Loved by the Linebacker (9 page)

Kissing his cheek, he drops my legs and I float
back. “You’ve found your happy, Blake. When do I get to find mine?”

Chapter 13

Camila

“I hate you guys,” Colie says, pouting while
simultaneously drooling over Mia’s and my lattes.

“Sorry, Cole. I know where you’re coming from,”
Mia responds sympathetically, rubbing Colie’s six-month baby belly.

I take a long sip, letting out an exaggerated
murmur of delight. “Mmm, this caramel latte is the best. So sweet, lots of
caffeine, I might even get another.”

Colie swats at me, her bracelet jangling. “You
suck, Camila.”

Laughing, I pat her hand. “So, ultrasound said
girl. Is Grant beside himself?”

“Oh my gosh! You should see all the pink he’s
bought, it’s like Pepto Bismol was barfed all over the new nursery. This little
girl is going to have her daddy wrapped around her finger.” Colie’s blonde hair
bobs up and down as she talks, her hand rubbing her belly. The grin on her face
is contagious.

With a smile, I turn to Mia. “How’s Toby doing
with Barrett?”

Now, Mia’s face is adorned with the look of
maternal pride. “Toby adores his little brother. He insists on reading to
Barrett before bedtime. And watching Tate with the two of them, some days I
just can’t handle all the cuteness.”

“Just wait until they start having farting
contests, Grant’s already started that with Liam.” Colie comments, acting
disgusted, but there’s still a smile in her eyes.

Mia laughs and turns to me. “What’s new with you,
Camila? I haven’t heard you talk about Gregg lately.”

My cheeks flush red and suddenly, my latte cup is
the most interesting thing I’ve ever seen. Picking at the label, I shrug.
“We’ve decided to take a break, no big deal.”

“His idea or yours?” Colie interrogates, leaning
forward, eyebrows arched.

“Um, I guess mine,” I fumble, knowing I can’t hide
anything from these girls.

“Which Purser?” Colie inquires.

“Colie!” Mia scolds, a tone she rarely even uses
on Toby. “Camila’s told us there’s nothing between her and Blake.”

“Thanks, Mia,” I mumble.

Mia’s eyes get slightly wider. “But you’ve never
said anything about Evan…”

“Yeah, you two were spending
a lot
of time
together…” Colie adds on.

Suddenly feeling bashful, like I’ve been caught
with my hand in the cookie jar, I open my mouth, but no words come out. When I
start to speak again, I’m saved by my phone which shrills loudly. Relieved to
not have to respond to their insinuation, I answer without looking while Mia
and Colie talk amongst themselves.

“Camila Lemos.”

“What the hell do you have me doing?” a male voice
booms on the other end, stopping my friends dead in their conversation.
Immediately, I recognize Evan’s voice and excuse myself from the table, walking
outside to take the phone call.

“Evan, what are you talking about?” I say in a
loud whisper so he can hear me but not passerbys.

“This fuckin’ photoshoot! They want me to dress up
like a gladiator, I look like a fuckin’ idiot!”

“Calm down, Evan.”

“Get your ass down here, Cami and fix it,” he
orders and hangs up. My heart is racing but not at his anger. No, I finally get
to see the man that’s been keeping me awake at night.

Evan

Sitting in my dressing room, I’m pouting like a
fuckin’ five-year-old. Camila thought she was doing me a favor by booking this
photoshoot for a new men’s cologne, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to
dress up like a fool for all of America to make fun of. Plus, now I get to see
her, even if I don’t want to. She’s like an addiction that I can’t break and it
pisses me off to no end.

My leg bounces, tapping my foot quickly against
the floor. I shake my head in disbelief that the photographer, Raul, wanted me
to wear nothing but a gladiator costume not even big enough to cover my
package. I mean, if they’re selling to women then I guess he’s on to something.
Still, I refuse to look like an idiot. I can only imagine the heat I’ll get
from my teammates, whoever they might be this coming season.

