by Erin Hayes
“Bye, Mads.”
I could hear him laughing as the call ended. He hung up. Not Ashley or me. He did. Like he wasn’t being enough of an asshole.
We both stared down at the phone in absolute shock.
“I can’t believe he did that,” Ashley muttered, sitting back. She looked as stunned as I felt, which meant that she looked like she’d been hit by a whole defensive team. I think I got that analogy right.
I sat back on the couch, trying to sort through my thoughts. Trying to sort through everything. And I came up short.
“I’ll be right back,” I muttered as I got to my feet.
I headed to my bedroom, carrying my phone with me, and called the first name that came to mind. Andre. I knew it was ridiculous, that halftime was almost over and everything, but—
“Hey,” his warm, caramel voice filled the phone. He did seem like he was in a rush though, understandably. “What’s up? I have to get going in, like, ten seconds.”
Ten seconds. A lump formed in my throat, which I had to fight back. “I saw that Coach Mack is working for the San Antonio Armadillos now.”
Andre paused. “Ah. I wondered when you were going to hear about that. Listen, that’s just what happens when coaches move to other teams. Nothing against us.”
Nothing against us? But what about Jacob working with the Armadillos now? Working with Coach Mack? They both had vendettas against me. They both had reason to hate me.
But I didn’t bring up Jacob’s part in this. After all, I had about two seconds left with Andre, and I didn’t want to burden him any further.
“Just...” I swallowed back the lump, finally. “Just tell me everything is going to be all right.”
Andre exhaled and the ambient sound on his side grew quiet, like he was cupping his hand around the mouthpiece. “Everything is going to be all right, Madison,” he told me, his words wrapping around me like a hug. I closed my eyes and relished the sound of his voice. God, I missed him. “We’ll win this game for you.”
I smiled. “Break a leg.”
He laughed. “That’s what they say for theater. Not for football.”
“What do I say for good luck, then?”
“You could go with ‘hit the line hard,’” he offered. “Or just an old-fashioned good luck.”
“Good luck, then,” I whispered.
“Thanks.” He hung up, and I knew that I had to go back out to the living room and watch the rest of the game.
To support my team. And my guys.
Chapter 12
I was glad that I had set up so many appointments for the next week. What I really wanted to do, of course, was hide in my apartment and pretend that nobody was talking about who I was kissing.
But I didn’t have that luxury. I had a team that I had to find sponsors for.
So when I showed up on Monday morning, I took a deep breath, sailed in like nothing had happened, and sang out, “Good morning,” to Kathryn as I headed into the office
“Good morning, Ms. Harte,” she said. “I’ve arranged your calendar for this week if you’d like to take a look at it. You have meetings with Darlene Burroughs for the Women of Football, and three separate meetings that Jimmy Clayton scheduled for friends of his. Also, you’ve had a number of calls from media outlets. The reporters want to speak to you directly.”
So much for pretending like there was nothing going on.
“Thanks, Kathryn. I’ll take a look at the calendar. Please refer any media calls to Sydney in the PR department. And while you’re at it, go ahead and see if you can fit Sydney in to meet with me sometime today. As soon as possible.”
“You got it.” She smiled at me, and just like that, I actually felt better. This business about being in all the gossip headlines was miserable, but it was something I could deal with. I just needed to work out a strategy with Sydney. One that didn’t involve her being pissed and me being defensive.
As it turned out, Sydney was too busy to meet with me that day. That afternoon, she called up to my office. “Hi, Madison. Kathryn said you want to talk to me?”
“Yes. Media outlets have been calling my receptionist all day. What should we tell them?”
“Tell them the team will be answering questions at our usual press conference. Other than that, our response is no comment.”
“What about at the press conference?”
“Well, for one thing, you shouldn’t be there. Coach Carrie and the players will be available to answer questions, and I’ve got a meeting beforehand with all of them to go over how to deflect those questions that involve players’ personal lives.”
“So I’m supposed to just say no comment all the way around?”
“That’s it.”
“Okay. I can do that.”
I felt bad for the guys, though. They were required by their contracts and the league to be available to the press at least once a day.
But that didn’t mean they had to answer questions about anything other than the game.
When I watched the press conference that afternoon, I was impressed at Sydney’s pre-press-conference coaching. Every time a reporter asked anyone on the team about me—primarily one of my three guys—whoever had the microphone simply said, “Let’s stay focused on the game,” or, “I’d rather talk about how we’re playing.”
And after a couple of days, the news about me kissing different players seemed to die down.
I hoped it would stay that way, but Sydney warned me not to count on it. “People love scandal. It’ll pop back up.”
But she wasn’t angry with me anymore. And that was a good thing, because I was eventually going to have to talk to Clancy alone, and from the looks he’d been giving me, I was guessing it wasn’t going to end with talking.
But first I had to talk to Andre about it again—just to be sure. He’d said it was okay with him if I dated Clancy, too. But that had been before there was a picture in the papers of me kissing the linebacker.
