by Sienna Blake
Table of Contents
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Copyright Warning
DEDICATION
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
EPILOGUE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
MORE ROMANCE
Look for these titles from Sienna Blake
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End Zone Heat
END ZONE HEAT
Sienna Blake
Copyright Warning
EBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared, or given away. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is a crime punishable by law. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded to or downloaded from file sharing sites, or distributed in any other way via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000 (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/).
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Published By
Etopia Press
1643 Warwick Ave., #124
Warwick, RI 02889
https://etopiapressblog.wordpress.com
End Zone Heat
Copyright © 2020 by Sienna Blake
ISBN: 978-1-949719-51-2
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Etopia Press electronic publication: April 2020
DEDICATION
For D.M. with ten years of friendship and love.
CHAPTER ONE
ADAM COLLINS
The Dallas Razorbacks might’ve won the game, but damn did quarterback Adam Collins ever ache from the pounding he’d taken.
He’d been sacked four times. If not for a fourth-quarter drive where he’d thrown three clutch passes, his team would’ve lost, ending their chance at the playoffs.
Adam was in the showers, standing beneath a stream of hot water. The water was as hot as he could take. The heat helped soothe away the post-game aches.
Still, a win was a win, no matter how much it hurt. Adam wanted nothing as badly as making the playoffs this season. He was the Razorbacks’ starting quarterback. He was the team leader. The fans, the team, the city of Dallas—they all depended on him.
He leaned into the hot shower spray and closed his eyes. The water stream pounded against him, working warmth into his sore muscles.
His mind kept replaying the game over and over in his head. What he’d done right. What he’d done wrong. What the Razorbacks needed to do better next game.
The win had been a rough, hard-fought victory from the opening kick. He’d ended up under a pile of defensive linemen more than once. It felt like having several refrigerators fall on you. After the fervor, adrenaline, and pain of a Sunday football game, playing for millions, this quiet time in the hot water was a welcome relief.
It was late now. He was alone in the team locker room, by himself in the showers. The rest of the team had already departed for post-game celebrations or had headed for home. Their stadium in Dallas had emptied of crowds.
Adam had stayed later than usual, talking with friends on the other team after the final whistle, interacting with fans, and then chatting with the ever-present sports reporters. Now the only people left in the stadium were the cleaning crews and security.
Next week, they’d be playing in New York against the Thundershock. He was worried about that game. The Thundershock defensive line was crushing. But a win in New York would secure the Razorbacks a place in the playoffs.
No pressure.
He stuck his head beneath the spray, getting a faceful of water. He sluiced it back from his face and hair and let out a long breath.
Speaking of pressure, Jerry Macklin, the Razorbacks team owner, had asked to see him in his office after the game. Adam had the feeling it wasn’t for congratulations on the win either. No, it was something serious.
Again, no pressure.
He finished up in the shower. After grabbing a towel, he walked over to his locker. The hum of the team’s high-end air filtration system filled the air, but there was still a faint undertone of sweat and that “locker room” smell that came with sweating men and sweat-soaked gear. Even in pro football, with all the fancy facilities, you couldn’t escape it.
He stood there, toweling off his short hair, looking forward to a long soak in his hot tub out at his place uptown. Post-game hot tub soaks were a necessity these days, even after a win.
“Ooh,” a woman’s silky voice said from behind him. “Nice ass, babe.”
The voice belonged to Missy Parks. Missy was his current girlfriend. She was also a cheerleader. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and a body any straight guy would kill for. The league had strict rules about fraternizing between players and cheerleaders, but that was part of the appeal, wasn’t it? Breaking the rules showed the world he was a badass. It was a point he needed to make and to keep on making.
He didn’t turn around to greet her. He was annoyed that Missy was in here at all. So much for stadium security. He didn’t have the energy to deal with her right now.
“How’d you get in here, Missy?”
She laughed. It was her “sexy laugh” that she liked to use on him a lot, especially when he was annoyed with her. He heard her footsteps echoing as she walked up behind him. She slapped his ass with a resounding smack!
He glanced at her, frowning.
“What?” she said, blinking with mock innocence. “You boys are always smacking each other on the ass out on the field. A girl can’t have any fun?” She put on a fake pout. “You’d think y’all were a bunch of gays.”
Bunch of gays. That made him scowl and turn away from her. He had to force himself not to reply. He was not interested in having that conversation with Missy Parks of all people.
Missy was dressed exactly like Missy loved to dress: designer skirt, tight blouse, heels, and flashy and expensive jewelry. She proudly looked like arm-candy. Was that why he’d picked her? Because she was blonde, blue-eyed, with a killer figure and legs that went on forever?