The door opens and Camila walks in, slamming the
door behind her. She’s wearing a pair of holey jeans and a peach striped tank
top that pushes her cleavage out of the top. My cock twitches just at the sight
of her and when she’s within a couple feet of me, I smell her ginger and floral
scent teasing me. Good thing I got laid last night or I would already have her
naked on the couch, not even caring about why I’m pissed at her.

“Do
not
call me like that again, Evan. You
signed the contract so we’ve got to shoot something today or else they’ll
charge you for the studio fee.” She puffs up her chest, trying to sound more
confident than she is, but I can tell from the red creeping over her neck that
she’s uncomfortable.

Standing up, mainly to show my dominance, but also
so that our chests are touching, I glare down at her. “Then fix the fuckin’
problem.”

Her brown eyes stare into mine, neither of us
wanting to blink first. Her red, plump lips are just begging for me to kiss
them and I have a feeling that Camila wouldn’t push me away. Stubborn,
definitely something we both have in common as we stand there, neither of us
backing down. Finally, she ends our showdown with an exasperated sigh and turns
to leave the room.

The door slightly ajar, I listen to Raul and
Camila yelling at each other in another language. I don’t know what the hell
she’s saying, but she’s turning me on. Fuck the lowball offer San Diego put in,
screw it that Camila is pushing me away to Chicago, when she gets back in this
room, I’m going to end what we started at the draft.

My trance is broken when the door flings open,
pounding into the wall behind it. Camila stands in the doorway, looking pissed,
her eyebrows narrowed and her lips pursed. She points at me and waves her
finger. “Get undressed.”

“What?”

“New idea, get undressed. Wardrobe and make-up
will be here in five minutes and don’t you dare be a diva,” she warns and turns
without another word.

Wearing nothing but a pair of extra small boxer
briefs and a spray-on tan, the photographer’s assistant walks me in front of
the camera. I squint from all the lights and look around for Camila, but she’s nowhere
to be seen. Raul, a middle-aged, dark-skinned man with platinum blonde hair
leans out from behind the camera.

“Your partner will be here in a moment,” he says
without even making eye contact. I don’t care if he is the best photographer in
the world, the man is fuckin’ full of himself.

“My partner?” I question, still oblivious to what
the hell is going on.

“Your partner.” I turn toward Camila’s voice and
see her walking toward me. Her brown hair is unnaturally wavy and teased high,
her usual beautiful face is covered in make-up, making her look like a Barbie
doll, but unlike me, she’s not covered in spray tan. Her natural, Brazilian
skin is the only part of her right now that is the real Camila. My eyes travel
up and down her scantily covered body, wearing only a nude colored thong and
strapless bra.

“No Gladiator, lovers instead,” Raul barks from
behind the camera.

Camila steps in front of me and I desperately want
to reach out for her. I’ve missed her, not just her sexy body, but her. The
woman that laughs with me, that listened to me cry, the woman that I once
trusted. The woman I want to be my lover.

Her eyes narrow and she’s obviously not happy.
“Don’t say a word, Evan. I’m saving both our asses right.”

Even if I wanted to comment, I couldn’t. Raul
moves beside us, shoving my hand on her ass and positioning her arms on my
chest. He snaps a series of shots, trying to get the vibe of Camila begging for
me, but the poses aren’t coming naturally for either of us and Raul is
screaming. If it weren’t for being able to touch Camila, I would’ve broken the
man’s fuckin’ camera by now.

Camila turns to the camera. “Raul, can we try a
few things on our own?”

The irritated photographer throws up his hand,
beginning a rant about how he’s an expert and knows more than she does. Camila
ignores him and looks up at me. “Follow me, okay?”

She turns her back to me, leaning against my body
and the teeny, tiny briefs do nothing to hide my excitement for her. Camila
moves my arm under hers so that it crosses her stomach. She pushes both her
breasts into my hand that easily holds both. My other hand goes to her hip,
gently rubbing my thumb over the thin material of her thong. She pauses ever so
slightly then looks up at me, her hand moving to my neck and we gaze into each
other’s eyes.

