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Bad Business by Nicole Edwards (24)

Chapter 25

Stone

My eyes open and I’m instantly greeted by the delicious scent of…

I’m pretty sure that’s bacon I smell, and then it all comes to me. The wager from last night’s miniature golf, fucking Savannah in the front seat of my Escalade, leading her inside the house and then ravishing her once more on my bed before we both passed out cold.

I glance over at the clock. It’s only five-thirty, but that’s not a bad thing because I have to be at practice by seven. Which means I don’t have much time before I need to drag my lazy ass out of bed. For the first time in a long time, I don’t want to move from where I am.

Usually I’m up in an instant, ready for what the day has in store.

Right now, I’m ready for something else entirely.

I hear footsteps in the hall and I peer over at the door just in time to…

“Holy fuck.”

Savannah is carrying a small tray and yes, she’s wearing nothing more than her birthday suit. Her perfect tits are hidden by the items on the tray, but my imagination fills in the blank spots for me. Of course, then I let my gaze drop south, admiring her trim hips and the smooth skin between her toned thighs.

“I figured you had practice this morning, so I thought I’d get an early start. Are you hungry?”

Oh, yeah. I’m starving. But I have no interest in bacon or eggs or orange juice. I want the delicious woman who’s bringing me food.

I don’t move, still eyeing her as she sets the tray on the nightstand before she turns to face me.

“Look your fill,” she says in that seductive tone that makes my dick harder than it already was. “After all, you did win the bet.”

“Oh, I’m looking all right,” I tell her, then motion with my hand for her to turn around. “But I need to see more.”

She pivots so that she is facing away from me, and I drop my feet over the edge of the bed, stretching out to touch her before she can step out of my reach. Savannah laughs when I pull her back so that her perfect little ass is perched on my thighs, my cock cradled between the rounded globes. I kiss her shoulder, then reach around and cup her tits.

“Have I mentioned that I can’t seem to get enough of you?” I tell her, sliding my mouth up to her neck. I’ve learned that’s one of her sensitive spots.

She moans.

“Every damn time I see you, I want to fuck you senseless.”

“And I want to let you,” she says breathlessly.

“Well, a beautiful woman should always get what she wants.” I push to my feet and spin her around so that her torso is lying on the bed, her feet still on the floor. Within seconds, I’m gloved up and sinking inside Savannah’s tight sheath.

“Oh, God!” Savannah screams, her hands gripping the comforter as she pushes back against me.

“So fucking tight,” I groan, gripping her hips and impaling her roughly.

This woman drives me to the brink without even trying. I can’t get enough of her, and God knows I’ve tried to fuck her out of my system. That doesn’t seem to be happening.

“Fuck me,” she pleads. “Fuck me hard, Jason.”

I slam into her hard, over and over. My cock plunges deep, retreats, then slams home again and again. I can feel her pussy clamping down on me, strangling my dick. I grip her ass roughly, continuing to fuck her as hard as I dare. Savannah’s rocking back against me, and it’s all I can do not to come right fucking now.

Bending my knees, I change the angle, lifting her feet off the floor, and I nail her harder and harder until she’s crying out my name over and over, her pussy milking me dry.

It takes a minute for me to catch my breath as I lean over her, kissing the back of her neck and trying my best not to crush her beneath me.

“Good morning,” she says, chuckling softly.

“Damn right it is.” Better than good.


Two hours later, I’m doing my damnedest to focus, but my mind is back in my bedroom with Savannah. I’m starting to wonder whether or not I’ll ever get my focus back. For so long, football has been the only thing I can think about. Winning has always been the end goal. Right now, I shouldn’t be thinking about anything except how to get the next play down, how to ensure that the offense does what’s required of us and moves that damn ball down the field.

I’m not thinking about football or the upcoming game against the Broncos. I’m not thinking about passing yards or fumble recoveries or anything else that takes place out on the field.

I’m thinking about her and making plans in my head for when I can see her again, spend more time with her, get her naked. And yes, I’m even thinking about that damn cheerleader outfit that she has teased me with for the past few weeks.

