Page 46 of Hard Count
“Are you sure you want to chance telling him we’re…” I wave a hand between us.
“I want everyone to know you’re mine. That includes your dad.” He adjusts himself in his pants and I lick my lips as thoughts of taking him in my mouth has me salivating. “Baby,” he practically moans with his hand squeezing his dick. “I need you to stop looking at me like that or wait for me in the hallway.”
“Do you want me—” I lift my foot to take a step toward him.
“Hallway,” he grits out the word and turns me toward the door. I take one last look over my shoulder. “Go.”
“I’m going. I’m going,” I say, giggling out the door. I take this time to straighten my hair and clothes. My skin is still flush and pink in some places. My dad might actually believe I have food poisoning.
“Ready?” Nash holds out his hand.
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” My gaze flicks to his dick and back.
“I’m good as long as you behave.”
“Good luck with that.” I pop a kiss on his cheek.
“Figured as much.” He sighs.
My dad tracks us as we walk into the den holding hands. With zero emotion he picks up the remote off the side table and pauses the game. He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest.
“Dad.” I clear my throat. Nash squeezes my hand.
“Sir, what I meant to say earlier is Drew and I are together. We’re a couple. I like her”—he glances over at me—“a lot.”
“I don’t like my players distracted,” my dad replies.
“I’m not. She isn’t. She’s…” Nash closes his eyes and swallows. He shakes his head as if deciding if he wants to say something or keep it to himself. “She isn’t a distraction. I promise. I’m focused on the game.”
My dad nods. “Okay,” he says. Not that we needed his permission in the first place.
As I sit watching the television, I can’t stop my mind from circling back to Nash’s last statement.I’m focused on the game.Am I setting myself up to become second once again to another man in my life? Because eventually he’ll pick the game over me. They always do.
16
NASH
NEWHOUSE 7-0
The guys get set on our imaginary line of scrimmage. Drew’s off to the side with a clipboard in her hand writing down more of her intricate notes. Damn she’s impressive the way she notices every tiny detail. She has the same bend in her brow that she did as a kid standing on the sideline with her dad.
Coach was only able to show me a dozen photos before Drew packed up the box of photos and called it quits. She had no reason to be embarrassed. She was a cute kid with her braids and pigtails. It was almost like she knew what was coming next at the bottom of the box and didn’t want me to see it. I just don’t understand why.
“Are we going to snap the ball or what? I don’t mind staring at that pretty little thing all morning if you’re okay with it,” Trey goads me from across the line of scrimmage. He’s luckyhe’s an important part of our defensive line otherwise he wouldn’t be allowed to come to these practices anymore.
“Keep your eyes on the ball. Unless you’re okay with me putting you on your ass again.”
I call the play—keeping one eye on Trey who’s still smirking at me—and our center Marcus hikes the ball. I step back three paces and fake a handoff to Adrian. Our defense follows him giving me an opportunity to throw long down field.
Just as planned Lucas swings around and the ball drops into his arms. We’ve used this passing play a few times already but the fake handoff is new. Drew said the Tigers will be expecting us to run because their defense is one of the best at pass coverage.
“That was good. I want to break off in smaller groups and fine tune a few things,” Drew says. The guys form a small circle around her and wait for her to pair everyone off. In the short amount of time she’s been working with us, we’ve all come to respect her. Not because she’s Coach’s daughter, but because she’s smart and knows what she’s doing. She stands on her own merit.
“How about Nash, Adrian, and Lucas versus Eli, Trey, and me?” Drew smiles wickedly at me. “Do you want to show me what you got, Pierce?” She hands her clipboard to Chris and tightens the ponytail at the top of her head.
Everyone clears the field except for the few of us she's called out. “Are you sure you can handle me?” I ask. I’m always willing to play this game with her. I’m curious to see what she has up her sleeve.
“I think I should be the one asking you that. I’m not going to take it easy on you.” She lines up in front of me.
