Necessary Roughness (HotShots #1) - Courtney Cole

NECESSARY ROUGHNESS

COURTNEY COLE

LAKEHOUSE PRESS, INC.

CONTENTS

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16.

Necessary Roughness Letter From the Author Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen About the Author

1

NECESSARY ROUGHNESS

A Football HotShot by Courtney Cole

HE IS FORBIDDEN. She is off-limits. Which makes him want her like nothing he has ever wanted before.

NICKY CHASE WAS the star Running Back for the New Orleans Sinners. Until he blew out his knee. Playing ball is out. In thirty seconds, Nicky went from being on top to hitting rock bottom. Sophia De Bartoli is the best physical therapist in New Orleans. Her Italian roots have given her a fiery temper, but her Catholic faith has kept her innocent. But then she was hired to make house-calls for Nicky Chase. THE Nicky Chase. He’s known far and wide for his sexy abs, panty-melting grin, and his skill both on and off the football field. But Nicky refuses to leave his house, so no one gets to see him anymore. No one except Sophie. And she gets to see all of him.

2

LETTER FROM THE AUTHOR

D ear Reader, IF YOU KNOW ME, then you know that I love a complicated dark story, full of twists and turns and angst. That’s what I spend most of my time writing, so much so, that my own mind bends and tires.

SOMETIMES, I get the urge to just write something fun, short and sexy.

SO I DECIDED to start the Hot Shot series.

T HIS IS a series of Standalone novellas, that are just pure dirty sexiness. The perfect length to take to the pool or for a train-ride home from work. They are not deep, they are not complicated.

T HEY ARE NOT LONG, they are not drawn-out. They are to the point. They are yummy. They are small shots of dirty happiness, written just for you.

I HOPE you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoy writing them!

XO, Courtney

3

CHAPTER ONE

N icky “WELL, Sam, I’m not sure what the future holds for Nicky Chase. You can’t come back from an injury like that and play worth a damn again, especially since he’s thirty-two. That’s practically geriatric in football, as you know.” “Fuck you,” I grumble at the news-caster, as I switch the TV off. Nothing good will come from watching their bullshit. It’s not like I don’t know what happened to me. One doesn’t simply forget an injury like mine. One doesn’t forget getting slammed from each direction by two-hundred pound men, in a way that bent my spine completely backward and blew out my knee. I felt the moment that it hyper-extended and all the sinew and ligaments snapped from the tension. I felt it. It was an odd release of pressure, and then… a whole shit-load of pain. That pain still hasn’t gone away, not completely, after two surgeries and two months. The limp hasn’t either. No one needs to remind me that I might never play again. I hobble out to the kitchen and grab a beer. I don’t bother looking at the clock, I know it’s before noon. I don’t give a shit. I’m not training right now, and so fuck it. I grab a pizza, too. Cold, leftover from last night. Fuck that, too. I DON’T GIVE A FUCK. I inhale the pizza and two beers at the kitchen counter without even bothering to sit. The act of sitting and standing back up afterward is more pain than its worth. I don’t mind admitting that to myself. Admitting it to others, though, is a whole different story. Which is why I don’t leave my house. No one needs to see me limp around like a used-up has-been. No one needs to see my pain and feel sorry for me.

I’ll overcome this. And no one needs to see me until I do. My phone, which is lying on the counter across the room, buzzes insistently. I can see my Manager ’s name flashing on it from here, and with a sigh, I limp over to pick it up. “Hey, Shorty,” I greet him. His name is ironic, since he’s six-five. “Hey, pussy,” he answers back. I grit my teeth. He and I have had a running “you’re a pussy” joke for five years or so. But nowadays, when I’m limping around, it hits close to home for me. But I won’t say a word. “What’s up? You signing me to someone else today? Let me guess… the Sinners are going to officially release me from my contract, and you’ve got the Forty-Niners wanting me bad.” I try to be wry. I try to be casual. I try not to act like my whole world is falling apart. Shorty chuckles. “Not exactly. The Sinners are waiting to see what happens with you—they’ve got that PT coming over- don’t forget- and they’ll decide whether to keep you or release you based on what she says.” Fuckin’ A. I forgot. “So this chick gets to decide my whole future?” Shorty pauses. “It’s not like that, bro, and you know it. You’ve got more money than God already, and hopefully you’ve invested it rather than pissed it away. You were going to have retire in the next few years anyway. So don’t look at it like you are.” “I have invested it,” I tell him. “I’m not a dumbass. I’m fine on money. I just… I wanted to go out on top, Shorty. I don’t want people to remember me as a cripple.” Shorty bursts out laughing. “Uh, so far, you’ve got over twelve thousand rushing yards on your record, over 40 touch-downs, and an average of five yards per carry. You’re basically Superman. No one, and I mean no one, is going to remember you as a cripple.” “Just don’t count me out yet,” I tell him firmly. He answers immediately. “I never count you out, Nick. Be nice to the Physical Therapist. Do everything she asks of you, and for God’s sake, don’t fuck her. She’s got to be unbiased. If the owners decide she isn’t… well, it’ll make everything harder.” I snort. “The last thing on my mind right now is fucking anyone,” I assure him. But he doesn’t believe me. “You’ll fuck anything that holds still long enough, and you know it,” he shoots back. “I’m not out of line in saying so, either. Just be good. Color inside the lines. And you can go out exactly on your terms.” “Fine.” We hang up and I do find myself grateful for my manager. He’s stuck with me in the highs and lows, and he’s one of the few people in this industry that I can really trust. That’s rare in this sport, and rare in life. I limp into the Theater room to settle in and watch my last game. It’s something I do when I’m annoyed or depressed about my current lot in life. I don’t know why, but watching the moment of

impact, over and over and over, reminds me that I could’ve have seen it coming. I couldn’t have changed it. This isn’t my fault. For some reason, it’s important that I remember that. I couldn’t have changed this. So I watch that moment again today, again, again and again. I freeze it, rewind it, play it, pause it, study it, watch my knee hyper-extending behind me, and then re-play. I’m so involved in it, that I almost don’t hear the quiet voice in the doorway. “Um. Mr. Chase?” Startled, because who the fuck is in my house?, I scramble to my feet. Or I try to scramble to my feet. My bum knee makes it difficult and I lose my balance, falling back into the chair like an awkward baby horse falling with all four legs splayed out. “Fuck,” I groan, rubbing at it, looking at the girl rushing to my aid. She’s got long shiny dark hair, a tight apple ass, and big clear caramel colored eyes. And tits the size of melons—straining at her shirt to get out. “It’s ok,” she assures me, bending to help me arrange my leg. She smells like sunshine and fruit. “I’m Sophie, your new physical therapist. You didn’t answer your door, so I let myself in. It was unlocked. I hope that was ok.” Her tits are pressed against my arm, and her ass is bent in front of me, and Shorty’s words come back to me. For God’s sake, don’t fuck her. I swallow hard. That might be harder to resist than I thought.