I suspected that it was one thing for me to be involved with Clancy if Andre didn’t see it—but seeing pictures of it could be very different. So I was deeply relieved when Andre simply wrapped his arms around me, kissed me on the forehead, and said, “I want you to be happy. And Clancy’s a good guy. Just don’t kick me off your personal team.”
“Never,” I whispered, and drew him in to kiss me.
By the night of the next home game, I had four new sponsors—more, if you counted all the small businesses Darlene had gotten involved with her Women’s Coalition. I was glad I hadn’t let her know I’d been skeptical of her name—she’d pulled in as much money as one of my bigger sponsors, simply through including several small businesses.
More money than Jacob would have been able to give to the San Antonio Armadillos, anyway.
I hoped.
All of our sponsors, along with their guests, were invited to a home-game party in the owner’s suite. I should have been thrilled. But instead, I was utterly exhausted.
I made my way through the crowd, greeting everyone, chatting about the team’s improved playing, the injured players’ plans for returning to the game, and everything else the donors could find to discuss about football.
I still didn’t always know what they were talking about. But I was getting better and better at faking those bits I didn’t understand.
By halftime, I was exhausted.
But the drinks were flowing, the sponsors were having a great time, and—I glanced up at the nearest screen to make sure—the Hammers were winning.
If I slip away now, there’s a good chance no one will notice.
On the television screen, I saw Clancy head inside from the sidelines, where he’d been watching the game in street clothes. He’d been on crutches for the last week but had disdained to use them during the game.
Maybe I could catch him before the second half started.
I hurried over to the elevator and headed down to the training facility. One of the security guards greeted me.
But I couldn’t figure it out right now. Right now I had other things on my mind.
As I exited the elevator, I caught sight of Clancy, back on his crutches, headed toward the weight room.
“Hey,” I called out.
Clancy turned around, an enormous smile spreading over his face. “Hey. Did you come to see me?”
His smile was contagious. “I did. What were you planning to do?”
“I was planning to lift weights. Come with me?”
I followed him into the weight room. No one else was in there except us.
“Now what are you planning to do?” I asked.
“This.” He lifted me up by the waist and kissed me, his lips soft against mine. “And I’m going to make sure we’re not interrupted this time.”
With that, Clancy turned around to lock the door, and then he sat down on a bench. Carefully, he spun me around and unzipped the cocktail dress I wore.
It fell to the ground and I stepped out of it.
Clancy used his hand to cup my breast, slipping his fingers under the cup of my bra. As he brushed against my skin, goose bumps popped up along my arms. My nipples tightened, and my breath caught in the back of my throat.
He was utterly silent, watching me intently as he slipped one arm behind my shoulders, pulling me in tighter against him and brushing his lips against mine.
With one hand, he unhooked my bra, and then swept his tongue across my nipple. It pebbled under his touch. My attention split between concentrating on the feel of his mouth against me and the stroke of his fingertips as they drifted down, tracing a line from my hardened, sensitive breast down to the skin around my belly button, where he circled my navel first with his fingers and then with his tongue. At every point he touched, the contrast between the heat of his tongue and my own cool skin sent chills racing out across every inch of me.
When he grazed his lightly stubbled chin across my cheek and took my earlobe in between his teeth, the sensation made me moan aloud.
I tugged at his shirt, pulling it off him, and we undressed each other in a heated frenzy, not speaking, but breathing hard.
“Wait,” he said, pulling a condom out of his pocket before letting his jeans fall to the floor beside my dress.
It was an XXL.
And I could see why.
Clancy was big—enormous—all over.
He stretched out along the bench, and I unrolled the condom over him.
Placing his hands on my waist, he lifted me up as if I weighed nothing, holding me above him. I slid down onto his hard cock, the sheer size of him forcing me to move slowly to accommodate him.
As I settled him into me, I could feel the head of his cock pressing into the most intimate part of me, filling me in a way that straddled the border of pain and pleasure.
I closed my eyes to concentrate.
Even when I had him buried inside me, my knees didn't quite touch the mattress on either side of his hips.
Instead, I pulled my feet up onto his legs and hooked my toes between his thighs, pulling my own legs even further apart, as if I could sink down further onto him, bringing him even deeper into me.
Leaning my hands against his chest and using my feet as leverage, I lifted myself up high. Finally, I opened my eyes to catch his gaze with my own, and slid down him, faster this time.
Clancy rested his hands on my hips without really holding on, letting his palms slide up and down as I moved with him.
Sliding his thumb around, he pressed it against my clit, letting me control the speed and pressure as I moved.
The pressure inside me built up higher and higher, until I cried out, dropping my forehead to lean on him as I shuddered around his cock.
And as I came, I felt him swell inside me. He pulled my hips down firmly as he pushed up into me, harder and faster, until he came, too, groaning as he shoved himself as far inside me as he could go.
I collapsed to lie on top of him, content for a few moments in the knowledge that Clancy and I had just taken our relationship to the next step. That now I really was sleeping with Andre and Clancy.