The camera starts clicking and Raul’s rant turns
to shouts of praise. “Closer, Evan, get in her face!”

I lean down, our lips just a breath away. Camila
moves her hips against me, teasing my erection and I don’t hide the moan she
elicits. Not taking her eyes off me, she whispers, “Evan, I wanted our night in
Chicago. I’m not trying to get rid of you.”

My hands tighten on her and I move to close the
space between our lips as Raul shouts, “Perfect! That’s a wrap!”

Camila holds my gaze just a second longer then
slips away from me, running down the hallway. I call out after her, but don’t
move to chase her. I’m not going to start that habit, no matter how much I want
to.

Raul walks across the room and slaps his hand on
my back. “Looks like Miss Lemos has someone in an uproar,” he comments and
falls into a fit of laughter.

Glancing down, I see the tip of my cock is trying
to escape out of the top of the boxer briefs. Shoving my way past Raul, I huff
to my dressing room. Do I believe what Camila said or is this her being a tease
again? Fuck it, I don’t know, and I’m sure I can find someone to take care of
this raging hard on. Opening the door, I see a smiling brunette down the
hallway, hiding behind a clothes rack and waving. I grin,
exactly what I
need
. I start to motion for her to come in but that ginger and floral scent
catches my attention. Turning my head, I see Camila already dressed and running
out of the building. I sigh and slam the door shut, not knowing at all what I
want.

Chapter 14

Camila

Pacing back and forth across my co-worker’s office
at Netsports, I throw up my hands in frustration. “I’m at my wits end, Kip.
I’ve played out every possible scenario and none of them seem to be in Evan’s
benefit. The Lancers claim they want Blake so they put the offer for Evan out
there in hopes that the Seawolves will overpay Evan and cut Blake go. The
Seawolves will easily give up Evan for Blake and aren’t willing to budge on
their preposterous offer as of now.” I drop to the chair across from his desk
with a loud sigh.

Kip Deevers interlocks his fingers, tapping his
index ones together. Good, this means he’s thinking. It’s been a month since
Evan’s offers first appeared in my inbox and I’ve been awake every night trying
to figure out the best possible option for him. I wish I could say that’s the
only reason I haven’t gotten any sleep lately, but it’s not, especially not
after the cologne photoshoot. I hate being in front of the camera and I’d love
to admit I only offered to model with him to save the ad, but I wanted to feel
Evan against me again. Caught up in the moment, I admitted too much and ran off
like a coward and haven’t heard from him since.

“So, if Evan declines the Seawolves then who knows
what the Lancers will really offer,” Kip comments, thinking out loud with his
eyebrows furrowed.

“I talked to Walter Feiser’s office and it all
depends on what Blake does. If Blake signs with them, they won’t offer Evan
anything. If Blake stays with the Seawolves, they’ll honor their offer.”

“Sounds like you’ve got to talk Blake into staying
with the Seawolves so his little brother doesn’t get screwed.” Kip stands,
walking to the desk by his window and pouring himself a Scotch.

I close my eyes and lean my head back. “Yeah, but
Evan wants no part to do with Chicago. He only wants San Diego.”

A chill runs down my neck and when I open my eyes,
Kip is holding another glass of Scotch on the rocks against my skin. I take it
from him, letting the warm whiskey roll down my throat.

“Then I guess you need to start convincing Evan
Purser how great the Windy City is.”

With that thought, I down the rest of the alcohol
and stand up. “Yeah, Kip, thanks for your help.”

With a chuckle, he pats my shoulder. “They don’t
say you’re the best for no reason. I’m sure you can do it, Cam.”

I nod, letting him know that I appreciate his
confidence in me. Honestly, I think Evan Purser will walk away from the NFL
before Chicago is even an option in his mind. I have to figure something out
before Evan throws away his career.

Entering my office, my desk phone rings. I answer,
pushing the thought out of my mind, ready for a distraction. On the other end
is a hysterical woman screaming into the phone in Spanish. Even though I’m
fluent in the language, among others, she’s speaking so fast I can’t understand
a word she’s saying.

