Page 21 of Fumble

“I like the way she thinks. Wouldn’t really be fair to a guy who’s interested if you had every tool in the arsenal of seduction. Although, I find your goofy, foot-in-mouth persona quite endearing.”

“Really?” For the first time tonight, she seems shy, staring up at me through hooded lashes.

“God help me, but yes. It’s just so honest and real. You can play all the games you want, but it’s a part of yourself you can’t hide or run away from. It’s refreshing.” She steals a quick glance at her watch in an attempt to evade exposure.

“It’s getting late, and we have a long day tomorrow. I should go.” Walking her to the door, I press a gentle, chaste kiss to her lips, inhaling her scent one last time.

“Good night… Sir.” My cock stands to attention at the sultry sound of her voice. I’ve never been the kind of guy who asks a woman to call me Sir, or has to be in control all the time, but there’s something in the way she says it—a melody falling from virgin lips.

As I close the door behind her, my pulse is racing, hammering home the reality of what just happened.

I agreed to wager Faith Fairchild’s virginity on a game.

A game I’m not sure I can win.

* * *

For the firsttime in years, I feel nervous. Not about the press interviews or the speech I’m supposed to give to thousands of university alumni, I feel sick to my stomach about what I’m going to say to Faith when I see her. Last night was amazing, stupid, and amazingly stupid. It was also sexy as hell, and I’m pretty sure I’m not only playing with fire, I lit the match and threw it into a blazing inferno.

I lay awake last night thinking of the many ways I could bend the rules of our wager to allow me to lick, kiss, and caress every inch of her body while justifying it to myself. Deep down, I know I’ve already crossed a line. Coach would be disgusted if he knew I’d kissed his daughter, and if he ever finds out what she’s asked of me, I think he might end up serving jail time for murder. My murder.

All of my overthinking should result in cutting ties with Faith and sending her home with a glowing recommendation for another job. Instead, I find myself giddy like a schoolboy, imagining all the ways our secret game could play out—stolen glances, touches. There are so many ways to make her squirm. Teasing and the occasional kiss doesn’t make me the lowest of the low, does it?

I’m telling myself our wager is a good thing. Without it, the urge to bed her would be more than I could handle for three months. This way, I preserve her cherry from the unscrupulous college hot-shots we’ll encounter. I can teach her to make sure she doesn’t accept anything less than mind-blowing when the time comes. Really, it would be a disservice if I had said no and left her to the wolves. I’m telling myself all kinds of bullshit to rationalize coveting her with every cell in my body.

Malcolm could talk the hind legs off a donkey. It’s incessant, and I can’t focus on a word he’s saying this morning.

“Vaughn. Get your head in the game. This lunch is important. The dean was instrumental in the vote to put you in the Hall of Fame.”

“Funny. I thought I was the one who got me there.” Traveling with Malcolm only serves to highlight what irritates me about him. He rolls his eyes at my words as if my career doesn’t factor into the equation.

“Yes, yes. You’re amazing. I’m not here to massage your ego, and neither is the dean. You are the one doing the massaging today. Got it?” Now, I’m pissed.

“Hold up. I’ve worked too fucking hard to kowtow to anybody. I earned my spot in NFL history. I deserve this. Whether or not I blow smoke up some crusty old dean’s ass shouldn’t come into it.” A sleazy sneer distorts his face, unable to hide his revulsion.

“You’re not that naïve, Vaughn. It’s about who you know and who you kiss up to. You think I like licking your boots? Fuck, no, but I drive a Porsche, I live in Beverly Hills, and I fuck women who are way out of my league. In this case, the means justify the end.”

“When have I ever asked you to kiss my ass? Just do your fucking job, and we’re good. I’ll play nice with this guy, but I’m not going to treat him like some kind of royalty because he agreed with all of America that I belong in the Hall of Fame.” Shaking his tiny bald head, he busies himself in the depths of his briefcase.

“Do what you want. That seems to be the theme of this press tour.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Faith. I see what’s happening. The writing is on the wall with that one, and you’re letting yourself be distracted from what really matters. You can get twenty-one-year-old pussy any day of the week. Don’t dip your stick in that particular female. She’s got trouble written all over her.”

I’m thankful when the car comes to an abrupt halt. My blood is boiling, and one minute more with this insidious little man might result in me being without a manager for the rest of this tour. I throw open the door before turning to face Malcolm.

“I don’t ask that you worship the ground I walk on, but you’ll fucking respect my staff and me. If you speak about her that way again, or imply I can’t control my cock, you’ll find yourself looking for a new client’s coattails to ride. Am I being clear enough?”

“Crystal.”

The staff stream from the SUV behind us, and my pulse quickens at the sight of Faith stepping out in the heels I sent her and a figure-hugging blue dress. She’s like that sexy fantasy secretary you imagine when you’re sixteen, her hair pinned up, glasses framing her wild blue eyes. The moment she finds my gaze, I realize this girl has got more game than I gave her credit for. She knows exactly what she’s doing to me right now. We haven’t spoken a word, and yet a conversation passes between us in one knowing look.

I don’t hide my appreciation of the way she sashays toward me, aware that she doesn’t want to let slip to the rest of the team. If she wants discretion, then I’m going to have to force her to dial the sexy back! I’ve had it drilled into me that offense is the best form of defense, but when it comes to Faith Fairchild, I think the opposite might be true. Defense is my only hope.

“Good morning, Mr. Vaughn. You better pick up that jaw of yours. We wouldn’t want anyone to witness your downfall.” Her self-satisfied smile is sexy as hell, but if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s playing the game, any game. I can do this.

“Don’t you mean good afternoon? Were you up too late last night?”

---