Savage: A Pro Football Romance Read online

  “A king,” Kendall says, the blacklights shining in her eyes as she leads me through the crowd of football players. “Hmm…which one should we introduce you to first? Maybe a tight end? Maybe a linebacker? I think I see the backup quarterback over there…”

  If my heart was beating fast on the staircase, it’s completely out of control now. I think I’m going to need another drink before this goes any further. “I don’t know, I just can’t choose…maybe I should go get another Mai Tai and think about it.”

  “Okay,” Kendall says, “But you’d better not go hide in the corner after, or I’ll start picking players out for you.”

  With a nervous laugh, I slip out of Kendall’s grasp and move through the crowd of football players and models. As I pass a pair of especially big players, they look down at the number on my chest and shoot me knowing smirks.

  Yep, sorry guys, I’m all about Brady. Too bad he couldn’t make it tonight, huh? I guess I’ll just have to go home early and see if anyone will deliver me a Hawaiian pizza after 11AM…

  Whatever, I’ll just get another drink and hope that if it takes me long enough then someone, anyone will start trying to hook up with Kendall and she’ll forget about this whole “set me up with a football player” thing.

  I get the bartender’s attention. “So, uh…do you have Mai Tais up here?”

  But before she can answer, a deafening roar coming from the dancefloor below us fills the lounge, and I look back at the railing that hangs over the bar to see people losing their minds down there. Weirdly, no one else up here seems like they care, but since it’s too loud for me to order a drink, I tell the bartender I’ll be right back, head over to the other side of the lounge, and poke my head over the side of the railing.

  Okay, I think I see what all the screaming is about. Moving through the crowd towards the bar like a shark in the water is a massive, tattooed mountain of a human being, and judging by the way the people around him are acting, there’s only one person he could be.

  Brady.

  My fingers nervously grip the railing as I watch him jump up on the bar and stand over the crowd in a ridiculously tight San Diego Kings t-shirt, pumping them up so hard they look like they’re about to riot.

  Then, grabbing a bottle of champagne from a shelf behind the bartender, Brady shakes up the bottle and pops the cork, causing champagne to explode out of the bottle and over the crowd, who lift their arms into the air to catch the flying drops.

  Finally, as the bottle finishes spraying, he motions to the crowd to quiet down a little, and they lean in close, eyes wide as the cheering dies down a little.

  He grins at the crowd. “How about that fucking game!?”

  The crowd goes completely insane again, and Brady stands over them, soaking it in for what feels like a whole minute before he decides to quiet them down again. “I told you motherfuckers—no, no, no, fuck that, I guaranteed you motherfuckers that we were winning the Super Bowl this year, and after that fucking game? I think I can guarantee something else, too: we’re going to win the Super Bowl by 30 points.”

  As soon as he says that, the crowd gets so loud I can practically feel my ears start to ring. Man, these people are crazy about football, and they’re even crazier about Brady.

  I lean over the railing just a bit to get a better view, and as I do, I see Brady look up at the lounge for just a second before he goes back to beaming down at the crowd on the dance floor. Then, he stretches his massive arms out to quiet them one more time. “I want everyone here to enjoy your fucking night, and tune in next week to watch us dominate whoever’s unlucky enough to have to play us. In the meantime, I think I’ll head up to the VIP lounge.”

  And then, before I can even think to react, Brady launches himself straight up off the bar, practically giving me a heart attack as he grabs the bottom of the railing inches away from my feet and hangs over the crowd, who start chanting up at him.

  “Brady! Brady! Brady! Brady!”

  As Brady swings back and forth over the crowd, my legs finally get the signal my brain is furiously sending, and I step back from the ledge just in time to avoid getting completely squished as Brady flies up over the railing and lands right where I was just standing a second ago.

  But, for some reason, my legs don’t feel like taking any more advice from my brain, and even though I’m trying to get away from the athletic freak that almost landed right on top of me, all I can do is stare at him, feeling a million emotions rush at me at once like a rogue wave.

