Chapter Nine
Serena
It's not even dawn, and Austin's phone is blowing up. I can hear it chirping relentlessly from his pants…somewhere on the floor.
"Austin." I poke him in the ribcage, trying to rouse him. "If you don't get your phone, I'm shoving it up your—"
He rolls on top of me before I can even properly threaten him, silencing me with a hard kiss.
I melt beneath him, groaning softly.
"I'm getting it, baby," he murmurs against my lips. "Go back to sleep."
"Well, I'm up now," I grumble.
He chuckles, kissing me again before he rolls off the side of the bed, already reaching for his pants.
I pull the pillow over my head.
"What the fuck?"
Well, never mind the pillow.
I pull it off again, peeking over at him to find him scowling at his phone.
"What's wrong?"
"Hold that thought."
"What? Why?" I sit up, pulling the blankets up with me. "You can't just growl what the fuck, and then not expect me to have follow-up questions, Austin."
He ignores me, his phone to his ear. I'm not even sure it rings before whoever he's calling answers. I can hear a deep baritone growling at Austin all the way from my side of the bed.
"Did you see the fucking photos?"
More photos?
Great. Just great.
The last week has been quiet…peaceful, almost. I mean, if you can call being fucked within an inch of your life every night peaceful. But it's certainly been less chaotic since Austin put out a statement the day after I ran from his game, clarifying what happened at the party.
I wouldn't say his statement killed any interest in us.
It didn't. I mean, he basically told the world that I spilled wine on him and gave him a raging boner and something to pursue as zealously as a championship ring.
His words, not mine. But most people are now calling me his girlfriend instead of a shameless, gold-digging skank.
Any progress is progress, right?
"Yeah, I just saw them," he says into the phone. "Why the fuck did she slap him?"
Okay, so not me, then. Hallelujah.
"How the fuck should I know?" the guy on the other end of the line growls. "She won't answer her fucking phone so I can ask her."
"Well, did you ask Ma? Soph tells her everything."
Soph?
Oh! They're talking about his sister. Which means he must be talking to his brother, Sidney.
Who did Sophie slap?
I grab my phone to look, curious as hell.
It doesn't take long to find the photos.
Instead of my face on the front page of Celebrity Teatime, it's Sophie's.
She's dressed in a ballet costume, her hand mid-slap against some guy's face.
I've never seen him before, but they're on stage together, so I'm guessing he's her dance partner.
Holy shit.
She slapped him during a performance?
"Go, Sophie," I whisper, earning a glower from Austin. I just shrug in response, pretty sure he's on her team too, even if he is cranky about it right now.
"Well, don't bitch at me," he growls at his brother. "Call Ma. She'll know all the details."
I can't make out what Sidney says in response, but I do catch several curse words.
"Yeah, well, that sounds like a you problem, motherfucker," Austin grunts. "I'm busy."
"Doing what?"
"My girl. Mind your business."
"Austin!" I hiss, dropping my phone. "You can't tell your brother that you're doing me."
"Why not?"
"I haven't even met him! He's already seen my ass. Can we at least pretend I'm a Puritan or something for five minutes?"
"Baby." Austin laughs, the phone still at his ear. "The only thing pure about you is the way you—"
"Austin!" I launch a pillow at his head.
He smirks at me, snatching it out of the air like an overgrown, naked ninja, and then tunes back in to whatever his brother is saying. "Sidney says Hey."
"Tell Sidney I'm not home right now."
"She says she's not home right now," Austin repeats. I swear, he's a pain in my ass. "He wants to know if you're coming to the game tomorrow."
"Uh…"
"She's coming," Austin growls, his eyes narrowed on me.
"You can't boss me into going to your game, Austin Hawkes."
He just shakes his head at me like he's not even going to entertain this argument, which is more or less how it's gone ever since he invited me three days ago.
I list all the reasons it's a bad idea for me to fly to Chicago for the game.
He ignores me…or just fucks me until I forget what we were supposed to be arguing about in the first place.
Honestly, I want to go. I'm just leery as hell about a repeat of last week's game. And considering this one is in a whole different state, it's against his brother's team, and his parents will be there, it's not like I can just run home if it's too much to handle.
The whole world will be watching like hawks, especially now. I can't meet his parents with the whole world watching! And yet, I have the sneaking suspicion that's exactly what's going to happen because Austin is a damn steamroller when he wants something.
