Page 21 of Dirty Filthy Boy
Chapter 8
Ty
IWAKEfrom the soundest sleep I've had in a long time. My body's aches and pains nonexistent, warm and pleasured by MacKenna's body. Should have known a wildcat lived inside her body. How could it not with that red hair and those intoxicating curves? I pat the bed beside me, but it's empty and cold. Is she in the bathroom? I don't hear any sounds coming from it. Maybe she went to the kitchen to get something to eat. We never had dinner last night. Not that I minded. I was too busy feasting on her. My stomach growls now though.
After I take care of business and brush my teeth, I throw on a jersey and jeans and go looking for her. When I don't find her in the living room or kitchen, I race through the house. Ten minutes later, it's clear. She's gone. She left without telling me. Hell, she didn't even leave a note.
I grab my phone, find her cell number in the information Trevor shared with me and dial it.
"Hello?"
"MacKenna?"
"Yes."
"Where are you?"
"Home."
"Why?"
"I have to get ready for work." She sounds perfectly normal, like she fucks and walks out on a guy every day of the week.
I count to ten to keep from yelling at her, but make it only to three."How did you get home?"
"I called a cab."
"Why didn't you wake me? I would have driven you home."
"I thought a clean break would be best."
I choke back a curse. "Clean break?"
"Everyone knows you don't sleep with the same woman twice. Why drag out the goodbye? Besides, I have my career to think about. You yourself said it, anyone who sees me with you will think I'm a groupie. That doesn't do me any good. You understand, don't you?"
I stare at the phone like it's grown legs. Is this the same sex kitten who scratched my back? Who begged, "Harder, Ty. Deeper." How could I have been so wrong about her? I thought her sweet, a little naive. But she's a tramp. Like every other woman I've fucked since I joined the league, she was interested in only one thing—fucking the Chicago Outlaws' quarterback. Fine. Two can play at this game. "Yeah, I understand. Hope you had a good time."
"It was nice."
Nice? Fuck nice! I rocked her world, and she knows it. "Well, see you around."
"Yeah." Her voice quivers before she hangs up.
Did that sound like a sob? Not likely. She's probably thinking about her next score. She won't have to try too hard. My teammates will line up around the block to talk to her. Yeah, talk and a whole lot more. I toss my cell to the couch, stomp toward the shower. Gotta get her rose-lavender scent off me. Throw the sheets in the washer too. Fuck. I'll need my maid service to sanitize the whole house because I fucking don't want to smell her perfume again.
