Hail Mary (BSU Football Book 2)

by JB Salsbury

  “Tattoos?” The banner on the home page of the site is an illustration of a sleek black spider on an intricate web and the business name in a unique but readable script. “TS Designs.” I look over my shoulder at Theodore who looks casual and a little bashful. “You run an online design company?”

  “I like to draw.”

  “Draw.” Seems like too simple a word for what these are. I click around exploring the different pages of the site. He has hundreds of different images that can be bought for anything from tattoos, to wall prints. He even designs fonts. “This is incredible.”

  He shrugs and sits at the edge of his bed. “Easy money.”

  “Easy?” I turn back to the screen and look at the variety of different fonts, some with twisty curled ends and others with thick slashes. The fonts are unique and edgy, but his illustrations are breathtaking. There are a variety of women’s figures and I wonder if he drew those from memory or had live models. I douse the flicker of jealousy that sparks to a flame. “You draw women.”

  “Yes.”

  I study a particularly beautiful drawing of a raven-haired temptress with large breasts, her naked skin swirled in tattoos of vines and roses. “This a friend of yours?” I hate that I can hear the envy in my own voice.

  “No.” I hear him shift behind me, and then he pulls a sketch pad from the bookshelf and places it open in front of me. “Those women are fiction. These,” he taps his finger to the pages of the book. “Aren’t for sale.”

  I open to a random page and find sketches of people. His teammates on the field, his roommates, one of Rowan staring at someone adoringly, I assume her boyfriend. I flip the page, squint and lean in closer. “When did you draw this?” I recognize my own naked body even from the back. My hair on his pillow while I slept.

  “The day after you stayed the night.” He rubs the back of his neck.

  “From memory?”

  He nods.

  “You’re talented.”

  He chuckles and takes the sketch book back, shoving it in a desk drawer before taking his spot seated on his bed. “Or desperate.”

  “For?”

  “An outlet.” He shakes his head and leans back propping himself up on his elbows. “Independence.”

  “I underestimated you.”

  He tilts his head to study me. “Same.”

  “TS. Your initials?”

  “Simon. Theodore Simon Web.”

  “Sounds like someone I’d meet at boarding school.”

  His eyebrows drop low over mossy green eyes. “Not likely.”

  “I see why you go by a nickname. Theodore Simon doesn’t evoke fear quite like Spider.” I spin back around in the chair and click through his images. “I think I might like to get a tattoo.”

  “Oh yeah?” There’s hint of excitement in his voice.

  “I’ve wanted one for awhile now, but never could settle on anything I liked enough to have on my body forever.” I click through drawings of ferocious animals, a pirate ship, skulls, all beautiful but none of them me.

  “If you want, I’ll draw you something custom.”

  I peek over at him. “You’d do that?”

  “For a price.” He smirks.

  “Something tells me you’re not talking cash.”

  He leans his big body forward, snags the rolling chair and drags me to him before spinning me around to face him fully. He leans his forearms on the chair’s armrests and brings his face to mine. The reflection of the light on his silver lip ring winks before he presses his lips to mine in a gentle kiss. “You’re very observant.” His hot breath ghosts across my lips.

  “You mean to turn me into a prostitute then?”

  He frowns, as if the very thought offends him. “Of course not.”

  I lift a brow in challenge.

  “Let me pick.”

  “You want me to give you the power to choose what I have tattooed on my body? Permanently.”

  He nods. “And I get to pick where.”

  “Funny, I thought we’d already been over my control issues.”

  “So, let go.” He grabs my hand and runs my knuckles against his lips. “Give up control this once and you might be surprised by how much you like it.”

  Goosebumps dance up my arm in a persuasive wave. He’s asking me to trust him, and this isn’t the first time.

  “If nothing else, a tattoo is one more thing that’ll piss your dad off.”

  He watches my growing smile and mirrors it back. Not once has he tried to talk me out of hating my dad, not once has he tried to change me.

