I was never nervous on the football field. I never needed to feel nervous. When I ran through the offensive lineman and burst out into the open lanes, I felt more fucking alive than I ever could anywhere else.

Then there was the crunch of body against body, the smash of pads, the bruising burst. I loved getting tackled, and I loved breaking through tackles even more. I loved the taste of grass as my face got smashed into the turf, and I loved the sound of men grunting as they were unable to pull me down.

I’d had a damn good college career. Broke a few records, led my team to a championship my senior year, and even won the damn Heisman.

But none of that compared to getting picked in the first round of the draft by the Philadelphia Eagles.

I was a Texas boy. I’d gone to the University of Texas and I grew up in Texas. I didn’t know a damn thing about fucking Philadelphia, but I didn’t give a shit. All I wanted was to get out of Texas and join the big show.

I didn’t have it easy in Texas. Sure, I was a fucking football star and girls threw themselves at me, but before all that, I worked my ass off to get any recognition. My parents died when I was young, my mom in a car crash when she drove drunk, and my dad from an overdose of heroin. My grandmother raised me, helped me to become the man I am. Without her, I’d be rotting in the foster system, probably out stealing cars or part of a gang or some shit.

Instead, I’d gone to high school, joined the football team, and never looked back. Getting on that field gave me the outlet for my aggression that I fucking needed. I was angry at the world for giving me a shit situation, for making my life harder than it had to be, and I wanted to take that anger out on someone. Football was the right place for that.

So I smashed bodies and broke bones. I loved it, and I was damn good at it.

I wasn’t perfect. I drank and smoked and fucked as much as I wanted, and I got away with it because I was so damn good. Nobody said shit to me, because I was their star fucking running back. But my body had problems; my knees were a constant source of worry, and I hadn’t woken up without a backache in years.

That was fine with me. The game took a toll on your body, and that was the price you paid. I got money and fame in exchange, and that was good with me.

There were other things in my past I wasn’t proud of. I didn’t have money growing up and never had any real opportunities. I’d had to do things I wasn’t fucking proud of, things that were still following me around.

The sort of shit that could destroy my career.

I wasn’t perfect. But I was good at football, and so far that’d been enough.

* * *

I was drenched in sweat, my knees aching like fuck the first time I saw her.

She was standing on the sidelines of the practice field, looking uncomfortable. I didn’t normally notice the medicine staff standing around, since there were so fucking many of them and they all wore the same damn outfit, but she stood out. I couldn’t say what it was about her that drew my eye, but as I walked over to the sidelines to grab some water, I couldn’t help but stare.

She was fucking gorgeous. I realized it immediately. She wasn’t like the other frumpy therapists. She had thick, long dark hair, full red lips, beautiful, smooth skin, and deep green eyes. I wanted to drag her back into the fucking locker room and slowly strip that polo shirt from her body.

She looked at me, and I smiled. She smiled back, a little uncomfortable, and I felt my cock stir. As I grabbed my water and downed it, someone came up beside me.

“Owen,” the man said. I looked over. The head of the medicine people, some guy named Jeff, smiled at me. “How’s it going?”

“Fine,” I grunted.

“Listen, I want you to meet someone.”

I nodded. “Sure.” I was exhausted, but these people were important. They kept my fucking knees from giving out every damn day.

Jeff steered me over to the side and we stopped right in front of her. She gave me this shy smile before reaching out to shake my hand.

“Owen, this is Taylor Jones. She’s going to be your personal therapist for the remainder of the season.”

I took her hand, soft but firm, and grinned at her. “Nice to meet you, Taylor,” I said.

“Same. I look forward to working with you.”

“I look forward to working you, too,” I said, still grinning.

There was a pause, and I knew she’d heard what I had said.

“Well,” Jeff said, “since Lucy is on her maternity leave, I’m giving you to Taylor. She’s young, but she’s very, very good. I think you’re in great hands.”

“I’m sure I am,” I said.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to it.” Jeff gave me his best smile, but I was too busy staring at Taylor to give a shit.

“I’ll see you after practice,” she said.

I nodded. “You will.” I turned and headed back onto the field, feeling pretty damn good.

I couldn’t get her out of my mind the remainder of the day. Despite the heat and the hard work, I just kept thinking about her standing over there on the sidelines, watching me. She was staring at my body, my sweating body, and all I wanted to do was to make her sweat along with me.

Maybe that was stupid. She was supposed to be my physical trainer after all. People always liked to say that you shouldn’t get involved with someone you worked with.

But who fucking cared what people said? I was never the type to bother with that shit. If I wanted something, I found a way to take it. I never asked for permission for anything in my life. If I wanted to fuck a girl, I’d let her know, and I’d find a way to get it. I was never kept waiting for long.

By the end of practice, I’d already thought about how many different ways I was going to take this girl. In the whirlpool, on the massage tables, on every fucking inch of the locker room. I wanted to make her sweat and moan my name until she couldn’t take it anymore.

