by Lyssa Layne
Swallowing the lump that’s formed, I clear my throat. “Yeah, I’m fine. I—” And like that, I break down in front of a woman. In front of her, Camila, the one I want to take care of. Her words are calm and even as she tries to reassure me and then like a punch in the gut, I remember who she’s with.
“Fuck, you’re with Gregg,” I mumble, ready to hang up.
“No, I’m not,” Camila’s voice says over the line.
Shaking my head, trying to translate her words, I repeat, “You’re not?”
“No, we had a drink at the hotel bar and he left,” Camila explains, my heart beating louder, wondering the deeper meaning.
“Tell me what’s wrong, Ev, so I can fix it.” Her voice is soft and tears tease my eyes again. Sure, it’s her job to keep her clients out of trouble, help them however she can, but I know she’s not saying that because of her obligation to me.
“My mom,” I choke out, trying not to cry again.
Camila’s voice is more alert when she asks if she’s okay. Suddenly, I just start talking, spouting off everything on my mind. “She’s drinking again. I can’t trust her on her own. The house is a disaster, the door was wide open, anyone could have walked in and taken whatever they wanted, or worse. I can’t leave her, Cami, I have to move back to Florida and take care of her.”
“No, no, no!” Camila rebuttals, her voice unnerving. “There are more options, Evan. You are not giving up.”
Camila’s voice is so confident, so reassuring that I honestly believe her for a split second. A beer can falls from the counter and clinks against the floor, rolling toward me and reality hits again. “What am I supposed to do? I can’t leave her like this. She says she quit drinking when our season ended, but from the looks of this place, she started well before then.”
“Let’s move her to California. She’ll be closer to all of us and we can get her into rehab.”
I scoff. “Ma isn’t leaving this place, Camila.”
There’s a long silence between us. A small part of me wonders if I quit the NFL, if Camila and I could have a chance together. It’s the only silver lining in this fucked-up situation that I call my life at this point. Finally, Camila takes a deep breath before she speaks.
“I can hire a cleaning service to take care of her house. I know a guy that owns a business not too far from there and we can probably pay them extra to check on your mom, get rid of any alcohol in the house, befriend her, keep her busy, and off the bottle. It’s a short-term solution, so in the meantime, you and Blake will have to convince her to move to California.”
I close my eyes, thinking about the idea Camila just proposed. It could work, it’s not a perfect plan, but it’s better than giving up on my dream of winning a Super Bowl and it keeps my mom safe. Nodding, forgetting she can’t see me, I tell Camila it’s worth a shot and to set it up.
“Evan, your mom is lucky to have a son like you,” Camila says softly into the phone.
Tears prick my eyes once more and I shut them tight. “I’m lucky to have you, Cami.”
Chapter 11
Camila
Whistling, I’m seriously whistling. And this grin on my face? It won’t go away. I hug my knee to my chest as I scroll mindlessly through my emails. Sitting in my hotel room in Chicago, I’m trying to relax before the NFL draft this evening. Once I hit the lobby, I’ll be working until the wee hours of the morning and there won’t be any time for rest as I’ll be laughing, smiling, and networking with one coach, player, parent after another. I should be taking a nap, but I’m expecting Evan to knock on my door at any minute.
Since our first kiss, we’ve shared many more, each increasing with passion and intensity. Every time his lips touch mine, I hesitate for a split second, knowing I shouldn’t be doing this, but Evan pulls me in and the thought melts away. For now, he doesn’t mind keeping our kisses behind closed doors and he doesn’t pressure me for more, although we both want it. I know the time will come when I have to make a decision, but I refuse to think about it right now.
Two new emails pop up and my stomach churns. One is from the San Diego Seawolves, the other from the Chicago Lancers, and both have Evan’s name in the subject line. I knew his contract from the Seawolves would be coming in any day, but I’m shocked about the Lancers, especially since they’ve been chasing after Blake.
