Page 10 of Fumble

“What the hell was that?”

“God, did I say that out loud?”

“Um… yeah. You need to work on your brain-to-mouth filter if you want to work in this industry. You can’t go around pissing people off. If I told everyone I met what was on my mind, my career would’ve been over a long time ago.” His dominant tone is simultaneously arousing and belittling, but I take the criticism. I haven’t exactly put my best foot forward thus far.

“Sorry, sir. I’ll be sure to remedy that.”

“Don’t call me sir. It makes my pants twitch.” A jolt of electricity shoots straight to my lady jay.

“What?”

“Fuck, now I’m doing it. What is it about you that makes me say inappropriate things?” He rakes his hand over the scruff on his jaw, and all I can think is how it would feel if I licked it. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re Coach’s daughter. I’m twice your age, and you’re old enough to be my daughter.” A groan escapes him. “God… you are the same age as my kid would be.”

“You have a kid?” I’m dumbstruck. How could my dad neglect this one small… huge detail, and why haven’t I heard of this in the media? He looks at his watch, his brow furrowed in frustration.

“No. She terminated the pregnancy. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’ve never said that out loud. We really need to go. Can we talk about this later?”

“Of course.” He rests his hand on my knee in a soft, pleading gesture.

“Please don’t mention this to anyone, not even my staff. They have no idea, and I’d like to keep it that way.” I nod, my body is on fire at his touch, my mind reeling from his revelation.

“I…” my pulse quickens at the sight of his gaze firmly fixed on my lips, “… won’t.”

“Thank you.” Suspended in time, I find myself pulled toward him by an invisible force of desire. With every inch, his cologne invades my senses, drugging me in a haze of bad decisions. When I’m close enough to feel his breath on my lips, there’s a knock on the blacked-out window.

“Vaughn! Time to go. Get a move on.” His manager, Malcolm, has the screeching voice of a massive cockblocker. I immediately pull back, our almost moment lost in the wrapping of a pudgy man’s knuckles on the glass.

Hunter pushes the door like he’s taking out an opponent on the field, sending Malcolm stumbling backward.

“I was running through my speech. Keep your toupee on.” Malcolm leans down to stare at me in the back seat.

“Speech? Is that what you’re calling it.” The blush of my cheeks and flustered demeanor leave me unable to defend my innocence.

* * *

I’ve beenin a lot of sweaty locker rooms in my life. The difference is they were always empty. It’s packed in here. Reporters crammed in a corner while photographers blind Hunter at every turn. The players are post-practice, some of them still in their uniforms, sweat dripping from their hair. Others are showered and unashamed of sitting with nothing but a towel around their waists. It’s every college girl’s wet dream—and recent graduates!

I drink it all in, the smorgasbord of fit football players laid out for my perusal.

Hunter commands the room—all eyes are on him, listening to every word as if he’s divulging the secret of everlasting life. He’s impressive. I can see why he’s in such high demand. These young guys idolize him, and when he speaks, there’s an assurance and authority in his voice that comforts and inspires. You can apply his wisdom to any avenue of life, and I’m motivated by his rousing speech.

When it comes time for him to answer questions, I can’t help letting my eyes wander. So many muscular bodies. So many prospective cherry poppers in one room. I’m like a kid in a candy store. One of the towel-clad players catches my eye, his gaze raking the length of my body with a greedy hunger. The twitch of his towel makes me blush, and I watch with intrigue as he adjusts himself with no regard for who sees him.

“Am I boring you, Miss Fairchild?” Hunter commands my attention from the other side of the room. An army of onlookers snap their heads in my direction, awaiting my answer.

“No, sir. Your speech was inspiring.” It inspired my libido.

His eyes bore into me before finding my admirer in the crowd.

“And you, boner boy, can you keep the trouser snake under control while the cameras are here? It would be bad for business if I have a littleboy with a chubby in my promo photos.”

“There ain’t nothing little about me, Mr. Vaughn!” Jocks have more machismo than is humanly necessary. He grabs the bulge in his crotch, eliciting wild applause from his peers.

Before any further public dress-down from Hunter, I slip out the back and wait for the session to end. Malcolm appears before too long.

“I don’t care who your daddy is, Ms. Fairchild. I’ve worked too hard for you to wreck this. Don’t think I won’t fire you if I think you’re too much of a distraction for Vaughn. He doesn’t need a cradle-robbing scandal this summer. He has more than his fair share of willing, legal cunt.” He spits the words in my face.

“I’m twenty-one.” My voice betrays me—a whispering defense. “I just want to do my job. Hunter and I…”

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