"Yeah, we'll meet up for dinner when we get to town tonight," he says. "I'll call you when we land. Find out why Soph slapped the shit out of Huey. We may need to handle it."
"Uh, I'm pretty sure your sister already handled it," I mutter, holding up my phone to show him the photo.
His sister is gorgeous, even when she is slapping the shit out of someone.
She's got the same green eyes as Austin, but she's maybe an inch or two taller than me.
I love that she's thick, curvy, and a professional ballerina. The world needs more of that.
He grunts, listens to his brother for another minute, and then disconnects, tossing his phone onto the nightstand.
"Your sister is a badass," I say.
"Yeah? Why don't you turn around and let me see your bad ass," he says, sauntering toward me with an unholy glint in his eyes. "I think I need to see my handprints all over it."
Why does that sound like a good time to me?
"You are not spanking me."
"You going to get on that plane willingly today, baby?"
"Maybe. Maybe not."
"Wrong answer." He pounces, tackling me back onto my pillows. Before I can even process how it happened, I'm on my stomach with his hand on my ass.
"Austin, you Neanderthal!" I shout. Does insulting him stop me from arching back for another smack? Absolutely not? Do I plan to stop insulting him? Also no.
"Jesus," I mutter four hours later, glancing around the team's private plane with one brow arched. It's fancy as hell, all sleek white leather and cushy chairs with enough space to put a commercial flight to shame.
Technically, I'm not supposed to fly with the team, but given the situation, Austin got approval from management. They all figured it was better to have me on the plane with the team than to risk yet another media firestorm if I showed up at the airport, headed to Chicago.
"You like it?" he asks, grinning at me.
"Are you kidding? If this is how the other half lives, maybe I should play a professional sport."
"Yeah?" Austin dips his head, smirking down at me. "I don't think verbal ass-kicking counts as a professional sport, princess."
"It might." I shrug one shoulder. "You never know."
He chuckles, sliding one hand around my hip to guide me to a group of seats near the back.
The two across from ours are already taken by some of his teammates.
I recognize Dace Helliker immediately. It's almost impossible to forget the man who caught me dick-handed at the party, especially when he's grinning at me the same damn way he did that night. He's gorgeous in a pirate kind of way.
The guy beside him is equally as beautiful, but only vaguely familiar. I should know him, but I can't think of his name.
They're both monsters of men, the kind of guys who look like they could bench a car and not even break a sweat. Honestly, everyone on the damn plane has been eating their Wheaties. They probably all love protein shakes and preworkout like Austin, too. Yuck.
"Dace, Killian, this is my girl, Serena. Serena, this is Dace and Killian," Austin murmurs, introducing us.
"Hey," I say, smiling nervously.
The guys nod, sizing me up. Dace's gaze is all spark and mischief. Killian's is more reserved, but not unfriendly.
"Serena," Dace says, extending a tattooed hand for a handshake. "Heard a lot about you."
"Yeah?" I take his hand, prepared for the worst. "If you read it online, only half of it is true," I smirk at him, more nervous than I'd like to admit. "I don't usually show my whole ass to the world, but I do enjoy making him look like he peed his pants with ridiculously expensive wine."
Dace cracks up, tossing a grin at Austin. "She's funny. I like her."
"I'm full of surprises," I say, which makes Killian snort into his water.
Austin's hand slides to my thigh, his grip possessive. His eyes lock on Dace's, his expression hard. "Don't make me hurt you," he says, his voice a warning growl I like a little too much.
Who knew jealous Austin could be so hot?
"Well, you're no fun," Dace mutters, still grinning.
"He's absolutely not any fun," I agree. "I've been trying to pry the stick out of his ass since we met. So far, no dice."
Austin growls at me, his eyes shining with amusement. "Keep talking, and I'll show you my stick, princess."
"Uh, pretty sure the whole world has seen your stick already, brother," Killian drawls. "It's been plastered all over the goddamn news for the last two weeks."
I turn to him, his name finally registering in the recesses of my brain. "Killian. You play running back, right?"
"Yeah." He arches a brow, surprised. "You a fan?"
"Nope," I admit. "Don't know a thing about football, but I did Google everybody on the team. I figure if I'm going to be a football meme, I should at least pretend I know something about the sport. I mean, aside from the size of Austin's…stick."
Dace howls with laughter, nearly choking. "You learn anything?"