Touchdowns and Tiaras: The Complete Boxed Set

by Sosie Frost

  He was right. I couldn’t pretend to be polite when my mind drowned in the foresty scent of him.

  I met his gaze—that fable blue darkening into a Once Upon A Time I fought to deny.

  “Cole, I have to go.” I shook my wrists free. “We shouldn’t…”

  My breathing edged from lusty invitation to the beginnings of panic. Cole shifted away, running a hand through his hair. I longed to feel that thick arm wrapping me up again.

  What was the matter with me?

  I tripped over my own feet as I slid from the kitchen. Cole followed, his stare more intimidating now that I knew what thoughts simmered behind it.

  “Just…forget this happened.” My lips still hummed for his kiss. “And…good luck tomorrow. Sorry I almost sliced off your hand. I hope that doesn’t…cause you problems at the game.”

  “Don’t even feel it anymore.”

  I slammed the door behind me so hard I feared the glass windows would shatter.

  I had no idea when I’d catch my breath or how I’d ease that throbbing ache inside me, but at least I was safe, far away from Cole Hawthorne and those dangerous lips.

  It didn’t matter what happened with the trade. Dad could fire me or I could quit. I preferred to lose my job over accidentally surrendering to one foolish night with the wrong man.

  Again.

  I learned my lesson once. It wasn’t happening again.

  One thing was clear—I couldn’t represent Cole Hawthorne anymore.

  No matter how much I ached for one night with a prince trapped as a beast.

  6

  Cole

  We didn’t just win our season opener. I humiliated the offense. Demolished their line. Stuffed their runners. Terrified their quarterback.

  And I accidentally hurt one player—but that was the game. Everyone took risks suiting up. And now the league had reason to respect The Beast.

  Most men liked to play with a chip on their shoulder. A little antagonism boosted a good player to great, and a great player to…

  Me.

  Arrogance didn’t become me, but I’d earned it. No one could touch me during Sunday’s win, but now I craved the hands of a much better opponent.

  I expected her any minute. Left the note on the front door to cross through the house and join me out back, near the patio, pool, and hot tub.

  And she obeyed me.

  Brave little beauty.

  Piper arrived later in the afternoon than I expected. Had the kiss been that bad?

  Maybe it had been that good.

  I relaxed in my hot tub, watching as Piper stared in awe at the mansion’s patio and wild grounds. The salt-water pool twisted and bubbled within the natural landscape, bordered with soft stones and intricate marble. The decadence mimicked the same luxury found in eighteenth century France.

  Piper was distracted by the gardens. The roses bloomed now. I wasn’t sure why I liked them so much, but after my father died, I’d rebuilt the entirety of the garden.

  One thing on the estate deserved to be beautiful.

  “Thought you gave up on me,” I said.

  Piper’s eyebrow arched as she realized I wasn’t wearing swim trunks. She swallowed and stared at the gardens instead.

  “I have a job to do, Mr. Hawthorne…but I thought about not coming today.”

  “What a coincidence…” I grinned. “I can’t stop thinking about you coming.”

  Piper teetered between insulted and flattered. “Win one game and suddenly you’re a gridiron god?”

  “I’m always available for some worship.”

  “Tempting, but I think that hot tub’s gone and poached your brain.”

  “There’s room for one more.”

  “I prefer to conduct my business dry and clothed, thank you very much.”

  “Your way isn’t as fun. We have a win to celebrate.”

  Piper still hadn’t looked directly at me. “Mr. Hawthorne—”

  “Cole.” I corrected her.

  She wagged a finger. “Mr. Hawthorne, I’ve come to apologize.”

  Goddamn it. I angled to look into the house. “What did you break now?”

  “A code of ethics.”

  Oh Christ. I settled in the water, closing my eyes and enjoying the heat on my aching muscles.

  “Just as long as it wasn’t the television,” I said.

  “I’m serious.”

  “I couldn’t care less about your ethics, beautiful.”

  “That’s the difference between us.”

  “One of the many.”

  “It’s the biggest difference.” Piper sighed. “My father ordered me to come here. He told me to make you agree to the trade no matter what. Now that there’s only seven weeks until the trading deadline, you have to put your career first.”

  “I just played the best game of my life, and you’re trying to make me switch teams?”

  She bit her lip. “Our careers are too important to jeopardize.”

  “Your point being?”

  “I can’t represent you anymore.”

  “What?”

  Piper spoke in a rush, averting her eyes. “We shouldn’t have kissed. I apologize for my behavior.”

  “Don’t apologize for it,” I laughed. “I know you want to do it again.”

  “I do not want to do it again.”

  “You can do better things with those lips than lie.”

  Piper copped an attitude, her hand on her hip. “This agency would run better if we didn’t have cocky, self-righteous, knuckle-headed football players causing so many problems.”

  “What can I say? I’m multi-talented.”

  “That so?”

  “Want me to prove it to you?”

  Piper couldn’t get any more indignant. I hoped that meant her temper would go full circle and she’d loosen up a bit.

  A woman like her needed to be reminded of the finer things in life—a drink in one hand, cock in the other, and considerably less clothing between us.

