Zeus

My life has always consisted of three basic truths.

One: Ares will always have my back, and I will always have his.

Two: cheeseburgers, pizza, and pineapple tater tot casserole are second only to sex. Yeah, pineapple tater tot casserole. Go on. Mock it. You don’t know what you’re missing. More for me. Punk.

Three: Sex is no-strings. Women don’t fuck me for my brain, my personality, or my moves. They fuck me for my muscles, my fame, and my dick.

Which means having my brother silently telegraphing that I’m in over my head with a woman I want to share a cheeseburger with and bang all fucking night long because she’s playing hard to get means my entire life is off-kilter.

If she likes pineapple tater tot casserole, I’m done for.

Not that I’ll ever find out. Fireball’s a one-and-done kind of girl. And I’ve fucked it up twice. Not the good kind of fuck either.

You want a one-night stand?

Yeah, I did too. And this is the most fucked-up one-night stand I’ve ever participated in.

We got the all-clear to go back into the hotel forty minutes ago, but we’ve been hanging back, signing a few autographs, mocking Chase for a phone call he took with Ambrosia, and talking shit with Manning over the pudding pie he’s making love to on the street corner. Yeah, I mean pudding pie, because Fireball took possession of Gracie the minute I put her on the ground.

And because none of us are as dumb as we act—usually—we all got out of the blast zone before she blew.

Lady didn’t like being carried out of the hotel.

Me?

Ain’t often I get to play hero. And I saved her ass good from that false alarm.

Probably good that I’m never gonna see this chick again.

Chase hangs up with my sister, Ares finishes his tattoo peep show for the three lingering women, and Manning rubs his tongue all over the last of the pudding in of his takeout container.

“Need to work on your form,” I tell him. “No wonder Gracie left you for her sister.”

“As a gentleman, I decline to comment on her level of satisfaction with my form.” There’s that damn cheerful grin again. “But it’s worth noting which sister was smiling when we parted.”

I hate that the fucker has a point.

This close. I was this close to Fireball coming apart at the seams when that fucking alarm went off. I can still taste her. Still feel her plump flesh on my tongue and her strong, silky legs in my palms. I want to finish what I started.

When we walk into the lobby, three things hit me at once.

First, the place smells like fresh chocolate chip cookies, which are my second favorite food in the entire planet right behind a thick, juicy steak the size of my head.

Second, this is the squeakiest-ass floor I’ve ever walked on. We sound like a herd of elephants stepping on chew toys.

And third, Fireball and Gracie are in the hotel bar. Fireball’s throwing darts and fucking hitting a bull’s-eye with every last one.

That good-for-nothing demigod in my jockey shorts stands up.

I tell the fucker to sit down and keep out of it, because he’s still in the penalty box.

Ares cuts a look at me. He sees her too.

Chase is watching her with an expression I don’t like. He’s dating my sister. If he’s getting fucking ideas about trading her in for a flying model, he’ll find out what the sharp end of my skates can do to a man’s jugular.

“You realize I’m far more terrified of your sister than I am of you,” he says without taking his eyes off Fireball.

“Being a little smart doesn’t make you all smart.”

“Mead and cookies, gentlemen?” Manning says.

I take one last look at Fireball. Fuck, I don’t even know her real name. After today, feels like I should know everything from her birthday to why she has that scar to if she gets a little orgasm every time she sneezes.

Fuck, that’d be such an awesome superpower.

She suddenly turns and looks at the four of us. Her gaze passes easily over Chase and Ares. The volcano shooting out her eyeballs, nostrils, and ears when she pauses to give Manning a good glare—the don’t even fucking think of asking to try my sister’s pudding glare—suggests her nickname is well-earned.

He blows her a kiss. Ballsy fucker. Told you I liked him.

Her nostrils flare, and her attention shifts to me.

And that’s not a glare.

It’s not soft, but it’s not hard. Not accepting, but not judgmental.

It’s somewhere between. Something elemental. Her dark gaze simultaneously tells me that I might not be the puck-up my first performance suggests I am, and also that I’ve still had my two strikes—fucking fire alarm—and I’m ejected from the game for arguing with the ref over that last call.

I never go down without a fight. I don’t walk away from a challenge. I’ve never met a woman I couldn’t satisfy one way or another, and when you’re as big as I am, you get plenty of practice with another.

But this woman?

She’s different. Stronger. Smarter. Harder.

She’s got something inside her, something driving her, that I want to touch. Want to see and feel. Understand.

I want to dig until I find her soft spots, because I know they’re there.

Fuck, I have soft spots too. Not that anybody cares.

Or that I’ll ever let them.

Training camp starts in three weeks. Last year on contract—I’m a free agent at the end of the season. This year has to be spectacular to make up for—just for, okay? Fuckers on SportsCenter are already tossing around the R-word. I might be heading into old-man land, but I’m not done yet.

So I’m walking away from Fireball.

Let a woman in my headspace once. Long time ago. She fucked me up good. Almost ruined my best junior season. Almost cost me being drafted.

I’m not gonna let another one fuck up the most important season still to come in my life.

I nod to Fireball. Nice knowing you, princess.

One corner of her mouth twitches north. Barely. Same, Zeusette.

Can’t help but appreciate a woman who makes you earn it.

I give my companions the let’s get out of here head jerk. “What the fuck’s mead?” I say to Manning. “Favorite girly drink of the Eskimos?”

“Thousand bucks says it knocks you on your ass before midnight,” he replies cheerfully.

“You’re on, dumbass,” I reply.

Newsflash for him: I’ve already been knocked on my ass today.

And the woman who did it still has a keycard to my room.

Not often even I’m impressed by my own stupidity, but today’s been that kind of day.