The Lancers can’t officially make an offer until after July so they’re ahead of the game. Clicking open their email, I scan through it quickly. Three year contract, typical. Legal stuff, publicity, injury, compensation. Five million dollars. I shake my head, making sure that I’m reading that correctly. Sure enough, the Chicago Lancers are planning to offer Evan five million dollars for a three year contract. This is way more than I expected, but Evan definitely proved himself on the field last season and he’s worth every bit of that offer.
Without closing the email, I open the other one from the Seawolves. If Chicago offered Evan five million then his own team’s bid is probably even more. My fingers are shaking slightly as I scroll down the email. When I see the compensation offer, my stomach sinks. A one-year contract extension for one million dollars. It’s a slap in the face and there’s no way I’ll let Evan take it. My negotiation skills will be put to use next week once I have all the Netsports rookies signed and the Is dotted and the Ts crossed. Knowing Evan’s temper, I don’t plan to tell him until negotiations are finished.
Standing up, I stretch my arms over my head, even more anxious to see Evan. There’s a knock on the door and I run to it, stopping before I open it. I smooth out my navy, scoop neck, tank top that has a curved side hemline. The blouse matches my navy and monochrome diamond and circle pattern cigarette trousers with tapered ankles. I’m working in a man’s world, hence the pants, but I do my best to add a little femininity to my outfit as well.
My fingers fluff my hair, which is in a low chignon on the back of my neck. While the hairstyle is supposed to look effortless, I spent a long time working on it and hairsprayed it until it was as hard as a football helmet. My heels were discarded the second I got to my hotel room so I know the second I open the door, I’ll be standing almost a foot shorter than Evan.
With a goofy grin on my face, I fling open the door and see Evan wearing a matching expression, tattered blue jeans, and a Seawolves t-shirt that clings to his chest and is almost busting at the seams over his biceps. Without saying a word, he steps into the room, picking me up and slamming the door behind him. Giggling, I wrap my legs around his waist as his hands move under my backside, holding me up.
“Miss me?” he growls, walking us toward the bed.
Smirking, trying not to let my lips turn up too much, I shake my head. “Nah,” I lie. It’s been almost two weeks since we’ve seen each other. While we talk every day, there’s just something about hearing his voice in person that excites me. My stomach flips at that thought, I’ve never wanted a man around me every day… until now.
Evan tosses me on the bed, falling forward and hovering over me. “No? Fine, then. I guess I’ll leave,” he says and starts to lean back up.
“Hey!” I grab his shirt, pulling him to me. He easily comes back and our lips touch but this time, I don’t hesitate. I close my eyes, letting him take control, his hand slipping under my tank top, the other in my hair. Our tongues roll together and I wrap my legs around his hips, grinding against him. Despite the barriers of our pants, I can still feel his growing excitement.
Evan pulls away, both of us breathing hard. His finger moves to my collarbone, sliding it back and forth, sending both chills and heat through my body. “Camila, I want you,” he whispers.
My body is saying yes, in fact, my hand slides down his chest, but my brain stops it. “Evan,” I struggle to sit up underneath him until he rolls to the side, facing me. “We can’t go any further.”
Evan rolls to his back, letting out a disgusted sigh. “Then why the fuck are we doing this, Cami? Don’t deny that you have feelings for me, that you don’t want this, too.
”
I scramble out of bed, fighting the urge to scream at him. Instead, in a calm voice, I explain, “You’re right, Evan. As much as I don’t want to, I do have feelings for you. And more than anything, I want you to have your fuckin’ way with me, but realistically, it can’t happen.”
Evan sits up quickly, pulling me between his legs, my hands still on my hips. He lifts up my blouse and caresses my bare skin, my legs immediately turning to jelly. His sky blue eyes look up at me. “Can’t or won’t?”
His lips move to my stomach, teasing me with his tongue and I’m so wound up that I wouldn’t be surprised if I didn’t come right then. I close my eyes and tilt my head back. “Both, Evan…mmm,” I moan and shake my head. “We should sto—”
“We should just let what happens happen and not fight it. I guarantee that one night with me will convince you to change your stupid rule,” Evan says confidently, his hand sliding between my legs, his thumb rubbing over my pants.
