Chapter 3
brADY
Iignored the table of wasted women catcalling me, throwing one of them a dark scowl when she touched my biceps. The sober women in the club knew better than to approach me, reading my “fuck off” vibe correctly.
When I’d told Prentice I wasn’t interested in a woman, I’d left out my other reason.
I’d quickly learned that when you were an NFL player, you attracted all the wrong people.
After my last date—I couldn’t even remember when it was—had gone apeshit on me when I wouldn’t sleep with her, admitting in her rage that she had intended to get pregnant so I'd pay her off, I’d sworn off dating.
So it shocked me when a pale hand with delicate fingers and blood-red nails landed on my arm, sending a streak of electricity running over my nerve endings. Rather than shake it off and continue to the other end of the bar, I stopped and glanced down.
“Oh, here he is,” a rich, sexy voice said, but her pitch was a little too high, hinting she was uncomfortable about something.
Her incredibly strong grip on my forearm was another giveaway.
I was momentarily stunned when an image of that hand wrapped around my cock sprang into my mind, causing my shaft to swell. What the fuck?
“How was your call?” she asked.
I shifted my gaze to the owner of the beautiful hand and voice that would be perfect for a career in phone sex.
The world paused when my eyes landed on the gorgeous woman who’d brought my libido back to life.
She was probably half a foot or so shorter than me, with an athletic build that looked hot as fuck in skintight jeans and a snug, long-sleeved T-shirt.
She had long black hair that emphasized her porcelain complexion.
Thick, sooty eyelashes surrounded her bright-blue eyes, and her rosebud lips were painted the same shade as her nails.
Her whole look reminded me of Snow White.
I wondered if the color would leave a ring around my cock.
The shocking thought brought me out of my stupor, and the world began to spin again.
Her eyes pleaded with me, and I reacted without much thought.
“Way too long. Sorry to leave you alone, baby.” Bending down, I captured her lips with mine, groaning at the velvety softness.
My hand curled around her waist, and I urged her body closer to mine.
She gasped, and I slid my tongue into her mouth, her flavor bursting across my taste buds.
My cock was hard as steel and pulsing with the rhythm of my rapid heartbeat.
A throat cleared, bursting the bubble of lust surrounding us, and I raised my head, twisting it to glare at the man standing opposite of my girl.
Whoa there, Summers. My girl?
The thought sent zings of electricity straight to my dick, and I was worried that if it got any harder, I would punch through the zipper on my jeans. Yeah. My girl.
A greasy man glared at me before swinging his leering gaze back to my fairy-tale princess. “We were just getting to know each other.”
“Is this guy bothering you, baby?” I asked, looking down at her.
“Yes,” she murmured. My temper flared, and I took a step toward the asshole, ready to rearrange his face. But she slipped her arm around my waist and squeezed, drawing my attention back to her. “He’s not worth causing a scene.”
I wanted to beat the shit out of him, but her calm response stopped me from earning myself a tongue lashing from the Nighthawks PR rep and coach.
We weren’t saints, and they knew we took care of business when necessary.
But not in a public place, where anyone could record it on their phones, twisting the story to make me look like the aggressor rather than the hero.
My lips pinched together, and I gave her a stiff nod before turning a venomous scowl on the piece of shit. Keeping my voice low, just loud enough for him to hear me over the crowd, I leaned in and snarled, “Do you know who I am?”
He licked his lips, and his eyes darted around nervously. “Yeah.”
“Good. I’m gonna let you leave with all your teeth tonight but stay the fuck away from my girl.
And if I ever see you harassing another woman, you won't just have me to deal with.” I lifted my chin toward the table where several other Nighthawks were gathered.
“My teammates will stand in line to kick your ass.”
The guy glanced at the table I’d indicated.
Just then, Rhodes caught my eye, and when he clocked my expression, I knew the second he realized what was going on because his brows drew down, and his lips curled into a deep frown.
Rhodes could be a scary motherfucker, so when his dark orbs landed on the asshole, the guy shrank into himself and shot me one more angry look before marching past me, muttering, “Good luck fucking the ice-cold pussy of that bitch. Fucking cu—”
“What did you just say?” I seethed, my hand snapping out to close around his neck, making it hard for him to breathe.
