Page 3 of Tangled Vows

Brynlee: OMG you’re leaving with him?!?!?

Emily: Hot Damn

Melody: So you skipped asking for his number and went straight to going home with him? #bossmove

Delilah: Make sure you share your location with us!

Delilah had a good point. I probably needed to make sure someone knew my whereabouts since I planned to leave with a man I'd just met. So, I dropped a pin that would allow them to track me and slipped my phone back into my pocket just as we hit the front door.

A car service was already waiting for us when we got outside. He held the door open, and I slid into the cramped back seat, scooting over to make room for him. He rattled off our destination as his large hand curled around my thigh. I sucked in a breath and pressed my legs together. He smirked and tightened his hold on me, his pinkie toying with the edge of my shorts. I wiggled in my seat, silently begging him to slide his hand higher. He never did, instead spending the short ride to his hotel torturing me.

The elevator was empty when we stepped inside. He swiped his key card and pressed the button for the penthouse. Damn, he must’ve been a high roller. Nervous energy hummed through my veins as the doors slid closed. He removed his hat and tucked it into his back pocket before shaking out his hair and running a hand through it. It fell across his forehead in a mass of perfectly tousled waves. How did men do that? They could put zero effort into their appearance and still look irresistible.

He turned and caught me watching him, and the corner of his lips twitched. Then his hands were on me, gripping my hips as he backed me against the wall. Those full, sensuous lips dropped to mine, skimming over them briefly before trailing over my jaw and down my neck. I gasped as his hands found my ass, and he squeezed. A moan escaped me when his tongue darted out to taste my skin.

The elevator dinged and suddenly he pulled away, leaving me in a haze of lust and unfulfilled need. He gripped me by the hand and led me to his room. Once inside, all bets were off. We barely made it through the door before he was kissing me again. I tugged at his shirt, ready to see him bare, ready to see the hard muscles I felt when I ran into him. He yanked it over his head and tossed it onto the floor, giving me only a second to take in the sculpted perfection of his chest and abs. He was magnificent. Michelangelo couldn’t have carved a more perfect specimen out of stone. He resumed his exploration of my mouth and I opened to him, welcoming him in.

Reaching for his belt, I froze when music began to play. The sound of Kelis’s “Bossy” blared from his pocket accompanied by the unmistakable buzz of a cell phone.

“Shit,” he hissed and pulled it out, silencing the call before tossing it onto the entry table. “Where were we?” he asked playfully, gripping the hem of my shirt. It was barely over my head when his phone rang again. He stiffened, every muscle inhis body going taut. He looked toward the phone buzzing on the counter, his brow knitted in concern. “I need to get that,” he said without sparing me another glance. Picking it up, he swiped his finger across the screen and pressed it to his ear. “What’s wrong?” he asked, moving further into the suite. All I could hear was his muffled voice, but I couldn’t make out anything he said. I stood there, unsure what to do. I didn’t want to invade his privacy, but I couldn’t help but wonder if everything was okay. Whatever it was sounded serious. I couldn’t exactly leave because he still had ahold of my shirt. So I just had to wait for him to finish his call and come back to me.

When he returned, irritation creased his brow. His gaze slid briefly over my body, and his jaw tightened as a pained look flashed across his face. He quickly glanced away as though he couldn’t bear the sight of me. Thrusting out his hand, he handed over my shirt, refusing to look at me again. My stomach sank, and I swallowed hard. I didn’t have a perfect, flawless body. There were stretch marks marring my stomach and hips, and my belly wasn’t flat, something my flowy top had camouflaged—a little too well, apparently—but I was comfortable in my skin. At least I had been before tonight.

Hurt and regret settled heavy in my chest, and I fought back the urge to cry. Taking the wadded up bundle of fabric from his hand, I waited for him to speak. When he did, it felt like a punch to the gut.

“You need to leave.”

My chin wobbled as long buried insecurities bubbled to the surface. I hurriedly threw my shirt over my head and yanked open the door as tears welled in my eyes. I didn’t even know this guy, yet his rejection stung like none had before. I called for the elevator and when it arrived I rushed inside, frantically pressing the button for the lobby. The doors finally slid closed just asthe first tear slid down my cheek. I collapsed against the wall, burying my head in my hands.

