Grid Iron Bad Boy: A Football Romance (6 page)

V
r-vr-rooom
! Vr-rooom!

I rev the throttle back on my baby and she cries out. It doesn’t matter if it’s a woman or my Honda CB100, there’s nothing like filling the air with their high-pitch squeals by riding them right.

I take the corner tight and make my way to Chelsea’s place. I don’t have to take my eye off the road to know that I’m getting the stink eye from plenty of her neighbors. I think there’s something about the noise of a motorcycle that makes people twist up their faces in jealousy. Probably because it reminds them of fun they used to have or could’ve had before they settled down in suburbia.

I pull up into Chelsea’s shared driveway and lock the kickstand into place with my foot. It doesn’t matter anyway; I’m not worried about what her neighbors think. There’s only one person I’m focused on tonight and that’s Chelsea. I just hope that she hasn’t already decided that she’s too far behind her knee-high, white picket fence bordering her neatly trimmed yard, to let loose and live a bit.

Yanking off my helmet, I hold it under my arm and make my way up the few stairs to the door. I lift my hand to knock, but the door slides away from my knuckles before I have a chance to make a sound. Chelsea looks like one of those playing cards we used to play poker with in Afghanistan to pass the time.

The decks were stacked with gorgeous pin-up models. Usually with twinkling, large eyes and perfect lips formed into a surprised “O” shape. Damn, with her brown hair cascading around her shoulders and that little piece of denim she’s wearing as a skirt hugging her hips, she’s got any pin-up model I’ve ever seen beat.

My eyes travel back up her frame. She’s not particularly tall, I mean, even in her heels she must be struggling to hit five foot six. At just over six-two I feel like that old show I used to see in preschool about the giant. Every episode started with him saying “Look up! Look waaaay up.”

When I finally make my gaze stop caressing her curves the way my hands are begging me to, I look into her eyes.

“No way,” she shakes her head at me, looking around me at my motorcycle. “You want me to go out with you on that? Dressed like this?” She looks down over her outfit. The gray leather jacket she’s wearing is actually perfect for a bike ride, even it does stop at her belly button.

“Do you want to come in for a minute? I need to change,” she steps back to let me into the house, but I don’t budge. She looks too damned hot to let her cover up those legs with jeans.

“No, you don’t need to change. We’re not going too far. I promise.” I grasp her hand and she steps back toward me.

“I can’t sit on a motorcycle in this skirt,” she bites her lip and looks down.

“Sure you can, trust me,” I tug her hand and she reluctantly walks out of the house, joining me on the step.

She glances back down to her clothes and then over to my Honda, finally shrugging in resignation. “OK, let’s go then,” she gives in.

I lead her down the path to the driveway before she has a chance to change her mind. Once my helmet is back in place, I unstrap the extra one I brought for her and help her snap it on. I mount the bike first and then hold out my hands to help her on.

Chelsea looks at me like we’re doing one of those corporate trust building exercises where I’m supposed to catch her. The uncertainty dances in her almond eyes.

“Here, I’ll help ya on,” I hold her by one hand and guide her behind me. With my other hand I scoop her round ass and lift her up. She dangles her feet on either side of the seat and her skirt rides up her thick thighs until I get a peek of her hot pink, fuck-me panties underneath.

Chelsea tries to yank her skirt back down to a modest length, but her legs are spread too far apart to make a difference. I can see her getting flustered. It would almost be cute if it wasn’t so fucking sexy.

“Don’t worry about it,” I look back at her scrunched up face. “I’m gonna have my eyes on the road, not between your legs.” At least for now, I keep the thought to myself.

To show her what I mean, I turn around and fire my baby back up.

Vr-rooom!

You gotta love her enthusiasm.

I rev the engine and take one last look at the scene of beauty behind me. I can see the seat rumbling under her pink underwear and Chelsea bites her lip and squeezes her eyes shut. I wish it was my face she was straddling between her perfect thighs. I wish it was my tongue making her pussy wet right now.

“Hang on!” I yell over the engine and somehow manage to turn back around. It’s harder to do this time when the real show is behind me.

Chelsea wraps her arms around my waist and presses her tits into my back as I take us out of her driveway and out onto the open road.

“You ready?” I yell.

“Mmm-hmmm,” she purrs.

Damn, she doesn’t know what she’s doing to me. How I want to say “fuck it” and park this motorcycle, bend her over the seat and fuck her right out in the open.

Instead, I rev the engine again. I swear I hear her cry out, competing with the noise of my bike.

I don’t waste anymore time; the sun is already getting low in the sky. I navigate my way back out of the suburban labyrinth and head to Flagstaff mountain.

It’s time to get this date started.