“Brady.” I tore my eyes off the prick and saw Prentice standing on the guy’s other side. “Let Axton handle this fucker.”
The owner of The End Zone appeared next to him and nodded at me.
Axton had played ball with Prentice in college, but he was recruited into the CIA rather than going pro.
He opened The End Zone almost ten years ago.
According to Prentice, Axton was deadly, but it was quite the contradiction from his normal smiles and laid-back personality.
However, I would glimpse the danger in him at times.
As his gaze scanned the weasel I was currently choking, his expression went hard.
“Don’t fuck up your chances, man,” Axton said, his tone completely even. “I’ll take care of it.” My hand convulsed, tightening for just a beat before I shoved the guy toward Axton with a grunt of disgust.
I didn’t know what Axton meant by taking care of it, but I doubted the asshole bothering my girl would harass another woman after whatever my friend had planned for him.
Prentice watched me carefully, and I knew he was waiting for me to chill the fuck out.
When his eyes darted to my side, it was like tossing a bucket of cold water over me.
I didn’t want Snow White to be afraid of me.
My QB seemed satisfied with whatever he saw on my face and turned to walk back to the other team members who were occupying a table near the VIP area, where some of our other teammates partied.
Hoping I hadn’t screwed my chances, I turned around to face my girl. I still had my arm around her, and I took it as a good sign that she didn’t attempt to pull away.
“Thank you,” she breathed, her head tilted almost all the way back so she could look up at my face.
I smiled. “I’d say ‘anytime,’ but I don’t want you in that situation again.” My tone was more insistent than it probably should have been, and she canted her head, watching me curiously.
“Unfortunately, it goes with being a woman. I can pretty much guarantee it will happen again.”
“Not if I can help it,” I muttered under my breath.
“Pardon?”
“Glad I could help,” I replied a little louder.
She studied me for a moment, then her mouth curved into a gorgeous smile. “Well, thank you again. I don’t know how I’ll repay you.”
A million filthy ideas flooded my mind. I shoved them back, filed away for another day.
“I’m Talia Finch,” she announced as she extricated herself from my arms and held out her hand.
I raised an eyebrow, thinking it was awfully formal for someone who’d had their tongue down her throat. But I grinned and shook her hand. “Brady Summers.”
I didn’t let her go right away, enjoying the feel of her soft skin against the roughness of my palm. Her cheeks bloomed with pink, and I debated how to draw this out and spend more time with her.
Lines formed on her forehead as she continued to stare at me thoughtfully.
“I play for the New York Nighthawks,” I informed her, guessing that she’d been trying to place where she’d heard my name before.
“Ah, that’s why your name sounded familiar,” she mused. “My uncle is a huge fan.”
“And you’re not?” I placed my hand on my chest and pretended to be insulted.
Her laughter was a musical sound befitting a fairy-tale princess, and I smiled even wider.
“I’ve never really followed football. My dad and brothers are big into hockey.”
Hearing that she didn’t know the game and barely knew who I was, an idea began to form.
“Can I ask you a question?” She peered up at me shyly.
“Anything,” I replied automatically.
“I know it’s none of my business, but what did that guy mean about messing up your chance?”
The idea fully took shape, and I took the opening she’d so perfectly handed me.
“Our starting quarterback just landed himself on the injured reserve list, and I’m vying to take his spot while he’s out.
” I tilted my head toward the door that Axton had dragged the weasel through.
“Causing that motherfucker the kind of damage I was thinking about could trigger the honor code clause in my contract. I don’t need one more thing holding me back from earning that spot. ”
“One more thing?”
Here we go…
It wasn’t a lie if Prentice had made the suggestion, right?
“Actually, there is a way you could pay me back.”
“Oh?” She brightened, and her fresh, innocent look turned me on even more.
“The owner of the team is a family man, and he likes players who are settled down. Not just to show they are putting down roots here, but it usually keeps those players from causing scandals. And he thinks we all need the same kind of happiness. Wife, kids, house on Long Island.” I grinned.
Talia smiled back at me. “I can see why he’d want that for you.”
I winked at her before adding, “Lennox Madison is famously obsessed with his wife and kids. According to Brielle, he’s possessive, overbearing, and quite the Neanderthal. But when she says it, she practically melts into a puddle, so I don’t think they’re meant as insults.”