4

CHAPTER TWO

Sophie I’M DRAPED over Nicky Chase. I’m draped over Nicky Chase. I’m very aware of my body pressed into his, as I help arrange his leg, and then stand up. I feel his hazel eyes sweep my entire body and every part of me lights on fire. His gaze is magnetic, just like everyone says. They all say that when Nicky Chase is in a room, he owns it. And good lord, he does. It’s like he emits an energy, a very concentrated energy, and it fills all of your hidden places, and makes you very aware of exactly where he is in relation to your own body. At least, that’s what he does for me. He lights my skin on fire. I straighten, then sit in the chair next to him, letting my laptop bag slide to the floor. “Mr. Chase, I’ll be with you for the next six weeks, to perform PT and to assess your condition. I’m very good at what I do, so please don’t worry.” “I’ve heard you’re the best in New Orleans,” he tells me, and good lord, his voice sounds like honey. “And also, Mr. Chase is my father.” It takes me a minute to realize what he means. “Oh. Should I call you Nicholas, then?” Nicky just seems too presumptuous. But he’s already shaking his head. “Nope. Only my mother calls me that, usually when I’m in trouble. Which is a lot of the time, it seems. So just all me Nicky, like everyone else.” I don’t know why, but being the same as ‘everyone else’ to him gives me an uncomfortable jolt and that’s stupid, because I am like everyone else. I’m an employee, he’s my client. I’m like everyone else in his life. Someone he pays for a service.

Although, in this particular case, my recommendation will determine his future in football. I know that, and I’m sure he does, too. “All right, then, Nicky,” I say with a smile. “I hope you’re prepared to begin today.” He lifts an eyebrow, and dear lord, are his eyes gold? “Trust me,” he drawls. “I’m always ready.” My ovaries run into hiding and I gulp. I’ve never in my life been affected by a person’s mere presence as much as I am with Nicky. He’s like raw masculinity. Or pure sexuality. Or something. I don’t even know how to describe it. I just know, he makes my hands shake. Literally. “Good,” I say, very professionally. “Where would you like to work? I need to make some initial observations so that I can come up with a treatment plan. We just need a bunch of flat space where there are no sharp corners in case you fall.” “My gym,” he says immediately. “I’ve got mats in there. But I won’t need them because I won’t fall.” He’s so determined that he literally sticks his chin out. “Ok,” I reply cheerfully. “That’s a great place to start.” He slowly gets out of his chair, babying his right knee immensely. I see how he puts all of his weight on his left leg, how he stands at a tilt. There are scars on the front and back of his leg from the two surgeries that I know he’s had. I’ve read his file three times. We walk down long halls to his gym, and I hover close to his elbow. I want to take his arm, to assist him, but I have the feeling that he’d throw me off. Also, he’s a giant man. I know from his file that he’s six-six. But standing next to him in person…. he’s like a giant solid wall. I feel like an elf in comparison. “What else should I know about you?” I ask conversationally as we walk. He gives me side-eye. “What do you mean?” “Well, I know about your injury. I read the physician’s reports and I’ve gone through your file. I know your height, your weight. I know your playing history. Is there anything else I should know that could help me help you?” “Do you want to help me?” he stops, turning to face me. Once again, he seems like a wall, or a mountain. And I suddenly just want to climb him. To climb right up him and… “Sophie?” he brings me back to the present, eyeing me strangely. I flush, because the though I was having about him… it wasn’t professional in the least. I clear my throat. “Um, of course. I want to be help you. But you should know, I’ll give my professional, unbiased opinion. It might end up that helping you might be telling you that you’re done. You don’t want to permanently injure yourself.” His gaze is stony now, and he looks away, walking again, down the hall. I trail right behind him, and I know it’s causing him pain to walk so fast. He opens a door. “This is the gym,” he says gruffly, holding the door open so I can pass.

I enter a palatial workout area, lined with weights, mirrors and…chandeliers? I turn to him. “Who has chandeliers in their gym?” He winks. “I do. This is New Awlins, babe.” “Right.” I walk past, and I have no clue what that even meant, but he called me Babe, and my heart is racing. “Ok,” I turn to him. “Let’s start with some basic range of motion exercises so I can see what we’re working with. Can you lie on your back?” “I do amazing things on my back,” he says flippantly, and my ovaries twitch again. “Do you ever turn off?” I ask him, as I sink to my knees next to him. “No. I would say something about you being on your knees, but that would be inappropriate.” His hazel eyes flash, and I find it hard to believe that he gives a damn about propriety. Then he winks again, and I know it as a fact. I sigh. I put a hand beneath his left knee, going through the motions with his good leg first to get a good baseline for his normal. His skin is warm, and tight with muscle, and he’s such a top specimen of maleness. I should know, I’ve worked with athletes my entire professional life. “You don’t have to be so gentle,” he tells me gruffly. “I like it rough.” Good lord. My cheeks flush and he laughs, and I put his leg down. “Mr. Chase,” I tell him primly. “If we’re going to survive six weeks of living together, you’re going to have to keep yourself in check. I’m a professional. You can’t treat me like some groupie.” I take a breath to continue, but he interrupts, his face incredulous. “Wait, what? What do you mean, living together?” I’m confused. “We’ll be living together. I have to stay with you. That was the deal with your manager. I have to…” my words die off as I connect the dots. “You didn’t know.” He shakes his head. “No. Shorty must’ve left that part out.” Good lord. “The owners wanted me to get a thorough idea of your recovery,” I stammer. “They wanted me to be here day in and day out. Since you’ve been so… since you haven’t wanted to leave your house, no one really knows …” “No one really knows if I’ll recover. Yeah, I know.” He pushes himself off the floor, and he’s pissed, and I don’t know what to do as he heads for the door. Once he reaches it, he pauses and turns around. “Well, are you coming? I’ll show you to a guest room.” He’s definitely not pleased. As I jump to my feet and trail behind him, I can only wonder what I’ve gotten myself into.

5

CHAPTER THREE

N icky NO FUCKING WONDER Shorty told me not to fuck her. Because he knew she was staying under my roof for six fucking weeks. After I leave her in a guest room to unpack, I try to call my manager. Wisely, he lets it go to voicemail. “Hi, this is Shorty. No, my name doesn’t refer to my height or to any other appendage. It refers to my temper. If you’ve got balls, leave a message. If you don’t, I can’t help you until you grow a pair.” I do own a pair, a big pair, so I leave him a colorful voicemail. I feel strangely better afterward. Purged, almost. That’s why, when Sophie emerges a bit later, I manage not to growl at her. She’s too hot for that, anyway, if I’m honest. She stands uncertainly in the doorway, and the morning light hits her just so, and I swear to God she looks like an angel. Question is… is she the Angel of Mercy, or the Angel of Death? “What do you like to eat?” I ask her as casually as I can. I can’t help but notice her tight pants, and the way her ass is plump and tight. It matches my crotch at the moment. I shift to alleviate the tightness. She shrugs. “I try to eat healthy, but I’m a meat-eater, so…” “A meat-eater, hmm?” I raise an eyebrow and I swear her cheek-line flushes. “I didn’t mean that sexually,” I add. She flushes even more. “I didn’t think you did.” “Yes, you did.” She lifts her nose. “Fine. I did. Everything you say is sexual.”

“You’ve only known me for thirty-minutes and you’ve already picked up on that?” I feign being impressed. She rolls her eyes. “Someone who has been with you for only thirty seconds would pick up on that,” she points out. “I’m wounded, truly,” I tell her. She rolls her brown eyes again. They’re the color of a chocolate colored diamond, clear and sparkling. “Back to food,” she says firmly. “I’ll eat anything.” “Good. I’ll send out for some sushi for lunch.” “Except sushi,” she says immediately. “No raw fish.” “Okay,” I’m agreeable. “No sushi. I’ll send out for Indian.” “Errr. No Indian, either. Curry makes me nauseous.” I pause, and she shrugs. “I’m sorry. I don’t like to be picky.” “How about… Greek?” She winces. “I hate feta.” I stare at her. “Ok. So no sushi, no Greek and no Indian. You’re so right. You’ll just eat anything. How about Thai?” She ponders that. “Maybe. But it’s not my favorite.” “What is your favorite?” “Italian,” she answers immediately. And I this time, I’m the one rolling my eyes. “What a coincidence. The Italian girl loves Italian food.” “Who said I’m Italian?” she narrows her eyes, her hands on her luscious hips. “Your body. Your name. Your attitude.” I’m unapologetic and she laughs. “Fine. I’ll give you that. I’m Italian to the bone. I’m not sorry.” “Nor should you be,” I agree, and I can’t help but give her body a sweep with my eyes. “Lord, you shouldn’t be sorry.” She blushes again, and I smile. “I’ll order some lunch. You can make yourself at home. I have a housekeeper who comes four times a week. Her name is Myrna and she’s old and cranky. I have a pool, so feel free to use it. Clothing is prohibited on the premises.” She laughs. “Nice try.” I grin. “Hey. I didn’t want a house guest. So, I’m just trying to be flexible and adjust on the fly.” “Well, we can both adjust with our clothing on.” “We’ll see about that, little girl.” But Shorty’s words ring in my head. For God’s sake, don’t fuck her. And I really can’t. My career is on the line. Control yourself, I silently tell my penis. “Having a pool is good,” she tells me seriously. “We’ll use it for exercises. It’s perfect because it takes weight off your knee.”

“Getting in and out is a bitch though.” “Don’t worry,” she answers. “I’ll help you.” I have to laugh at that. “Um, you’re a buck-twenty soaking wet, and I’m twice that. I don’t think you’ll be of much help.” Now she’s indignant. “You have no idea. I’m small but mighty.” “Uh-huh,” I’m dubious. “I’m going to call in our lunch now. Make yourself at home.” I hobble into the kitchen and look up the restaurant’s phone number, and make the call. Then I drink a bottle of water, and when I amble back out to the living room, she’s gone. No big deal. She’s making herself at home, like I instructed. I call Shorty again, just for kicks, and leave him another colorful voicemail where I threaten to disembowel him. Honestly, my heart’s not in it now, but still, I do it on principle. And then I go searching for my new Physical Therapist. She’s not in the living room, not in the dining room, not by the pool. She’s not in the library, and as I make my way down the hall, I hear water running. What happens next, I can’t explain or defend. I push the bathroom door open with one hand, and she’s standing in the middle of the massive shower, with water cascading down over her glorious body. Her skin is tan and healthy, her hair dark and long, and she looks like a Siren rising out of the sea to lure some unsuspecting fisherman to their death. Her tits are plump and pert, her nipples aimed to the sky, puckered from the cold air hitting them. Her thighs, lord what I wouldn’t give to spread them apart and… Her eyes pop open, interrupting my sinful thoughts. “What the hell?” she snaps, covering her chest with her hands and turning away. That only gives me an open view of her perfect ass, but I don’t point that out. “What are you doing in here?” “I’m sorry,” I tell her calmly. “I didn’t know you were in here.” “The shower running didn’t give you a hint?” She’s defiant and indignant. I’m turned on by all of it, my cock hard in my pants. I’m shameless, it’s true. “Sorry,” I mumble and back away, but not before I get one last glance of her wet ass. She glares and I close the door behind me. Six weeks with this woman under my roof. Six weeks of my cock being very aware of that fact. Six weeks. I can do this. But can I do it without trying to fuck her and ruining everything? That’s the real question.

6

CHAPTER FOUR

Sophie I THOUGHT after the shower incident that it was all going to be hell here, but so far, so good. Nicky has been on his best behavior for the past two days, and I’ve settled into Casa Chase (How he refers to his home) without incident. I’ve done his initial assessment and I still don’t know if he’ll be able to recover. Usually, I have a good idea, but with him, it’s up in the air. It could go either way, depending on how much he wants to recover. He’ll have to put the work in, and then we’ll see. His injury was bad, and many people wouldn’t come back from it. But he’s Nicky Chase, and so… well, let’s just say that I’m not going to count him out. “We still doing pool therapy today?” he asks at breakfast. We’ve been eating in the breakfast nook every morning, and every morning, he’s a gentleman. He doesn’t work into his usual sexual innuendo until afternoon or so. It’s like he goes as long as he can, and then he just has to be himself. It’s amusing. “Yes,” I tell him. “And don’t expect it to be easy. It won’t.” He winks over his eggs. “Nothing worth having is.” God. Can he be any sexier? I need to keep my attention focused on my task at hand, but he makes it difficult. I know he didn’t want me here, and yet he’s been a perfect host. He’s asked about my room, what I like to eat, he makes sure coffee is made in the morning before I get up. I wouldn’t have expected that. I told him so, and he informed me that he might be a scamp, but he’s a southern gentleman, too. My ovaries almost exploded. I take my plate to the sink. “I’ll just go get changed, then.”

He’s got a smirk on as he watches me go, and I feel uneasy. Close proximity and wet skin. Lord have mercy on my soul. His gaze burns me as I leave the room, and I can still feel it on me as I change into my swimsuit. Thank God I’m not wearing a two-piece. He’s already in the pool when I emerge from the house, and I can see a flash of black under the water. He’s wearing trunks, Thank God. For some reason, I wouldn’t put it past him to be nude. “The water is perfect,” he tells me and he’s waist deep. His top half is Adonis perfect. I know it was carefully honed from hours in the gym each day, and many hours on the field. Somehow, it’s a turn-on that he’s spent so much time sweating into perfection. Yet, he doesn’t seem to be acutely aware of how beautiful he is. I would’ve taken him for a conceited ass. But so far… he doesn’t seem to be. He shakes the water out of his face, and droplets fly from his hair. His biceps bulge, and I’m pretty sure that they’re as big as my thighs. “Where do you want me?” he asks, eyeing me. I feel it as his gaze rakes over my breasts, then skims my hips. It literally feels like it’s lighting me on fire. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t usually react like this with my men, but something about him... Our chemistry just seems to mesh. At least, mine does with him. I’m pretty sure his reacts to everyone, or so says all the rumors. “Anywhere is fine.” I eye the massive infinity pool, and find a spot waist deep. “Right there is fine.” I gesture and step in, and the water is tepid, warmed by the Louisiana sun. It’s refreshing without being jolting. When I reach Nicky, I show him what to do, and he does it exactly as I had demonstrated. “You’re good at following instructions,” I tell him as I keep a hold on his thigh. I know very well that my fingers are six inches from his groin. It’s a fact I’m trying to ignore. He nods. “Yup. It’s from being on a team. Our success relies on everyone doing what they’re supposed to.” “How long have you played?” I ask conversationally. He glances down at me. “My whole life. Ever since I can remember, anyway. I won’t know what to do without it. I’m not ready to retire.” His voice is suddenly quiet and serious, and the look in his eye… it tweaks my stomach. Sometimes I forget that while I’m just doing my job, my decisions matter to these guys in a very big way. What I decide will determine the rest of his life. It’s not something I take lightly. “Ok,” I tell him. “One more rep of these. And then we’ll do some wall-kicks.” He nods and completes the set like a trooper. I can see on his face, though, that even the water work-out pains him. That worries me. “On a scale of one to ten, how much pain are you in right now?”

“A two,” he says immediately. I stare at him. “Honestly. One to ten.” He doesn’t flinch. “Maybe a five.” “Ok, good. Honesty is important, ok? I can’t help you if you don’t tell me the truth.” He nods, one curt nod. “Fine.” “You can trust me,” my words are soft and his skin is warm. “I promise.” “But you have a job to do,” he reminds me. “And I might not like your decision.” “You might not,” I agree. “But it will be in your best interest. I promise you that.” “We might not agree what my best interest is,” he points out. “That’s very true,” I nod. “But you’ll just have to trust me.” “I don’t like trusting people,” he says, and there’s something in his voice, something soft, something that I can’t name. “Why?” “I don’t know. People, by and large, haven’t proven themselves to be trust-worthy.” “That makes me sad,” I tell him honestly, as I show him how to do the second exercise. “Why? It’s no skin off your nose.” He hangs on to the side and kicks like I show him. The muscles flex in his back and torso. He’s like a finely tuned engine. The slightest movement and his body reacts. It’s incredible. “I guess,” I say. But it still makes me sad. I don’t have a vested interest in his view of mankind, but for some reason, I feel like deep-down beneath his bluster, he’s got a soft center. He’s a good person, and the idea that he feels like he can’t trust anyone, well, it gets to me. We finish the set of reps, and he’s clearly tired. I see it on his face, and the way his mouth is set firmly during the last few. “On a scale of one to ten now?” I ask. “No comment,” he answers. “What’s the number?” “Seven.” “Ok. We’re done for the day. Let’s just do some stretching now.” I inch up next to him, and pull his leg out, stretching it in the water. The friction of his leg against my palm is nice, and I itch to feel his heat against the rest of me. I’m a wanton, wanton woman. Good Lord. The nuns from my high school would’ve been beside themselves. “Sophie?” His voice is husky. “Yeah?” “You turn me on.”

He’s so blunt, so abrupt, that it startles me, and he laughs. “You said to be honest.” “I guess I did,” I agree, and I have to laugh with him. His hand is on my back though, and his fingers are so long, so curved around my shoulder, and I ache to lean into it, to feel his solid chest against my softness, to… “Sophie?” “Yeah?” “I’m going to kiss you now.” I know I should stop him, but I don’t. He dips his head, and his lips are firm and warm and soft and everything nice in the world. He inhales my mouth, and yanks me up to his chest, and it’s just like I thought it would be…. hard, muscled, like a wall. His groin tightens against my hip, and warmth floods through me. I whimper against his lips, and then there’s a voice. “Nicky, God damn it.” We both look up to find a giant of a man standing in the doorway, then striding toward the pool. Nicky pulls away, and he’s casual again. “Shorty, I see you got my messages.” “I told you, Chase. Keep your fucking dick in your pants.” “I wasn’t doing anything,” Nicky objects. The giant man glowers. “You had to use your tongue to do ‘nothing’?” He glances at me. “I’m sorry, Miss. I can’t let him do anything alone. Please don’t hold it against him.” “I don’t,” I manage to say and I’m humiliated because I’m a professional and I was just kissing my client. “Can I see you for a minute in private?” Nicky agrees, and I watch him exit the pool and he’s gone, and I’m alone in the water.

7

CHAPTER FIVE

N icky SHORTY’S GOT a vein popping out of his temple as he paces in my Study. “Damn-it, Nicky. You’ve got to take this seriously. If they decide that she’s not unbiased, they’ll throw out anything she says. And they may or may not give you another chance.” “I’ve been with them for seven years,” I tell him stoutly. “They owe me some loyalty.” Shorty levels a gaze at me. “They’re showing loyalty now by giving you this courtesy and you know it.” He’s got a point. They would be well within their rights to void my contract on my inability to perform right now. “So, keep it in your pants,” he finishes his lecture. “Fine,” I say between gritted teeth. Shorty smiles. “I love you though, man.” I roll my eyes. “You’re a pussy.” “If by that you mean that I like pussy, then yes. And that chick in there… she looks like she has a hell of a pussy.” Something about the way he says that annoys me. It rubs me the wrong way, and I don’t know why. I’ve never cared what he said about anyone before. But Sophie… the ways she smiles so innocently, yet feistily. The way she felt when I pulled her against me in the pool. “Dude, she’s off-limits,” I tell him hotly. He shoots me a look. “For you. Not for me.” “Fuck you,” I say. “You don’t get her, either.” He stares at me curiously. “Why do you care? You can’t have her anyway.”

I see her perfect ass in my memory. “I don’t know. But you’re not having her.” He shrugs. “Whatever.” He heads for the door, but pauses. “Honestly, you wouldn’t want her anyway. She’s got a stick up her ass, from what I’ve heard. Catholic schoolgirl, but not in the good slutty way. She’s practically got a lock on her pussy.” “Says who?” “Everyone who’s worked with her. She’s a bitch, man. Just stay on her good side.” He disappears out the door, and I’m left pondering. A bitch? I don’t get that from her. She didn’t kiss like a bitch. Thinking about her wet mouth and soft lips makes me hard. Thinking about that mouth circling the tip of my dick makes me even harder. My phone buzzes in my pocket and I glance at it. It’s Shorty. Just thought of something. Do whatever it takes to keep her happy. If that means fucking the ice queen, then do it. If you can. Hahaha. #ChallengeOffered I roll my eyes. Challenge Accepted. And only women and douchebags use hashtags. He answers immediately. #Dickhead I have to laugh, and slide my phone into my pocket. But seriously. This is a sticky situation. It could go well or terrible for me. But one thing I learned on the field- is to listen to my instincts. They won’t fail me.

