by Chelle Bliss
I walk around the back of the building to get to my car, avoiding passing by the large windows in front of the cupcake shop. I’ll go to any length not to have my mother coming after me again, serving up Emma Claire to me once more.
I make my way to Macy’s for a new shirt since all of mine are in boxes somewhere and probably won’t see the light of day until God knows when. Between training camp and then the football season, not much is going to get accomplished.
Other than football, my life is a mess. I thought playing college ball was bad, but it’s nothing compared to the workouts and training at the professional level.
5
Bianca
I’ve spent most of the week staring at a blank computer screen. The words I need so badly aren’t coming, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to think about anything except my very hot and often partially clothed neighbor.
I’ve tried every yoga pose in the book and running on the treadmill until my body is exhausted, but nothing gets my mind off the muscle-clad green-eyed man who’s just a few feet away.
He’s been quiet since he moved in. Something I told him I wanted and needed, but it didn’t help keep me focused. Even hours upon hours of Scandalous Reign have been useless in helping my naughty creativity.
“How’s your manuscript coming?” Susan, my agent, asks after she calls me out of the clear blue.
“Fantastic,” I lie because I don’t want her to go berserk. I’m putting enough pressure on myself; I don’t need to add her panic on top of mine.
“The deadline to the publisher is in five weeks,” she reminds me, as if I could’ve forgotten.
“I know. I know.”
“Foreign publishers are already interested. This could be the biggest one yet, Bianca.”
No pressure there or anything.
“That’s great.” There’s no enthusiasm in my voice.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, Susan. Everything’s just great.”
“Why don’t you send me what you’ve written so far, and I’ll read over it and send you some notes.”
I stare at the three dresses I have draped across my bed, debating how sexy would be appropriate for tonight’s party. “I’d rather wait until I’m finished. I don’t want anything messing with my mojo.”
“I understand,” she says, but she has no idea there’s actually nothing to send her. “I’d like to see some of the new chapters by next week.”
“I have to go. I’m running late.”
I’ve always hit my deadlines, but rarely am I early. I thought swearing off men would help me write, but I was completely wrong, and I’m paying for it now.
“Where are you going?” I can hear the surprise in her voice. She knows my schedule better than I do, especially since my life has become predictably boring.
“A party with a friend.”
“A male friend?” she asks because she’s always been nosy as fuck.
I pick up the red dress and hold it against my body as I stare into the full-length mirror next to my closet. “He needed a plus one for a work party.”
“Work parties are the worst,” she groans.
“Thanks for keeping the excitement alive, Susan. You always know how to lift my spirits.”
She laughs. “Maybe you’ll find some inspiration.”
“Uh, yeah.”
She doesn’t realize how much inspiration I need to find to finish this damn book. Vinnie hasn’t been inspirational so far. I do find myself daydreaming about his naked chest and those damn gray sweat pants, but they never lead to words on the page.
“Okay. Go get ready. Keep me posted on your progress. I’ll call again in a week if I don’t hear from you.”
“I’d expect nothing less.”
I could go months without hearing from Susan, but the closer I get to a deadline, the more and more she texts, emails, and calls.
“Bye, Bianca.”
“Later, Susan,” I say quickly before tossing my phone onto the bed, needing to get ready.
The red dress is the only thing in my closet that’s classy and sexy but not trashy. The rest of my wardrobe is filled with comfy clothes or workout gear, none of which would be appropriate tonight. I pull the dress up over my hips and reach my hand behind my back, unable to find the zipper. I groan, hating these moments where I don’t have an extra set of hands to zip me up.
My hair is spot-on in an updo with some crystal-studded bobby pins to add a little sparkle to my brown locks. I’m wearing more makeup than I have since my cousin Vivian was married last year. The smoky eye took me two tries and watching a YouTube video to nail completely.
I step back, staring at myself in the mirror and wondering if it’s the right look for the party. I never asked what he did, and maybe I’ve gone a little too sexy if he’s something boring like an accountant or a teacher.
When there’s a knock on the door, my heart rate doubles and nerves set in. There’s no time to second-guess or change. “You’ve got this,” I tell myself as I smooth down the front of my dress. “You look good.”
Matt, my last boyfriend, was hell on my ego. The man spent more time nitpicking things he felt were my flaws than complimenting me. Any extra ounce of fat on my body and he’d take every opportunity to grab on to it, reminding me I needed to work out more. He was obsessed with looks, and mine never seemed to be good enough for him.
He’s the reason I swore off men, deciding to focus more on my work than his unrealistic expectations of beauty.
“Coming!” I yell when there’s a second knock. I take a deep breath and remind myself this is only a favor, nothing more.
It’s easier not to have any expectations. If I don’t expect anything from tonight, there’s no way I can be let down.
As soon as I open the door, my tongue nearly lodges itself in my throat. My neighbor looked hot as fuck half naked when he stood at my door the other day. But damn it, the way the man wears a dress shirt and pants is nothing short of spectacular.
“Wow,” he says as his eyes sweep down my body. “You look amazing.”
My belly flips at the compliment. “You clean up nice,” I tell him, trying to play it cool when my body is damn near close to overheating.
