Sidelined: A Sports Romance

by Violet Paige

  “God, yes. I don’t want to leave you. I want to take you with me. Can’t you quit the Goddesses?”

  “I need the paycheck, Sam. I make money doing what I’m doing. And I can’t take charity from you. I wouldn’t feel good about that. It would feel like I belonged to you or something.” I scrunched my nose.

  His eyes locked on mine. “Don’t you feel like you belong to me?”

  And it hit me—I did. I did every time I went to bed with him. Every time he kissed me. When I saw our reflection in the mirror, and saw my handprint on the shower wall. He owned me with his body and I gave it to him freely, willingly.

  “That’s not the same.” I tried to back out of his argument.

  “I haven’t thought this through, but I want you. I want you with me in San Antonio. I sure as hell don’t want you around the Warriors.”

  “Because they’re your rival?”

  “Yes, because they are the rival. I make more than enough to pay for a trainer and a coach and a therapist. Come to San Antonio and train.”

  I couldn’t believe he was offering me this opportunity, and at the same time, I was stunned how it made me feel.

  “It’s too soon. We don’t know each other well enough. I don’t want to owe you something like that, