Page 8 of Bite Your Tongue

I roll my eyes because it’s an ongoing joke with the guys too. I’m not going to tell Saylor this, but I did some Abercrombie & Fitch modeling briefly when I was eighteen. I’ve also been approached by numerous modeling companies, but I turned them away.

“Hell yeah, I’m pretty.” I wink. “And you’re right. Thank you for riding me so fucking good.” I shrug, smirking. “My cock is yours to ride anytime you want, sweets.”

“I don’t really do repeats anymore,” she says casually before reaching over and patting my shoulder. “Have a great night, Pretty Boy. See you around.”

She wastes no time climbing out of my truck and walking around the parking lot. I should go back inside and order another drink—anything to try to wrap my head around what just happened. Instead, I push my head against the headrest and drag my hand down over my face.

I just fucked my best friend’s little sister. And the worst part is, I’m already thinking about round two.

The sun has only just started to peek out as I pull into the arena parking lot, about an hour early for practice. Tripp is early, too, which is nothing new. I’m not sure if the dude lives here or what. But I don’t think I’ve ever been here when he wasn’t, and that’s saying something because I’m here a lot. After all, it’s not like I have a wife, girlfriend, or kid to hang out with, like some of my teammates do.

Killing the truck’s engine, I push the door open and slam it shut before grabbing my shit out of the back. Just as I close the door and head toward the entrance, Tripp is jogging up behind me.

“Yo, man, wait up a second,” he calls, making me stop and swing around toward him.

“What’s up? Here early again, I see.”

“So are you, wiseass,” he mutters, shifting around uncomfortably. “Dude … this is rough as fuck for me, but I need to ask you something, and I need for you to keep it to yourself. I know you’re close with Smith and all the others, but what I’m about to say has to stay between us.” He widens his eyes. “Understood?”

I’m confused as hell, but I shrug. “You’re weirding me the fuck out, but, yes, your secret—whatever it may be—is safe with me.”

He looks around, clearly sketched out, before stepping closer. “Obviously, I know you took off with Saylor Sawyer lastnight. And it seemed pretty clear the two of you weren’t going to just sit and hold hands and talk. I feel like I know you better than this, but tell me … you didn’t go there last night because you could take advantage of her while she was drunk and fragile and hurting, did you?”

“How the hell would I have known she was going to be there?” I practically snap. “And do I seem like the fucking guy who takes advantage of girls who are fragile, Talmage? What the fuck kind of question is that?”

His expression is pained, and he’s clearly ashamed.

“I’m sorry, man,” he sighs. “But after the shit Rowan pulled, I just … I don’t know who knew about it. Meaning I don’t know who is trying to get with Saylor for the wrong reasons either.”

I scowl, growing more puzzled by the second. “You mean Rowan dumping her and talking a bunch of shit to disrespect her? What the fuck would that have to do with me?”

His face pales, and he exhales quickly. “You didn’t, uh, hear the rest?”

“What’s the rest?” I snap. “I don’t have a fucking clue what you’re trying to tell me, Tripp.”

He looks down for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose before lifting his eyes to mine. It’s obvious that whatever he’s about to say, he’d rather not.

“Remember the other day, when we walked into the locker room and it was just Rowan and a few others watching his phone?”

Right away, I know he’s talking about the video Rowan showed a couple of his closest teammates. It was of him fucking some girl. I only saw a few seconds of the video, and once I realized what they were watching—him fucking some girl from behind, who probably hadn’t even known she was being recorded—I looked away. Same with Tripp. Even if it was a full-blown porno and the girl knew, I wouldn’t want to watch.

Before I can connect the dots, he sighs. “That was Saylor, man. That sick fuck recorded him having sex with Sawyer’s little sister and then showed his buddies the footage.” There’s no hiding the disgust in his voice. “I told her about it yesterday. I met her for coffee and then dropped that massive fucking bomb on her before she took off.”

Instantly, my stomach turns at the same time anger floods through my veins. My scalp prickles, and my veins begin to bulge.

“Fuck. I had no idea,” I utter through gritted teeth. “That’s probably why she was out getting drunk last night.”

Tripp waves toward the edge of the parking lot, and there sits Rowan’s blacked-out SUV. “Apparently, Rowan did something else—something that breached his contract and gave the team the ability to terminate it. I don’t know what it was, but it must have been something pretty bad for that kind of consequence.” He cringes. “There’s no way in hell Smith has heard about the video. If he did, Rowan would be in a hearse right now. It needs to stay that way because Smith really will fucking murder him and go to jail if he finds out.” He swallows. “Not to mention how embarrassed Saylor would be.”

My fists ball up at my sides. Smith is like a brother to me, and I’ve had a thing for Saylor for years now. I can’t let Rowan get away with this shit. My shoulders tense, and even though Tripp sees it coming and attempts to clutch my shoulder to stop me, I pull away from him and stalk toward the door.

I rush into the locker room, my eyes finding Rowan immediately, and I can say, hands down, I’ve never been this fucking mad.

My hand is around Rowan’s throat, pushing him hard against the wall.

“You fucking recorded you and Saylor having sex and you showed your fucking friends?” Anger threatens to send me into a blackout, and my veins ache from popping out of my neck so fucking hard.

“Who fucking cares? She’s a whore.” He chokes the words out as best he can under my hold.

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