Page 35 of Dirty Player

Shannon had also been right—not that I’d admit it. I’d lost the enjoyment of the game a long time ago.

I loved football. It was rooted down deep in me, inside my marrow. Over the last few years, it’d been too hard to stay on top. Too much work to stay the number one tight end in the league. Too much work to stay pain free. I was kidding myself if I wasn’t getting tired of it. Plus, at thirty, retirement was knocking on my door, whispered through the halls and in the voices of sportscasters—not to mention in my own head, late at night when the sounds of birds and crickets were all I heard.

It was barreling down on me. I had another two or three years at most, and that damn gold ring was calling to me—laughing at me in the distance, mocking my inability to take my team there earlier.

And yeah, maybe that was why I drove Beaux harder, pushed him more than I ever would have Mason.

I wasn’t pissed that Mason had gone free agent and Beaux had been traded. I was pissed that Mason and I hadn’t been the ones to bring the Super Bowl win to Raleigh.

I wanted it. I wanted the parade and the madness and the recognition that my team was the best.

We had it in us.

Next to me, Hulk battered against the door of his stall, anxious for his early morning ride I didn’t have time for.

“Settle, boy.” I moved the remaining hay around Winne’s stall before propping the pitchfork on the far wall. I went to the stall she was waiting in and moved her back into hers before locking the door and going to see Hulk.

His black eyes narrowed when I came closer, that distrust so similar to Shannon’s when I spoke dirty to her.

She didn’t trust me, and she shouldn’t. So far I’d worked to earn Hulk’s, but if things went according to my plan with Shannon, there was no point in earning hers.

She’d be gone before there was time anyway.

Hulk whined and bucked against the door again, thrusting his head out of the stall and toward a noise I couldn’t yet hear, but I still turned to look at the barn doors just in time to see Shannon rush through them.

Her curly hair was wild and untamed, flying out behind her when she slid in the dirt and braced herself against the doorway.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” She was breathless, a hand pressed to her chest. She’d also already thrown back on yesterday’s barely existent outfit of her swimsuit and cover-up.

I scowled at the look. She’d ruined my idea of waking her up with my mouth all over her.

“I’m here.” I walked toward her and checked my watch. “What are you doing up? It’s still before six.”

“I told you I had to get home early today.”

She had, but early by most people’s standards wasn’t before seven. Another way I’d underestimated her, apparently.

“Do you have to go now?” I asked, cutting the distance between us by half. “Because I’m done here, and I was thinking of joining you in bed, my mouth on you, your hands digging into my hair, your legs spread open for me.”

Her breathing faltered when I reached her. I placed my gloved hands on her hips, smiling as she shivered at my touch.

She was so transparent. So pliant. Her pink tongue darted out and swiped her lips.

Instead of taking me up on my offer, she stepped back and pushed her hands through her unruly hair.

“I can’t. I really have to get back to town and get to work. There’s so much to do.” Her voice thickened as she looked up at me, long black lashes flickering wildly as pink burst onto her cheeks. “And, well, I’m really sore.”

The thrill of victory burst in my chest, and I couldn’t stop my grin. “I made you sore?”

She nodded.

“I made you hurt in a way that will make you remember yesterday and last night.”

She cleared her throat. “And early into the morning, yes.”

“Do your hips ache? Does your pussy hurt?”

She looked away from me then, the pink spreading to her throat and chest. “Don’t be so vulgar.”

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