Sacked (The Alpha Ballers#2) (9 page)

“Would you rather I made it easier?”

“No, I like you just the way you are.” That look, the heat inside it, could roast me alive if I let it.

I flushed again. “That’s not what I meant. Would you like it if I quit?”

Lance looked shocked. “What? No, of course not. I want you here, of course.”

“Alright, just so that’s settled. I’m going to have my hands all over you, as you mentioned.”

“I will rise to the occasion.” Lance laughed again. “Sometimes I’m just too good at this.”

“Ugh. You are the worst. Don’t you have a meeting to get to?”

“I do, I do. One more thing before I go, though.”

“Yes?”

“You’re wrong about me being a made man around here. They could let me go tomorrow and in a week no one would remember my name either.”

And with that, before I could say anything in reply, or goodbye, Lance turned around, opened the door, and was gone.

Shit.

I was working on the guy I wanted more than anything in the world, and I couldn’t have him.

This was a terrible idea. I knew I should quit. I knew I should invent a reason why this wouldn’t work out and just quit on the spot, and we could go our separate ways.

I already knew I wasn’t going to quit.

Then my phone buzzed, from a number I didn’t recognize. A text message that read, “I’m really gonna love working with you every day.”

Ugh, it was Lance. How did he get my number?

This was the worst idea ever.

CHAPTER 05 - LANCE

Once the season started everything was a whirlwind, a maelstrom of never-ending activity. From the minute I woke up in the morning till the second my head hit the bed, my time was spoken for.

I knew some guys had families and that was totally cool, making sure they spent time with kids, wives, girlfriends, boyfriends, other friends, etc, but not having most of those made everything so much easier during the season. That’s why living at the facility was so easy - I didn’t have time to enjoy myself in a real house or apartment, so why not cut down on the commute?

I didn’t know why more guys didn’t do it. Everyone else on the team looked at me like I was insane, but since I was the starting QB, they grudgingly had to accept it.

I settled back into the routine pretty quickly. Every morning I was up around dawn, getting in a little bit of a jog, something to get the joints moving. Breakfast at the cafeteria next, had to load up for the long haul till lunch.

After breakfast was morning practice, everyone still trying to wake up while the coaches yelled at us. Morning practices were more physical and less mental.

After that, meetings by position and film study till it was time for lunch. The meetings were lots of fun. We’d watch game film on a giant screen and the coaches would call out questions and look for answers from the players, analyzing what had gone wrong and right on each play, how things could have been done better.

Normally you’d have a room with a bunch of players in it all trying not to be called on, but the quarterbacks room just had 3 people in it - the coach, me, and Oliver Lee. And since Lee was the backup, every single question was pointed at me. Which made sense, because Oliver Lee would never get to play as long as a) I stayed healthy and b) I kept playing well.

So yeah, it was a tough room. After lunch in the cafeteria, there were more meetings till we had weight room time and afternoon practice.

Practice meant time on the field, in pads, squaring off against your teammates on the other side of the ball. Running routes, making plays, doing all the stuff you’d do in a real game except hurting other people.

After practice came more film study, dinner, and then whatever relaxation time you could muster with any energy you had left. Me, I sometimes watched a movie or read a book, but really I was thinking about football the entire time.

It was exhausting but also tons of fun. I loved the routine of it all.

Of course, in between all these things were sessions with the athletic staff. Stretching, yoga, massages, you name it, if it helped coordination, flexibility, strength, and recovery, the Patriots staff were willing to see if it would work for their players.

Which, for me, meant lots of time spent around Charlotte.

And as I expected, she didn’t make it easy on me. No, she looked more and more beautiful every time I came into her training room, and she never let me forget it. At first I thought she was just driving the point home, making me pay for not being willing to break my rule to try and date her, or at least see if we could get along like that.

But the more time I spent with her over the next couple weeks I realized that was just how she was. Charlotte was a genuinely sweet and caring person, and all the sexual attraction we had for each other was just layers and layers on top of that.