MY INSTINCTS SEEM to suck with this woman. I thought she’d be into me after our kiss in the pool, and that like most other women I’ve encountered, she’d be waiting to spend more time with me. Not so. She hasn’t come out of her room this afternoon. What the hell is up with that? So, I load up some old clips, ones that I know I look badass in, and watch them. I want to make sure I’m in a positive light when she finally comes out. Limping around sort of chips away at my sexy edge. But after an hour of watching clips, she still hasn’t emerged. So finally, I decide to just be blunt. I walk to her door and knock on it.

It takes her a minute, but when she answers the door, she’s in a t-shirt and shorts, and her hair is mussed. “Sorry, I was napping,” she says and her voice is husky with sleep. I want to grab her and inhale her neck, because I know it will smell soft and feminine and beautiful. What the fuck is wrong with me? “Um. I didn’t know you were sleeping. I was just wondering what you wanted for dinner?” “You think about food a lot,” she points out. “I have a big appetite,” I shrug. “For everything.” I look her straight in the eye, and just like I figured, she blushes. “About earlier…” she starts to say. “I… I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.” “I’m not,” I offer. She smiles. “Of course not,” she mutters. “How about Mexican for dinner?” And then she closes her door. In my face. I’m stunned, and then I just start to laugh. I must look so ridiculous, standing in the hallway, outside some chick’s door, and laughing like an idiot. But I don’t even care. I just find myself looking forward to dinner with this woman. And damned if it won’t be Mexican.

8

CHAPTER SIX

Sophie I LOOK IN THE MIRROR. I’m not sure what I’m doing, but I do know I’m going to look my best while doing it. I’m wearing an off-the-shoulder white summer sweater, and short shorts. My legs look longer in them than they are, and I wear a pair of kick-ass heels. My hair is brushed out long and shiny, and mascara makes my eyes pop with caramel. Nicky Chase could eat me for Breakfast and then want seconds, but I can’t seem to stop wanting him. It’s not smart. I know that. But for once in my life, I want to do what I want without worrying about it. The mere memory of his kiss… the way his hands gripped me possessively, like I was his… Lord, it makes me hot even now. When I walk into the dining room, Nicky has dinner laid out on the table in a gorgeous way, with flowers and a candle. He eyes me up and down, and appreciation burns in his dark eyes like a flame. “You look beautiful,” he says simply. “Thank you,” I murmur, and he pulls my chair out for me. I sit and he slides it back in. Sitting across from me, he picks up his napkin. “How’s your knee?” I ask him politely. “We worked it pretty hard this afternoon.” “It’s perfect,” he lies. “On a scale of one to ten?” He shrugs. “Near perfect.” I roll my eyes. “Ok. We don’t have to talk about your knee tonight.” “What would you like to talk about, then?” he asks, and his eyes are so so intense. I look at my plate, then the candle, then the flowers, then back to Nicky freaking Chase. I’m sitting

across from Nicky Chase. My stomach does a flip-flop because his lips are so unbelievably perfect. “I… I seem to be attracted to you,” I tell him simply and bluntly. The corner of his mouth tilts upward. “You don’t say?” I blush. “Yeah.” “Well, you might have noticed this afternoon, but I’m attracted to you, too.” “You’re attracted to everyone though. I’m usually not.” He whips his head up, in mock outrage. “And how would you know that?” “Everyone knows,” I shrug. “And what, pray tell, does everyone know?” He calmly butters a roll and hands it to me. “Uh. That you… I mean, you like women.” He pauses. “Damn. You mean to tell me that people know I’m heterosexual? What the hell? And I thought I was hiding that so well, too.” I blush and I don’t know why. “You know what I mean.” He takes a bite and chews it thoroughly. His muscled arm lays on the table. “If you mean that I thoroughly enjoy the company of beautiful women from time to time, then that’s true. But none of them were are beautiful as you.” “Oh my God,” I snort. “You know how to lay it on thick.” He winks. “Eat your dinner. You don’t eat enough.” “How would you know that?” I take a bite for emphasis. “Because I notice things.” “What else do you notice?” He thinks on that. “I notice that you don’t drink caffeine after breakfast, you only have one glass of wine, you never drink to excess. You are very careful, very cautious, and you’re easily angered.” I stare at him. “I’ve never lost my temper with you.” “Nope. But you’ve wanted to.” I have to give him that one. “It’s my Italian blood,” I sigh. “It makes me volatile.” He chuckles out loud at that. “I’d prefer to think of it as passionate.” “I wouldn’t know much about that.” He pauses at my words, staring at me, his gaze concentrated. “What do you mean?” “I just mean…I don’t have a lot of experience in that department.”

He’s completely still now. “Surely you can’t mean… you’re a virgin.” I burst out laughing. “You wish. I could just see the wheels turning in your head. Nicky tames the virgin.” He eyes me. “Well, are you?” “No. I’m not a virgin. I don’t have a lot of experience, but I have some. A little.” “On a scale of one to ten?” “One.” He laughs again. “Oh, sweet Lord, thank you.” “Thank you for what? “For sending me an almost-virgin.” “He didn’t send me to you. That would practically be sending me to Satan himself.” I swallow hard and Nicky grins. “I’m wounded, kitten. Truly.” “Kitten?” He smiles again. “That’s my new name for you.” I’m silent, and he stares at me, his eyes smoldering the way they do. “Come here, Kitten. I’ve got something to show you.” My heart pounds. “What is it?” He smiles again. “It’s bigger than a breadbox.” “Oh my God, are you serious?” He laughs. “No. But close.” I hesitate. “We are talking about your penis, right?” He eyes me. “We can be. Come here, Kitten.” I don’t know why I do it, but I get up and walk to him. “There’s something about you,” he says, looking up at me as I hover over him. “That makes me want to conquer you. Isn’t that silly?” But it’s not silly at all, and he and I both know it. I shake my head. “Say it,” he instructs politely. “Excuse me” “Say that it’s not silly, Kitten.” “It’s not silly.” “Do you want me to conquer you?” I nod.

“Say it.” The words whoosh out of my mouth, expelled on hot breath. “I want you to conquer me.” His eyes flash. “Your wish is my command.”

