by Lauren Rowe
“You rented the Rose Bowl?” I ask, my jaw hanging open.
“Yup.”
I can’t believe my ears. “Do you regularly rent the Rose Bowl for friendly games of flag football?”
“Nope. First time.” He grins. “Actually, I rented the place specifically for you, Party Girl.”
“For me?” I look at him dumbly.
Josh reaches across my body, opens his glove box, and pulls out a laminated ID badge attached to a lanyard. “How else am I gonna play in the Super Bowl?” he asks.
I touch the edge of the badge dangling from Josh’s hand to stop it from twirling and gasp when I’m able to read the card. It’s a press badge identifying me as “Heidi Kumquat, Reporter for ESPN,” bearing the photo from my Oksana passport.
“Oh my God!” I squeal, my cheeks flushing. Just from this press badge alone, I know exactly what imaginary-porno Josh and I are about to act out.
But just in case I had a sliver of a doubt, Josh promptly lays a poker chip in my palm. “Hey, Heidi Kumquat. Guess what?” Josh says, a naughty smile dancing on his lips. “I hear the MVP of the Super Bowl has a thing for blondes—and a really big dick.”
Chapter 6
Kat
“God, they’re manly, aren’t they?” Henn asks, surveying the action on the field. “Neanderthals, all of them.”
“You sure you don’t wanna play with them?” I ask, linking my arm in Henn’s. “It looks pretty fun.”
“You think that looks fun? Ha! No, I came to this barbaric game just to see you, Kitty Kat.” Henn beams a smile at me that melts my heart like butter in a microwave.
“Aw, thanks, Henn.”
Josh races past us on the field, cradling the football in his muscular arm. He evades a potential tackler, and then another, progressing at least twenty yards before being stopped.
Henn and I cheer like crazy and Josh looks over at us, pumping his fist.
“So what’s new, Henny?” I ask. “You been working a lot?”
“Yeah, I just got back from D.C., working on our little case with the feds.” He snickers. “Agent Eric asked me if you’re single, bee tee dubs.”
“What’d you tell him?”
Henn motions to Josh on the field. “Well, duh—I told him you’re madly in love with the greatest guy ever.”
I bite my lip but I don’t deny it.
Henn grabs the “press badge” hanging around my neck. “Speaking of which, what the heck is this? ‘Heidi Kumquat, Reporter for ESPN’? Josh asked me for your Oksana photo but he didn’t tell me why he wanted it. Are you two crazy kids finding new and creative ways to take ol’ one-eye to the optometrist or what?”
I decide to ignore his question. “Speaking of people falling madly in love, how’s it going with Hannah Banana Montana Milliken?” I ask.
Henn’s face lights up. “Oh my God, she’s incredible. She keeps doing this bizarre thing no other woman has ever done in the history of time—she’s genuinely nice to me. Like, all the time.”
“Wow. Cray,” I say.
“Un-sane,” Henn agrees, smiling adorably. “Did Hannah say anything to you about how things are going between us?”
“Yeah, she said you’re the man of her dreams.”
“Are you teasing me right now? Kat, please don’t tease me.”
“Henn, I swear on a stack of bibles. That’s exactly what she said. ‘The man of her dreams.’”
Henn looks like he could keel over with joy.
“Aw, you so deserve this, Henny,” I say. “I’m so happy for you.”
“Motherfucker!” Josh yells on the field after unsuccessfully trying to catch a long pass in the end zone. “That was my fault, bro,” Josh shouts to his quarterback, patting his chest. He begins jogging back toward the line of scrimmage, but makes a sudden, lurching detour toward me on the sideline. With a loud growl, Josh throws his arms around my waist and twirls me around, making me shriek. “Hey there, Heidi Kumquat,” Josh bellows. He lays an abrupt kiss on my mouth. “You know I’m trying to impress you, right?”
“You are?” I ask demurely.
“Is it working?”
“Definitely.”
Josh laughs and trots away, leaving me swooning in his wake. Or, wait, maybe I’m not swooning—maybe I’m just queasy from being unexpectedly twirled around. I clamp my hand over my mouth, suddenly feeling the urge to heave.
“Hey, you okay?” Henn asks.