  Then, finally, I manage to open my mouth.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  Brady looks up, his bright blue eyes wide and his breathing still heavy from the stunt he just pulled. Watching him from above is one thing, but having him inches away from me is totally different. At this distance, he towers over me. “Wrong with me? Did you see that shit? I’m pretty sure nothing’s wrong with me.”

  My jaw drops in disbelief. What a complete douche. “Yeah, I saw it; you almost landed right on top of me!” I shout.

  Still breathing hard, Brady raises his eyebrows as his lips curl into a smirk. Uh oh. He took that the wrong way, didn’t he? “Oh, I saw you, I wasn’t going to land on top of you. Trust me, when I’m about to get on top of you, you’ll know.”

  Okay, I think we’re done here. I try to turn around and head the other way from Brady, but it’s like my hips are locked in place.

  Grinning like a hungry wolf, Brady looks me up and down, his eyes lingering on the number stretched out across my chest. His number. “Looks like you’re a pretty big fan of mine.”

  Taking a deep breath, I try to step away from Brady, and manage to take one tiny step backwards. “Actually, no, I don’t like you at all. This is my roommate’s jersey, and I just borrowed it to get free drinks.”

  Suddenly, I feel a hand on my shoulder and bite my lip as Kendall appears beside me. “Cassie! Don’t lie to Brady Mack! I got you this jersey for your birthday because you wouldn’t shut up about how hot you thought he was!”

  I open my mouth to explain to Brady that Kendall is actually the one who’s lying, and I’ve never actually talked about how hot I supposedly think he is, but when my eyes meet Brady’s, my mouth just kind of hangs open.

  Kendall looks at me, and then looks up towards Brady, not-so-subtly pushing my body towards his. “She’s just super nervous about meeting her biggest celebrity crush, you know? That’s why she’s talking kind of crazy, but trust me, once you two get to know each other a little better, you’ll realize how much fun she can be.”

  While I look up at Brady, trying to figure out how to begin to explain how untrue what he just heard is, Kendall melodramatically opens her purse. “Oh no! Looks like I left my card down at the bar downstairs. Guess I’ll have to go get it!”

  She looks up at the two of us. “You know, with all those people down there this will probably take a while. Maybe even hours. So if you two, I don’t know, want to leave the club, you don’t have to wait up for me!”

  She winks at Brady. “Have fun with her …” Then, just like that, she slinks across the VIP lounge and disappears down the stairs, leaving me stranded on Brady Island with no boats in sight.

  I turn my head back around, and suddenly Brady is inches away from me. And before I can begin to explain the absolute lies that just came out of my roommate’s mouth, he wraps two insanely thick forearms around the small of my back and pulls me into his body. “So you’re a little fangirl, huh? Nothing wrong with that.”

  I squirm in Brady’s arms, trying to wriggle out of his grasp to absolutely no avail. “I’m…not…a fangirl! I’m…” I bite my lip as I push against his abs, but it’s no use. He’s ridiculously strong, and he probably thinks I’m shamelessly grinding on him instead of trying to get away.

  Brady smirks down at me and squeezes me even tighter. “Hey, whatever you have to tell yourself. But honestly, it’s nothing to be ashamed about. I don’t mind fangirls, especially when they’re as insane
ly fucking sexy as you are.”

  I open my mouth to protest, but instead, a humiliatingly high-pitched squeak comes out as Brady spins me around and pulls me under his arm as he points to an empty couch and table in the corner of the lounge, even darker than the blacklights. “I don’t know about you, but I think that couch looks pretty fucking comfortable.”

  Then, with his forearm and bicep cradling my back, he starts to lead me across the lounge. And against my better judgment, my legs actually start moving towards the couch.

  I’ll be honest, I may have humored Kendall a bit on the way over here. I mean sure, on paper, going out to a nice club on a day out and meeting a cute guy sounds like fun, so I may have said something like that on the cab ride up here. But really, deep down, I was pretty sure it wasn’t actually going to happen. In my mind, we were going to get drunk, dance like we were way drunker than we actually were, and then stumble out of the club and let a taxi take us back to the land of responsible decisions, where I’ve been spending most of my time recently.