The way he has the sleeves rolled up his forearms makes my toes curl. I’m a sucker for muscles, and this guy has them everywhere.
“Can you zip me up?” I ask, turning around because I need a moment to freak out without him seeing my face.
I can feel his body heat as he steps closer. When his hand touches the zipper and his other hand rests on my hip, my knees nearly give out. I’m way too horny, and I realize going without dick for six months probably wasn’t my smartest idea. Never have I been so turned on by such a simple touch.
His fingers dig into the skin on my hip, and I can feel the power in his grip. “Cute tattoo,” he says with his mouth so close to my ear, I shiver.
“I lost a bet.” I manage to get the words out, but barely. “I had to get it. I figured at least I couldn’t see it on my lower back.”
“But I can,” he says, his voice deep and husky. “It’s hot.” His fingertips graze my spine as he pulls the zipper upward at an agonizingly slow pace.
“What about your ink?” I’d admired it the other day as he stood half naked in my doorway, and I wasn’t about to ask then.
“The eagle, flag, and ND are for my country and my alma mater. The dream catcher to remind me of my goals and making them a reality. There’s no real hidden meaning in them.”
“They look good on you.”
The zipper’s all the way up, but his hand still lingers on my waist. I concentrate on my breathing and not the dull ache that’s already starting between my legs because this hot-as-fuck guy is standing so near with his hands on me.
“Bianca,” he whispers as he moves a little closer.
I hold my breath and stay silent.
He takes a step forward, almost pressing his body against mine. “I haven
’t been completely honest with you.”
I try to turn around, but he tightens his grip on my waist and stops me. “About?” My skin breaks out in goose bumps.
“Don’t get mad, but…” he starts, and my belly flutters again, “I may have told everyone you’re my girlfriend. To make it believable, I’m probably going to have to touch you tonight. I don’t want you to deck me if I try to hold your hand or put my arm around your waist.”
“Oh.”
My mind’s spinning, wondering why a guy as good-looking as he is has to lie about having a girlfriend. I’m pretty sure women throw themselves at him, offering up their bodies for his pleasure. I’ve never been one to go all gaga over a guy, but with the way he’s touching me, I’m pretty close to ditching the party and asking him to fuck me so I can get over my sexless slump.
“Is it going to be okay if I touch you?” he asks.
I pause, pretending I’m thinking about it, but I want to scream out Yes, touch me, please. Instead, I nod and take a deep breath before speaking. “Yes. I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”
But at this point, I’m not sure there is such a thing as too much. I wonder if I’d been with someone in the last six months, would Vinnie affect me in the same way he is right now? Who am I kidding? This guy is off-the-charts hot, and with all the rippling muscles, he’s made for pleasure.
“I promise to be a gentleman and to respect you, but I can’t keep my hands to myself tonight. My job is on the line here.”
“Okay,” I whisper. A little part of me is sad. I want him to touch me because he wants to, not because he has to. At least he’s up front about it, so I don’t get my hopes up or get the wrong idea.
“Every guy in the place is going to be jealous of me, too. No one’s girl is as beautiful as you.”
My face heats as his words wash over me. “You don’t have to butter me up, Vinnie. A deal is a deal.”
Both of his hands are now at my waist as he spins me around to face him. “I’m not buttering you up,” he says, piercing my soul with those emerald eyes. “I’m being serious. You’re a total knockout.”
“I don’t look chunky in this?”
Chunky is a word Matt used often. I am curvy with lush hips, an hourglass figure, and an ass Jennifer Lopez would be proud of.
Vinnie looks confused. “Chunky?”
“Yeah. Like, fat. Do I look fat in this?”
“You look edible in that dress.” His fingers tighten on my waist, and all the air in the room seems to disappear. “If this event weren’t so important and you actually liked me, I’d already be worshiping your body.”
“Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?” I tease, trying to pretend like my body isn’t wishing he’d rip off my dress and bury his face between my legs.
“Baby…” he says again.
I’ve always hated that cute little pet name, but somehow it doesn’t sound so bad coming out of his mouth when he’s talking to me.
“I can be very convincing.” He winks.
I swallow, but my mouth is suddenly drier than any desert I’ve ever been to. All I can do is stare at him, blinking and wondering how he is in bed. Don’t go there. He’s just like the others.
“Your car or mine?” I ask, trying to change the subject before I do or say something that ends with us in my bed, breaking the promise I made to myself.
“We’ll take mine.”
“I have a pretty fun car,” I tell him.
I have a ridiculous payment and barely ever drive the thing. It was a luxury item and something I couldn’t resist purchasing after always dreaming of owning something so frivolous.
“For your party, you can drive. But tonight, let me be the man.”
Ah. The macho attitude. Some guys have got it, while others are completely lacking the gene. “So, it’s your job to drive?”
He shakes his head. “It’s my job to take care of you. Let me spoil you, even if it’s only for an evening.”
The man says all the right things. I’m independent, probably too much sometimes. But there are moments when I want to let go and let someone else handle things. Tonight, I’m going to let Vinnie be the man, and I’m going to enjoy every worry-free moment.