And the fact that I shouldn’t do it only made me want it that much more.

As practice wore down, the team headed into the shade. The coaches gave us their notes, we got some water, and then we headed in for our cool down.

Taylor met me at the door to the exercise room. She smiled, clearly nervous, but she was trying to hide it well.

I leaned toward her. “So you’re the girl that’s going to work me all season.”

“That’s right,” she said, either oblivious to my comment or choosing to ignore it. “I’m looking forward to working with you, Mister Rack.”

I laughed. “Shit. Call me Owen. We’re what—the same age?”

“Yeah,” she admitted, “we are.”

“Just call me Owen then.”

“Ready?”

“Sure.”

I followed her into the exercise room. She had mats already rolled out, and she gestured toward them.

“If you can get on your back.”

“You move fast.”

She shrugged. “We only have ten minutes before you have to go watch film.”

I grinned at her. “Not what I meant.” I got down on my back.

“Okay, left leg up.” I lifted my leg and she grabbed it, gently pushing it back.

I felt pain at first, but I masked it. Slowly, the pain ebbed into a gentle, warm throbbing as she stretched my leg out. She did a complicated set of motions with my leg and knee, shaking it and stretching it.

“Does it hurt?” she asked.

“I’ve had worse.”

“I’m sure you have, but I need to know.”

“It’s fine.”

“Okay.” She stretched it some more. “Tell me if you feel anything too uncomfortable.”

“What happened to Lucy?” I asked her.

“Had her baby.”

“Oh, right. I forgot she was pregnant.”

“How could you forget?”

“Easy. I was too busy staring at her beautiful ass.”

She made a face. “Very nice.”

“Don’t be jealous. Yours is much nicer.”

“I wasn’t jealous. Trust me.”

“I don’t know. I saw how you were watching me out there.”

She gently put my leg down and took the other one, beginning the same routine.

“Professional curiosity,” she said.

“Maybe. Or you were wondering if I was going to get you just as sweaty later on.”

“Doubtful.” She did a motion, and I felt a sharp pain run along my thigh. She stopped what she was doing. “Pain?”

“A little.”

“Okay.” She restarted, gentle but firm.

God, I was fucking hard for her. Just from her touching my legs and talking, I wanted to throw her down on the mat and taste her dripping little pussy. She was pretending like she didn’t know it, but we both could tell what was happening here.

“Do you give every player this much attention?” I asked her. “Or is it only the special ones?”

“You’re my only assignment.”

“Really?” I laughed. “So I have you all to myself.”

“That’s right, I guess.”

“You’re lucky. You don’t have to share.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“You want me all to yourself, and now you get me.” I grinned at her. “If you want, we can lock those doors and you can work me the way I really want you to.”

She did a sharp motion, and I felt a little stab of pain. She smiled sweetly.

“Did that hurt?”

I laughed, grinning at her. “Not at all.”

“Good.”

I couldn’t believe she did that. She’d hurt me because I was being an ass, and she hadn’t seemed to think twice about it.

I fucking loved it.

Most girls in her position would be fawning over me, trying to flirt, trying to get on my good side, but she was no-bullshit, and I liked it. She was trying to be professional, even if her hands were lingering longer than they needed to.

She finished my other leg and then stood up. “Okay,” she said. “Quick strength exercise and then we’re done.”

“You finish quick.”

“Only when I want it to be over.”

I smirked at her. “We both know you want more.”

She ignored me and handed me a medicine ball. Then she proceeded to show me a strengthening exercise for the muscles around my knee. I did ten reps of that for each knee while she watched and critiqued my form.

Finally, I finished up. I was sweating again, surprisingly tired for such a simple task. I put the ball down and leaned up against the wall.

“It’ll get easier,” she said. “Soon you’ll be able to take a tackle without worrying whether your knee will blow out or not.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “I was never worried.”

“You should be.”

“Why? I’ve taken some pretty fucking hard tackles in my time.”

“Maybe, but you’ve been lucky. Every player should worry about his body.”

“You’re right. But now I have you to worry about my body for me.”

She smiled. “That’s right. And we’re done for the day.” She turned and headed for the door.

“Wait,” I said.

Reluctantly, she turned. “Yeah?”

“Come here.”

She walked over to me slowly. “What?”

“Do you have a phone?”

“Yes.”

“Can I have it?”

She hesitated and then fished it out and handed it to me. I typed my number into it and handed it back.

“Text me anytime,” I said, “preferably late at night.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“We’ll see.”

She gave me a look and then turned and left.

I stood there for a second, smiling to myself.

I had to admit, I was interested in her. She hadn’t immediately fallen all over me, which I liked. She wasn’t playing any games. Not to mention she was absolutely fucking gorgeous, and I could tell she wanted me even if she was pretending like she didn’t.

That was perfect, though. It just so happened that I liked the chase.

I liked to earn whatever I took.