  The kids in boarding school assumed I had a great relationship with my Dad. On family visit weekends I’d lie and tell people my dad couldn’t make it because he’s building hospitals in third world countries or attending UNICEF conventions. Theodore is the only one who knows the truth, and accepts me, daddy issues and all. If anyone has proved worthy of my trust, it’s him.

  “Deal.”

  He jerks at my quick response. “Are you serious?” A hopeful grin tugs his lips.

  “Let’s do it. You design it, pick the location, and I’ll get it done.”

  “I’m paying for it.”

  “Good, because I have no idea how much a tattoo costs but I’m going to assume it’s more than I can afford.”

  The way his face lights up reminds me of the orphan kids we’d volunteer with during Christmas when they got a pair of new shoes. “Friday night.”

  “Sure.” A swirling sensation in my torso catches my attention, so much that I press my palm to my stomach.

  His dark brows turn to thick slashes on his forehead. “You okay?”

  I take a quick inventory of my body and realize the feeling in my stomach is the same I felt on my very first roller coaster ride when I was seven years old. “I think I’m just…excited.”

  First surprise and now excitement?

  This man is managing to bring me back to life one nerve ending at a time.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Spider

  Friday night I pull up to Ink’d Misfit with Emery shifting impatiently in the passenger seat of my car.

  I picked her up from the coffee shop after her shift with the instructions to bring a change of clothes. Preferably something like a dress or skirt for easy access. Her bare thighs squeeze together beneath her virginal-looking white sundress. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail with a pink silk scarf tied around it and I’m beginning to accept that I’ll never stop being surprised by her beauty. Every time I look at her I find new things about her that blow me away. The way her nose turns up slightly at the tip, the dark freckle on her neck just below her left ear, her tiny overbite that accentuates her innocent-looking exterior.

  “Take a picture, it lasts longer.”

  My gaze snaps to hers to find she’s smiling playfully. “You still sure you want to go through with this?” I look pointedly at her hands fisted together in her lap.

  She opens the car door by way of answer and heads inside the tattoo shop in front of me. By the time I push in through the door she’s already engaged in a conversation with the man at the reception desk. The light glints off his shaved, tattooed head as he openly sizes Emery up. He points to a wall on the far side of the room. “Hearts, stars, dolphins and Greek letters are over there.”

  I laugh at his quick and grossly wrong assumption. “We have an appointment with Mike.”

  The man lifts both his dark brows. “Spider?”

  I shake the man’s hand and surprise him when I throw my arm over Emery’s shoulders. “Good to see you, Joel.”

  “Yo, Mike!” He yells without taking his eyes off where my hand dangles over Emery’s breast. “Your nine o’clock is here!” He continues to allow his eyes to roam between me and Emery as if he doesn’t believe what he’s seeing.

  I can tell by his expression he’s wondering how does a guy like me get a woman like her.

  Fuck you, Joel.

  “Yo, Spider!” Mike comes barreling down the hallway,
mohawk, piercings all over his face. “Come in, come in.”

  I snag Emery by the hand and pull her along until we’re inside Mike’s room where the magic happens. “Emery, this is Mike. Mike, this is your canvas.”

  His gaze devours her form, the innocence of her exterior such a conflict to her thorny interior. One of the reasons I love her so much.

  Whoa.

  The noise in the room turns to static as I internally lose my shit.

  I do not love.

  I’ve never loved anyone in my life. The only thing I’ve ever felt for another living soul is lust and loyalty—the first for women, that latter for my teammates.

  As I watch Emery interact with Mike, her practiced smile and appropriate responses, I’m oddly comforted by the cold stare she aims his way. The same disconnect she uses with everyone else. Everyone else, except me.

  My chest swells and I’m nearly knocked backwards when a surge of realization hits me.

  I want every square inch of her body, and I’d lay down my life to protect it.

  Lust and loyalty.

  Not exactly love, but the closest thing to it that I’ve ever felt.

  “Theodore?” My gaze snaps to hers at the sound of my name. Her blonde brows are pinched with concern. “Mike asked you a question.”