My hands on his shoulder, I look down at him. “You’ve never slept with a girl more than once.” There, I said it. More than my rule, that’s the part that’s been scaring me just as much.
Evan’s hand moves to my cheek, stroking it gently as he looks in my eyes. “Cami, if I sleep with you, I will never sleep with another woman.”
Evan
Camila’s body goes rigid against mine, but it’s true. Cami and I connect, we get each other. She doesn’t question my loyalty to my mother although I’m sure she’s heard a completely different side of the story from Blake. She’s seen me at my worse and hasn’t run yet. I want this woman more than anything right now and I don’t just mean sexually.
“Say something.” I laugh nervously, wishing I knew what was going through her mind. But she doesn’t speak. Instead, she leans down and presses her lips against mine. Slowly, I fall back, taking her with me. The excitement that we normally share with our kisses is still there, but this kiss is completely different than any other one we’ve experienced. Our sexual desire is pushed away briefly and on some other level, we’re connecting, giving in to each other, and I’m hoping this is Camila saying she’ll give us a chance.
A knock on the door interrupts us and with one small kiss, Camila sits up, patting my chest. Crawling off me, she walks to the door and peeks her head out. I can hear my brother laughing on the other side and he asks, “What the hell happened to your hair?”
Camila’s hand touches the hair knot that’s half up and half down. Stammering, she ignores his question when she answers. “What do you want?”
“Who’s in there, Cam? Gregg’s in K.C. so who are you hooking up with?” Blake asks again, not dropping the topic. I sit up, part of me thinking I should hide while the other half of me wants to throw open the door and punch him in the face.
“I’ll meet you downstairs in fifteen minutes. Goodbye,” she says, slamming the door and turning around, leaning against it.
I ball up my fists, clenching my jaw as I speak. “What the fuck? I can’t be seen with you at the draft, but Blake can? You’re right, Cami, we need to just end this now.”
The cool, calm, confident Camila walks across the room to where I’m still sitting on the bed. Her dainty hands grip my shoulders and she gives me a shake. “You can’t expect me to say yes and immediately change everything. Starting tonight, my hell week of work begins so let me get through that and once I survive, we’ll start off with a weekend trip to somewhere tropical.”
I scoff and shake my head. “So what? You can hide us out of the country?”
Camila’s fingers move under my chin, making me look up at her. “Baby steps, Evan. I’m going to be exhausted and beyond stressed when I get back to the room tonight so you better be ready to help me relax.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Relax? What did you have in mind?” My sex drive takes over my thinking.
“Well, a nice hot bath then crawling in bed with you…naked. Then I’ll let you take it from there. I want this, I want you, Evan, but it’s going to take time for us to figure everything out.”
I nod and Camila kisses me softly before turning to walk away. Still within my arm span, I reach out and slap her ass. “Fine, but don’t expect to get any sleep.”
Laughing, she goes to the bathroom and comes out ten minutes later, her hair and make-up perfect. I’m leaning against the headboard, watching T.V. when she walks out. She shrugs on a navy blazer and sits on the edge of the bed to put on her heels. I kiss her neck, nibbling on her ear, and evoking the sexiest moan I’ve ever heard. She turns her head to kiss me and I slide her hand over my cock.
“See what you do to me?” I mumble against her lips.
Camila’s hand tightens around my engorged erection and she whispers, “I’ll take care of it when I get back.”
She grins as she stands up and I pout like a little kid not getting his way, but I know in time, sooner rather than later, she’ll be mine, all mine. Once the door clicks shut, I jump in the shower to relieve myself. I don’t want to ruin our first time together because of a premature release.
Taking my time, I get ready, fully dressed in the only suit I own, the same one I’ve had since high school. I’m much more muscular now than I was back then and I can hear the thread stretching as I pull it over my arms. Camila and I can shop for a new one, she has impeccable taste. I grin at that thought, Camila and I and not just as agent and client, but as a couple.
