Where the guys play hard, but the girls play dirty.
Brooklyn Holt, Carolina Crush’s top tight end, made a vow after his wife left him: never fall in love again. He doesn’t need a long-term lady. Hell no. He has the magic hands, the downfield rushes, the easy chicks by the dozens. And finally a team on a winning streak.
Being a free agent with the ladies is exactly what Brooks wants. Until Delaney Jones happens. The hot bitch with the serious attitude shows up with her own team in pretty much half the uniform he wears. Quarterback of the all-female Carolina Cougars, she’s sleek as a racehorse, mean on the field, and immune to all his moves. Every time she gives him no time just makes him hungrier for her.
Delaney Jones takes her work and her personal life seriously, and she’ll never be mistaken for a cheerleader, in spite of her athletic body. She’s never rah-rah’d with her pom-poms for any man—hunky, hot as hell tight end or otherwise.
Brooklyn Holt has swagger. He has strut. But Delaney isn’t about to be the free baller’s willing slut. Until she scratches the surface and discovers his wounds run as deep as hers and his heart is warmer than she’d ever thought. It’s just too bad the past won’t die. When the danger she’s run from for years catches up to her, she’s determined to keep Brooks out of the crossfire. Even if it means Game Over.
“HEY, DELANEY.” I SMILED easily, holding my hands out to my sides. “’S’okay if I join you?”
“Just for a game of hoops?” The gold-flecks in her irises turned almost black as she walked toward me.
“You’re on.” She shoved the ball at me.
I dribbled between my legs then raced off to the other end of the court. Four pumps of my legs and I swished that motherfucker in nothing but net.
Delaney wasted no time retrieving the basketball. She dodged every one of my lunges, heading down court like a missile.
She made a three-pointer from the line.
She was hotter than anything I’d ever seen.
A real tomboy, with a banging body and a great rack.
And the woman dazzled me enough that I forgot to catch the rebound when the ball bounced on the floor.
As she double-dribbled in front of me, I watched a drizzle of sweat slide down her neck.
“Play b-ball in high school?” I asked when I found my voice, shadowing her across the waxed floor.
“Point woman. All-Star states team.”
“Why football now?” Dodging in front of her, I stole the ball.
Delaney came right after me, fast hands trying to nab the basketball. “I’ll take sport anywhere I can get it.”
Because fuck yeah to that.
When she said that, I pretty much stumbled over my own two feet.
Delaney snatched the basketball, hit net, and I curled around her from behind.
The forgotten ball bounced . . . bounced . . . bounced . . .
Unbalanced, we dropped to the floor, Delaney landing on top with a gust of bright laughter. Her hair fell in my face, softly scented black tresses I puffed out of my way.
Horsing around, we rolled across the floor until I stopped on top of her. I held most of my weight off her, but when my groin connected with her pelvis, my chuckle turned into a deep groan.
“Oh damn,” she whispered.
Heat slammed me in the balls, and I was fully hard, my cock crushed against her pussy through the thinnest barrier of clothes.
“The rumors were true.” Her hand wandered low, and she slipped her palm beneath the waist of my shorts.
Warmth met my thick dick, and I pushed into her fist. “What rumors?”
I pulled her hand free and grinded against her as come prepared to unload from my cock.
“Do you always go commando, Free Baller?”
Her hips jutted up. Her lips found my neck. Her hot mouth and teasing tongue made me pulse harder against her.
“Am I crushing you?” Hurting you?
“Uhhhn. Feels good.”
I dipped my head, just about to kiss her long and hard when the door banged open and a voice boomed out, “No fraternization, Holt!”
I quickly jumped off Delaney then pulled her from the floor, sheltering her behind me.
“Jeeesus, Coach D. Don’t you have a family to go home to or what?”
“Yeah.” He slapped his baseball cap against his thigh, scowling at me. “And I already done raised Philomena. Now I’m stuck straightening you dickheads out.”
I ushered Delaney past him and into the corridor, prodding her in the opposite direction. “All right already. Look”—I started ambling the other way—“I’m going to the men’s locker room. She’s headed to the lady’s.”
“Mm hmmm.” Coach D replaced his cap and pulled the brim down. “Better keep it that way too.”
I listened to his whistle retreating all the way to the front entrance then another loud bang of doors. Sneaking back down the corridor, I reached Delaney just before she entered her locker room.
I grasped her arm, and she spun around, mouth open to shriek.
“Ssshhh. Just me.”
Her feline-like eyes narrowed. “Boy, you are asking for trouble.”
“Coach D’s gone. We’re in the clear.” I released her and grinned. “Damn, you make me feel like a teenager. You know that?” I squinted at her
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About Rie Warren
Rie is the badass, sassafras author of Sugar Daddy and the Don’t Tell series–a breakthrough trilogy that crosses traditional publishing boundaries beginning with In His Command. Some of her latest endeavors include the Carolina Bad Boys and Bad Boys of Retribution MC series.
A Yankee transplant who has traveled the world, Rie started out a writer—causing her college professor to blush over her erotic poetry without one ounce of shame. Not much has changed. She swapped pen for paintbrushes and followed her other love during her twenties. From art school to marriage to children and many a wild and wonderful journey in between, Rie has come home to her calling. Her work has been called edgy, daring, and some of the sexiest smut around.