I glance at my phone.
Ann:Good news! Producers want a web series about future Hall of Famers. You've been tagged to write the script. About Jaxon. Talk more in the office.
Good news? I take in my kiss-swollen lips and too-bright eyes.
She has no idea the temptation she's putting in my path.
CHAPTER 6
JAX
Her core clenched me like a velvet vice I wanted to drown in. The look of need on her face—that fierce desperation in those brown eyes. Every moment of our encounter plays through my mind on repeat.
I wasn't planning to get naked with the reporter. It just happened, like a dream materializing. She was perfect—wanton yet demanding, sweet yet sultry. The way she took me in her hand, claiming every inch...
I drop the football after an easy catch. The guys on the bench boo.
Right. I'm on the field warming up for practice.
But my mind is still in that restroom with Avery thirty minutes ago, doing unthinkably unprofessional things to the journalist assigned to shadow me.
"Carter," Coach Thorne barks.
Shit. Doghouse time.
Hawk swoops in, grabs the ball, and shoves me aside, jolting my receiver instincts awake. I sprint, position for the catch, then execute one of our plays.
Coach waves dismissively, turning back to the other guys. Saved by my closest friend.
"Dude. Where's your head at?" Hawk asks, swaggering over as I grab water.
Before I can answer, he shoves my shoulder playfully. Typical. We all have too much testosterone for the real world. It's what makes us top athletes.
"She's here. Now I get it." He nods toward Avery sitting alone on the sidelines.
I can't suppress my smile. She looks adorable—prim and proper on her bench, tablet on her knees, intensely focused as Coach preps plays with the younger guys.
"The reporter's got you all tangled up, huh?" Hawk teases.
The reporter. My self-proclaimed enemy. I tear my eyes away.
"Nah. Riley's been on me again about social media, driver's license... the works."
Hawk shrugs. "You've got to let go eventually."
"She's too young," I snap.
"Whatever you say, bro." He swipes the ball and jogs toward Coach.
People think I'm grumpy. Rude, even. That's what happens when you're forced into parenthood while barely an adult yourself. Before Avery, I thought being grumpy was my entire personality—that and the fake playboy facade.
But now, I've tasted something real. With her. Maybe it wasn't just sex for me, but I know she's right—itwasjust sex. It has to be.
I focus on Coach and the ball for the rest of practice. We have our second preseason game tomorrow and need another win. I run through each play on autopilot, avoiding looking at Avery. Avoiding even thinking about her.
But when Coach benches me right in front of her to run Hawk through plays, I know it's a lie—I am thinking of her. She's in my head.
I feel those brown eyes on me as I approach. But shedoesn't look at me like the woman who just came undone around me. She looks every inch the disinterested journalist.
