Page 7 of Hot Receiver

“And Matt, I’m going to make you do things you never dreamed of.”

He’s nervous. This god among men is actually afraid of what I might do next.

It’s about fucking time. I never wanted anything to do with this team, but fate handed me an opportunity.

I finally get the chance to punish the guilty.

Chapter 4

Matt

“You seem edgy, babe.” Anna flips her long blonde hair over her shoulder and snakes an arm around my waist. She slowly rubs her hand up and down my chest, pressing her tits against my back.

“I’m fine.” Lies. I haven’t been fine since…fuck. I don’t want to think about how long it’s been.

“What happened to you tonight? I barely saw you.”

I shrug, keeping my hands stuffed into my pockets while we wait for the valet to pull up with my car. “Sorry about that. I was talking to a bunch of the guys. Lots of change coming, you know? I found out the team has a new owner and he’s…” I swallow hard. “Got his own way of doing things.”

“Yeah, but none of that should impact you.” She snuggles tight against me and rests her face against me. “You’re a superstar. He must know that if he knows anything about football.”

Ironic that she said that. One of the great things about Anna is that she loves being seen with an NFL star but has no clue about the game itself. If she did, she’d know I’m notexactly the superstar she thinks I am, and that my fame comes more from perception than reality.

“Everyone is expendable.” I clench and unclench my fingers.

“I don’t know. I think you bring a lot to the table…andthe bedroom.” She giggles softly. “Not like he’d ever know about that, though.”

A sudden coughing fit assaults me. “Yeah, well, I guess I need to find another way to convince him,” I rasp, pounding on my chest with my fist.

I crane my neck. Where the fuck did the valet park my damn car? China? Anna drops her hands from my waist. I can hear her talking to someone behind me. Stepping toward the curb, I pull out my phone to see two more missed calls from Dad.

What the fuck could be so desperate? I rub the back of my neck, my mind flooded with worst-case scenarios. With my father, anything is possible. He’s a big part of the reason why I’m in this situation right now, and why I will never do anything to jeopardize my future.

A sharp nudge from behind makes me lurch forward. My phone slips from my hand and clatters onto the sidewalk, narrowly escaping a puddle. I bend down to grab it and then whip my head around to see who the fuck knocked into me in the first place.

Zak looks at me like I’m a bug crawling over his fucking Prada shoes, the ice in his hard stare matching whatever the hell runs through his veins. He doesn’t bother to say a word.

No “excuse me.”

No “sorry I cracked your fucking phone screen.”

He just lances me with a glare like the rich, pretentious prick he is.

Fuck my life.

Why do I still want to taste those lips again, after all this time?

Why do I want to feel his body plastered against mine and his demanding hands rubbing, tugging, and stroking me?

Why does my fucking skin tingle with desire when he stares at me, even though his eyes spew disgust and disdain?

Shit, that’s definitely one to unpack with a therapist.

Zak Kacey was the first guy who ever caught my attention.

The only one, really.

You’d think that I’d have caught feelings for another guy at some point, especially with my career choice. And yeah, I’ve seen hot guys before. Showered with plenty of them because, you know, occupational hazard. But I learned my lesson a long time ago. I opened my heart to the possibility, and then all hell broke loose when I slammed it shut.

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