And it was glorious.
Chapter 13
There was a tentative knock at the door to my office, and I looked up from my iPad as I was going through my notes, checking to see what we had for sponsorship money, what other events we were looking at to entice others.
I’d been feeling great. On cloud nine. Because my life was glorious with Andre and Clancy, and things felt like they were moving to a good place.
Except now, Rodney was standing in the doorway of my office.
“Hi,” I said, turning off my screen.
Awkwardness between us.
He shifted his feet, as if considering his words before saying, “Can I talk to you? Not here.” He glanced around my office. “Because people will talk if I’m alone with you here.”
So he was worried about his own public image. Great.
I plastered on a smile. “Sure. Let’s go to a conference room.”
I got up and showed him to one of the rooms down the hall where the marketing department usually held their team meetings. Rodney stepped inside, looking around curiously.
“Is this conference room secure?” Rodney asked, frowning as I shut the door behind me. His eyes were on the floor-to-ceiling windows that opened out to the hallway. To appease him, I closed the blinds for privacy.
“Should be,” I said. “Why?”
“I’m just not used to conference rooms like this,” he said. He sighed and mussed his hair, obviously uncomfortable.
I realized that he had probably never worked in an office setting his whole life, and I remembered how I felt with my first corporate job. Spending forty hours at a desk had been quite a change for me. And that was before I started my own company, where I easily worked 100-hour weeks.
Rodney being here was like a bull in a china shop. He deserved to be outside and out on the field. He was made for that.
“Hey,” I said softly, meaning to be encouraging. “Have a seat, okay?”
He sat down on the far side of the table, facing the door and the window. I sat down across from him and clasped my hands.
We stared at each other for a long, awkward moment, before I decided to break the silence. I opened my mouth, and the rush of words came out.
“Rodney, I—”
“I’m sorry,” he blurted at the exact same time, and we ended up interrupting each other.
We both halted our stream of words, and Rodney’s cheeks turned bright red. Like he was an adorable, clumsy high schooler and not the gorgeous athlete he was now. His eyes widened before he averted his gaze, looking away from me.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated again. “I’m sorry about that kiss. And that I’ve been sending mixed signals with everything.”
I bit my bottom lip, feeling the butterflies surge in the pit of my belly. Because...he was apologizing for what had been a good kiss. Except for the part where he was an ass at the end of it.
“I understand,” I said, my voice rough. “I just...”
Rodney let out a groan. A manly, baritone groan, as he sat forward and leaned on his elbows. “There’s a lot going on right now. And I’m not sure what happened that day.”
He couldn’t bring himself to say that he had been the one to kiss me. At the very least, it had been a combined effort, but I distinctly remembered him stepping forward to meet my lips.
And now he couldn’t take responsibility for that.
I narrowed my eyes, feeling a mixture of hurt and anger warring within me. He didn’t notice, though. Because he was busy looking away.
Coward.
“I know I’ve been an asshole,” he continued. “Because...well, I am.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Football is a contact sport, and I’m used to being an asshole to get touchdowns.”
Despite everything, his own assessment of himself made me bur
st out laughing. “So you’re saying that you have to be an asshole?”
He pressed his lips together and nodded. “Yeah.” He sighed. “And it’s not easy. I guess what I’m saying is...” His voice trailed off as he looked at me. “Well, I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too,” I said softly. And I was. For a lot of things. Including my own confusion.
He crossed his arms, though, and I knew that he wasn’t done. “I’m not going to lie and say that I don’t feel something between us. But...this thing you have where you’re with more than one guy—I can’t handle that. I know that Clancy and Andre are okay with you going around and sleeping with other men—for whatever reason. But I’m not okay with it.” He let out a short laugh. “I can’t be. It’s fucking weird.”
“That is my life you’re talking about,” I said, offended. “I can make my own decisions.” I scooted my chair back. “And I’m my own woman. I’m not some slut—” fuck, I hated that word, “—but I am someone who knows what she wants. And it’s not just because I want my cake and eat it, too.”
Rodney smirked. “I said ‘dick.’”
“But...if I care about my men, and they’re okay with it,” I said, “then what’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing,” he said blithely. “You can make your own choices. But my choices—either you do this as a one-man woman. Or we,” he gestured between us, “don’t happen.”
I cleared my throat. “And that’s it?”
He shrugged with a laugh. “It has to be.”
That familiar prickling happened in the corners of my eyes. I was one moment away from crying. Rodney was basically rejecting me, and it was about to make me cry, which was insane, because I had two other men who were interested in me. Both Andre and Clancy were fine with this arrangement.
Very few other women had that. In fact, it was unheard of, really.
I was a really, really lucky woman.
So why did it feel like my heart was breaking?
I managed to hold myself together long enough to nod. To give him a smile, even though I wasn’t feeling it at all.
“Then that’s all we need to talk about,” I said. “Nothing more to say.”
