Stone

“Trust me, Mom,” I say, trying to soothe my mother’s worry. “I know what it sounded like.”

“But they’re playing it on the news.”

“Mom, ESPN is not the news.”

“In my world it is,” she says tersely. “Why would they let that jackhole in there? Why would he ask such rude questions?”

I sigh. The second I got to the airport for the flight back to Texas, I called my mother. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to talk to her for long, which only gave her some time to come up with a million different questions about something I don’t have an answer to.

“The team won, for heaven’s sake. Shouldn’t they be happy about that?”

If only it was that easy. “Mom…”

“No, you don’t have to explain. I could tell you were upset. Do you think Mr. Andrews is going to be angry?”

My mother is up to speed on what’s going on, about how the team has assigned a PR person to help control some of the spotlight, to allow me to focus on my game.

“I haven’t talked to him,” I explain. “But I’m sure I’ll hear from him soon.” Unfortunately, the conversation we’re going to have probably won’t be what Andrews is hoping for, but I can’t help that either.

They fucking set me up.

“Well, I think you’ll be able to smooth it over with him. If he doesn’t see that you were set up, then he’s blind.”

Smooth it over? I don’t want to smooth it over. I want to tell the man to take his help and shove it up his ass.

But I don’t say that.

“Thanks for having my back,” I tell her.

Knowing she’s behind me means everything. However, it’s not going to smooth things over. In fact, I’m dodging calls from my agent already, which means the shit is currently hitting the fan.

Not that it matters because my mind is still back in that room with those reporters. I know I sounded like an enraged asshole, but that’s because I was one.

Because of that, I’m so fucking embarrassed by what happened. Hell, I can’t even imagine what Savannah thinks. She’s the one who’s supposed to be helping me, and I somehow turned it around on her. I’m sure she’s going to her father right now and telling him that I’m some sort of lost cause. Despite the fact I still don’t understand the need for her to be helping me, I want it because it gives me an excuse to spend time with her.

“When they asked about next year, I noticed you didn’t answer.”

No, I didn’t. Because I don’t have an answer.

“Are you still planning to retire?”

“I don’t know, Mom.” I won’t lie to her.

I’ve had conversations with my agent, and I know that the Wranglers are interested in extending my contract for another two years. I’m currently considering my options. However, I’m not going to make any decisions until I see how this season plays out. It’s only fair to me. The bonuses that are attached to an NFC championship and a Super Bowl win are likely going to make my decision for me. At two million a pop, right now, that’s where my focus is.

“I want you to call me as soon as you speak to Mr. Andrews,” my mother says. “And I’ll let you go ’cause I’m sure you’re tired.”

I’m anything but tired, but I don’t tell my mother that. “Talk to you tomorrow, Mom. I love you.”

“I love you, too, honey.”

Hanging up the phone, I pace my living room.

I should probably call Ken and let him know that I’ll work on a statement for tomorrow, something that will hopefully get Devereaux off my case. Then again, my agent has always said that the only bad publicity is no publicity, but in this case, I think he’s wrong. Especially if Devereaux’s accusations have any substance.

I should probably call Savannah and apologize for the things I said to her. And I would if I wasn’t so worried she’ll tell me to leave her alone. She was doing this as a favor to her father, and I accepted their offer for selfish reasons. I didn’t need their help with the press. I’m capable of handling it on my own. And I can honestly say, if I’d been in charge of today’s interview, Luke Devereaux wouldn’t have gotten within a hundred feet of me.

With a sigh, I toss my phone onto the couch. I’ll text Savannah in the morning. Maybe she’ll forget that ever happened and we’ll get back to being…whatever it is that we are.

Or, she won’t and I’ll be back where I started from.

Without her.

Either way, I guess I’ll find out in the morning.

---

Morning turns into an hour later because I find myself pacing the floor, unable to sleep. It’s the not knowing that’s killing me. If I knew where Savannah lived, I would simply show up on her doorstep. Unfortunately, I can’t very well call someone up and get her address because that would…well, it would probably look entirely inappropriate.

So, the next best thing I can do is text her. Hey. Are you free to talk?

The response that comes back doesn’t surprise me in the least.

No.

Well, shit. At least I tried, right?

I’m not sure what I was hoping for. Maybe for her to tell me that everything would be fine and that I am overreacting. Then again, I did sort of blow up at her, although I know she didn’t have any control over the shit that douchebag said, even if she did have the ability to keep him away from me.

“Yeah,” I mutter to myself. “Total jackass.”

My phone buzzes in my hand and I hesitate before I look at it.

But I might change my mind if you come over here.

Well, holy shit.

That is certainly not what I expected.

No way am I going to pass up this opportunity.

So, after texting Savannah to get the address, I make a beeline for the shower.

And twenty minutes later, I’m in my SUV heading over to her place. It’s probably stupid, but I’m nervous as fuck. I’ve never felt like this when it comes to a woman, but I’m actually a little light-headed when I walk up to her front door.

But the second she opens it and I lay my eyes on the most beautiful woman in the world, a strange calm comes over me.

She does that to me.

Savannah Andrews makes everything all right, even when it’s not.

Savannah

Considering the fact that Stone totally blew up in my face, I probably should’ve ignored his text and gone to bed like I’d planned. Considering the fact that I don’t know what this thing between Stone and me really is, I probably should’ve turned off my phone two hours ago and gone to bed.

Neither of those things happened though. The second my phone lit up with his text message, I knew I wasn’t going to let it go.

