Hail Mary (BSU Football Book 2)

eyes through the mirror and wink making him swerve.
Once home, I drag the tattooed football player through the dark house and into my room. With the lights off, he can’t learn much about me from the space. Not that he could even with the lights on. I haven’t lived here long enough to leave any kind of personal mark by way of photos. He’s clueless as to who I really am, exactly how it needs to be.
I make quick work of pushing down his jeans and tossing his shirt, then do the same with my own clothes and we tumble to the bed in a tangle of naked bodies and lust.
I smile into the dark as he rakes his teeth down my throat, between my breasts and settles his head between my thighs.
“You should know,” he says then bites at the tender skin of my inner thigh. “I’m not the relationship type.”
Grateful he can’t see my eyes, I roll them hard. “Who says I’m looking for a relationship?”
“Most girls like you are.” He licks my skin, sucks hard enough to leave a mark.
Girls like me.
People are so easy to fool. They make judgments on face value alone never taking the time to peer just a little bit deeper. Not that I’m complaining. I’ve used the simplicity of human nature to my benefit more times than I can count.
I’d give it all up if I found one single person who surprised me.
“Maybe after tonight, you’ll change your mind.” I grin at the way his muscles tense and wish I had the lights on to see the panic I’d surely find in his eyes.
“I won’t.” He squeezes my hips hard enough to get my attention. “Tell me you get that and we can move on.”
“This is a one-night stand, I get it. Loud and clear.” Of course, I already know this. I never even gave him my name.
We spend the next hour wading in the waters of sexual pleasure, pushing, pulling, scratching, and biting until we crash, spent and breathless against my bed sheets. My pulse throbs, muscles limp, and my hairline is damp with sweat. Spider knows his way around the female body.
I study his shadowed form in the dark. “You should probably send for an Uber.”
“I will when the feeling in my arms and my legs comes back.” He rolls to his stomach and gets more comfortable. “An hour.”
“Sure. Stay as long as you want.” His colorful arm tucked up under my pillow as his breathing slows to a soft snore. “I’m in no rush for you to leave.”
I push my body close to his so that I’ll wake if he tries to sneak out while I’m asleep. Eventually I drift to sleep.
Shortly after I startle awake as I feel him slip from my bed. I watch his tall, dark figure move to the bedroom door, but I make no move to stop him. He’s naked so I know he’s not leaving. Not yet. Maybe he’s looking for the bathroom.
As he walks out the door I sit up and see him make a left down the hallway.
I cover my mouth to keep him from hearing my laughter.
I thought I’d have to do a lot more manipulating to get my plan to work, but he’s unknowingly walking right into my trap.
I lie back down, close my eyes, and pretend to be asleep.
That’s when I hear my dad’s deep, booming voice from the next room. “Who the hell… Spider? Is that you?”

Chapter Two


Spider
One more step would mean certain death.
Naked, with my dick and balls held protectively in my hands, I stand eye-to-eye with the man who could end my life as I know it. I sway on my feet, dizzy from the combination of last night’s tequila and middle of the night confusion.
“Coach?” My nuts retreat further into my body as I mutter the word. To some, it’s just a title. To those of us on the Bear State University football team a more accurate translation would be “God.”
“What the fuck are you doing in my house at two o’clock in the morning with your dick in your hands?” He’s in a t-shirt and his shorts standing at the edge of his bed.
I left the warm cocoon of a woman’s bed to take a piss. Stumbling down the dark hallway, I must’ve been turned around and walked into the wrong bedroom.
“I…” I swallow hard and feel the burn of last night’s booze crawl up my throat.
“Never heard you struggle for words before, Spider. You have a stroke?” His voice shakes like it does when I throw an interception with thirty seconds left in a game.
“I think maybe I have, Coach.” God’s honest truth. Everything above the neck feels like I’m in a dream while everything below is reacting in a violent flight response.
He takes a calculated step forward making me flinch. “Emery.”
“What?”
His glare widens and even in the dim light I see fire in his eyes. His jaw clenches and unclenches.
I grip my junk a little tighter once I realize what I’ve done. I never did get her name. “Emily, yeah—”
“Emery you fucking scumbag!” He’s on me before I can blink, his big-ass hand wraps around the back of my neck as he pushes me out of his room, down the hallway and into his daughter’s bedroom. With a flip of a light switch the foggy details from last night are exposed under one-hundred-volt wattage.
Emery jerks upright in bed and the sheet falls to expose her breasts. I groan at the bright purple hickeys that mar her pale skin. “Oops.” She makes no effort to cover herself and I wince as Coach’s grip crushes my cervical vertebrae.
My jacket is on the floor, jeans in a heap at the foot of her bed, and my t-shirt hangs off her headboard. If I thought I could lie and say it was a team prank that sent me into Coach’s bedroom naked in the middle of the night, the evidence blows my chances