It was intoxicating and infuriating, being around her all that time. I dreaded going into the training room, but at the same time, when I was there I didn’t want to leave.

It was all I could do to keep it from affecting my play on the field, and to keep my teammates from knowing that was why I seemed a little off.

At times when I reclined on the athletic training table in her room as Charlotte worked on me, massaging my legs, I wondered how tough this was for her, whether she was adjusting OK to working with a guy she had slept with.

I mean, all I could think about when we were within 5 feet of each other was bending her over and shoving my cock into her, so I at least hoped she was thinking about the same thing. Charlotte never gave any indication that was on her mind too, though.

If I could figure out another way to be, a way to keep football in the front of my mind while also dating someone, I might have given it a shot, despite knowing that dating someone you see at work was a bad idea. I just couldn’t make that leap.

She was just perfect, though. When I looked at her and managed to get the lusty cobwebs out of my head for a few moments I discovered a woman who was funny, intelligent and witty; all the things I wanted in partner, none of which I ever found with the women I normally dated in the offseason.

It was refreshing, and terrible at the same time, to have someone so close to me multiple times a day, someone I wanted so badly touching me all the time, making me feel so good, helping me recover, and then…I couldn’t reciprocate.

It fucking sucked.

We’d talk, occasionally, about random things. It was always really strained between us, but sometimes, just sometimes, both of us would let down our guards at the same time and we’d have a moment of real connection.

I didn’t want to admit it, but those moments were more important to me than winning games, already.

To be fair, though, we were already winning games. Coach Armstrong would say it was because these two times we out prepared the other teams, but that was just the public thing. We were flat out better than the Jets and the Bills this year, and each game resulted in convincing victories.

The locker room didn’t care why we won, though, they just loved the wins. Drake was having the time of his life, catching a couple touchdowns a game from me, and it felt good to see him making it as a pro.

Even the defense, led by Hud, was having a great year, piling up sacks and interceptions. Sure, it was the Jets and the Bills, but still, everyone on the field was a professional player, and we didn’t make the schedules, we just played whoever was in front of us.

It felt so good to win, though. We could get used to this.

Week 3, though, that was gonna be the first real test for us. It was against the Steelers. No joke on any given year, this year their staunch defense was back with a roster thick with young talent, and their offense was as high-flying as ever.

We would need to fire on all cylinders if we were gonna win this game. Preparation that week was harsh, but everyone welcomed it. Coaches around here were fond of saying “you practice hard so the game comes easy,” but that really meant, at least to me, “you practice hard so you don’t freak out when the game starts.”

I came into the athletics wing on Sunday, game day, and found Charlotte already waiting for me. She nodded toward the table and I jumped up and got in position.

She immediately started massaging me, starting with my back and shoulders, and moving on to my arms, and hands, before doing my torso and legs. It felt amazing, and it was just what I needed to get myself ready for the game.

We stayed quiet, both of us, during these massages. It was as if we had agreed to do that without actually agreeing to, but it was better this way. I knew we were both trying to keep the sexual tension between us as low as we could, given that we were both ridiculously attracted to the other, we’d already had a night of hot sex, and she touched me in nice ways for a living.

“You ready for today?” Charlotte piped up, glancing at me before she looked back down at my knee as she moved her hands expertly around it.

I leaned back on the table, clasping my hands behind my head and closing my eyes. “I mean, if I could have another week to prepare, sure, that would be better, but yeah, I’m ready to go.”

“Watch out for the left side pass rush, OK? Don’t take any chances.”

My eyes snapped open. “What?”

She stopped massaging me for a second, her face turning red in that adorable way it did. I looked around the room - there were a couple other people milling about, doing their game day thing. If there hadn’t been, I might have kissed her right there. “I just wanted you to be careful,” she mumbled. “The Steelers are known for their pass rush.” She sounded like she’d read that somewhere and memorized it without really understanding what it meant, but I couldn’t be sure.