  Getting confused for a football groupie and becoming an insanely cocky superstar’s arm candy? Not exactly a scenario that crossed my mind. Definitely not something that happens every day. And the longer I go without pushing him away and explaining that I like football about as much as I like sumo wrestling, the harder it’s going to be to convince him that I’m telling the truth when I do.

  And I am going to do it, right? I mean, I have to. What’s my alternative?

  I shudder as the thought crosses my mind, but it’s not exactly a mystery. My alternative is letting the massive mountain of muscles currently holding a greedy handful of my jersey-covered side slide his huge hand underneath this jersey and treat me like the groupie he thinks I am. Because that’s what’s going to happen if I get on that couch with him.

  He’s going to try and fuck me.

  And clearly, there’s no way that’s happening. I mean, sure, my body’s a little flustered right now from that thirty-second-long bear hug he gave me, but that doesn’t mean anything. After all, I’m a normal girl who hasn’t been touched by a guy for a little while, and I just got thrown into the deep end of guy-touching. That’s all that hot feeling between my legs is. It’s like a reflex test at the doctor’s office. It’s not like I actually want the mega-douche who’s currently taking the long route just to show me off to as many of his teammates as possible. Same goes for my nipples. The only reason they’re a little hard right now is because of the extended contact.

  Man, he’s really showing me off. I hope he’s not too embarrassed when I tell him that I also left my card at the bar and leave him alone, but if the looks on the faces of the models mingling around up here are any indication, he probably won’t miss me for long.

  So what the hell I’m waiting for? We’re most of the way there and I still haven’t informed Brady of our little misunderstanding.

  Well, one thing’s for sure. There’s no way in hell I’m ending up on that couch with him.

  ***

  From a distance, I thought this couch was velvet, but now that I’m sitting on it, it turns out it’s actually leather. And it’s surprisingly comfortable.

  Okay, fine, so I didn’t ditch Brady. I sat on the couch next to him, he ordered a bottle of champagne, and I’m on my third glass. I can practically hear Kendall rubbing her hands together evilly down on the dance floor below us.

  Brady reaches over towards the bottle and fills his empty glass all the way up until one lonely champagne teardrop trickles over the side. Then, he turns back to me. “So you’re leaving town, huh?”

  Rolling my eyes, I take a generous sip of my champagne. “Don’t remind me,” I say, melodramatically throwing myself into Brady’s side, “I leave next week for sunny Anchorage, Alaska.”

  I feel Brady’s laughter vibrate against my shoulder as I look up at him. “What the fuck? Why?”

  I lean my face into the side of his chest and sigh. “It’s the nicest internship I got accepted into. It’ll make it easier to get a good job later.”

  “Yeah, but you have to move to fucking Alaska.”

  I laugh at the absurdity of it all, and Brady laughs too, bringing his oversized arm around my lower back and pulling me closer to him so our hips are pressed together. With a brief moment of clarity, I realize that I’m probably not supposed to be touching him this much.

  “I mean, shit, no wonder you’re trying to have a good time. I’d be doing the exact same fucking thing.” Biting my lip, I look over towards the VIP lounge exit. Here it is. The perfect moment to correct this misunderstanding and get out of here. Well, actually, the perfect moment was probably twenty minutes and two and a half drinks ago.

  This isn’t the perfect moment to leave. It’s the last moment. Because if I don’t say anything about the idea that I’m trying to have a “good time” with Brady tonight, that means I am. And that means I definitely will.

  I scootch forward on the couch, resting my elbows on my thighs and try to summon the will to stand up. But honestly, right now that VIP lounge exit looks a lot like a one-way flight to Alaska.

  And despite every last drop of my better judgment telling me otherwise, I don’t think I’m ready to get on the plane yet.

  “Yeah,” I say, leaning back into the couch and Brady’s obscenely large bicep, knowing that I’m sealing my fate as his prize for the night.

