Third and Long: A Sports Romance (6 page)

“Can I take you home?” he asks as the waitress drops off the check.

Against all better judgment I agree. He’s been nice, and way less arrogant than he was out on the running track. For one he hasn’t talked about his cock once.

“Even if this was a total bust, I’m glad you came out. You’re a cool chick Tamber,” he says.

After he pays with his exclusive black credit card, another reminder of his wealth, Logan gives me his coat. When he wraps it around my shoulders, I can feel the heat of his muscles against my back. Silently, I wish that he would hug me. I’m my own worst enemy ultimately. I’m the only one in my way, and it’s always been that way.

The wine hits me as soon as we step out of the restaurant. I overdid it a bit. My head is going to hurt in the morning.

The four-inch heels don’t help either, and when we walk into the chill night air, I stumble a bit. Logan catches me and helps me to his cherry red BMW that the valet pulls around. He stops before he gets into the car and looks around. I know he’s checking for paparazzi, but it seems like he doesn’t spot any blood thirsty photographers.

He drives me straight home. He’s the perfect gentlemen and doesn’t try to make a move on me once we’re alone in the car. However when he parks in front of my apartment, I don’t get out of the car right away either. Logan really is a nice guy. Going out, getting away, has been such a relief. I wish this night wouldn’t end.

There’s an awkward silence between us. Attraction with no action. This couldn’t get more awkward, yet I can’t force myself to get out.

“Well,” Logan says breaking the awkwardness. He lays his strong heavy hand on my bare leg. I don’t flinch. I don’t push him away. Somehow it was the exactly right thing he could have done.

I turn to him and look deeply into his blue eyes. He grips my thigh and part of me wants him to touch me all over. Inside I’m practically screaming out for affection. Rationally, I know that’s a mistake. I swore off boys for a reason, and Logan Oliver III is the biggest distraction there is.

“I guess if we’re going to be friends, you ought to have my phone number,” I murmur.

He grins. “Told ya.”

“I honestly thought there was no way you were ever going to get my number,” I say.

He pulls his cell phone out, and I tell him my number. He texts me and my own phone lights up. The billionaire party boy gets what he wants. In the morning I’ll be kicking myself even though right now it seems like the right thing to do.

I read the text.

Remember the side bet?

“Remember the side bet?” I ask him.

He leans over to kiss me. His gorgeous lips are so close. There’s no way I’m pushing him away now. His lips press into mine and I absolutely melt.

I kiss him back and touch his cheek with my palm, feeling his beautiful and powerful face. His tongue slips into my mouth, and I let him. I’m violating my every principle, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

His strong fingers curl through my hair, gripping the back of my head, pulling me closer to him. The warm, sexy taste of his tongue kills me. My lips stop, hanging open, waiting for him to kiss me again. His tongue glides along mine and my lips, and I’m feeling things I haven’t felt in years.

My hands take a trip down from his face to his chest. His strong, firm pecs practically burst through his dress shirt into my hands. I want more. I want to feel every inch of him.

Gripping my thigh, he slowly slides his hand up my leg and under my dress. He’s certainly going too far, but I’m not going to stop him. Momentarily, I lose all sense of control. I want him to feel me, touch me.

His kiss is that powerful, that electric. Shivers shoot down my spine, and Logan ignites feelings in me that maybe I haven’t ever felt. I hate to admit it but Gwen might be right. There’s something about athletes, their drive, their ambition.

My own hand continues to travel down his pecs to his abs and comes to rest on his thigh. Or what I think is his thigh. I freak and pull my lips away from his.

“Oh my god is that?”

“Sorry,” he murmurs.

“Is it really?”

“Told ya, you’d be asking about it.”

“No really how…oh fuck I just lost the side bet too didn’t I?”

I start laughing like crazy totally ruining the moment. He pulls back from me and swivels in his seat, giving me space.

“Sorry Logan I—”

“No it’s okay. I shouldn’t have kissed you. We’re just friends right?”

“Right,” I say, thinking on it for a minute. “But seriously it’s
that
big?” I thought I was grabbing his thigh for God’s sake.

“It’s kind of a Rome urban legend at this point,” he says.

Looking in the mirror, I adjust my hair. Honestly, I’m trying to look anywhere else other than Logan’s lap. His huge, hard cock. If I needed a reason not to fuck him that’s enough. There’s no way I could handle such a thing.

My hand goes to the door handle, and Logan gets the idea. He offers to walk me up to my apartment. On the way up, he wraps his arm around my waist. Instead of the crazy hot tension from moments earlier, he feels more like a friend now. I’m not sure what came over me in the car. Something about his eyes and his lips. It’s like he put a spell on me. I’ve never shared a kiss with a boy that intense.

At the door to my apartment, he stops me and pulls me close to him. I’m helpless and wanting.

“How about friends with benefits?” he asks.

I frown and he knows he’s gone too far.

“When I said we were just friends I—”

“Damn. Had to try right?”

I’ve never met anyone as in control as Logan. I’m overwhelmed by his presence. It seems that when he wants something he gets it. It take every fiber in my body not to invite him.

“Just friends,” I say.

“Just friends.”

He kisses me on the cheek and I slip into my apartment, wondering if I did the right thing.

CHAPTER SIX

Logan

Saturday morning. Game day. Another test of my undefeated record. We’re going to be national champs, and I’m going to be the number one pick. Every game is a test, an opportunity to prove myself. I crushed Auburn last week, and all the media could talk about was my lifestyle. So last night I kept my nose clean. Instead of a couple of strippers or some super models, I spent the night with a really sweet girl. Tamber Long.

I can’t get her mocha-colored hair out of my head. She’s short like a tall cup of coffee.

Sugary.

Sweet.

Good to the last drop.