9

CHAPTER SEVEN

Sophie HE KISSES ME, his tongue plunging into my softness, and I moan into his mouth. I fucking love that. My leg comes up and he grabs it by the knee, his fingers biting into my soft flesh. “Did you mean what you said the other day?” I pull away and ask, he laps at my neck. “What did I say?” “You said you like it rough.” His mouth pauses on the arch of my neck. His touch stills on my back. “Yes, I do. But I’d never hurt you.” “What if… what if I asked you to hurt me?” I say softly. “And then afterward, you can kiss it and make it better?” “I’d ask Santa what I’ve done to be such a good boy this year.” He puts his head back down, and nips at my earlobes, making his way along my neck, down to the swell of my breasts. He lingers there, so long that my legs start to shake. “Let’s go to another room,” I suggest, taking his hand. He leads me to his bedroom, and then I’m in Nicky Chase’s bedroom, and it’s full of blues and browns and grays, and manly colors and heavy furniture, and then I’m in the middle of his giant bed. He limps just a little as he takes off his clothes and stands gloriously in front of me, his entire body ripped and muscled and tattooed. “Holy shit,” I breathe, eyeing his manhood. It’s not bigger than a bread-box, but it is close. “Told you,” he tells me smugly, but then we’re not joking any more as he climbs over me, his hardness pressing into me. Every bit of him is giant and hard, and I’m so so much smaller, so much softer. Yet I don’t have slightest worry that he’ll hurt me.

He won’t. “Tell me what you like,” he instructs quietly, and his weight is on one knee and he looks like a knight from the round-table kneeling above me. “Take me hard,” I tell him simply. “Not yet, Kitten,” he says impishly. “Good things come to those who wait.” The next twenty minutes is torture heaven torture heaven. He laves at me with his tongue. He kneads at me with his fingers, so long and strong. His breath is hot, his body strong. His eyes flash in the night, and he works me into a frenzy, with soft fingers that grow more and more insistent, until he is finally as feverish as me. “What do you want now, Kitten,” he utters, his words short. “I want your hands on my throat, and your dick inside of me.” I can hardly breathe. He flips me over, and his palm slaps at my ass, soft, then hard, then harder. I smile into the pillows at my stinging skin. “You look like an angel,” he says into my ear. “But you’re a vixen, aren’t you?” I reach behind and handle his thick cock, stroking it, grasping it, hard, harder, harder. He moans. “Yes,” I answer simply. “In the bedroom, I’m a vixen. I want to be. I’ve never been with the right man for that, though…” He stops, and waits. “The right man for what?” He wedges his hard cock into my ass. It takes my breath and cognitive thought away. “I’ve never… I’ve never…” He pushes his tip against me, burying it in my the wedge of my ass. “You’ve never had it rough?” I shake my head. “Well, just call me teacher, baby. Welcome to class.” A thrill shoots through me. I’ve always wanted this, something rushed and frenetic and crazy and rough, but I’ve never found the right man. You have to truly trust someone to open up in this way. I don’t know Nicky Chase well, but I can see in his eyes… I can trust him. He grabs a handful of my hair and pulls my head back with just the right amount of pleasure and pain. He dips his head and nips at my exposed neck, his teeth grazing the vulnerability of my skin. He bites harder. I fucking love it. I buck backwards, pushing myself into his dick, and he grabs my hips, grinding into me. He’s

naked, and there’s just a thin silken sheath separating us—my panties. Until he grabs them and rips them off in one deft movement. He flips me onto my back and my legs wrap around him, trying to pull him into me. He pants into my ear, his thumb and forefinger pinching at my nipple. Pleasure ripples through me, and then he sucks on me, his tongue wrapping around my nipple tips, and I can’t I can’t I can’t breathe anymore. “Be inside of me,” I beg him. “Now.” Just before he plunges into me, he pauses. “I’m afraid of breaking you, baby.” I whisper into his ear, and he smells like the woods. “There’s only one thing you should worry about, Nicky.” “And that is?” “Giving it to me hard enough.” “Oh, Jesus.” He’s bleating now, and there’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead from the discipline that it’s taking him not to plunge right into me now, right this second. “Nicky,” I moan and his name feels good on my tongue. His hand feels so good on my ass, his fingers branding me. “Be inside of me. I need you there.” He pulls my head back by my hair, and ravages my mouth with his own. I inhale him, and he takes me, burying himself deep within me, and I clench all of my muscles to keep him as close as I can. After a while of the rhythmic motion, he flips me over effortlessly, and plunges in from behind. With one hand, he grabs my neck, his fingers biting into the flesh there, just enough just enough, the tips touching my throat. “Oh, yeah,” I moan. “Just like that, Nicky.” “You’re such a dirty girl, Kitten,” he says, but his words are strained. It’s taking a lot for him not to cum in me right now, and I can feel that, and it makes me feel powerful. I buck backwards again, and he rams into me harder, and he groans again, a primal sound. “God, you’re going to make me cum, Kitten. I don’t want to cum yet.” “So don’t,” I instruct. “Don’t.”

10

CHAPTER EIGHT

N icky DEAR LORD IN HEAVEN, help me. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this, but I’ll do it again and again if this is my reward. Sweet Sophia is face down on the bed, and my fingers are buried in her throat and she’s begging for more. I slap her ass, and she begs for it. I slap again and she moans. Then I pull out abruptly and kiss her ass, kissing away the marks of my fingers, and she pushes her ass into my face. So I bury my tongue in her pussy. She bucks against my face again, and I plunge further into her, and her smell… Lord, she smells sweet. So musky, so womanly. My dick strains and strains and it taken a Herculean effort not to shoot my load into the bed. I pull back and then push into her, burying so deep that my hips are melded to hers, her ass pressed into my front, and I reach around, pulling her into me by her tits, my thumbs scraping at her nipples. She’s so wanton, she just begs for more, uttering my name, moaning. The last thing I hear as I shudder into her is her voice. “Nicky, Nicky…” Lord, God almighty. My knee is shaking, and I roll to the side, my biceps feeling the burn. Sophie is limp, and when I can, I prop myself up on an elbow, looking down at her. “Are you ok? Was that ok?” Her eyes pop open. “Are you kidding? That was perfect. When can we do it again?”

I laugh and collapse into the pillows and she pulls at me, truly ready to go again. “You’re insatiable,” I tell her. “You like it,” she answers, and she’s wriggling against me. I think about Shorty’s words, about how others think she’s a bitch and her vagina is welded shut. I stare down at it now, and it is wide open and pink and perfect, and it doesn’t matter how much my knee hurts or how my biceps are shaking. I plunge into her again.

11

CHAPTER NINE

Sophie WE SPEND all day in bed. Literally. We don’t come up for air until my ass is red from spankings, my body aches from being taken so often, and my face is red from whisker burn. It’s dark outside when we get up for sustenance, for wine and cheese and bread, and Nicky limps a little more than usual on the way to the kitchen. “Are you ok?” I ask him, and now I’m concerned. I could’ve just set him back. I’m here to help him, not hurt him. “I’m good, Kitten.” He turns the kitchen light on. “On a scale of…” I start to say, but he interrupts. “I’m fine. Come over here.” I do, and he pulls me into his strong arms, and kisses me again, and I’m oblivious to my stinging cheeks and sore muscles. He is bliss. That’s all there is to it. We have a snack, and drink some wine, and he turns to me. “I’m not a hundred percent, Soph, and you and I both know it.” I don’t know what to say, so I just look at him. “Before the injury, I could’ve picked you up and carried you anywhere in this house. I could’ve gone jogging with you in my arms. I could’ve done a lot of things. But now…” he glares down at his leg. “Now I’m can’t.” “You can,” I insist. “You’ve been doing a lot of things all afternoon.” I think I blush when I say the words, and he grins. “Well, you’re easily pleased,” he tells me. But I’m already shaking my head.