“Just for tonight,” I agree.
When his hands leave my body, I instantly miss his touch and the sweet bite of his warm, strong fingertips against my skin.
Maybe this wasn’t the best idea, but it’s too late to turn back now.
6
Vinnie
“Is there a beefy-guy breeding farm I don’t know about somewhere around here?” Bianca asks as soon as we walk into the ballroom at the Ritz.
I laugh, glancing around the room with her and realizing almost everyone is as built as me. Some have a little more padding, but no one is small except the coaching staff.
“We have to be big.”
She looks over her shoulder at me. “What exactly do you do?”
I smile, feeling proud to be able to say for the first time that I’ve achieved the one goal I’ve been working my ass off for years. “I play football.”
“Like football, football?”
“What other football is there?”
“Gallo,” my coach says as soon as he sees us. “This must be the beautiful Bianca I’ve heard so much about.”
I give Bianca a smile. “This is,” I say with a hand on the small of her back, loving the way she feels in my arms.
“It’s lovely to meet you. Vinnie speaks very highly of you,” Coach Malik tells her without looking at me as he holds out his hand for Bianca.
She places her palm in his hand, before he leans over and kisses the skin on the back of her hand. My body tightens at the contact, and my hand slides around to her side, pulling her closer.
“Coach,” I grumble, knowing he’s only being a gentleman, but not liking it just the same.
“I’ll let you two get settled. Grab a drink and mingle.” He smiles, still staring at Bianca.
Looking around the room, I know she’s the best-looking woman here. She’s naturally beautiful. Stunning, even. The other team wives have had so much Botox, their faces barely move anymore. Between the injections and the plastic surgeries, I’m pretty sure they look nothing like the women their husbands fell in love with years ago.
“Wait,” Bianca says as soon as the coach walks away from us. “Who are you?”
“Vinnie Gallo. Hopefully the newest starting quarterback for Chicago.”
She goes to back up, but I hold her tightly. “You’re a professional football player,” she whispers.
“I’m a rookie. I was just drafted.”
She blinks. “Shit. I watched that draft with my brothers and my dad. I remember you.”
“I’m kind of unforgettable.” I smirk.
“I did forget,” she teases with a small smile. “But now I remember. My family was psyched, screaming at the television like idiots when your name was called.”
“Did you scream my name too?”
“No.” She laughs.
“You will.” I tighten my grip on her waist again.
Her face instantly turns red, but she doesn’t tell me to fuck off, so I’d say I’m winning. Being with Bianca tonight has been easy so far. Maybe it’s the fact that neither of us is expecting anything out of the night, but whatever it is, I like it. She isn’t like the other women I’ve been with. She doesn’t want anything from me.
“Who do we have here?” Clarence asks, interrupting the moment.
“This is Bianca,” I tell him, and I wave my hand in his direction. “Bianca, this asshole is Clarence.”
He smacks my chest, and I flinch. “I’m his best friend on the team. Don’t listen to the idiot,” Clarence says.
Bianca’s eyes grow bigger. “It’s such an honor to meet you, sir. I’m a huge fan.”
For some reason, I’m jealous of Clarence. I want Bianca to be a huge fan of me, not him. I want my name to be the one she’s chanting on Sunday, not Harris.
/>
“Vinnie should bring you to practice.”
I won’t be bringing her to practice. Even bringing her here with all these cheating bastards wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever had. The girl isn’t even mine, and I already don’t want anyone trying to take her from me. Maybe the hit I took yesterday in practice was harder than I thought.
“That would be amazing,” Bianca says with a smile.
“We’ll talk about it.” My voice is flat, and my hand still hasn’t left her body.
Clarence raises an eyebrow, maybe catching my vibe.
“It’s not really a place for ladies.”
“Stop being a pussy.” He smacks me again. “Bring the pretty lady with you someday.”
“The pretty lady may not want to be around a bunch of sweaty assholes.” I clench my teeth together, wishing Clarence would shut the fuck up.
Bianca smirks. “This lady would very much love to come to practice.” She turns to face Clarence. “I’ve never minded a little sweat.” She winks, and I almost die.
“We’ll talk about it,” I mumble.
She slides her arm around my waist, holding me like I’m holding her. Her fingernails bite into my side. “Honey, I’d love to see where you work,” she says with a fake smile, not moving her teeth when she speaks.
“Baby.” I flex my fingers into her soft, lush waist.
“Vinnie.” The voice makes me cringe.
Clarence’s eyes widen. “Shit’s about to get real.”
“What is this bimbo doing here?” Tracie asks, staring at Bianca like she’s nothing but trash.
“This is my girlfriend,” I say proudly.
Tracie’s eyes slice to me. “I’m your girl.”
Bianca stiffens in my arms. “Maybe I should go,” she says and tries to break free from my hold.
I shake my head, holding her tighter, not letting her leave. “Don’t move,” I tell Bianca before glaring at Tracie. “I don’t know what part of ‘We’re nothing’ you don’t seem to understand, Tracie. We are not a couple. I’m very much taken, as you can see.”