  “Does every athlete get this insufferable after a game?” she asked.

  “Do all agents insult their biggest client after a victory?”

  Silenced, for once. I reveled in my victory as Piper seethed. When would she learn? A quick tongue like hers was better served celebrating my win than lashing out at me in this constant bickering.

  Piper huffed. “It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t even be here.”

  “But you are.”

  “I know.”

  “Could have called,” I said.

  “There’s a little thing called etiquette. You should study up on it.”

  “I don’t think that’s it.” I curled a finger for her to approach. She didn’t, but I had her attention. “You wanted to see me.”

  “I meant to apologize and remove you from my representation.”

  “Won’t that make Daddy mad?”

  “Probably.”

  “What will he do?”

  “I’m hoping he’ll put me back on gopher duty around the office.”

  No. That gig didn’t suit a woman like her. She was too beautiful to stuff in a cubicle and too smart to waste on coffee orders and answering phones.

  “Do you even want to be an agent?” I asked.

  “I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

  “Answer the question. Consider it a professional curiosity.”

  She gnawed on her lip before answering. “No. I don’t want to be an agent.”

  “Then why are you doing it?”

  She shrugged. “I needed the job…well, the money. I couldn’t finish my graduate coursework, and my father offered me a position in his agency.” She brushed her hair away from her face. “A position I jeopardized because of a reckless and stupid indiscretion.”

  Ouch. “Don’t tell me you didn’t like our kiss.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Liar. You enjoyed it as much as me.” I leaned forward. “Don’t get bashful now. Did you think about me this weekend?”

 
“Cole—”

  “I thought about you.”

  Her voice waivered. “It doesn’t matter. It won’t happen again.”

  And there was the truth. I loved it. My little beauty was struck with indecent and dastardly thoughts of me all weekend while she suffered far from my touch.

  Piper took a breath. “Let’s make this easy. Mr. Hawthorne, will you grant consent to any trade deal which the Monarchs might organize?”

  “No.”

  “Then I’m done here.”

  “No, we’re not.”

  My voice was harsh, rougher than I meant to speak. But Piper stilled, pinned in place by that intimidating grumble. That trick wouldn’t last for long, not with a woman like her.

  “I’m not dealing with anyone else at your agency. It’s you or no one, beautiful.”

  Piper’s rage was silent, though I wondered if she weren’t angrier with herself. She must have really liked our kiss. I did.

  At least I could channel my passion into a dangerous aggression on the field. Poor Piper didn’t have that outlet. She was stuck thinking about that kiss all weekend. Alone. In the dark and quiet.

  And whatever she did to relieve herself shamed her so much that she tried to quit on me.

  I couldn’t have anyone suffering on my behalf.

  “I’ll make you a deal,” I said. “I’m going to ask you one question. If you get it right, I’ll consent to the trade right here, right now.”

  She eyed me, careful to keep her gaze above the level of the water. “And if I get it wrong?”

  “Are you always so suspicious?”

  “A girl needs to be prepared around you.”

  “I don’t think you trust me.”

  “What’s the deal, Mr. Hawthorne?”

  I grinned. “If you answer incorrectly…you get in the hot tub.”

  Piper glared like she willed the water to boil around me. “You are a beast. How will a hot tub solve any of our problems?”

  “Would you rather I kick you off my property and ignore your calls until the trading deadline?”

  She scowled. “No.”

  “Then take the invitation. I don’t extend them often.”

  Or to anyone.

  Ever.

  Piper sighed. “Fine. We have a deal. What’s the question?”

  I pointed to wrought-iron table on the patio, nearest to the pool and hot tub. I kept my playbook away from the water, just to prevent accidents. Piper leafed through the binder.

  The book was a holy grail of defensive strategies and routes. Every movement, every blitz, every one of our coverages was contained within that book, meticulously sorted and organized and annotated by the team, coaches, and myself.

  Piper stared at the page. The arrows, X’s, O’s, and terminology would be as indecipherable to her as if it were written in Mandarin. That made it cuter when she furrowed her brow and pretended to study the contents.

  “As my agent…” I let the word linger, savoring her distaste. “You should know the answer to this. If you get it right, you can help me pack for the trade to the Ironfield Rivets.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Point to the position where I play.” I smiled as her expression fell. “Point to the circle that represents me in any one of those formations. If you want me to be traded, all you gotta do is show me where I line up before the snap.”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Come on, beautiful. You have a one in an eleven shot.”

  The binder snapped shut. She threw it on the table, hands on her hips.

  “I didn’t bring a swim suit.”

  Six words a man would die to hear.

  “We had a deal,” I said.

  “I’m not skinny-dipping.”

  “You’ve seen me naked. Fair is fair.” I crossed my arms behind my head. “We’re both adults.”

  “Could have fooled me.” She shifted her weight. “Can I trust you?”

  I laughed. “Not sure what you’re worried about. You’re the one who kissed me.”

  “I did not!”

  “Whatever helps you sleep at night…” I grinned. “Especially thoughts of me.”

  “Unbelievable.”

  She grabbed the towel from the floor and headed for the gazebo. A tug on the curtains afforded her a moment of privacy. She emerged a few moments later, the material wrapped snug around her curves.

