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“There has definitely been a lot of drama in this locker room and on the team in general in the past, but none of us would want to let anyone hurt you,” I continue to reassure her.
“I know,” she says. “I already said I know it wasn’t a player for the Leviathans.”
I can’t help but cringe at the tone of her voice, but she notices and softens.
“Sorry,” she apologizes. “I’m really grateful to you for saving me. I don’t mean to be snippy.”
“It’s fine,” I tell her. “You’ve been through a lot. Do you want me to drive you somewhere? Are you headed home?”
“There’s no need for that,” she says. “I wasn’t that hurt. I can easily take care of myself.”
“Okay, if you insist.”
I’m honestly kind of glad she turned me down, because I worry that I’ll make a move on her that I’ll regret, even though now is not the time, even if she wasn’t a reporter.
I can’t help but feel attracted to her. What red-blooded male could, with those wide hips and small waist in front of him, that big butt and those full breasts to match?
“There’s one thing you can do for me, though, that might make me feel better,” she says.
“What is that?”
“Just answer one question for me. Are you going to be in the starting lineup for the Superbowl?”
That’s an easy question. I’m always in the starting lineup. But I can’t even give her that much or else I know Coach K will want to bench me.
It would be a really dumb move, during the Superbowl. But he’s known to value loyalty more than he’s known to make smart moves.
“Look,” I tell her, “you know as well as I do that I can’t answer that. But what I can do is let you be the one to ask that question at the press conference we’re having tomorrow night,” I tell her.
“Really?” she asks, looking as if I just told her she’d won a million dollars.
“Really.”
Official press conferences are the only times we’re allowed to talk to anyone from the media from now until the Superbowl. They’re very orchestrated events that Coach K makes sure to have completely under his control.
Usually, the most experienced reporters are the ones who get questions fielded from them. But I can pull some strings and make sure it can be her.
“Thank you so much,” she says, practically skipping towards the door, as if almost forgetting what had just happened to her. In that sense, my mission is complete. I want her to rest easy tonight knowing that everything is going to be okay. And not just okay, but good, even, because she’ll have tomorrow to look forward to.
Whether or not I’ll get any rest myself remains to be seen, since this little interruption has thrown me completely off schedule. Still, at least I did my good deed for the day.
Now I just have to find out who would want to hurt her, I think. And, as we say goodbye to each other and I watch her fine ass walk out the door of the locker room, I admit to myself that I also have to figure out how to keep my hands off her while I do that.
Chapter 5
Elias
I get to the press conference early because I’m determined to get more one on one time with Stacy. I’ve been telling myself to only think of her as the victim of an attack who I rescued and am trying to help find justice for. Or, even better, as the reporter I can’t get close to, lest she turn on me and leak any possibly negative information she can find out about me – and, fuck, is there a lot of it, in my past – all over her news outlet.
I’ve even been reminding myself of her haughty reputation and how she thinks – or more like, anyone with her job seems to think – that they have the right to ruin peoples’ lives for money. In short, I’ve been telling myself to think of her as anything but what I really think of her as, which is a person who is not only funny and smart but also drop-dead gorgeous.
I’m not one to talk myself out of doing what I really want to do, though. And what I really want to do is fuck Stacy’s brains out. I know she wants me to do that, too, from the way she looks at me with her innocent yet teasing eyes. The way she was eager to stay in my arms a bit longer than was necessary after I rescued her. The way her voice kind of “purred” when she talked to me.
At some point, and I can’t even pinpoint when it was, I decided to stop pretending I didn’t want what I know I really do want, and start going after it, just like I always go after what I want. I know Coach K would be so mad at me, but I justify it to myself by saying it’s for the good of my health and for the good of my performance for the team. I’ll never be able to get to sleep again – fuck, I’ll never be able to concentrate enough to play well in the Superbowl – if I don’t get this out of my system.