Yeah. That was the reason. He’d wanted to use the sexiest girl in the room for cover, and he’d found that girl in Missy.
But as much as she poured on the sex appeal, she was far from stupid. Dumb was only a game she played. Like protective camouflage.
He knew all about protective camouflage. So in a way, they were both lying to each other. Playing games. Hiding who they really were.
No, Missy was a smart cookie. Probably smarter than he was. She could hide that from other people when she wanted. But she couldn’t hide it from him, even though she’d done her best. He’d been with her for over four months now. Since before the start of this season.
“How did you get in?” he asked again.
Now it was her turn to furrow those pretty brows. “Why do you keep asking that?”
Because I don’t want to see you right now, he didn’t say. “
I want to know. Security’s supposed to keep everyone out of this area unless they have a pass.”
“John knows me.”
Adam shook his head. He knew a lot of Johns. There were two on the team alone.
“John in security,” she said, reading his confusion. “He let me in. I think he thinks I’m going to seduce you.” She trailed a hand across Adam’s back, to his deltoid, then to his pecs as she circled him, smiling seductively. She dropped her hand to caress his cock. “This big fella misses me, doesn’t he?”
Her hand traced up and down his length. He caught her hand quickly. “Don’t.”
She looked surprised…then angry. “What the hell is wrong with you, Adam? You won, didn’t you?”
“I’m not in the mood.”
“You’re hardly ever in the mood.” She tried the sexy pout again, but he could see her irritation in her blue eyes.
He’d pissed her off.
Fine. He might as well get this over with since things had already gotten off to a messed-up start. It was clear to him that this was over.
Of course, breaking up with Missy while standing there naked with a towel in his hand wasn’t how he’d imagined doing it. Even though he’d been moving toward this point for the last month.
He’d been too busy with the team—pushing hard for a playoff slot—to break things off with her until now. He liked her. Even though she could be a pain in the ass, he liked her.
But he didn’t love her. He never would either, so why string her along? She deserved better than an asshole like him.
“You should leave,” he said, looking her in the eye.
That came out sounding harsher than he’d meant it to. Hell, he was more tired than he’d thought. It made him impatient and grouchy.
She stepped back, glaring at him. “What’s that supposed to mean? I came here to celebrate with you.”
He actually felt sorry for her. He was being a dick, but he simply couldn’t do this anymore. Pretending to be attracted to her. Pretending to have feelings for her. Sure, it played great in the gossip rags and entertainment social media sites. Men envied him the tail he could get.
Sure, it kept up the playboy image…but that wasn’t what he wanted. Not anymore.
These days, he didn’t know what he wanted. Not when it came to relationships.
Shit. It didn’t matter. He needed to focus on the next game. He needed to concentrate on the game and not on his dick.
That will make you the first guy in a thousand years to do that, he thought wryly.
“Answer me, Adam,” she snapped. “You’ve been treating me like I’m some kind of little yapping dog for the last couple of weeks.”
He couldn’t tell her the truth. He couldn’t tell her that the reason he wasn’t interested in her, now or ever, was because he was gay.
Hell, he was already doing an utterly shitty job of handling this whole scene, but he couldn’t admit that to her. Not only would it hurt her, but she’d have it all over the gossip sites in less time than it took him to fake a pass and sprint into the end zone.
“Look, Missy. The two of us? We’re done.”
She flinched. Shock appeared on her face. Then outrage. Then plain rage.
“You bastard,” she snarled. “You can’t break up with me! I’m ditching you.”
At another time, he might’ve laughed. But he was too tired after the brutal game. “All right. Fine. You’re ditching me.”
She glared at him as if that was exactly the answer she didn’t want to hear. “You son of a bitch!”
He didn’t want a scene, but he was fumbling this all to hell. The best thing would be to cut it short. Sure, she would hate him. Right now, he wasn’t all that thrilled with himself.
But maybe it was best if she hated him. Maybe it was best if he was the bad guy here. If she was pissed at him, she wouldn’t be hurt. She wouldn’t believe that she was to blame. Because she wasn’t.
It was him.
“Look, babe,” he said, turning away from her and pulling on some boxers and blue jeans. “You knew what you were getting into when we started. I don’t stick around long.”
She called him a bunch of colorful and profoundly obscene names. When he didn’t react, only kept getting dressed, she finally turned on her heel and stalked out. She was madder than a wet cat, but that was what he’d wanted.
Right?
The locker room was quiet with Missy finally gone. He finished dressing, grabbed his sports bag, and shouldered it.