  His eyes are wide and slightly amused. “Yeah, Theodore.”

  A growl works it’s way up my throat, but before I can reprimand the dickhead for using my given name, Emery’s glare melts through him.

  “Don’t,” she says firmly enough to make the tattoo artist flinch. Fuck, I dig how people underestimate her. “He doesn’t like people calling him that.”

  I slip my hand beneath her ponytail, grip her nape, and run my thumb along her pulse point until I feel her muscles relax slightly in my hand. “Kitten,” I whisper and kiss her cheek before addressing Mike. “Her inner thigh.” I answer the question Mike asked while I was in my own head.

  He sits at his rolling chair and pats the padded table. “Climb on up.”

  She slides onto the table and lies back with her knees together. “Out of all the places you could’ve picked…”

  I run my hand from her ankle, up her calf, to her knee where I tug slightly for her to open her legs. Just like I thought, she doesn’t hesitate, and her thighs part beautifully to expose pale skin and a strip of her white cotton panties. My hand continues the journey north, over the soft pillow of her inner thigh to between her legs where I tug the fabric of her dress down to protect her from Mike’s wandering eyes.

  “Right here,” I say as I circle the area of skin I imagined my piece being tattooed on. Mike preps the artwork I sent over and I look at Emery. “It’ll be easy to hide here.”

  Her breath hitches as I run my fingertips over her skin. “What if I don’t want to hide it?”

  “Then you’re going to have to wear a shorter skirt.”

  Mike gives her a few instructions to readjust her position and I have her close her eyes while he transfers the template to her skin.

  “Nervous?” I ask as Mike dips his needle into the ink.

  “Excited.”

  “This’ll sting a little,” Mike says, positioning himself between her open legs.

  “I’m counting on it,” she says in her monotone, unaffected way.

  Mike shakes his head and I chuckle. I think the guy is starting to understand Emery’s appeal, she’s so much more than a pretty face wrapped in classy clothes.

  For the next two hours Mike inks my custom art onto Emery’s skin. I watch carefully for any sign of pain, my instincts prepared to rip Mike’s arms off his body at the first sign of discomfort. But Emery continues to surprise. She doesn’t show any signs of distress, if anything she seems more relaxed than I’ve ever seen her. Her eyelids grow heavy and she rests quietly rather than filling the time with nervous chatter like most girls. I watch as the image comes together in ink and blood. A rush of arousal slides through me as I’m reminded, for what seems like the millionth time, that Emery is the perfect woman.

  Mike puts down the gun and wipes her skin a final time. “You’re a champ. I wish every client was as easy.” He jerks his chin toward the mirror.

  I help her sit up and she hops off the table and lifts her dress, tilting her head to see the art inked on her pale skin. “You decided to pee on me after all.”

  Laughter bursts from my lips. “I warned you I might.” I come up behind her and pull her skirt up from behind, studying the reflection of her tattoo from over her shoulder. A bouquet of abstract, pastel flowers with a spider on a web keeping them bundled together at the stems. “Do you like it?”

  “It’s beautiful,” she says quietly.

  I bring my lips to her ear. “It’s us.”

  Her body stills.

  Seconds go by without a reaction and I wonder if I’ve gone too far, exposed too much. I move away to give her space only to have her whirl around and slam her lips to mine.

  Hours of sexual tension explode and I push her against the wall, grab her ass and deepen the kiss. We tangle together in a flurry of teeth, tongues and greedy hands. Somewhere in the distance I hear Mike clear his throat and ignore him. Emery hitches her leg up on my hip.

  I grab her knee and pull away. “Gentle, kitten.” I squeeze her outer thigh. “Gotta be careful or it won’t heal right.”

  She stares up at me, a tornado of emotions swirling in her eyes so intensely familiar that I wonder if she’s having the same experience as I did earlier.

  Do you think you’re falling in love, Kitten?

