. That she’d overlook the microscope I lived under as a celebrity. That she’d embrace my culture and realize we’d never live in Paris. That more than anything she would accept how much I loved her and wanted to protect her. I’d never had instincts like this to cherish someone. It felt natural to want to keep her close. I wanted her to be safe and happy, and nothing was more important.
She sighed over my shoulder. “How long do we get to stay this time?” she asked.
“I might have checked with the troupe ahead of time.”
“Oh?”
I nodded. “Sure did. And you have about ten days before they need you in Austin. So what if we spend three or four days here?”
“Are you serious?”
“Sound good?” I already knew the answer before she said anything. Her face was elated.
“It’s the best engagement present ever.”
“It gives us some time before everyone finds out. Before the media circus begins.” I was dreading that part, but it came with the territory of being a professional athlete.
“I thought maybe when everyone found out we were dating the fascination would have been over.”
I shook my head. “Have you seen you?” I eyed the dip at her breasts where the sheet was starting to come undone. “They will never want to stop taking pictures of you. I don’t think they care about me so much anymore.”
She giggled. “Not true. I see how the girls look at you.”
“Jealous?”
She chewed on her bottom lip. “Maybe a little.”
I grabbed the edge of the sheet to test how tightly she was holding. It fell off her shoulders.
“Sam,” she warned me.
I licked my lips. I wasn’t going to stop there. Natalia was mine. My fiancée. My love. My life. And soon she would be my wife. I had to make the most of this honeymoon preview.
“If you don’t want that little couple to see what I do to make those sounds come from your gorgeous lips, you better get inside.”
“You wouldn’t.” She looked incredulous.
“Wouldn’t I?” I winked.
She scampered up the stairs, gathering the sheet around her waist, and ran inside with laughter. I dropped my coffee and pounced after her.
Natalia had taught me something the first night we met and it was a lesson I wouldn’t forget. No matter what—never let her get away.
Turn the page to check out the first chapter of Dirty Play!
One
Wes
I was a god. And not just any god. I had an arm that could throw a lightning bolt a hundred yards, with two seconds left on the game clock, and score. They should have called me Zeus. I could run faster than any damn lineman trying to knock the shit out of me. I could read the defense faster than the whistle blew. I could call plays and execute before the defense could say their own names. I was a fucking god out on that field, and everyone knew it. The coaches. My teammates. The fans.
Hell, I had known it since I joined the pee-wee league when I was six. That’s what kids do in Texas. Kids that have dads who want them to be competitive assholes before they can read. And that was me. Born to play football. Born to dominate. Born to win. Molded and coached into the best fucking quarterback to walk the planet.
And I did win. I won state playoffs in high school, I won our conference title in college, and I was on our way to taking our team to the Super Bowl. Nothing stopped Wes Blakefield. Nothing.
I could fuck any woman I wanted. I could gamble. I could party after a game. All of it. Because I won. The American Football Association wasn’t going to stop me. And neither was my team. I brought them millions. As long as I won, they would look the other way.
They didn’t give a shit about the women or the bets. As long as I put a W in the column every Sunday, they stayed off my back. I was a walking cash machine for those bastards.