Cover Photographer: Lindee Robinson Photography
She’s his best play yet …
ROXANNE DEEDS thinks she’s far enough away from her past
that her demons can’t come back to haunt her. With only one year left of
college, everything looks like it’s falling into place—until Southern Arkansas
University’s drool-worthy football running back crashes into her with no
intention of letting go.
WESTON GARRISON knows two things in life. Sex and
football. And he doesn’t plan on changing anytime soon—until he tears his
hamstring a week before his first game, and his trainer is the one woman that
he can’t seem to get enough of.
When Roxy’s past catches up to them, will their love be
enough to save them both?
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Excerpt
My fingers curl around the knob and I open it an inch. A
soft sigh escapes my lips. Weston. “What are you doin’ here?”
Weston runs his fingers through his hair and kicks the
door open with his good foot. Both arms cross over his chest as he leans
against the doorjamb. “That depends on if you let me in or not.”
Why is he here? Heat swarms my cheeks remembering
everything we just done in that bathroom. Could he embarrass me anymore? “Why
would I let you inside? It’s in the middle of the night.” I give him a good
once over. “And you’re drunk.”
He reaches down and digs into his front pocket. He pulls
out my cellphone and dangles it in front of my face by two fingers. “This is
the reason you’d let me inside.”
What? I slap my palms against my pajama shorts and
realize I really don’t have my phone. Dammit. Weston hums underneath his breath
as he brings my phone closer to his face. “Looks like someone has a new text
message.”
“Give it back,
Weston.”
The edge of his mouth pulls up slightly. “Let me inside
and I will.”
“Why? What’s in
here that isn’t out there?”
Something passes over his face that I can’t pinpoint.
“Let me inside, Roxanne.”
I felt that in-between my legs. That word slipping from
that mouth is more than I can take. Keeping my eyes on his, I take a step
backwards while opening the door wider for him. Something appetizingly wicked
heats in those brown eyes.
With the help of one crutch, he wobbles forward. I watch
as he shuts the door and locks it behind him. His gaze rolls over my small
apartment and then back to me.
Taking his bottom lip in-between his teeth he places one
arm against the wall. “Is he here?”
What? Who? Leaning closer he presses his cheek against my
own. “Is he here?”
“Is who here?”
A stern grip cups my hip and guides me until I’m pressed
against the wall. A strong wisp of alcohol heats my face. He’s definitely been
drinking but for some reason he doesn’t seem too drunk. “Don’t play with me,”
he whispers against my mouth. Is Blake here?”
Blake? Why would Blake be here? “Weston you’re clearly
drunk–“
A groan slips from his clenched teeth and he presses his
hand tighter around my hip. “Is he here?”
There is a demanding tone in his voice that makes a side
of me quiver. “No.”
Ten rough fingers grip the nape of my neck and force my
mouth upward. “Was he here?”
My thighs turn to goop. If he wasn’t pressing himself
against me I’d probably fall. “No,” I whimper out.
Lowering his mouth to my ear, he breathes in. “Did he
kiss you?”
I bite my lip and close my eyes. I’m burning up …
everywhere. A hard weight is pressing against my lower stomach and it is slowly
eating me alive. I don’t lie. And it’s mostly because I want to see his
reaction. This aggressiveness is searing underneath my skin. I want it.
“Yes, what’s it to you?”
There is a few short moments of silence. All I hear is
his harsh breathing against my ear. Then he laughs. It’s a low chuckle that sets
that fire ablaze inside of me. The hand on my hip lowers to cup my ass and the
other slides up my throat to gently grip my neck. “You like him, Roxanne? You
like the way he talks to you? The way he touches you?”
Anger rushes my throat and a painful lump beings to grow.
Tilting my chin upward, I stare up at him. Those brown eyes bore into me and
then lowering toward my lips. “Yes.”
Something wild darkens his eyes. He laughs beneath his
breathe and presses the palm of his thumb against my bottom lip. “Does he touch
you like this?” he whispers against my mouth. He squeezes my ass and presses me
harder into him. And I feel exactly how excited he is pressed firmly against my
stomach.
The truth is no one has ever made me feel this alive.
Hormones that I haven’t felt in years are raging inside of me. “Answer me,” he
hisses through his teeth.
No, he doesn’t.
Weston’s teeth grazes my bottom lip before he gently
bites down. All my fingers clench into his biceps. “You’re drunk,” I whisper.
I can feel his growl surge through me. “Does it look like
I’m fuckin’ drunk, Roxanne. Stop avoiding the goddamn question. Let me fuckin’
have you.”
Let me fuckin’ have you. Grabbing my back he pulls me
closer so he can bury his face into my neck. My core is throbbing. I need this
release. I need this friction.
“No, he doesn’t,”
I whisper.
Weston squeezes me tighter and brings his lips to mine.
“I didn’t think so.”
He watches me through hooded eyes while he drags the tip
of his finger to the drop in the front of my shirt. Arching my back, I press my
chest against him. My tender nipples rub against his hard chest and it makes my
head dizzy. “I’m goin’ to show you how you’re supposed to feel when you kiss.”
God, I can’t think straight. Every atom in me is driving
me toward him. Begging me to strip him out of those clothes and let him have
his way with me. But everything is spinning in my mind. Ryan and Maddox.
Weston’s reputation. One night wouldn’t hurt though, right? Just one night. But
would one night be enough? Weston’s lips are hovering over mine as if he’s
waiting on me to kiss him. To make the first move. I can already tell that
there is no way one night will be enough. Those large hands. That full mouth.
Tattoos and muscles. Can anyone say no to him?
About
the Author
Alla
Kar is from the Deep
South. She lives there with her husband, feisty Chihuahua and Pit-bull puppy.
She loves YouTube, Hulu, alpha males, southern gentlemen and everything new
adult.
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