“Cálmese, señorita, cálmese,” I say, encouraging
her to calm down.

The rambling continues until I hear her take a
breath. A few seconds pass and then the woman whispers so quietly I can barely
hear her. Unfortunately, I can.

“Señora Purser esta muerto.”

The line goes silent and I fall into my seat, my
heart sinking to my stomach. Mrs. Purser is dead.

Evan

Sprinting around the curve of the track, I excel
my speed, trying to beat my last time. I cross the finish line and glance at my
watch, two seconds slower. The tunes of Foster the People seeps out of the
stereo and I swear if someone doesn’t change the station, I’ll rip the speakers
off the wall myself. This is bullshit that I have to work out on my own. I
should be at training camp with the rest of my teammates, but Camila hasn’t
worked “her magic” as Blake likes to call it, so I’m stuck at the gym by
myself.

Glancing over at the free weight section, there’s
a group of college guys in their bro tanks standing around bragging about how
much they can bench press. I roll my eyes and keep walking. There’s a lot more
to getting bulky than just lifting weights. Does anyone really think I enjoy
running sprints or doing parachute speed training workouts?
Hell no!

Back at the starting line, I pull my foot up to my
thigh, holding the position and stretching my quad. I may not have a trainer
keeping an eye on me, but I’ve been here before. Alone and dedicated to no one
but myself. Too bad, I want to be dedicated to someone this time.

I close my eyes, picturing Camila against me at
the photoshoot and quickly shake my head. No, she’s just a tease, trying to
control me with her body. If she doesn’t get her shit together and get a better
offer on the table from the Seawolves, then I’m going to be in the market for
another agent.

Kicking my legs, making sure I’m good and loose, I
reset my watch and take off. Despite being three-hundred-pounds, I’m light on
my feet. A smile creeps over my lips as I know I’m going to beat my previous
time and will finally cut myself a break for the day. I round the last turn and
almost skid to a stop.

I slow to a jog, totally killing the record pace I
was setting. When I reach the finish line, I breeze past Camila, pretending I
don’t see her although it’s hard to miss her when she’s wearing a blouse that
only has two buttons ending below her chestline. A lucky necklace hangs between
her cleavage, drawing even more attention to her perfect breasts.

Surprisingly, I don’t hear her call after me and
when I glance over my shoulder, she’s still standing in the same spot, a frown
on her face. I sigh, stopping at the water fountain for a drink before walking
to her. I inhale deeply, drawing my shoulders up purposely so I can loom over
her even more. When I look down into her face, she doesn’t appear amused.

“Evan, I need to talk to you,” she says, her voice
somber.

I roll my eyes. “What? You managed to piss off
both teams and I don’t have any offers now?”

Camila averts her eyes, staring at the floor. I
shake my head and scoff. Un-fucking-believable, she’s really out to screw me
over. She’s got to be fucking my brother. I bet Blake put her up to all this.
Get
Evan to fall for you Cam, then crush him and send him to the freezefest of
football.
Other than turn down his offer to leave Mom, I’ve never done
anything to him to be treated this way. I start to ball up my fists when
Camila’s hand is on mine. A shiny ring on her index finger flashes in the
sunlight and I look up at her.

Her hand tightens on mine and she speaks softly.
“Evan…it’s your mom.”

The blood in my veins turns ice cold and I freeze,
waiting for Camila to go on, but she doesn’t. A tear slips out of her eye and
rolls down her cheek instead. Shaking my head, I begin to mutter, “No, no, no…”

My own weight is too much to handle and I drop to
my knees. It’s slow motion as I feel myself in mid-air and the second my legs
hit the ground, Camila’s arms are pulling me against her. My head rests on
those two buttons of her blouse as she cradles me, rubbing my bald scalp. I can
hear her telling me she talked to the police but I block out her words,
focusing on the words of the music overhead. Closing my eyes, hoping this is
just a dream and I’ll wake up any moment. I wrap my arms around her legs and
feel her body against mine, confirming this isn’t a dream, but a nightmare.