For one, I want this man with a passion I don’t even understand. Even if it is temporary, I can’t seem to ignore the fact that my body heats every time I think about him. Oh, who am I kidding? What I feel for Stone is more than the phenomenal sex we’ve had. I genuinely like him. I like his silly banter, the way he looks at me, the way we can talk about anything and everything. I haven’t had that before. Not to this degree, anyway.

And now that he’s on my front porch, my body temperature has risen at least fifteen degrees in as many seconds because just looking at him spikes my adrenaline, makes me lose my train of thought.

Stepping back out of the way, I invite him in with a motion of my hand. He looks defeated and I can’t help but feel responsible for that. I guess that’s because I am responsible for that. I should’ve handled things differently and if I’m smart, I’ll take the opportunity to tell him as much.

Only, I don’t because I’m a chicken.

“Did you eat dinner?” I ask, trying to make small talk.

“No,” he admits, his eyes scanning my townhouse.

“Would you like me to make something? I’ve got…well, I’ve probably got the makings of a salad.” I smile sheepishly. I don’t think Jason Stone is much of a salad eater. His toned body screams protein.

“I’m good,” he says, turning to face me. “I really wanted to apologize for…today.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” I interrupt. “I’m the one who—”

“Let me finish,” he insists, his tone harsher than I’ve ever heard it.

I wait, allowing him to continue.

“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.”

“Embarrassed me?” I’m confused.

His look says I should know exactly what he’s talking about. “During the interview.”

I wave him off. “That’s ridiculous. You didn’t embarrass me. You might’ve pissed me off, but you didn’t embarrass me.” Wait. Is that what he thought? “Is that why you bolted at the airport? Because you thought you embarrassed me?”

His gaze drops to the floor. “I can talk until I’m hoarse about a game, about winning, even about losing. It doesn’t bother me. And truthfully, I don’t care how many interviews they want. I’ll sit there all damn day if it makes a difference. But I’m not interested in talking about my personal life. Not with anyone and certainly not with Devereaux.”

Something inside me softens as I take a step closer until I’ve cleared the distance between us. “Tonight wasn’t your fault. It was mine. I should’ve checked to see if anyone crashed the party.”

He moves closer, his eyes imploring me to continue. However, I’m not interested in talking. I really want this man to kiss me right now. I want him to take control the way he has before and kiss me until I don’t know my own name. I don’t want to think about the press conference, I don’t want to think about how angry he was or what an asshole Luke Devereaux is either. I only want this to be about me and Stone. No one else.

It’s possible he can read that request on my face because his eyes heat and his gaze darts down to my mouth. We’re close enough to touch, yet neither of us makes that move.

Not right away, anyway.

A few heated seconds pass as the chemistry between us heats the room, swirling around both of us until the air is charged with electricity. My belly flips as his hand lifts, his warm palm cupping the side of my face, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip.

I suck air in, trying not to pant like a woman in heat, but heaven help me, this man does some crazy things to me. I haven’t felt this before. This crazy-wild spark that makes the hair on my body stand on end.

And then he’s on me, his mouth on mine, his hands traveling over my body, sliding beneath my clothes. I have no idea how it happens, but he has me naked in minutes and I can’t find it in myself to care that my clothes seem to fall off when he’s around.

The next thing I know, he has me bent over the back of my couch, my hands clutching the cushions.

“Don’t move,” he demands.

His gruff words have my pussy clenching, my nipples pebbling. I could so easily become addicted to this commanding, dominant man. In fact, it’s possible I already am.

“I fucking need you, Savannah,” he whispers hoarsely. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

His palms slide down my back, lower. His mouth follows, his lips and tongue gliding down my spine, which, as it turns out, seems to be one of my rather sensitive erogenous zones. I moan, wanting him to continue.

“I think about you all the damn time,” he continues. “Day, night, doesn’t matter. I dream about touching you, tasting you.”

When I feel the warmth of his breath between my legs, I go up on my tiptoes, wanting him closer.

“Give me your hands,” he insists.

Not quite sure what he’s doing, I let my hands drop to my sides. He pulls them behind me, then plants them on my ass.

“Hold yourself open for me so I can eat this sweet pussy.”

Holy fuck.

This feels intensely taboo, yet I don’t argue. I pull my cheeks apart, still bent over, and I know he’s getting an unobstructed view of my most private parts. I should be embarrassed, but I’m not.

The deep rumble that echoes behind me has my mouth drying up instantly. But when his lips descend, his tongue sliding through my slit, inching forward to stroke my clit, I cry out. It feels amazing.

“Don’t move your hands,” he commands when I slip.

Once again, I hold myself open for him, letting my face fall into the back cushion of the couch while his tongue does wicked things to me. His fingers tease and torment while his tongue works me into a frenzy. It takes tremendous willpower to hold on, but that is completely shattered when he rapidly flicks his tongue against my clit and drives two fingers inside me.

I come with a scream, my body spasming out of control as I try not to move.

Before I can catch my breath, Stone is behind me once again. I hear the distinct sound of a condom wrapper being ripped open, then feel his hands gripping my hips as he thrusts deep inside me. The move is sudden, intense, and the pain quickly morphs into pleasure as he fucks me.

Only then do I realize that this continues to happen when we’re together. The chemistry between us seems to eradicate all rational thought and reduces us both to nothing more than hormones driven solely by need.

And I’m already wondering when the next time will be.

That is, if I actually survive this one.