“I’m not. I’m not easily pleased. That’s why I haven’t been with anyone in so long. When you have…an appetite… like mine, I like it rough… but I also like it soft. It takes a special kind of man to know when to do what. Most don’t have that skill. But you do. You do, Nicky.” He runs his hand up my back, and stops at my neck, pulling my face to his. He kisses me hard and long. “I don’t know what to do,” he finally says. “About my knee. I’m not ready to stop playing. But… I don’t want to play like a half-ass, either.” “Don’t worry about that right now,” I tell him. “We’ve got weeks before they want an answer from me. We’ve got time.” “I just hate having things hang over my head,” he says, and he’s troubled. He gulps down his wine, and nothing I say brings him comfort. “Let’s go back to bed,” I tell him. “We’ll worry about this tomorrow. He agrees to that, and when we get to bed, he’s gentle with me, soft and sweet. He kisses me carefully, lying me back ever-so-gently, and he makes love to me, like I’m made of glass. This was what I meant when I said he could tell what I wanted. Rough is amazing, but only when it’s followed by this. We fall asleep wrapped in each other ’s arms, and I do have to admit that before I slumber, it occurs to me that I’m in Nicky Chase’s arms, in Nicky Chase’s bed. There are a million girls who would love to be here right this minute, but he chose me. It’s a good feeling.

12

CHAPTER TEN

I wake up in the night, and I wake up hard as a rock.

Sophie is soft and curled up beside me, her dark head resting in the crook of my arm. I smile at the angelic look on her face. I know that in here, she’s anything but. I slide my hand down her arm, and her skin reacts with instant goose-bumps. I kiss them away. She moves closer to me in her sleep. I kiss her neck. She starts to breathe heavier. I move downward to her breasts, and lick her nipples, then suck them to full attention. Her eyes open, and focus on me. She smiles. “You didn’t get enough earlier?” “Nope. I doubt I ever will.” She grins, like the vixen she is, and before I know it, she’s flipped me onto my back, and has slid onto my my shaft, and I’m moaning her name. She rides me hard and fast, and she gets so wet that she literally drips down my dick. “Fuck me, Nicky,” she whispers and her eyes burn into mine. “Fuck me hard.” Damn it all, but she’s going to make me cum already. I think of puppies and cold fish, and then turn the tables, rolling over on top of her and pinning her down. Her wrists are restrained and she grins again. “You like that?” She nods. “You want to be tied up?” She nods again. “You’re a dirty girl, kitten,” I tell her once again. She giggles, completely unashamed. I go digging in my closet for some neckties, my erection standing straight out in front of me. I return to the bed in twenty seconds flat.

I tie her wrists firmly to each corner of the headboard, then for good measure, tie her ankles to the footboard. “Now what are you going to do?” she asks me breathlessly. I crawl over her slowly, with purposely, rubbing my skin over hers, in delicious friction. “I’m going to do whatever I want. Is anything off the table?” She thinks on that. “I don’t think so. But I’ll let you know.” “Ok.” I lick at her first, drawing circles with my tongue, and then lap, lap, lapping. At the same time, I rub her nipples with my fingers. Then I slide my fingers in and out, then lick my fingers clean. She’s panting. I slide into her, for one thrust, two, three, then pull out. She glares at me. “More.” I move my dick so close to her pussy that she can feel the tip, and she bucks and bucks to get to it, but I’m just out of reach. I do it on purpose. I slide my finger into her again, one, two, three of them. I let her ride my hand for a while and her eyes are squeezed tightly closed. I lean forward and suck on her nipples again, hard, harder, harder, and she’s panting when I’m finished. “Please, Nicky,” she moans. “Fuck me.” “How do you want it?” I ask. “Hard,” she begs. “Wrong answer.” I tease her with the tip of my dick, and then my fingers. She writhes beneath me. “How do you want it?” I ask again. “Gentle,” she says this time. “Wrong answer,” I tell her again. “What do you want to hear?” she asks, desperate by now. “Tell me and I’ll say it.” I kiss her hard, all the while still fingering her. She arches her back and she’s almost ready to climax, I can feel her breath speed up, her fingers clench into fists, and then I pull my hand away. I smile, and she’s limp. “How do you want it?” I ask one more time. “Any way you want to give it to me,” she says quickly. “Just fuck me.” “Right answer,” I tell her, and I slide into her again, and she cums within a minute, shuddering with her release. I follow close behind. “Good Lord, Nicky,” she chides me afterward. “Were you trying to kill me?” “Did you die?” She rolls her eyes. “No.”

“Did you like it?” “Hell, yes.” “Good. I like you in my bed, Kitten.” She closes her eyes, smiling. “Good.”

13

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Sophie NICKY WAKES EARLY, and quietly gets up to shower, careful to try not to wake me. I don’t let on that I’m already awake. He tries so hard to be quiet, that I don’t have the heart. When the water is running, I lay still, my hands feeling my body. My thighs are sore, and my lady bits definitely know they’ve been invaded. They’ve got that sweet ache that reminds me, not that I’ve forgotten. Nicky Chase has a way of getting into your head and staying there. In the light of day, it’s easy to think straight. I shouldn’t have done this. It wasn’t professional. I don’t want to be another notch in a belt. I just got carried away. It’s as I am berating myself that Nicky’s phone dings with a text on his nightstand. Out of curiosity, I glance over at it, and the words chill me to my bone. Remember, do what it takes. If you have to fuck her, fuck her. It’s his manager. And I’m quite sure that the her he is referring to is me. His meaning is quite clear. Nicky slept with with me simply so that I’ll give him the green-light to play ball again. It slams into me with the force of a Mack truck and it crushes me. I’m still in shock when he comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later, toweling off his hair. He glances at me, then stares, concerned. “What’s wrong?” “Your manager texted. And you’re an ass.” I jump up and rush away, as dignified as I can naked, and he’s confounded. “What the hell?” I hear him mutter behind me. And then… he follows me.