I haven’t had an issue with paying attention in a long damn time, but when it comes to that woman, I seem to be captivated. I find myself glancing around, trying to catch a glimpse of her, although I know she’s not on the sidelines watching me. She said she had a couple of meetings today. I guess since I know she’s here somewhere, I keep hoping to see her again.

“Hey, Stone! Where’d you go?”

Ripping myself out of my thoughts, I glance over in Snyder’s direction. He’s grinning at me as though he knows an inside joke. I pretend not to notice, getting into position for the snap.

“Better get your head outta the clouds,” Snyder teases as he rushes into position.

I’m tempted to flip him off, but I refrain.

When I pass the ball off to him, I give it an extra shove, grinning as I do. With a muffled “oomph,” Snyder takes the ball and charges through the defensive line. They take him down without much of a battle.

It’s enough to draw me back to the present, to where my head should be.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t last long when I see Aaron Andrews and his oldest son marching out onto the field, heading right for the head coach. I don’t know why, but I feel a sudden panic coming on. I seriously doubt he’s here for me, and I damn sure don’t think it has anything to do with me and Savannah, but I can’t seem to shake the feeling.

A few minutes later, I’m breathing a sigh of relief, heading inside for a shower. I know I have to find a way to focus between now and Sunday or I’m seriously going to risk fucking things up for my team. We’ve got two more games and a win on Sunday is needed to lock up first place. I know the fans are anxiously hoping we’ll continue this streak right into the post season.

Granted, we’re favored to win this one, but that’s never allowed me to relax even a little. There are no guarantees in football. We’re playing the Broncos on Sunday, and they’ve had a good season so far. If they win, it switches our rankings, putting them in first place, so I need to be on top of my game.

The question is, should I see more of Savannah or less?

Which is going to make it easier?

The veteran in me says I should take a break from her for a bit, put my energy where it belongs. Out on the field, not locked up somewhere with a naked woman. But the man in me says that I need to spend as much time with her as I can because I don’t want to spend less time with her.

Shit.

Maybe it’s time I talk to my mother. Get her advice. Then again, that could come back to bite me in the ass, too. I don’t want to get her hopes up, and I know if I mention I’m seeing someone, that’s exactly what’s going to happen.

Decisions, decisions.

Savannah

“You wanted to see me?” I ask my dad when I step into his office.

He nods toward the leather chair across from him.

I take a seat, feeling oddly like I’m in the principal’s office, about to get my punishment. I know that’s merely my guilty conscience talking though. No way does my father know that Stone and I have ventured down an entirely different path than what we originally intended.

Well, I hope he doesn’t know.

My father leans back in his chair and regards me momentarily.

“How’re things goin’?” he asks casually.

“Good.” I fight the urge to wring my hands in my lap.

“I heard yesterday’s event went well.”

“It did,” I say, feeling somewhat less tension as I go on to explain to him what happened, how well Stone and Snyder did with the kids.

“I saw some of the footage,” he says, still leaning back, still regarding me funny.

Again, I think that’s guilt obscuring my perspective, but now I can’t be sure.

“Have you talked to him about next year?”

Well, at least he’s getting right to the point.

“I have not,” I tell him. “Not with any success, anyway.”

“It’s important that we find out where his head’s at,” my father says. “His agent is giving us absolutely nothing.”

I nod. “Well, I can tell you he’s completely focused on playing right now. Every time I’ve brought up his talk of retirement, he shuts me down.”

He regards me for a second, and I can see his mind working.

“Is there somethin’ I should know about you and Stone?”

Okay.

Now I’m stuck.

My father never asks questions like that unless he knows something.

“Like what?” I ask, trying to play dumb.

The small smile that tips my father’s lips says he definitely has some inside knowledge. For the life of me, I’m not sure what he knows.

“All right. I’ll be more specific. Is there somethin’ goin’ on between you and Stone?”

I’ve never been good at lying. Not even when I was little. My father always seems to catch me every time I try.

“I…uh…”

My father leans forward, his smile faltering as he stares at me intently.

“You should watch Sports Tonight, Savannah.”

My eyes widen. “Why?”

“It appears Luke Devereaux has a new angle he’s playin’.”

“What?”

“You need to remember, reporters are always lurkin’, always tryin’ to get the inside scoop.”