I could have had her last night, but I played the gentlemen. A girl like her deserves that. She’s not a cheerleader, and she’s not a social climber. When we fuck, it’s going to be love. When she comes, it’s going to be magic.

She says she wants to be friends, but that wasn’t a friendly kiss. That was a shut up and take me kiss.

For the first time in years, I hit the hay early. Tamber’s not an all night kind of girl.

To make a good show of it to Coach Ainsworth, Cam and I hit the practice field at 9 a.m. Even though Coach loved my performance last week, he definitely made it known that he’d cut my balls off if he had to deal with the media asking about my antics again. One day he may follow through on his threats.

“So tell me how it went down. Is this chick crazy like Gwen?” Cam asks as I throw an easy ten yard pass to him.

My arm feels great today. There’s no soreness. In fact my entire body feels ten years younger. The benefits of staying mostly sober and going to bed early I suppose.

“I can’t even believe she knows Gwen to be honest. They’re like polar opposites.”

Cam catches a deeper pass. This time it’s a real dart. My throwing arm feels stronger, invigorated. We might set that record today. Four touchdowns to the same receiver in one game. Would be nice. Might even make my dad proud. Who am I kidding?

“You guys get in on?”

“I got a kiss,” I say with the earnestness and enthusiasm of a school kid who got his first A.

Cam catches another pass another pass and starts cracking up. He drops the ball, staring at me disbelief. “And?” he asks.

“And nothing. I don’t want to rush it.”

He gives me a look like I’ve lost my mind. “Shit man are you in love?”

I spend a lot of time finding my grip on the next ball that I grab off the rack. Spinning it in my hands, I can’t help but think about Tamber. A girl has never had me all mixed up like this. Girls like Tiffany and Kelly? They’re easy to forget. Love ‘em and leave ‘em. That’s how I liked to live. I never thought I’d meet a girl that I’d want to see more than once or twice.

Then along comes Tamber Long, screwing up my game plan. She’s so different. She knows what she wants. All these other girls are hanging around waiting for a guy like me to a put a ring on their finger. Tamber doesn’t even want that. She’d spit on a ring.

“Go long,” I say.

Cam runs down the field. I spot Coach watching from the sidelines. Good. I’d hate to be doing all this without him noticing. A perfect spiral of a pass leaves my hand, and Cam catches it in the end zone. Good practice. We’ll win today. I’m throwing better than I ever have.

My bro and I run a few more drills. When I start thinking about kissing Tamber my passes get sloppy. I’ve got to get her out of my head before game time.

Back in the locker room, Cam keeps giving me shit about her, so I retaliate the only way I know how. I give him shit about Gwen.

“How am I gonna fall for a girl that’s best friends with a freak like Gwen,” I say.

That stops Cam in his tracks as he shoves his gloves back in his locker.

“I guarantee you she is nothing like Gwen. But if she is? It’ll be the best month of your life until it’s over,” he says.

He’s all smiles. A year ago when Gwen dumped him, he was a mopey piece of shit for like six weeks. Finally he got over it. Since he’s such a beast on the field, no one suspects that Cam is actually a sensitive guy.

I don’t mean that in a bad way. He’s a romantic. See, he thought after a month that he and Gwen Tully were exclusive. Thing is she didn’t see it that way. That was an awkward conversation if there ever was one.

Not that you can blame her for anything. It’s college. We’re all seeing other people. Cam didn’t understand the game. Now he does. If anything Gwen turned him into a bit of a player.

It was total coincidence that my man knew Tamber. Last Sunday I started texting every girl I knew about her, and no one had ever heard of her. Then I started asking the guys, and Cam knew right away who I was talking about. He gave me Gwen’s number and the rest is history.

After a quick shower, I grab my bag and wander off to watch film. No other players are in the facility at this hour. Coach is haunting the facility somewhere, probably going back for his third pot of coffee. Shutting the lights off in the film room, the latest tape on Ole Miss’s defensive line rolls.

To be honest, I barely pay attention. My eyes close, and I can’t help but picture Tamber Long in her little black dress. That was some push-up bra she had on making every inch of her perky tits work. Her thighs were silky smooth and strong, every bit what I expected from a runner.

Thinking about her legs reminds of me her ass in those tight, red running shorts. Her mocha brown hair. Her toned legs and tight body. Her work ethic. Her honesty. Her drive. She’s everything. Her kiss and her touch.

Then my phone buzzes. It startles me awake, and I damn near fall out of my seat.

“Good luck today, son,” dad says when I answer the phone.

The fact that he’s even acknowledging that I have a game is bad fucking news. Terrible news in fact. He’s buttering me up for the bomb he’s about to drop.

“Thanks,” I say. My voice is leaden on the phone, keenly aware that there is more coming.

“Enjoy it because you’ll be giving up football,” he says.

The phone feels icy in my hands. I want to smash it against the wall even though I know that won’t fix things. I summon every bit of my courage.

“That’s not going to happen,” I say.

“I asked you to go one week without another dust up with the media, and you couldn’t do it,” he says.

“Wait. What are you talking about?” I ask. Honestly, I have no idea since I was such a good boy this week.

“It’s time for a change, Logan,” he says.

I pace about the locker room. Thankfully, I’m the only one here because I really want to punch someone.

“Your mother and I both agree that a wife would be in everyone’s best interest,” he says.

He means his best interest. It’s always about the family which means him. I have two sisters, and he never talks about them, never criticizes them. They’re off studying in Europe, and he never puts the whole weight of the world on their shoulders. It’s bullshit.

“You’re asking me to get married?” I haven’t felt timid since I was four years old.

Despite my interest in Tamber, I am not the marrying type. The fact that I even want another chance with her is a landmark for me. Unless she called me, I was all set to hit the clubs tonight to get her out of my head. Now my dad is coming at me with this shit.