  Like she was determined to make every drop of blood pool in my cock.

  Piper approached the hot tub. Her dark skin ached for more than the caress of the water. She delicately shifted over the edge, sinking into the heat and removing the towel just before it soaked in the tub. She fluttered it at my head to make me duck, and she slipped beneath the ripples.

  Hidden.

  Piper gave a timid moan, her eyes fluttering shut as the warmth overwhelmed her.

  “And you put up a fight,” I teased.

  She touched her finger to her lips. “Shh, shh, shh. This feels too nice to be ruined by you.”

  Point taken, though now I warmed a little too hot. I stared at the lapping water, tickling the hazelnut softness of her skin. She slid down too far and covered her chest, but I could imagine what waited under the bubbles. She murmured another groan of approval.

  “Should I leave you and the jets alone?” I laughed.

  She didn’t open her eyes. A dark curl of hair escaped her ponytail. It wetted in the water, and I resisted the urge to tuck it behind her ear.

  “I haven’t been in a hot tub before,” she said.

  “You’re kidding. My own virgin?”

  Her eyebrow arched. “Far from it.”

  “Sounds like an interesting story.”

  “Not one that you’d want to know.”

  I stretched out, not bothering to hide my erection. “You shouldn’t doubt me.”

  “Let’s just say, I made a lot of missteps in my life, but I won’t call them mistakes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because then I wouldn’t have the gifts I have today.”

  “That’s what I like to hear,” I said. “If life gives you a hit, you hit it back.”

  “Looks like you’ve done enough of that.” She pointed to my chest. “Are you always this black and blue after a game?”

  The bruising was nothing new. Battle scars. I wasn’t lounging in a hot tub just to fool around with Piper. I was healing.

  “It was a physical game. I played hard and won big.”

  “It looked violent.”

  I smirked. “You watched?”

  She shrugged, revealing too much shoulder for such a modest lady. “Some of it. On and off.”

  “What could be more important than watching me?”

  Piper scolded me with a playful pout. “God, you have such an ego. Is everything over-inflated on you?”

  “You tell me.”

  She refused, though her eyes settled over me once more. The muscles. The bruises.

  The tattoos.

  I got the feeling she liked the ink, even if she’d never admit it.

  “You can’t possibly like a game this…” Piper dragged her gaze to mine. “Dangerous.”

  “It’s not dangerous.” I ran my tongue along the sharp points of my teeth. “Well…not to me.”

  “What about the people you hit?”

  “That’s why they make the millions that they do. I hit them, and they reevaluate their bank account before stepping onto the field.”

  “And if you hurt them?”

  “Part of the game.”

  She swallowed. “Do you feel bad?”

  I laughed, humorless and cold. “Why would I feel bad? I put my body on the line every game, just the same as them.”

  I pointed to the cascading bruise over my pecs, streaking with the dark blues that melded in the tattooed shadowed on my arms and shoulders.

  “I took a helmet to the chest,” I said. “On a bad day, it might have broken my sternum.”

  Her gaze followed the tapping of my fingers ove
r my collarbone. It lingered after I pulled my hand away.

  Piper bit her lip. “It seems unnecessarily dangerous. What if something had happened to you?”

  “It didn’t.”

  “But if it did. If you were the one on the field…” She held her breath. “I saw the hit you put on that wide receiver.”

  Yeah. The hit that already made the highlight reel around the league. I hardly remembered it—just the muffled slap of the ball, the gasp of the crowd and then…

  A crash.

  My shoulder driving into his chest. The ball flying out of his hands. A grown man in peak physical condition driven to the ground as a result of my tackle.

  The trainers peeled him off the field, but no one had an update on his condition yet. It all depended on if he needed surgery to fix his back or not. So we waited.

  “Ainsley Ruport said it was a dirty hit,” Piper said.

  “Ainsley Ruport is a dick. It wasn’t a dirty hit. That’s how we play the game.”

  “Do you think the league knows that?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And the Monarch coaching staff?”

  “Like I said, people get hurt. It happens every season.”

  She tilted her head. “Did you have to hit him so hard?”

  I didn’t answer her.

  It was so easy for everyone else to judge. To put themselves in my shoes and play the good guy.

  But they didn’t know. There was no stopping. No controlling it. No soft hits.

  I lived, breathed, and fought with a ferocious strength, as much a gift as it was a curse.

  I shifted across the hot tub. Piper covered her chest with her arms, and her legs drew up. But I wasn’t after her curves. I stared into her eyes, her beautiful chestnut brightness.

  “I don’t play a game,” I murmured.

  I edged close to her, trapping her within my graveled whisper.

  She didn’t try to escape.

  I wouldn’t have let her go.

  “By its definition it’s a game,” Piper said.

  “But by its nature?” I dropped closer. Only the heat of the water protected her from me. “It’s always rewarded those who were the most aggressive and physical.”

  “And brutal?”

  “All passions are brutal.” I inhaled, practically tasting her citrusy, orange scent. “Football. Fighting. Sex.”

  “That’s not true. Sex isn’t brutal.”