Page 62 of Play the Last Track
“The team has clinched a playoff spot, and you’re early favorites for the Super Bowl. Does that add any pressure on the team?”
I scratch the back of my head nervously. The Super Bowl talk has been going around all season. We’ve been almost unbeatable. We’re in the best shape of our lives, and the Super Bowl seems like it might be in the bag for us. But I’ve been here before with the team, and we always seem to fail at the last hurdle. The conference finals.
“Yes. I mean, I think any team would feel the pressure if they were in our position. We’ve worked hard this year, and it’s paying off. The boys are an absolute unit, and every single player on the team is an integral part of where we’re at.” I smile at Ash. “But the pressure is a pleasure in this business. We’re athletes, so it’s what we thrive on.”
“And what about you off the field? How’s it going with that gorgeous girlfriend of yours? I think half the population is likely jealous of her for taking you off the market!” The reporter’s eyes shine. I can’t help but laugh. I glance over at Hollie, who’s standing off to the side. Another new Louis Vuitton bag, which I’m pretty sure she bought as a gift for herself from me for Christmas, is tucked under her arm. She rolls her hand, gesturing to me to answer the question.
I shake my head. “She’s good. We’re good. Thank you for asking.”
“You two make the most gorgeous couple. Is she here today?”
“She is. She’s up in the coaches’ box with Ivy Booker.” I point up toward one of the boxes. Flashes of early this morning go through my mind. Katie’s hair wrapped in my fist, her back arched, moans muffled into the mattress as I made her come not once, but twice, while fucking her from behind. The little minx is the reason I’m running on empty today. I barely got in more than four hours, and that was with a sleep-in.
“Will you be attending Scott Harvey and Ivy Booker’s wedding together? Can you give us any details on how the plans are going for football’s golden couple?” Ash pushes the microphone closer to me.
“I can’t, but we will both be there, yes.”
Ash looks disappointed with my answer, but doesn’t let it deter her. “Any plans for you to propose and settle down? You’ve gone from being filmed punching someone outside a bar to the perfect boyfriend this season. Huge change for someone to make if it’s not serious.”
“It’s serious. I lo—” I stop myself, the words catching in my throat. “It’s serious. I like spending time with Katie, but we’re not in a rush. We’re both still young.”
Ash narrows her eyes a minuscule amount, and I glance over at Hollie, begging her with my eyes for help. As if she could sense it, she’s already striding—well, striding as far as her small legs will take her—toward us.
“Okay, that’s plenty. Thanks so much, Ash.” Hollie intervenes, creating some distance between me and the reporter. “You have plenty for your report later.”
“Come on, Hollie. That was barely five minutes,” Ash whines. Hollie flicks her hand at me, dismissing me quickly as she takes Ash’s arm and leads her over to Coach. A few quick words in hisear, and Coach stands straighter as Ash takes her place next to him and the cameraman sets up in front.
Thank god for that.
Not sure the world finding out that I’m in love with Katie Murphy—before I’ve worked up the courage to tell her myself—is the best way for things to go.
Chapter Seventeen
Katie
“Idon’teventhinkDavenport made it home after, either,” Flynn says, bringing his beer to his lips as he talks. He takes a sip, and I watch the way his throat works as the liquid slides down. “He was all over the place the next day at practice. Coach sent him off to the trainers’ room, which meant he was told to go sleep it off.”
“Why didn’t Jeff just tell him to go home?”
“We get fined for missing practice if it’s not for a really good reason.” He places his glass down and rests his forearm on the table. His crisp shirt is tight over the muscles in his upper arms, and it just fits over his broad chest. I’m already thinking about how I want to rip it open later so I can run my tongue over his abs.
“I barely remember New Year’s. I vaguely remember laughing with Ivy in the bathroom, and being on the dance floor, but anything after that is a bit of a blur.” I take a sip of my wine and shake my head. “If that’s what their wedding will be like with most of the team there, I think someone should warn Ivy.”
“The wedding won’t be as bad. Scott’s already warned them they have to behave.” Flynn turns his hand over, his palm facing up. I stare at it for a moment before sliding my hand over his. He entangles our fingers together and relaxes into his seat. “So, you’re telling me that you don’t remember ambushing me in thebathroom on New Year’s and asking me to make you come exactly at midnight?”
“Shh,” I hiss, feeling my face go bright red. I look around the restaurant, but no one seems to be paying us much attention. We’re tucked away at the back of the steak house in a booth, sitting side by side. Flynn told me to take the night off and get dressed up, that we were going for dinner at a place Hollie had booked for us. But when we got here, Flynn used his real name and not the alias Hollie normally books under. They also sat us at the back of the restaurant, in a very private, very out-of-sight booth. My instinct tells me that if this had been a booking Hollie had made, we would be sitting directly in front of the window, and the flashing of cameras would’ve served as a side.
“So youdoremember?” He flashes me a grin and leans over, kissing my cheek, then the spot just below my ear. I press my thighs together and sigh.
“Of course, I do. I don’t know what you’ve done to me, but I apparently like sex in public places now.” I take another sip of wine as I watch his thumb gently rub the back of my hand.
Flynn laughs, leaning close to my ear as he murmurs, “I bet this place has a nice bathroom. Want to go have a look?”
“Stop it,” I say, using my free hand to slap his chest. His eyes drop down my body, again. I pulled an old red dress from my closet for tonight. I don’t think I’ve worn it since college. It’s tight, dropping to mid-thigh, but with long sleeves. It’s got a low back, with a tie that lies across my shoulder blades, the loose strings falling down my bare skin. The front cuts across my chest in a straight line, and because the dress is so tight, my boobs are pushed up every time I breathe. I’ve caught Flynn watching my chest rise and fall a number of times this evening.
He looks just as good. Dark gray slacks and a crisp white shirt with the collar open. He wore a jacket as well, but took it off when we got to the restaurant and slung it over the top of the booth when we sat down. The steak house is a pretty fancy place. The low lighting casts a romantic atmosphere over the dining room, and there’s gentle music playing in the background.
It’s the perfect date.