I hated that I'd let someone else make me feel inferior. I hated that someone had the power to dismantle the self-esteem I'd fought so hard to regain over the last few years. It only took one look and four words to completely undo all the progress I’d made.

The elevator reached the first floor, and I swiped the moisture from my cheeks before stepping into the lobby. I pulled my phone from my pocket, prepared to call for a ride. Maybe my friends were still at the bar and could swing by to pick me up. My face heated with mortification at the thought of explaining what had happened to them. Maybe I could tell them I’d changed my mind. I was lost in my thoughts when a clerk stepped in front of me.

“There’s a car waiting for you, Miss.” He motioned to the front entrance where a taxi idled.

“I think you have me confused with someone.” I stepped around him, pulling up my contacts.

“The gentleman in the penthouse called to have it arranged for you,” he offered with a gentle smile. “Everything is taken care of. All you have to do is give them the address.”

“Right,” I said, letting out a heavy sigh. “Thanks.” At least he had the decency to get me a ride after kicking me out of his hotel room. It was probably the only decent thing he’d done his entire life.

2

EASTON

Late summer sun beat down on my shoulders as I strode toward the arena, causing my shirt to cling to my dampening skin on the short trip from my truck. Cool air pelted me in the face as soon as the automatic doors slid open, and I released a relieved sigh. Lifting the ball cap from my head, I shook out my hair, hoping the perspiration would dry by the time I made it upstairs.

I was a little peeved that I had to be here so early. Practice didn’t start for over an hour, but each player was required to meet with the new team dietician this morning. It was a waste of my time since my diet was rock solid. You didn’t become league MVP by fueling your body with subpar nutrition. In Boston, I had access to the best trainers and sports dietician in the league. I doubted there was anything this newbie could do to top that. Word on the street was she barely had any experience and was only a year out of her training.

“Walker,” Coach Bradford greeted me cordially at the door, and I nodded. He was nice enough, but I could tell he was still apprehensive about having me on his team. I might have been at the top of my game when the Thunder canned me, but no coachwanted controversy following his players. When the news of my trade broke, the media went into a frenzy. Rumors surfaced about what caused my sudden departure from Boston, but so far, nobody had been able to pin down the scandalous truth. I just hoped it stayed that way, especially after the call I received from my publicist a couple weeks ago.

An up and coming journalist from Sports News Today was sniffing around, trying to dig up dirt. Roni chose the worst possible time to call and inform me of this. And to ensure I was on my best behavior, which I wasn’t. I was moments away from being balls deep in the sexiest woman I’d ever laid eyes on when the ridiculous ringtone she kept programming for herself into my phone completely derailed my evening. I’d been so angry, I kicked the poor woman out before I even had a chance to taste her. And I’d been kicking myself ever since, not only because of the way I'd handled things, but also because I’d been careless. Anyone could have photographed me leaving the bar with her or entering the hotel with her hand in mine. Roni would have a fit if something like that ended up online. I was supposed to be cleaning up my image, after all.

That was why I’d tried to keep my head down and lay low since that night. I’d met up with my new team captain—a title I'd once held—and another teammate when I first arrived, but other than that, I had stayed holed up in my hotel room until last week when I finally moved into my lake house.

Since then, I’d only come out for my workouts and to grab supplies. I declined invites to dinner and more than a few offers to enjoy some female companionship. The last thing I needed was for the paparazzi to snap a photo of me with a random woman and have her dragged into this mess. My publicist—who also happened to be my sister—would probably castrate me. According to her, my playboy days were over. The Wraiths were a family friendly organization, and if I wanted to gain thelove of their fans, I had to play the part. If the real story about my departure from the Thunder ever surfaced, I would have to prove that I’d turned over a new leaf. That type of scandal had the potential to wreck my career, but the public loved a reformed bad boy. I just had to convince them that I’d really changed.

I passed Tillman, our goalie, on his way out. He flipped through a binder with a blown-up image of the MyPlate symbol nestled in the clear plastic sleeve on the cover. Great. This new dietician was treating us like we were elementary kids who didn’t know the difference between carbs and protein. Tillman nodded his acknowledgment of me, and I returned the gesture. I hadn’t spent much time with my new teammates yet, but I’d learned pretty quickly that Tillman was a man of few words.

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