in the mood for bullshit jokes. The way I felt, it was a challenge not to take his latest trophy off his cluttered desk and throw it against the wall.

  I couldn’t look him in the eye as I picked up my black gym bag and left the office. I walked down the long corridor, listening to the sounds of my friends’ laughter still coming from the weight room. I was glad none of them had seen or heard what went down just then. Zack, of all people, would never let me live it down.

  I reached the empty parking lot of the Athletics building and got behind the wheel of my shining, freshly-washed red SUV. Of course, it looked like it might rain at any minute, so the car wash before heading to campus had been a waste of time. It was the way my luck was starting to run.

  I heard Coach’s words echoing in my head. He would find the perfect tutor for me before Monday morning, and we’d meet each other then. Knowing him, I’d end up with some geek reject that had nothing better to do than study their life away.

  I revved my engine before peeling out of the parking lot, cranking
up the volume on my stereo as I did. Def Leppard poured out of the speakers, and it matched the mood I was in. Fucking grades. Fucking Coach. I wished he were standing in front of me so I could run him down. Maybe I would back up and go over him again.

  2

  Claire

  “I swear, Claire, you’re the only person I know who looks forward to getting back to school every semester.”

  I turned away from the dresser to frown at my roommate. “So? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She rolled her blue eyes as she worked on her makeup. “I’m just saying that you’re so uptight. You’re always trying to get a jump on the semester.”

  “What’s so bad about that? Besides, you’re here, too. You didn’t have to come until tomorrow.”

  “Not true. I have a meeting with my department head tomorrow morning, first thing. It was either this or make the drive before dawn. But you didn’t have any reason to.”

  “Whatever.” I liked Jess enough to renew our roommate arrangement for a fifth semester, but she knew how to push my buttons. “I like to have everything in order before classes start. You know I have OCD when it comes to organization and getting everything ready.”

  “I already know,” she chuckled. “So, are you meeting up with your friends tonight?”

  I knew who she meant, and I couldn’t miss the teasing in her voice. She wasn’t making fun, per se, but she was having fun with me. I knew she thought my friends were total losers. I wondered what she would think if she knew they felt the same way about her.

  “I don’t know. It depends on how many of your friends are around.” I smirked. “Looking for something to do?”