Chapter 8 Steele
EIGHT
STEELE
Sydney exhales the breath that’s been trapped in her lungs since I invaded her space, a dead giveaway that she’s as affected by the proximity as I am.
I’ll admit that I was stunned silent when I walked into Mr. Grant’s office and came face-to-face with the goddess who turned me completely inside out last night, but it immediately turned to anger as soon as I got her alone.
I still don’t know if I believe that she had no idea who I was, especially since she knew she’d be working with me.
Could she really be that out of touch with her family’s team that she doesn’t immediately resort to internet stalking when she hears about a new player?
If I had known that the owner’s daughter would be saddled with the task of repairing my online image, I sure as hell would’ve looked her up.
But then I likely would’ve missed out on the best pussy I’ve ever had. That would’ve sucked.
“Never gonna happen,” she says, pulling out of my grip that’s still firm on her pulse points.
“Last night was a mistake—one that I can assure you will never happen again. If the Renegades didn’t need you here so badly, I’d let the fans eat you alive.
But I’ve been told that you’re pretty good, so I guess I’m kind of stuck in this shit show.
” She points an accusing finger my way. “If you make one wrong move, or speak poorly of this team ever again, you’re out on your ass…
and I’ll see to it that you never step foot onto a professional field ever again. Understood?”
I’m rock fucking hard right now.
I spent the entire morning going over what went down last night and why I chose to submit when she asked me to.
I still don’t really understand it, if I’m being honest, but one thing’s for sure—there isn’t another woman on earth who could get me to give in the way she did.
I’m fully confident that I’d have followed her right into the pits of hell if she led me there, crawling on my hands and knees across hot coals like the pet she reduced me to.
It was like second nature, the pure desperation to hear how good I was doing driving each of my actions and going against everything I’ve ever known.
But still, I did it, and the fire in her eyes as she tells me off right now just makes me want to experience it all over again before flipping the script and showing her how quickly I can get her to do the same.
She’d probably fight it at first, but eventually, she’d let go, allowing me to punish her for speaking to me so disrespectfully.
She’s still staring up at me when I break from the dirty fantasy, her ocean blue eyes blazing with fury.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Sydney Grant today, it’s that you don’t fuck with her family.
Now that I’m putting all the puzzle pieces together, I know that the Renegades’ quarterback, Maddox Dane, is practically her brother-in-law.
He and Livvy were in the news not too long ago when they went public with their relationship.
I trashed the entire organization last night, unaware of her connection, so I understand why she’s pissed.
Truthfully, I’m still dealing with a lot of anger and resentment after being released from the Rage, and for some reason, I felt comfortable unloading some of that onto her.
I feel bad, but I meant most of what I said.
This team may have snuck into the playoffs the last few seasons, but I’m not buying that they’re actually a Super Bowl contender.
They seem to let their feet off the gas when it counts, and that’s not something I’m happy to be a part of.
“Sure,” I grunt, staring blankly at the wall as I shove my hands into my pockets.
It felt way too good to touch her—to command some semblance of control—but I can’t let myself do it again.
No matter how hot she is, or how she affects me in ways that nobody else ever has, she’s Mr. Grant’s daughter.
Until I can show the league that I’m worth taking a chance on, I have no other option but to keep my eyes forward here in Cleveland.
No distractions. No complications. No fucking around.
“Great,” she replies sarcastically. “You have practice tomorrow, so I set up a visit for you at the children’s hospital after. I have a friend who’s a surgeon there, and he agreed to give you a tour of the new wing they’re opening in a few weeks. It shouldn’t take long. Maybe an hour or two, tops.”
“Whatever you say,” I mutter. “I’ll need some Renegades gear to wear for pictures, and I assume the team will supply items for me to sign.”
She remains silent for several seconds, so I take a peek in her direction. Her brows are pulled tight with confusion, her bottom lip trapped between her pearl-white teeth.
“There won’t be any pictures or signing. You’re just going to see the place.”
My head rears back, my features twisting as I try to make sense of her words. “How is that helpful? You’re supposed to be making me look good, not hiding me away from the media.”
She barks an incredulous laugh, crossing her arms over her chest. The motion pushes her tits together, and I focus my gaze over her shoulder, so she doesn’t notice me gawking and rip my goddamn balls off.
“You’re kidding, right? You actually think I’d let you around the general public with your track record?
Maybe you forgot about the game last season where you flipped off a bunch of our season-ticket holders and told them to fuck off.
Nobody wants you here, Steele, and you only have yourself to blame for that.
All we’re doing is making connections and getting your foot in the door.
If you can manage to act like a normal human being and not a raging asshole, we’ll talk about doing more. ”
“Wow,” I reply, shoving my tongue into my cheek as my chest tightens. I knew the fans weren’t very fond of me—I may have stumbled on a few message boards when reports of me coming here started to make their rounds—but fuck. The way she says it makes me feel like shit.
When I played in Miami, I was a favorite amongst our fanbase.
They liked my grit, especially since I worked my ass off on the field.
I played the role of the team’s wild card, the guy who would smash the skulls of anyone who didn’t bleed Rage red and black.
Making a good name for myself elsewhere never even crossed my mind, because I never thought in a million years that I’d play anywhere else. And now, I’m paying for it.
Noticing the change in my demeanor, her posture loosens, arms falling to her sides.
It’s the most she’s let her guard down since I walked through her father’s office door, showing me a small piece of the woman who provided the gentlest aftercare last night.
I know she was just doing it because it’s an important part of the dom/sub dynamic, but I swear there was a split second of genuine connection.
It was fleeting, but it was right under the surface, just like it is now.
“It’ll be okay,” she promises, her big blue eyes finding the Cleveland skyline through the floor-to-ceiling windows. “If there’s anything I’m good at, it’s making everything look perfect from the outside.”
I want to ask what she means by that, but I know she probably wouldn’t tell me anyway.
Just because we had sex doesn’t mean we aren’t strangers, especially when I showed my ass by talking shit about the people she loves.
I may as well get comfortable with her not trusting me, because I have a sneaking suspicion that Sydney Grant doesn’t extend very many second chances.
So, I drop my stare to the floor, filling the awkward silence with a subject change.
“I get done at three o’clock tomorrow. Are we meeting here, or at the hospital?”
“We’ll meet at the hospital,” she answers. “I have somewhere to be until three thirty, so I’ll have to go straight from there. I should probably get your phone number in case something changes.”
I nod in agreement as she reaches into her pocket and pulls out her phone.
She taps on the screen several times before extending it in my direction.
Our fingers brush when I take it, causing a familiar heat to snake its way up my arm.
But I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who feels it, because she’s wholly unaffected as I pull my shit together long enough to send myself a text, so I have her number, too.
My own device buzzes against my ass, and I return hers, making sure there’s absolutely no physical contact so I can keep my fucking head on straight.
I’m going to chalk it up to last night’s post-nut bliss still flowing through me, but starting tomorrow, she’s completely off-limits, even to my thoughts.
It’s better that way. She’s the key to cleaning up my public persona, which means a chance at offers from other teams when my Renegades contract ends.
Who knows…maybe the Rage will realize they made a mistake and want me back.
A guy can dream, right?
“Well,” she says, garnering my attention. “I guess that’s everything. I’ll see you tomorrow, Steele.”
I clear my throat, nodding tightly. “Bye, Sydney.”
And then she’s gone, leaving me to wonder how the fuck I let any of this happen, and vowing to turn it all around so I don’t lose the only thing that gets me out of bed in the morning.
Because without football, I’m nobody.