“Yes, he does. Scouts are looking at you and asking your coach about you, what kind of player you are, what kind of person you are. He could ruin any dreams you have of going into the NFL and I’m far from an expert on football but you’re really good. I won’t be responsible for—”
His mouth covers mine before I’m able to finish and he kisses me so deeply my back arches and if not for his hold on my hips I’d fall flat on my ass. His tongue slides against mine in a gentle caress. The taste of hot coffee and spicy breath mint is a heady combination. My mind spins and I’m dizzy by the time he breaks the kiss. His eyes, shadowed by his brows, look down on me with hunger and something else. Something fragile and intense. Something new.
He drops his chin to rest his forehead against mine. “Hearing that you believe in me.” He shakes his head. “If I had any doubts about coming clean with coach, you erased all of them with what you just said.”
A group of students walk around the corner and I jump back and out of his arms.
He shoves his hands into his pockets and judging by his ridged posture it would seem he’s doing it to keep from grabbing me. He watches the group of students until they pass and then turns his glare on me. “What are you doing?”
“I’m keeping your NFL dreams alive. You’re welcome.”
His jaw ticks and a flicker of anger flashes in his eyes.
“I can’t be responsible for how he makes you pay, and he will make you pay.” The thought alone makes me nauseous. “He could stop playing you or not return phone calls to people scouting you or, I don’t know. He dropped me off at nine years old and never looked back. He is capable of doing the same to you.”
“So that’s it? We keep sneaking around, fucking in the dark, and acting like we don’t know each other on campus? That’s what you want?”
I blow out a breath, trying to organize my thoughts because there’s another force at play here. My heart is now involved and wants a say. “All I care about is what’s easiest for you. You’re a senior and football season is over in a few months, right? Who knows if we’ll even still be hanging out in a few months.”
He takes a threatening step forward. “Who knows? I fucking know.”
I rub my forehead, feeling feverish, confused, and flustered. “Theodore, please, this is getting way too intense.”
He chuckles but the sound is deep, dark, and lacks humor. “Too intense? You proudly wear my mark on your neck, my art between your thighs, and you let me fuck you like you can’t live a day without my dick.”
The way he describes me sounds weak and needy and I hate it. This is why life is easier without attachments, because giving someone a part of me gives them permission to demolish me. I was careless, caught up, let my guard drop and I’m suffering the bitter consequences. I like Theodore, but being with him means throwing away the protective detachment I’ve spent the majority of my life perfecting. I thought I could sleep with him and still remain impartial. I was wrong.
A cold wash of numbness douses any warmth I felt earlier, and steel walls fall behind my ribs with a deafening slam.
He must hear it too because he reaches for me as if he’s watching me slip away. “Don’t do this.”
I step back to avoid him touching me. “I think we should stop seeing each other.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re really going to walk away from what we have because of your dad?”
I shake my head. “Not because of him, because of me. Life is easier without having someone to answer to. Hickeys fade, a dick is a dick. Let’s not romanticize this, it was fun while it lasted.”
He casually scratches his jaw, but the muscles beneath tick with barely restrained anger. “I hear what you’re saying, Kitten, but I don’t believe you.”
“It doesn’t matter if you believe me or not.” I clear my throat, straighten my shoulders and deliver my conclusion. “It’s over.”
He stares at nothing to his left, then looks at me and calmly says, “I have a game in Phoenix this weekend. Sunday night, you’re at my house and you’re not leaving until we work out what it is you’re so afraid of—”
“I’m not afraid of anything.”
He gets so close I can feel his hot breath against my face. “You’re a goddamn liar.” He presses his lips to my forehead and walks away leaving me with my heart racing and my eyes burning.
Chapter Nineteen
Spider
Two days have passed since Emery broke up with me.
I gave her the space she asked for—haven’t called or texted. That doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about her every minute since then. I meant what I said when I told her she had until Sunday. If she thinks brushing me off is going to get rid of me for good, then she doesn’t know me at all.
Our game with ASU is tomorrow morning and we’ve finished our team meetings and are digesting our dinner in the hotel’s conference room, getting ready to call it a night.
“That guy is so whipped.” Loren motions to Carey who has his face tilted downward, a goofy smile on his face, as he texts furiously without a single fuck given to who is watching. “He can’t go thirty minutes without texting Rowan.”
“Why the fuck do you care?” I’ve held my own phone in my hand as often as I can over the last two days to ensure I don’t miss an incoming text or call from Emery. The device has remained infuriatingly silent.
Loren smiles as if he can see inside my head and finds whatever is in there amusing. “Trouble with the missus?”
My eyes gravitate to the coach’s table on the other