“
Y
ou could’ve mentioned
that you were planning to ride up here on your motorcycle and then hike to the top of Flagstaff mountain. A little warning would’ve been nice,” I scold Cameron as I try to navigate the rock encrusted dirt path.

“Warning? Where’s the fun in that?” He stops and holds his hand out to me for support. I feel ridiculous making this trek in heels.

“The fun is that I would’ve dressed appropriately, so you wouldn’t need to practically pull me up this path ‘cause I wouldn’t be wearing these,” I point to the four inch spikes preventing me from digging my heels in the dirt.

“And miss seeing you in your sexy little skirt? Why would I want to do that?” Cameron smirks and heat creeps over my skin. “Besides, I like helping you.” He squeezes his hand around mine and it reminds me of when I was in little league and my tiny hand disappeared into my too-large baseball glove.

“Anyway, this is just the appetizer part of the night. Trust me, you’re dressed perfectly for the main course.” His gaze slides over me. I’m pretty sure I know what he’s got planned for dessert, too.

I look back down to the path. Tightrope walkers have nothing on me. Each tiny step I carefully take brings me closer to the top.

It only takes a few more steps to reach the summit. Wow. Suddenly what I’m wearing on my feet doesn’t matter as I stare at the horizon.

“What do you think?” Cameron guides me closer to the edge.

“Absolutely incredible,” I breathe. The sky is a painter’s palette of pastels splashing and swirling more hues of pink than a three-year-old girl’s closet. “It’s amazing,” I admit.

“Worth the hike in heels, right?” Cameron steps in behind me and wraps his arms around me.

He’s right, of course. This view is worth ten times the hike in stilettos, but I’m not going to tell him that. Instead, I lean my head back against his chest and enjoy how his manly scent mixes with the pine trees scattered around us.

I look at the city of Boulder below us, being kissed goodnight by the final orange bursts of sunlight. “Beautiful,” I sigh.

“There’s only one thing more beautiful than this view and I’m holding her,” Cameron murmurs in my ear.

“Ugh,” my spine stiffens, “how many times have you used that line? Actually,” I wave my hand in the air like I’m trying to erase the question from existence, “I don’t want to know.”

“It’s not a line,” Cameron straightens up and squares his jaw. “You are beautiful; that’s a fact.”

“Well, thank you,” I step beside him so I can look into his deep blue eyes, “but you gotta admit that this is pretty routine for you, right? I mean, I know you’re a quarterback, but does everything you do have to come from a playbook?”

His eyebrows raise in surprise and his lips twist to the side. He looks like he’s trying not to laugh. “Well, I’ve never heard that one before,” he muses.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m trying to say,” I tilt my head and study his face. “I don’t want to be another girl that blends into another sunset up here. I want to get to know you. The real you,” I wince at my honesty. I hope I don’t sound whiny, but this isn’t the Cameron Armstrong who opened up to me the night my niece was born.

“OK,” he rolls the word slowly over his tongue, like he’s savoring a fine wine. “Well, then what do you want to know?” The final glints of pink light extinguishing in the sky flicker over his face.

I’m not sure what to say. Staring at his chiseled jaw and full lips isn’t helping. I guess I was hoping I’d learn more about him naturally, in conversation, not in a game of twenty questions.

“Uh,” I roll my tongue over my lip and bite down as I try to think of what to ask. “Well, uh, so I know you’re the star quarterback at the university, but I have no idea what your major is. What are you studying?”

And the lame question award goes to…

“My major? Wow, you go straight to the jugular on those questions, huh?” He teases me.

Heat burns my cheeks and I look down at my feet. “Never mind,” I mumble.

“No, hey, I’m kidding. Sorry, I want us to get to know each other too. I’m taking a liberal arts degree,” he pauses.

Well that figures. Most of these athletes take the lightest course load possible so they can just squeak by with grades good enough to keep playing.

“And my major is in Astronomy,” he continues.

Um, what?

“Astronomy? Really?”

“You look surprised.”

“No,” I lie, “I just thought that you had to take a science degree for that.”

“Nope, you can do it through the arts program at Colorado,” he skims his eyes over the view and my gaze follows. The buildings below are starting to twinkle like stars as they’re washed in the deep blue of night.

“What made you decide to study astronomy?” It’s not what I pictured Cameron doing. Not by a long shot.

“I don’t know,” he answers breezily. “Football is far from a sure thing. Even the best guys don’t make it or they get hurt. I wanted to make sure I had a backup, I guess. If I can’t be a star, I might as well study them, right? If the NFL doesn’t happen for me, I can always follow up with an education diploma and teach a bunch of smartass kids about the universe.”

I’m impressed. Cameron doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who would have a backup plan. I knew there was more to him.

“That’s pretty cool,” I smile. “I teach second grade. It’s a really rewarding job, actually.”

