Page 13 of Fumble

“And you could?”

“I would. I’ve been fucking longer than he’s been alive. I know how to take my time, to savor a woman like fine wine. I’d make you scream so loud, you’d be hoarse for days, and you’d love every second of it.”

“Then, prove it.” Her hand rubs gently against my cock, and it feels so damn good. “Teach me. I want to learn how to satisfy a man.”

“I doubt you need any help in that department.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Nothing shocks…” Fuck, I’m ready to come like a horny teenager from an over-the-pants cock rub. “Holy shit. You need to stop that. I’m serious.”

“I’m not doing it right?” Her smoldering gaze tells me she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.

“You’re too good. I can’t. Please, don’t make me betray your dad’s trust.” I can hear the pleading tone of my voice—unfamiliar and disconcerting. The mention of her father is a bucket of ice water to her advances.

The tension is palpable the rest of the ride back to the hotel—each of us hugging the windows for what little distance we can find. When the driver pulls up to the entrance, the door is open before he has a chance to come to a standstill. She’s off like a shot, her heels clicking on the marble foyer.

I run after her, keen not to leave things like this. It would be easier if I let her go, if she packed her bags and left, but the thought of it gives me a pang of unease. The elevator affords me just enough time to reach her.

“Miss Fairchild, can we talk about this?”

“I think you made your feelings clear.” The unwelcome ping forces the issue.

“No, I didn’t. Let me take you to dinner tonight, and I’ll explain.” She slams the button to close the doors, hitting it over and over in an attempt to speed her escape. I’m about to follow her in when she holds me at arms’ length, just shy of the elevator.

“Don’t. I don’t need an explanation. I got the message. Anyway, I can’t tonight. I have plans.”

“What plans?” We’re on the road for God’s sake. As the doors begin to close, she refuses to meet my gaze.

“I have a date.” And then she disappears behind a wall of metal—a cloak of armor. A date? Who the fuck is she going out with? The football kid? I’ll be damned if I’m going to let him take advantage of her.

The rest of the day passes slowly as I pace my hotel room waiting for seven o’clock. Circumventing Malcolm, I had one of my staff find out her schedule for the evening under the guise of a staff meeting. I know I should let her make her own mistakes, the way I did at her age, but there’s something about her. I want to protect her, claim her, stop another man from kissing her the way I so desperately want to.

When I know which restaurant she’s going to, I grab my room key, wallet, and head out to accidentally bump into her. Pathetic, but I’m telling myself I’m looking out for Coach’s daughter. He’d want me to make sure she doesn’t get caught up in a sleazy scandal, or worse, pregnant while working for me. He’d kill me, and I have firsthand knowledge of how scary it is to have the prospect of parenthood looming over you.

I was nineteen when my then-girlfriend turned up at my dorm room in tears. Coach was the person I turned to for help, and until I blurted it out to Faith, he was the only one who knew. I wasn’t ready to be a father, but I also couldn’t shirk the responsibility. It takes two people to create a life, and I wanted my baby to know he or she was loved. I proposed to Teagan a week later, and the next weekend, she disappeared without a trace.

No phone number or forwarding address, she was gone along with my baby. Or so I thought. It was years before I was making the kind of money needed to hire a private investigator. The day I signed my first contract in the NFL, I also signed a contract with a PI. I wanted to know my child, but after imagining what he or she was like for four long years, it turned out that Teagan didn’t keep the baby. She had an abortion shortly after leaving me behind.

* * *

The restaurant ismediocre at best. I’m not happy that I’m going to end up photographed here, and worse, it will be a shot of me trying to sneak my college graduate employee out of the building. I’m sure Malcolm will appreciate the PR in the morning.

Recognition sparks in the greeter’s smile.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Vaughn. I’m a huge fan. My brothers are going to be so jealous when they hear I got to meet the Hunter Vaughn!” I keep my head down as if it will do me any good.

“I appreciate the support, but I’d rather not draw too much attention. Can I have a table for one, preferably in a quiet spot?”

“Of course. Give me two minutes, and I’ll have a table ready for you.” She scurries off, whispers spreading through the staff like wildfire. I guess it was a little too much to ask for a modicum of discretion.

I scan the room for Faith, and like a beacon in this dank, musty old place, there she sits at the center table. Her smile shines brighter than the sun, bringing light and warmth with its earnest welcome. The guy across from her isn’t the lug-headed jock from earlier, it’s the jackass from the hotel. I can’t believe she agreed to go out with that jerk. He’s obviously only after one thing. It’s par for the course in hotel lobby bars.

“Your table’s ready, Mr. Vaughn.” She seems unable to control the volume of her voice in her excitement. All eyes in the restaurant snap to me, including Faith’s. There’s fire in her stare and not the good kind. She’s up and storming toward me in seconds. Grabbing my arm, she pulls me aside as if it will afford us any modicum of privacy.

“What the hell are you doing here? I’m on a date. Do you need me to work? You could have just called.”

“You’re not on the clock.” With her arms folded across her chest, her frustration is drawing attention to the sultry swell of her breasts. It’s distracting.

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