Joining the hundreds of potential football players, their families, coaches, owners, managers, and a handful of fans that snuck in, I make my rounds of the room, not letting Camila out of my sight. Blake is at her side all night, his hand constantly in touch with her body. The two appear to be the picture perfect couple. Anger boils in the pit of my stomach and I force myself to look away.
I slam my drink and stare at the bottom of my glass. Instantly, I feel like my mother. Drinking to push away something bad, letting the alcohol cloud my judgment. I look across the room and Camila’s eyes are locked on me. When our eyes meet, she gives me a wink before turning back to the group of people around her. A smile comes to my lips, without even talking, Cami knew I needed her. I slide the glass across the bar. If she wanted Blake, she would’ve been with him by now. I have nothing to worry about, she’s mine, or will be soon.
It’s after midnight and there’s still plenty more action going on, but I’m not going to torture myself watching Camila and Blake. Instead, I head back to our room to get ready for her return. An hour later, there are rose petals scattered around the bathroom floor along with some fu-fu bubble bath the front desk sent up. I’ve got champagne chilling in an ice bucket and now I’m just hanging out on the bed, flipping channels, nodding my head and trying not to doze off.
I’m watching the Magic Bullet infomercial for the second time when her laptop dings. Glancing at it on the desk, I walk over, fully planning on closing it so we aren’t interrupted later. My hand on the lid, I look at the screen and see my name in the subject line of an email from the Seawolves. Clicking it open, I skim through it, seeing their offer.
What the hell? That’s not a fuckin’ offer, that’s an insult. I had over a hundred tackles last season, including four sacks. Another email catches my attention and I see it’s from the Lancers. Fuck that, I’m not moving to Chicago. I quickly read through that one, shocked at their offer. My blood pressure boils and I’m wide awake now.
Pacing back and forth, I stare at the clock, ready for Camila to walk through the door. It’s after three when she does. She opens the door quietly, probably thinking I’m asleep. She throws her jacket on the back of the chair and slips out of her heels, but she doesn’t stop. I stop walking and watch as she shimmies out of her pants and pulls her shirt over her head. She stands before me in a black thong and strapless bra. My cock twitches at her body, but I ignore it, more focused on the shitty offers she failed to mention to me.
Camila’s grin is huge as she waltzes across the room to me. Her arms slide around my neck and she draws me down, c
apturing my lips with hers. She grinds her hips against me and my fuckin’ dick won’t stop moving. It doesn’t take her long to realize I’m not kissing back and she pulls away, slightly frowning.
“What’s wrong? You too tired?” she asks, her bottom lip looking delicious as she pouts.
“When were you going to tell me about the offers?” I do my best to sound calm, but my hands are shaking from the adrenaline pumping through me.
Camila takes a step back, clearly shaken and she knows she’s been busted. “What were you doing going through my email?”
“You left your computer open and when I went to close it, I saw my name. I have the right to read about myself. Now, why the hell didn’t you tell me and why does Chicago want me so bad? I’m not fuckin’ moving, Cami.” All trace of staying calm is gone and I’m on the verge of yelling.
“They just came in this afternoon and I haven’t responded. I plan on working through negotiations next week so there’s no reason to get upset yet,” Camila yells back at me, her arms flailing and her perky tits bouncing in her bra. My erection is a total traitor right now and I have to push away the urge to throw her down on the bed in a fit of pissed off sex right now, although I think we’d both enjoy it.
“What’s the deal with Chicago?”
“Chicago’s a great team. It’s definitely an option to look into, I wouldn’t throw them out yet.”
And it clicks. Even at the Super Bowl, Camila was shoving the Lancers down my throat. I scoff. “So that’s your plan to get rid of me? Send me two-thousand miles away so you don’t have to date me? You’re a fuckin’ tease, Camila. That’s all you fuckin’ are. You aren’t the best in the field, you’re the sexiest and the easiest lay.”
Camila’s shoulders drop and she doesn’t say anything. I pull on my clothes from earlier, grab my wallet and my phone and march out of the room. I don’t fucking need Camila Lemos. Women are nothing but a headache.