I take several deep breaths, trying to calm my churning stomach. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I squeak out.
“You look like you feel sick,” Henn says.
I swallow hard. “I’m just a little hung over, that’s all.”
“Ah, gotcha.” Henn returns his attention to the action on the field, apparently completely convinced by my explanation.
For the next thirty minutes, Henn and I watch the action on the field, cheering and screaming as Josh and his friends play flag football as fiercely as any gladiators in ancient Rome, and when the game is finally done, Josh jogs over to Henn and me on the sideline. I’m expecting Josh to pick me up and whirl me around like he did earlier, but, instead, he whispers something to Henn, winks at me, and silently heads toward a tunnel on the opposite side of the field.
“Where’s he going?” I ask Henn, admiring Josh’s supremely bitable ass as he jogs away.
“To the locker room,” Henn says. “He asked me to bring you there in five minutes.”
“Oh, okay,” I say, trying my best to sound nonchalant.
Henn shoots me a snarky look. “Josh had a message for you, bee tee dubs. He told me to tell Heidi Kumquat he’s such a huge fan of your reporting for ESPN, he’s decided to grant you an exclusive post-game interview.’”
Chapter 7
Kat
“Bye, Henn,” I say, hugging him outside the locker room.
“Enjoy your optometry appointment,” Henn says, snickering.
“Hey, man,” I say. “Regular eye exams are critical to maintaining peak visual health.”
Henn laughs. “Oh my God. You truly are the male version of Josh, you know that?”
“You think?” I ask.
“Indubitably.” He hugs me again. “Bye, Kitty Kat.”
I watch Henn walk away, sighing with my love for him, and when he turns the corner and disappears from sight, I open the locker room door and step inside, my skin buzzing with excitement. “Sports Reporter Bangs Super Bowl MVP in Locker Room After the Big Game” has been one of my top fantasies for a very long time—a go-to scenario I’ve thought about many, many times while pleasuring myself. I can’t believe Josh has gone to such lengths to deliver it to me.
I begin walking slowly into the spacious locker room, my stomach bursting with butterflies, my crotch swelling with each step I take. I turn a corner around a bank of lockers, and—boom—there he is: the Super Bowl MVP himself, bending down to put something into a locker, his back to me.
Holy Beefcake, Batman. Josh is dressed in nothing but shoulder pads and tight football pants. His skin is gleaming with grime and sweat. Good lord, he’s hot as hell—testosterone on a stick.
My phone buzzes in my pocket but I ignore it. Whoever it is can wait.
“Excuse me,” I say softly. “Josh?”
Josh turns around and my heart palpitates—he’s raw masculinity in its purest form.
“Yes?” Josh asks.
“Do you have time for an interview?” I hold up my badge to him. “Heidi Kumquat, ESPN.”
Josh smiles and runs his hand through his sweaty hair, flashing me his “THE GUN SHOW” underarm-tattoo as he does. “Sure thing, Heidi. It would be my pleasure.”
I motion behind me to my imaginary cameraman. “This is my cameraman, Brad.”
Josh’s eyes sparkle with obvious amusement. He looks over my shoulder to where I’ve indicated. “Hey, Brad,” he says. He runs his hands over his muscled chest like he’s lathering himself in the shower. “Ask me anything you want, Heidi—I’m all yours.”
> Oh, man, my body’s having a physical, chemical reaction to this muscled, tattooed, sweaty man. My brain knows this is make-believe, of course, but my body apparently didn’t get the memo.
My phone buzzes with another text but I ignore it.
“All mine, huh?” I say. “I like the sound of that.”
“And I’ll do the interview for you, too,” Josh adds, his smile widening.
I return his smile. “Lemme just do my intro for the segment.”
I turn away from Josh and look into the imaginary camera behind me, holding a pretend-microphone up to my mouth. “Hey, everyone. Heidi Kumquat for ESPN. I’m in the locker room with Josh Faraday, the star wide receiver for the Seahawks and the MVP of this year’s Super Bowl. If you watched the game, then you know Josh well deserved his MVP honors—he was utterly brilliant out there today. Every man watching him wanted to be him, and every woman wanted to fuck the living hell out of him.” I turn around and face Josh. “Ready?”