  And as soon as I do, the tentative burning feeling between my legs ignites into a wildfire. Every inch of me below my neck is suddenly so eager to feel Brady’s hands on me that I immediately start breathing heavily enough for him to notice.

  And he definitely notices. Instead of barely refraining from groping me, his hand moves way down my side, practically down to my ass.

  “Well, don’t you fucking worry, little fangirl. Because you’re about to have the time of your fucking life.”

  Ugh, he’s so arrogant. Why the hell is this turning me on?

  He shamelessly grabs my thigh, and, without thinking about it, a deep, breathy moan escapes my lungs. And before I can breathe in again, my eyes widen in shock as Brady’s mouth comes down to smother mine.

  But the shock only lasts a second before it’s forcefully pushed aside by the fire between my legs that’s rapidly consuming my whole body. I kiss him defiantly, like an act of rebellion against years of note-taking, studying, and boring classes.

  I think the Responsible Cassie Express just went completely off the rails.

  Like a completely different person, I reach up and press my palm into the back of his messy, spiky black hair, hungrily pulling his head into mine as hard as I can. And as I do, he responds, consuming me with his lips and tongue as his huge hands start to explore my body.

  He shifts on the couch, using his massive torso to shield us from any prying eyes out in the lounge as his hands find his number, 99, on my chest, running up the tails of the 9s and greedily pushing hard against the breasts beneath them. He’s insanely forceful with my body as he kisses me harder, probably because he knows this is exactly how the type of girl who wears the jersey of a guy like him loves to be treated.

  We’re going to leave together soon. I can feel it. After all, as much as Brady loves that I’m wearing his jersey, there’s no way a guy like this wants to wait one more second before ripping it off me. But as I move my hand up Brady’s legs, I feel something that almost stops my heart brush my knuckles. Something hard.

  Something huge.

  That’s not his cock, is it? I mean, it can’t be. There’s no way. I may not officially be a doctor yet, but that’s not medically possible. My hand hesitates on his thigh, pushing against the bulging muscle as I mentally prepare myself to take things further.

  And then, from behind me, I hear the tiniest, faintest little beeping noise, the auditory equivalent of a lighthouse way off in the distance. My phone. I don’t want to answer it. I really, really don’t want to answer it. But it might be Kendall. So against every instinct I have, I reach an arm out behind me
and fish out my phone, breaking off from kissing Brady just long enough to check my phone.

  Crap, it’s Moose Lodge. Furrowing my brow, I tap through to the email they just sent, fighting to keep my eyes open as Brady sends a hand up between my legs, pressing against the source of my heat through my jeans. They want me…oh…they want me to…apply for resident housing.

  And they want me to do it by 9AM tomorrow.

  Suddenly, the cold shower of reality explodes down onto my head. I have no idea why they sent me this at this hour, but I need to get this done. And it doesn’t look like something I can do in five seconds from Brady’s bed. And if I stay here…he’s probably going to be still going to be inside me at 9AM tomorrow.

  Awkwardly, but forcefully, I pull away from Brady, knowing that if I allow myself even one second of hesitation, I’m going to give in completely and give myself to him.

  “What’s up?” He asks, a confused look on his face, “Is it because we’re in public, because we can change that—”

  Instantly, I turn around and walk the other way as fast as I can. My eyes are completely fixed on the stairs back to the dance floor, because I know that if I look back at Brady for even a second, I won’t be able to resist him. I can’t even explain what’s going on, because with even the tiniest bit of convincing, I know I’m going to forget all about a little detail like, you know, where I’m going to live for the next year to get his big, strong hand back between my aching thighs.

  With every step more difficult than the last, I make my way down the blacklit hallway and out onto the dance floor, where the crowd has dispersed just enough for me to move between the couples pawing at each other on the dance floor and find Kendall sitting at the bar. She’s chatting up a tall bearded guy in a San Diego Kings hat, but when she sees me, she cocks her head to the side in confusion. “What happened? He didn’t ditch you, did he?”