“Second grade, huh?” He looks back at me and a smile spreads over his face. “I remember my second grade teacher, Miss Wellston.” His eyes twinkle with the memory. “She was hot.” Laughter bubbles out of me. Now there’s the Cameron I expected.

“I bet you’ve got all the boys crazy about you,” he continues.

“I don’t know about that,” I shake my head.

“I do.” His eyes trail down to my mouth and my body burns with the desire to feel his lips on mine. I don’t move, willing him to kiss me with my thoughts.

“Come on,” he murmurs, “we should probably get going now.”

I try not to let the disappointment that’s hitting me like a tidal wave wash over my face.

“Yeah, sure. Let’s go.” I agree reluctantly.

I guess it’s time to see what the “main course” of this date is. Even though, right now, all I want to do is skip straight to dessert.

C
ameron pulls
into the parking lot of an apartment complex. A block away, I can see the bright lights of the university casting shadows on the campus buildings. He snaps the kickstand into place on the bike and gets off, holding his hand out to help me do the same.

I grasp his hand and let out a gasp when he slides his other arm around the small of my back and lifts me from the seat, gently placing me on my feet.

“Where are we?” I twirl my locks around my finger as I look at the towering building to the side of us. With the distinctive balconies outside every door, it’s no secret that this is where he lives.

“At my place,” he confirms my suspicion.

I pull off my helmet and hand it to Cameron and he secures it alongside his on the bike. “Your place?” Is this his idea of a date? Watch a nice sunset on a mountaintop for half an hour and then go back to his place for sex? My thighs clench together without my permission and my nipples pebble. I’m not that kind of girl.

Right?

My body isn’t finding my argument very convincing.

“Listen, I’m not sure what you have in mind, but I meant it when I said I’m not like the other girls, Cameron. I, uh, think you’re a great guy, but I’m not here to have a one-night stand,” I’m surprised by how much conviction I manage to put in my voice, even when I lack it in my heart.

Cameron tilts his head slightly and smiles. His damned, cocky smile that makes me crazy. “Are you done?”

Am I done? Now he’s being rude to me? “Yeah, maybe I am done.” I throw my shoulders back as anger licks up the back of my throat. “If you thought you were gonna take me on a hike that you’ve probably taken a million girls on and then bring me here to fuck me like you do with everyone else, then you’re wrong. Now I’m done,” I huff. I want to smack that smirk off his face. He always looks so proud of himself.

“You’re pretty full of yourself, aren’t you?” He finally answers.

“Excuse me?” Like I’m going to stand here and be criticized by Mr. Arrogant himself.

“I parked the bike here because this is where I live, Chelsea. Not because I’m trying to get into that chastity belt of yours,” he scoffs and my shoulders tense up as embarrassment heats my face. “There’s a concert tonight on campus that I wanted to take you to and I figured we’d walk over there together,” he points over my shoulder to the University of Colorado, lights burning in the distance.

“Oh,” my anger deflates like air from a balloon. Something I didn’t expect to feel washes over me: disappointment.

“So, if you’re finished telling me off for things I haven’t done, maybe we can head over there and have some fun? I mean, unless fun is off the table, too? Is that too much like the other girls?” His eyes twinkle as he teases me.

Maybe I need to let loose a bit more. If I let myself have more fun, I probably wouldn’t be wound tighter than a clock.

“No, uh, I’m good with that,” I mumble back.

“Great, let’s go then,” he holds out his arm for me to wrap mine around. It’s old fashioned and completely unexpected from Cameron. Maybe I need to stop selling him short. I steady myself on his arm and we walk out of the parking lot in silence. I hope I haven’t ruined a perfectly good night.

“Hey,” Cameron interrupts my swirling insecurities, “you don’t have to keep telling me that you’re not like all the other girls I’ve been with, Chelsea.”

Damn, maybe I did ruin everything. My heart sinks as he scolds me softly.

“Trust me when I say that I already know. I couldn’t tell you the name of the last girl I took out, but I’ve remembered every detail about you since I first met you.”

My chest fills with warmth like a hot air balloon as I make my way to the campus walking on a cloud.

“Thank you,” I can’t help but smile.

“Besides,” he murmurs, “it’s not every day I get to take a hot teacher out for a night.”

“No? Are hot professors more your style?” I finally find my tongue after my embarrassment coated it in cotton swabs.

“Ha! Well, I plead the fifth on that one,” he chuckles. “Do you like teaching? I mean, don’t you find it difficult?”

My gut twists at the question. I remember how I cried in Cameron’s arms last November about how I can’t have children. How he comforted me. Made me smile through my sadness. I’m not sure why I expected him to forget about that conversation. I guess because he never called me.