Now I know my father knows something, but he’s letting me squirm.

“Again, is there somethin’ I should know about you and Stone? I can’t do damage control unless I know what I’m dealing with.”

Damage control? His job isn’t to do damage control. That’s mine.

I shrug one shoulder, knowing I can’t openly deny it at this point.

“I wouldn’t’ve asked you to work with Stone if I didn’t like the guy.” He sits back. “I won’t deny that I want to pin him down for another two seasons. He’s one hell of a quarterback, but it’s not just him out on that field. It takes a team to win a ball game. He’s got the team now. He’s proving himself. However, I’m not sure you’re going to like how they’re claiming he got here.”

I frown.

“We know that the reporters are fascinated with him,” he says. “They always have been. He’s considered the golden boy with the Midas touch. We’re in the playoffs, Van. And I have no doubt he’s one of the biggest reasons for that.”

I’m not sure where he’s going with this, so I sit patiently waiting for a point.

“I have no issue with you seein’ him, Van.”

I swallow hard, shaking my head. I don’t know how to tell him that yes, I’m seeing him, but no, I don’t think it’s anything that’s going to be long-lasting. Not that I’m not thinking along those lines, because God help me, I have thought along those lines recently. It’s hard to convince myself that this thing between me and Stone is temporary when I find myself wishing for something more from him.

“I feel responsible for pushin’ the two of you together,” my father continues. “However, you’re a grown woman and I know you’re responsible for your own actions. But I’m your father and that means your reputation comes first and foremost.”

My reputation? I feel a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“Dad, I did what you asked. I befriended him.” I shake my head. “And no, it wasn’t only because you asked me to. I…like him.”

“I can see that.” His eyes narrow. “And so can a lot of other people now.”

Clearly I’m out of the loop. “What are you talkin’ about?”

“Y’all are more than friends.”

It’s not phrased as a question, but I respond as though it is. “No. We’re just—”

“You can argue all you want,” he says roughly, clearly seeing through my lie. “I see it. And now, thanks to Devereaux, everyone sees it. The fans and the team are in his corner, Van, but Luke Devereaux has a different angle. He’s now claiming that we snatched him up because he developed a relationship with you. The asshole’s claiming that’s the only reason we’re considering keeping him on.”

“What?” Never mind the fact that the team’s winning with him at the helm.

My father nods. “You need to watch the latest broadcast.”

Since I haven’t mentioned anything about me and Stone, and I know my father isn’t aware of the true nature of my relationship with him, I can only assume his warning is based on some footage. Maybe they caught us at dinner? Or playing miniature golf? I could totally play this off. Say that it’s just part of my attempt to get him to open up to me, but it’s not true. And the last thing I want is for that to get back to Stone. I don’t want him to think that I’m spending time with him because it’s my job. That certainly isn’t the case. Not anymore.

Rather than argue with him or come up with some lame excuse, I nod. “Okay. And I promise, it’s not serious. We’re workin’ together and that’s my main focus. To convince him to sign with the team.” The words taste bitter in my mouth.

“Honey, you’ve excelled at a lot of things, but lyin’ isn’t one of ’em.”

Damn it.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he states softly.

“I know that. And I won’t, I promise. It’s just…I like him.” I smile, forcing myself out of the chair and walking around to my father’s side. I lean down and hug him. “I love you, Dad.”

He pats my arm, but clasps my forearm before I can turn away. His eyes are gentle when he stares up at me. “I love you, too, kiddo. But as of right now, I want you to forget we ever had an agenda. I don’t want you working to convince Stone of anything.”

I don’t like the sound of that.

“It’ll only add to the problem right now.”

Shit.

This is getting far too complicated. I can already see Stone’s face when I mention all of this to him. He’s going to be angry, especially if Devereaux is now using me against him. And if he thinks for a second that I slept with him in order to help my father’s cause…

He’ll never forgive me.

If I’d thought for a second this was going to get easier, this conversation with my father has proven how very wrong I’ve been.

And it’s also helped me to realize that I need to figure out just what this thing between me and Stone really is. And if there’s even a possibility of it going further.

Because if there isn’t, I’m going to be in for a world of heartache, no matter what I try to tell myself.

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