“I’m not a player,” I shot back, even though the admission pained me.
She waved a dismissive hand. “Technicality. You all operate the same. Smooth lines designed to get women into bed before you chew them up and spit them out. You get to move on to the next while we are left destroyed, trying to put the pieces of our life back together.”
Bristol might be the journalist, but as soon as I got a moment alone, I would be digging up any info I could find on her. Given her age, it was probably some little shit wannabe who had ripped her heart out.
But right now, I needed her to know I wasn’t cut from the same cloth. Yes, I’d screwed around, but never had I toyed with a woman’s emotions. It was kind of hard to do when you never stuck around long enough to form a relationship.
Stepping forward, I said softly, “I’m not going to tell anyone.”
Shocked blue eyes stared at me in disbelief. “You’re not?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I don’t think it’s anyone’s business what a head coach and a reporter get up to in their free time.”
Her back was pressed against the wall, and I stepped closer. Her breathing hitched, and she tracked my movements until I was a breath away, my hands caging her in.
“Don’t you agree . . .” I waited a second before I breathed her name, “Bristol?”
Her swallow was audible, and my dick didn’t give a shit that we were at work, rising to the occasion with how close he’d gotten to her body—a body I could picture laid bare with crystal clarity.
“Yes.” The word left her lips on a shaky exhale.
I knew I was walking a fine line but couldn’t resist grazing her cheek with a knuckle. A stuttered breath fanned my face as I pressed my forehead to hers. “I can’t stop thinking about last night.”
“Maddox.” The breathy sound of my name on her lips for the very first time nearly did me in.
A groan rumbled from deep in my chest, and I admitted softly, “I’d have given anything to hear my name rolling off your tongue when you came. Might need a do-over for that reason alone.”
Bristol whimpered as I nuzzled my nose against hers, my lips moments from taking what I already knew was mine.
We were lost to lust, not caring that we were at work.
But reality crashed down hard when a familiar voice called out, “Maddox, they need you—Oh shit.”
Fucking Jenner.
Our heads turned to the side to find my best friend staring at us, slack-jawed, at the end of the corridor.
Bristol recovered first, ducking beneath my arm, muttering, “I should be getting back,” before hightailing it past Jenner with her head down until she was gone from sight.
With an eyebrow raised, Jenner approached where I stood trying to get a handle on the raging erection that would not quit.
There was no way in hell he would drop what he just witnessed. So much for nobody knowing.
A shit-eating grin curved on his lips. “Damn, bud. If I’d known you were hot for redheads, I would’ve done a better job at staggering our showers all these years.”
I shoved at his shoulder. “You’re an idiot.”
“Seriously, Maddox. I know how much you hate the press, especially after what happened”—his eyes dipped briefly at the mention of my injury—“and now I find you cornering the new girl on the first day? What gives? I know she’s pretty, but you can’t go there. You know that.”
Running a hand down my face, I mourned the loss of my beard. Jenner was my best friend. I’d been there for him during the highs and lows of not only his career but his life, and he’d done the same for me. If there was anyone I could trust to keep this quiet, it was him.
Blowing out a breath, I admitted, “The dry spell ended last night.”
Jenner’s brown eyes widened as his dark red eyebrows rose high on his forehead. Peeking over his shoulder, he gestured to where Bristol had fled. “Withher?”
I grimaced as the reality of my situation sank in. “Yeah. But in my defense, she insisted on no names. I had no clue who she was, and let’s be real, even if she had shared her name, it wouldn’t have struck a chord. It’s not like I’m handed a list of reporters covering the team for the upcoming season.”
“Dude, this is bad.” Jenner groaned.