I laughed, unable to keep it in. “Since when did you get into football? I’ve never heard you mention a pass rush of any kind before.”

“Shut up.” She was clearly embarrassed.

I leaned forward, pulling my arms down and laying them on her upper arms. “No, no, don’t stop, I kinda like it. Tell me more.”

“I just…I wanted to make sure you were careful out there. I’m not into football or anything, I just want to make sure you don’t get hurt.”

“Ahh, so this is purely professional interest on your part.”

She bit her lip. “Well, yeah, you kinda are my professional career these days, Lance. I take care of you for a living, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I see.” I smiled. “And there’s nothing, personal, about this interest, then?”

“Shut up!” She swatted at me and I let her hit me. “Don’t put me on the spot like that. You know how I get.”

“I do know. Maybe, just maybe, that’s why I like putting you on the spot like that…”

“I hate you.” If she wasn’t smiling when she said that it would be difficult, but she was grinning at me just fine.

“I can tell. Especially with some of these massages.”

“Ugh. You are the worst, have I ever told you that?”

“Only every day.” She was so beautiful, I could barely stand it. I couldn’t believe that guys weren’t falling all over themselves in the hall trying to get with her.
 

“Well, clearly, you need to hear it more often.”

“I’m OK with that, as long as you never mean it for real. Deal?” I held out my hand.

“Deal.” She smiled and took my hand, and we both stared each other deep in the eyes. Ugh, I knew we both wanted to kiss each other. I knew we needed to be alone. It had been 3 weeks since we’d had our night together, and I needed to touch her again, touch her like both of us knew we could touch each other.

But we couldn’t. More specifically, I couldn’t.

“I gotta go,” I mumbled, getting up off the table after Charlotte moved out of the way. “Thanks for the tune up, I’ll be sure and keep her in good condition.”

Charlotte put her hands on her hips, clucking like a mother hen, playing along. “Every week you tell me that, then every week you drive back in here needing my help. What exactly are you doing every week?!”

I blew her a kiss. “Darling, you have no idea.”

“I have a little idea.”

“It’s much worse than you think.” I smiled and started walking out of the training room.

“Lance?” Charlotte said behind me. I stopped and turned back.

“Yeah, Charlotte?” I wondered what she needed. Was she going to ask for us to be alone for a few minutes? Because it was taking all my strength and willpower not to make that happen, and if I knew she wanted the same thing right then and there I would have moved the world to find a place for us to be alone and kiss even for a few minutes.

She looked at me all coy, like she wanted to do the naughtiest things to me. I felt my cock straining through my pants, and I knew she could see the outline. “What’s a left side pass rush?”

I groaned. “Come on, Charlotte, don’t do this to me.”

She put her finger up to her lips, totally playing things up, teasing me. “I mean it, what does that mean?”

“Now you’re getting into football?”

She stuck her tongue out at me. “Maybe a little bit. Why, I can’t take a professional interest in my professional interest’s professional interest?”

The way this woman had with words drove me fucking wild.

I closed my eyes, trying to get the visions of how hot she was out of my head even for a moment. It didn’t work, and I cursed under my breath, trying to clear my head and get ready for the game again.

At least her question was about football. “The pass rush is the defensive players they send forward trying to hit me before I pass the ball. My offensive line guys have to stop them from getting to me before I can throw.”

“OK, that makes sense. And the left side?”

“Most quarterbacks are right handed, so when they throw, they turn to the right,” I did the right handed throwing motion, planting my right foot back and cocking my right arm back. “See how tough it is for me to turn my head to the left like this?”

“Yeah.”

“We call that the blind side. I’m left handed, so my blind side is on my right side. And if you flip that over for the defense, it’s left side. So if the Steelers’ left side pass rush is scary, that means they’re really good at sending pressure to my right. Which, unfortunately, is where I have the most trouble handling it, because I’m left handed.”