Josh’s eyes are burning. “Why don’t you start by asking me why I missed that one easy pass in the end zone?”
“Why’d you miss that one easy pass in the end zone, Josh?”
“‘Cause I was looking at you. As it turns out, it’s awfully hard to concentrate on catching a ball when you’re thinking about fucking the smokin’ hot blonde standing on the sideline a few yards away.” He snaps the waistband of his tight football pants and my eyes are drawn to the hard bulge straining just below his hand.
I primly clear my throat. “Well, that’s sweet of you to say. But I’d really better get to my interview.”
“Of course. You’re a professional—I admire that. Ask me anything, Heidi. I’m all yours.”
My phone buzzes with another text. Hastily, I pull my phone out of my pocket, silence it, and shove it back into my pocket.
“Sorry about that,” I say. “Well, first off, let me say congratulations on being named MVP of the game.”
Josh flashes perfect, white teeth. “Thanks. But, you know, it was a total team effort.” He runs his palm across his chiseled abs. “Damn, girl, you’re something to look at, you know that? You’re the kind of woman makes an MVP wanna fuck.”
“Oh my goodness, thank you,” I say demurely. “I’m flattered, but I really can’t flirt with you, Josh. I’ve got a job to do.”
“Flirt with me?” He smiles lasciviously. “You think I’m hard like this because I wanna flirt with you?” He makes an extremely sexual noise. “‘Flirt’ isn’t the ‘f’ word I wanna do with you, Heidi.”
I take a shaky breath and hold my imaginary microphone to my mouth. “Um.” I swallow hard. “To what do you think you owe your success this season?”
Josh begins stroking the hard bulge straining behind his tight pants, his eyes smoldering. “I’d say the key to my success this season was just taking it one game at a time.” His voice suddenly drops to a husky growl. “Shit, baby, you’re making me hard as a rock. I can’t even think straight, looking at you.” He takes a step toward me and snakes his arm around my waist. “You’ve got beautiful eyes, you know that? I can’t wait to watch ’em roll back into your head when I’m fucking you to within an inch of your life.”
“Thank you. You have beautiful eyes, too.”
Josh presses his hard-on into me. “Ever fucked the MVP of the Super Bowl, Heidi?”
I pretend to put my microphone to my lips again. “The Patriots definitely fought hard—”
Josh abruptly grabs my imaginary microphone and throws it forcefully across the room, making me laugh. “Interview over, Heidi,” Josh says. “Time for the Super Bowl MVP to fuck you.”
There’s a beat.
I glance over my shoulder at my imaginary cameraman. “Beat it, Brad.” I wait a moment to allow my imaginary cameraman to exit the locker room and then turn back to Josh. “You were saying?” I whisper.
Josh skims his lips against mine slowly. “I was saying I’m the MVP of the fucking Super Bowl, which means I can fuck any woman I want in the entire fucking world—and, baby, I want you. Right fucking now.”
My heart is pounding like crazy. “Oh, you think I’m gonna spread my legs and fuck you for no other reason than you’re the Super Bowl MVP?” I whisper.
Josh presses his hard-on into me and levels me with blazing blue eyes. “No, baby, you’re gonna spread your legs and fuck me because you’re gonna enjoy sucking my dick so goddamned much.”
Oh, he’s good. He’s very, very good.
Without further ado, Josh grips my hair and forcefully pushes me down to my knees—damn, the Super Bowl MVP’s a bossy motherfucker—and a grand total of two seconds later, I’m on my knees, voraciously sucking the Super Bowl MVP’s dick, making myself come like a freight train. Shortly after that, I’m dangling from a pull-up bar, my thighs resting on the Super Bowl MVP’s shoulder pads, my pussy deep in his mouth, my flesh rippling against his lips and tongue. And after that, yep, the arrogant but sexy bastard called it—I’m spreading my legs for the Super Bowl MVP while getting fucked hard, until my eyes are rolling back into my head.
“Good times,” Josh says after we’re both done and completely spent. He spanks my ass playfully. “You wanna join me in the shower, Heidi?”
“I’ll be right there. I’m gonna check my phone real quick. I got a couple texts.”