14

CHAPTER TWELVE

N icky I STARE at Shorty’s text, and then at the empty bed, and I know what she thinks, and it makes me feel ill. “Come back!” I call, hobbling after her. “It’s not what you think.” She doesn’t answer, and she’s way ahead of me, and I hear her bedroom door slam closed. Fuck. This isn’t good. I try to open the door, but it’s locked. I hear a lot of banging going on, thumps and bumps. I knock, no answer. “Sophie, please,” I knock again. “Please. It’s not like that.” Silence. “Sophie!” Nothing. “When you first came, I didn’t know you,” I try to explain. “Shorty and I were just messing around. But then I got to know you, and I didn’t sleep with you for any reason other than I like you.” She stops moving, but there’s still no answer. “I like the way your eyes sparkle when you’re happy and snap when you’re annoyed. I like the way you’re a freak in the bedroom. I like the way you smile and the dimple in your cheek. I haven’t known you long, but I really really want to get to know you even better.” Nothing. “Sophie?” Still nothing. “Sophie? Get away from the door.” And with that, using my good leg, I kick down the door. Sophie stands shocked and silent in the middle of the room, pausing mid-movement from packing

her suitcase. “Please don’t go,” I ask her. “Not because of football or my injury or your job. Please stay because you like me. Just me. Nicky Chase. Not the ball player, but the person.” “You don’t even know me,” she says hesitantly, and her eyes are so hurt. I feel like shit because I’ve done that to her. “I do though,” I insist. “And I want to know you better. You’re an amazing person, Soph. Let me know the rest of you. Please. Stay.” “I might step away from your case,” she warns me. “It’s still early enough that they could get someone else, someone who is unbiased.” “Do that,” I say immediately. “If that is what it takes for you to understand that I want you for you, then do that. Do it right now. Call your boss.” I hold out my phone. “Call him right now. Just stay here with me.” “People don’t live with each other from the very beginning like this,” she says, and she’s still uncertain. I roll my eyes. “We make our own rules, Sophie. We do what we want. And I want to be with you. Right now. Tomorrow. The day after that.” She’s silent, but I can see she’s actually considering it. “Stay here with me. You can help me with my knee, and we’ll have someone else do the assessment. It’ll just be you and me, Sophie. You and me. We’ll start over, and get to know each other without your job hanging over us. Please.” “You’d really do that?” her eyes are wide, hopeful. “Hell, yeah. I’d do more than that, if that’s what it took.” “You’re really not just using me?” She’s in such disbelief. “Whoever made you doubt your own self-worth like you do, I’d like to punch them in the face,” I announce. She almost smiles. “Ok,” she agrees suddenly, quietly. “I’ll stay.” “You’ll stay?” “Yeah. But on one condition.” “Anything.” “I get to call you Nic. Because no one else does.” “Done,” I agree immediately. “I’m your Nic.” She grins beatifically. I reach for her, and she folds into my arms, her own wrapping around my waist. “I’m not like everyone else to you?” she asks, and her voice is small against my chest. “Hell, no. You’re my little Italian spitfire.” I feel her smile.

“And I want to make love to you now, and then fuck you hard tonight.” She smiles again. “You already know what I like.” “You bet your pretty little ass, I do.” So I show her. I show her every little thing that she likes. Even some things she didn’t know she would like. I’m generous that way.

15

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Sophie “T HAT WAS the fastest six weeks of my life,” Nic tells me as he finished up PT today. He’s gotten so good at it, his knee has gotten so strong. “I told you it would be that way,” I remind him. “You just needed to put your mind to it.” “He put his mind to something,” Shorty pipes up from the corner chair, where he’s been answering emails on his phone. I roll my eyes at him. He and I patched up our differences a couple of weeks ago. I couldn’t hold his asshole ways against him. He didn’t mean anything by them. But he knows… one little toe out of line again, and he’ll answer directly to me. I truly think I scare him. “The independent physical therapist is going to be here in ten minutes,” he reminds us. “For the assessment. I don’t want to stress you out, Nicky, but this is going to determine the rest of your professional life.” Nic rolls his eyes, and I smile. “Don’t worry,” I tell him. “You’re ready. You’ve got this.” He nods, and drinks a bottle of water, and a few minutes later, a man comes in, with an expressionless face and a clip-board. “Nicky Chase?” he asks, as if he doesn’t know. Nic nods, and they begin the assessment. I sit next to Shorty with my fingernails between my teeth. It seems to take forever, but in reality it only takes fifteen minutes before the PT scribbles notes down and finally looks up. “Well, Mr. Chase. Welcome back to the New Orleans Sinners. I’m going to recommend that you be off two more weeks, and then you should be good to play.” Nic stares at him. “That’s your recommendation?” The guy nods. “Yes. Can I have your autograph?” I want to roll my eyes, but don’t. Nic signs something for him, and when he’s gone, Nic grabs me

into his arms. “I couldn’t have done that without you.” “I know,” I agree. “You little snot,” he grins. I nod. “I know.” “I love you,” he blurts out, and then he looks terrified and Shorty and I both stare at him. “What did you say, bro?” Shorty stammers, and I glare at him. “Stay out of this. What di you say Nic? Repeat it.” He still looks like a deer in the headlights, but he swallows hard and says it again. “I love you.” I smile and I feel the warmth of it all the way down to my toes. “I love you, too.” And I do. I can’t believe it. I love Nicky Chase. My Nic. He grabs my hand. “Let’s go out and celebrate.” I’m astounded again. “Out of the house?” He hasn’t been out of the house in weeks and weeks. But he nods. “Yeah. Out of the house. You and me.” “Yes,” I whisper. “Of course. I’d love to.” He grins and the world stops and I love Nicky Chase. And even better, Nicky Chase loves me. My Nic. He laughs and leads me down the hall so that he can change his clothes, and then we walk out of the house together, into the light. Into the reporters waiting to take his picture. Into the public. But none of it matters. All that matters is that he looks down at me and smiles. And then winks. Because he’s my Nic.

THE END

16

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

COURTNEY COLE IS a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who specializes in dark romance, and dark psychological suspense. She loves a good twisty story with a happy ending. She currently lives in Florida, where she writes beneath palm trees. To learn more about her, visit www.courtneycolewrites.com

IF YOU’D LIKE to read full-length novels by Courtney, check these out: The Nocte Trilogy: Nocte, Verum, Lux

T HE NOCTE T RILOGY is a heart-wrenching, soul-twisting drop down a rabbit-hole, a tale of love, illusion, and loss. The darkness is coming. The darkness is coming. The darkness is coming. Are you scared?

*** Dear Reader, I once considered not writing this story. It was too dark, too twisted, too much, too, too, too. Obviously, I changed my mind. But I re-wrote it in four different ways first, trying to make it different, more easily palatable, softer. It didn’t work. So I went back to my original idea, the idea that I loved. The idea that I dreamed about and lived and breathed until it was done the way I wanted it, the way it has to be. I know you’re capable of reading it. I know you’re capable of putting yourselves back together again when it’s all over. I have faith in you. Is this story dark? Yes. It is twisted? At times.

WILL it slap you in the face? Absolutely.

WILL it have you flipping the pages, trying to figure it out, trying to get to the climax, trying to breathe? God, I hope so.

I WROTE this story the way it needed to be written. I couldn’t sugarcoat it. I couldn’t water it down. It is this way because the story demands it.

I’M NOT SORRY.

THE BEAUTIFULLY BROKEN SERIES: If You Stay, If You Leave, Before We Fall, Until We Fly

BECAUSE WE’RE ALL a little broken, aren’t we?