Hendrix (Raleigh Raptors 3)

My chest swelled as she met my gaze with a grin. Damn, this woman had me tangled up in knots. Every second I couldn’t be with her, I was focused on getting to the ones when I could be.

I was falling for her, and there was nothing I could do about it—nothing I wanted to do about it. Was I terrified? Sure. But it felt like the one and only time Weston had dragged me skydiving. There was no point letting the fear in once I was out of the plane. All I could do was enjoy the fall and pray my chute would open, or in this case, hope Savannah felt the same.

This had started with just sex, but I refused to believe that’s all it was to her now.

As if reading my mind, she tapped her collarbone and lifted her brows.

Then I was the one grinning as I hooked my finger around the delicate gold chain and lifted it just enough so she could see the sunlight catch on the star pendant. I’ve got you right here.

She nodded, then turned to laugh at something Liberty had said.

I tucked the necklace back under my jersey. The thing was so light I didn’t feel it, and small enough that it didn’t interfere with my pads—or get noticed.

Until that moment.

“For fuck’s sake,” Nixon muttered next to me.

“What?” My attention snapped to the game, but Nixon wasn’t focused on our defense, he stood staring at my neck, his eyes widening.

“Tell me that isn’t what I think it is,” he demanded, leaning closer, his words clipped and only loud enough for me to hear them above the noise of the stadium.

“What?” I repeated. Shit. Nix had always been the most observant of my teammates. Then again, he was the quarterback for a reason.

“The necklace, Hendrix. I saw it.” Concern replaced shock in his eyes.

“I don’t know…” I couldn’t finish the lie. Not to him. Not to Weston or Roman, either. Hell, there was part of me dying to blast my feelings for Savannah on the jumbotron. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

There, I’d managed the truth.

“The fuck you say,” he snapped. “You’re one of my best friends, and if that necklace means what I think it does, you’re in a world of trouble.” He shook his head. “I always knew you were reckless, but not this reckless.”

“You don’t need to worry,” I assured him as the crowd went wild. We were up

“This conversation isn’t over,” he warned me with a resigned shake of his head. “Now stop staring up at the stands and get your head in the game.”

“Like yours isn’t in the stands,” I quipped as we took the field. Did it complicate things that Nixon knew? Sure. But he wasn’t about to rat us out, either.

“My head is allowed to be on my wife whenever the fuck I want.” He smacked the back of my helmet as we huddled up.

He called the play, took the snap, and his throw put the ball perfectly in my hands. I ran that ball all the way to the end zone just to see her smile.

She did.

The locker room was a raucous mix of music, back-slapping, and the questions from reporters brave enough to storm their way through a sea of towel-clad players. I did my part with a grin, taking four different interviews before grabbing a quick shower.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Nixon asked, tugging me into his private section of our locker room. His gaze dropped to where the necklace hung just beneath the collar of my T-shirt.

“I take it off when I shower.” I leaned back against the wall, crossing one ankle over the other.

“That’s not what I mean.” He raked his fingers through his hair and sat on the bench. “The sex can’t be good enough to ruin your career.”

“Like you’d ever say that about Liberty?” My gaze narrowed.

“Damn it, Hendrix. Liberty is my wife. Savannah is a kid!” His whisper was enough to let me know he’d keep the secret, no matter how outraged he was.

“She’s not a kid. She’s a twenty-one-year-old woman and a college graduate,” I snapped.

“It’s not just sex, is it?” he asked softly, his brow knitting.

“No.” I shook my head, my stomach pitching at the admission. “It started that way, but—”

“Started that way? How long has it been going on?” His voice rose.

“Keep your voice down!” I peered through the doorway, but no one turned our direction. After a huge sigh of relief, I glared at Nixon. “A couple months.”

“Shit.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“We’re keeping it quiet,” I said in excuse.

“Not that quiet if I spotted her necklace.” He cocked an eyebrow at me. “Anyone else know?”

“No.” I shook my head. “Well, my mom, but it’s not like she’s going to run to Coach Goodman.”