“Okeedoke,” Josh says. He turns around, flashing me his YOLO’d ass, and practically skips toward the showers. “Hey, a bunch of guys went for burgers and beers nearby. You wanna meet up with them?”
“Sounds great,” I say. I bend down to grab my phone out of my jeans on the floor.
“All my friends thought you were awesome, by the way,” Josh calls over his shoulder. “A couple of them said before today they were already on the cusp of hating my guts, and now, after meeting you, they absolutely do.” He laughs heartily.
But I’m not listening to Josh any more. I’m looking at my phone, reeling, trying desperately not to freak out that every single member of my family except Colby has been furiously trying to reach me for the past thirty minutes. What on earth has happened? And why everyone except Colby?
“Oh my God! Josh!” I shriek, clutching my throat. “I think something’s happened to Colby!”
Chapter 8
Josh
“I’m here to see my brother Colby Morgan,” Kat says to the woman sitting behind the desk in the hospital lobby.
Poor Kat. When she called her mom and found out what had happened to Colby, I had to physically hold her up so she wouldn’t crumple onto the cement floor of the locker room.
“Oh, the firefighter,” the woman at the desk says, clicking on her computer keyboard. She looks at Kat sympathetically. “I saw what your brother did on the news. He’s a real hero. We’re all praying for him and that little baby he saved.”
Kat lets out a little yelp.
“He’s in the burn unit, room 402. Do you know where that is?”
Kat shakes her head and a pained sound escapes her throat.
“Just go down this hall and take the elevators to the fourth floor,” the nurse continues. “When you get off the elevator, check in at the nurses’ station there and someone will show you to his room. It’s a restricted area.”
Kat nods, apparently unable to speak.
“Thank you,” I say, answering for Kat. I put my arm around her shoulders and usher her toward the elevators. “Come on, babe.”
Kat nuzzles her nose into my shoulder as I lead her limp body down the hallway—and by the time Kat and I reach the fourth floor, I’m just about carrying Kat’s full body weight in my arms.
“We’re here to see Colby Morgan,” I say to the nurse at the fourth-floor desk, my arm around Kat’s shoulders.
“Are you family?” the nurse asks.
“Yes, this is Colby’s sister,” I say.
“And you?” the nurse asks me. “Are you family, too—are you her husband?”
For some reason, I feel like this nurse just punched me in the
balls. “No,” I say, my throat tight.
“He’s my boyfriend, ” Kat chokes out.
I nod and pull her closer to me. That was the first time Kat’s called me her boyfriend—but it’s hardly the time or place for me to feel excitement about that milestone.
“I’m sorry,” the nurse says. “Only immediate family is allowed in the room for now. There’ve been a lot of people wanting to see your brother—reporters, other firefighters, well wishers—even the Mayor came by. We’re gonna have to stick to the rules, at least until we get clearance from the doctor.”
Kat looks stricken. “But,” she begins, “Josh is my boyfriend.” She grips my arm.
The nurse shakes her head. “I’m sorry. Your boyfriend will have to wait out here until I get clearance for non-family members. There are a lot of people already in the room—you’ve got a big family.”
When the nurse uses the word “family,” Kat looks toward the hallway with undisguised longing.
“Go ahead,” I say, squeezing Kat’s shoulders. “Go be with your family, babe. I’ll wait out here.”
Kat looks like a deer in headlights.
“Go on,” I say, stroking Kat’s golden hair. “I’ll be right here.” The truth is I don’t want to leave Kat’s side—I want to go with her and hold her through whatever awaits her in that room. But, obviously, my only job in this horrible situation is to make this as easy on Kat as possible. “Go on,” I say softly.
Kat hugs me and I breathe her in for a moment.
“I’ll be right here if you need me,” I whisper.
Kat nods and the nurse wordlessly guides her down the hallway through swinging doors marked “Authorized Personnel Only.” I watch her through glass panes in the doors as long as possible, until, finally, she and the nurse turn a corner and disappear.
With a deep sigh, I wander down the hall and take a seat in the waiting room. Shit. I feel like I’ve let Kat down somehow. When the nurse asked if I was family—if I’m her husband—should I have lied and said yes? I really don’t think I was imagining the pained look in Kat’s eyes when I said no. Why the fuck do I feel like I’ve somehow fucked up?