He wanted to leave, but he wasn’t out of the woods yet. He had to go see Jerry Macklin before he could limp home. Adam wasn’t in the mood to see the team owner, but he needed to do what he needed to do.
The thing was, he should’ve been in a great mood after the win. His body was beat to hell because his offensive line was a sieve, but they had eked out a victory.
But breaking things off with Missy Park had left him feeling bad. He regretted it…and at the same time, he didn’t. He didn’t want to hurt her. But lying to her had been weighing on him even more over the last few weeks. It wasn’t fair to her.
No, this was on him. She was right; he was a bastard. He’d been hiding his real feelings for years, keeping them secret. Denying them.
He was attracted to men. He had known he was gay since he was a teen. He’d been keeping the secret all his life, trying to satisfy himself with gay porn after some fumbling around in college with another guy.
Since then, he’d played this game, hiding who he was from the world.
He had nothing against women, but he knew he was an asshole. He deserved to have Missy hate his guts. He bounced around from hot supermodel to actresses to other beautiful women, letting the gossip columns and entertainment shows believe he was a playboy. Because it suited his purposes.
Adam pushed through the back exit for the team locker room, heading down one of the halls kept off-limits to the public. He nodded to the guy who was changing the trash bins, then stopped to sign an autograph for the dude. It was the least he could do after being such a bastard to Missy.
When he reached Jerry Macklin’s offices, he had managed to push thoughts about the break up out of his mind. Mostly, anyway. He needed to focus. Relationships were such a distraction.
The team owner was a smiling, glad-handing dude from San Antonio. An oil guy who liked football and racing horses, even though that was a cliché in Texas. He knocked on the door.
Jerry’s voice boomed: “Come on in!”
Here went nothing. He pushed open the door to the owner’s office, feeling a bit of nerves like he sometimes did before the coin toss for a big game.
Jerry Macklin was sitting behind a huge mahogany desk. His office was as luxurious as expected for a team owner. White leather couches. Razorbacks memorabilia everywhere. A full bar at the far end where the office opened into Jerry Macklin’s personal luxury box seats. Lots of gold and chrome and flashy excess.
The owner of the Razorbacks had thinning gray hair, a fleshy face, several chins that bulged over his bolo tie, and a large mustache. He smiled and waved Adam over.
“Adam! Great to see you. Great to see you.” He stood and moved around his desk to shake Adam’s hand. “Big win today.”
As Adam walked over to shake Jerry’s hand, he was surprised to notice another man who’d been standing outside his field of view. A big guy. A tough-looking bastard.
He ignored the other man for now and focused on Jerry, gripping the other man’s hand tightly. “Jerry. Thanks. It was a close one.”
Jerry pumped his hand a few times and moved to half sit on his desk. “We have to pick up some free agents to beef up our offensive line. I hate to see my favorite QB getting flattened.”
“Sounds like a plan. I hate getting flattened.”
Jerry laughed heartily. Then he nodded to the other man in the room who had been watching them both silently. “Adam, I want to introduce you to Dyson Drake.”
Adam turned to look the guy over. He already k
new the guy was big, but Adam was around large dudes all the time. He was constantly chased by defensive ends looking to sack him.
Sack him? More like destroy him.
But this guy had an air about him that was different from anyone else Adam had been around today. An air of absolute competence and quiet strength. He definitely caught Adam’s interest.
The guy was wearing a suit, but that suit didn’t hide the fact that he was huge and powerful. He stood at least six-two, maybe six foot three. His head was completely shaved, which always gave a guy a badass look. His dark goatee was shaved close and neat. He had tats. The suit hid most of them, but a neck tattoo peeked out from his collar. And no one got a neck tattoo unless they were wearing plenty of other ink.
He wasn’t bad-looking either in a severe, take-no-shit kind of way. It was mostly those dark eyes. They were intense.
Adam walked over to him and held his hand out. Dyson Drake took it and gave a firm shake.
“Good to meet you, Mr. Collins,” Dyson said. “Great drive after the two-minute warning. You really earned that win.”
Dyson had a deep voice. It was a little rough, not buttery smooth like Adam’s was. Adam had learned to make his voice resonant and smooth after all those thousands of interviews had given him plenty of practice. But he liked the sound of the other man’s voice…
Hell, he more than liked it. He felt a tightness in his gut and lower in his groin. A heat. An ache—
He forced himself under control again. What the hell was this? He was just like any other guy. He’d felt that insta-attraction to the sight of someone else plenty of times. A broad chest. A tight ass. Wide shoulders. Sure. But to a voice?