  Me too.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Emery

  I haven’t seen Theodore much this week, mostly because he’s been busy with practice and school and I picked up a few extra shifts at the coffee shop because I need the money and an excuse to avoid my dad. We have texted and had conversations on the phone that lasted until the early hours the next day. I wake up those mornings feeling ashamed for giving in to these foolish, female emotions. I blame Theodore, for a man as intimidating as he is, he’s annoyingly easy to talk to.

  My guard falls easier and easier in his presence.

  By the time Thursday rolls around I catch myself feeling antsy for the weekend when I’ll get to see him again—something I find troublesome. This thing between us has morphed from meaningless hook ups to an arrangement that feels an awful lot like a relationship. At least, I think this is what a relationship would feel like. I have no personal experience to go by.

  I never wanted to be in a relationship, and yet…here I am.

  I’m grateful work has been busy as it helps to keep my mind away from overthinking things with Theodore. Midway though the fall semester and the coffee shop has been packed with study groups. There isn’t a ridiculously complex coffee order I haven’t heard.

  When the bell above the door rings five minutes before we close I look up to glare at whoever walked in hoping to intimidate them into turning around and leaving. Instead, a flurry of butterflies explodes in my gut. Stop it!

  Theodore strolls toward me with all the confidence of a man who not only owns the room, but owns me as well. My attention is divided between his sexy smirk and his broad shoulders, thick arms and chest all encased in a long-sleeved thermal that hugs his defined muscles. His chest is further defined by the slight pull of his backpack straps draped over his shoulders. He steps to the register, braces his hands on the counter and leans in close. “Kitten.” I watch his green eyes travel around my face to the silk scarf tied around my ponytail and finally simmer on my mouth. He leans in an inch more.

  I recoil slightly. “What are you doing?”

  His eyes narrow. “What does it look like I’m doing? I haven’t seen you in days, I’m gonna kiss you.”

  I look around the room noticing more than a half dozen sets of eyes on us, most of them female. “Are you kidding?” I hiss. “Do you know how fast that’ll get back to your coach?”

  He scrunches up his face adorably and leans a
way, putting a platonic amount of distance between us. “Yeah, about that. I am getting a little tired of sneaking around. I think we should come clean and let him know we’re hanging out.”

  “Excuse me,” a guy wearing a beanie with a full beard steps beside Theodore as if he doesn’t even notice he’s there, which is impossible because he’s over six-feet of stacked muscle. He holds out his cup. “Could I get a little more honey for my tea?”

  Theodore snorts. This gets the guy’s attention and when he makes eye contact with the big football player he shrinks a little.

  I grab the honey and squeeze a healthy amount into the cup quickly before he wets himself under Theodore’s stare.

  He mumbles a quick thank you and scurries off.

  “You came all the way here to tell me you think we need to come clean with your coach that we’re hanging out?” In a whisper, I repeat it all back to him so he can hear how outrageous it sounds.

  His eyebrows drop low. “No. I was tutoring across campus—”

  “You tutor?”

  “—and I missed you.”

  My jaw falls open and I quickly slam it shut.

  He seems amused by my reaction and smiles. “And yes, I tutor a few of the guys on my team. Math doesn’t come easy to everyone.”

  I blink and shake away thoughts of Theodore’s perfection—beauty, strength, talent, and brains.

  He sighs. “I’ve dropped a lot on you. I’ll take a black coffee and I’ll wait for you outside.”

  I pour his coffee and when I refuse to take his money for it he shoves a twenty in the tip jar. He saunters away and I watch him go as a horrifying thought sweeps through me.

  Without my given permission to do so, I’ve fallen for Theodore Web.

  After I lock up, I find Theodore sitting on the table outside the shop, his feet braced on the bench seats while he talks to a guy and two girls I recognize as customers from tonight.

  He sees me coming and turns his head away from his company mid-sentence to hit me with a devilish smile. I roll my eyes because anyone in the vicinity would be able to tell that we’re more than friends just from the way he looks at me. Are we really fooling anyone?