“No, it’s really comforting, actually,” I admit. I grasp his burly arm with my other hand as we walk through the campus gates. “It’s amazing to have a class full of kids who I get to watch grow, learn and become more of who they’ll grow up to be eventually. It makes me happy to be a part of their lives, even if it’s just for ten months.” I answer truthfully.

“That’s awesome,” he leads me to a soccer field that’s been gated off and converted to an outdoor concert. I can’t help but feel my age with all the teenaged girls running around with all of the guys chasing them.

“What about you? What’s the real reason you wanted to study astronomy?” I throw the ball back in his court.

“I already told you,” he smiles down at me. Even with these heels he towers over me. My mind drifts back to how easily he lifted me off of his bike. Like I’m made of feathers. I bet he could toss me around like a ragdoll in bed.

“No, I’m being serious. Have you always been interested in stars or science?” The words tumble out of my mouth quickly as I try to push my naughty thoughts aside.

Cameron opens his mouth to answer, but we reach the gate of the venue. Two stocky men in khaki pants and golf shirts bearing the university logo stop us.

“Tickets?” The larger of the two men demands.

“Yeah, man, here ya go,” Cameron pulls two from his pocket and hands them over.

“OK, gotta frisk you both. Make sure you don’t have any contraband.” He answers back after skimming the tickets.

“Uh, sure.” Cameron holds out his arms and the big guy starts patting him down.

“You too, Sweetheart,” the other guard leers at me.

I don’t answer him; instead I just hold out my arms and try to ignore how uncomfortable I feel with his hands patting down from my shoulders to my fingers. After he finishes he steps back and looks down at my ass.

“With a booty like that, I’m really gonna have to get in there and give a thorough search,” he snorts like he said something funny. I’m not even sure what to say or do. I’m not used to guys like this.

I step back just as Cameron barrels him over, knocking the guard clean off his feet to the dirt.

“Oomph!” I can hear the wind knock out of his lungs as he hits the ground.

“What the fuck, man?” Cameron towers over him, his eyes flashing.

“I was just doing my job,” the guard answers, jumping back to his feet.

“Your fucking job isn’t to cop a feel on my girl, you piece of shit.”

“Hey man, I don’t have to let you in here you know,” the guard feebly tries to stand his ground.

“Dude, you’re not gonna have this job anymore when the fucking quarterback of the Buffaloes reports you. And if you don’t shut the fuck up, I’m gonna break every bone in your face. You got it?” Cameron sneers.

My heart is beating out of my chest. I don’t want to see them fight, but that guy deserves what he gets. The whole thing is messed up and my mind is racing. Did he call me his girl?

“Whatever, man. I was just having some fun for fuck’s sake. I’m sorry. Just go,” he backs away with his tail between his legs like the little Chihuahua-man he is.

Cameron wraps his arm around my shoulder, but never takes his eyes off the guard as he guides me in through the gate.

We weave our way through the crowd and I can still feel the anger pulsing through him.

“Hey, thanks for that. Don’t let it ruin our night, though. He’s just being a guy,” I lean my head against Cameron’s shoulder.

“No, that’s not being just a guy. Not all guys are like that.” Cameron spits out his words.

“That’s not what I mean. He’s a douchebag. For sure. I know not all guys are like that,” I start backpedaling.

“Sorry,” his arm slackens as he unfurrows his brow. “I know you don’t. I’m just riled up by that piece of shit. I should’ve broke his face,” he snarls.

“I think you put the fear of God into him. You don’t want to get kicked off the team this year for a loser like him. I’m fine, I promise.” I soothe him.

“Ugh, we’re not off to a great start are we?” Cameron stops and looks down at me.

“Well, I don’t know. It’s not every day that a sexy guy comes to your rescue.” I smile at him.

“I guess that’s one way of looking at it,” he smirks back.

And it’s not every day that Cameron Armstrong calls me “his girl”. I leave the thought unspoken. Tucking it away to keep me warm on a cool night.

“Hey, how about I get us some drinks?” He drops his arm from my shoulder.

“Sounds good, I’ll be here,” I look up at the stage. The last time I went to a concert it was to see Hootie and the Blowfish. I look around at the wild college kids surrounding me and the band setting up on stage. Something tells me this is gonna be a lot crazier than a Blowfish concert.

Just a feeling.

“I’ll be right back,” Cameron turns and walks to the bar. I gotta admit, I don’t mind the view as I watch him go.

He slides up to the bar and instantly girls start circling around him. The wide eyed grins and way they’re pawing at his biceps makes my skin prickle.

Cameron’s girl? That idea is a joke. So much for being different. I’m no snowflake, I’m just me. And, from the looks of it, Cameron has his pick of every girl in here.

Why would he care about me?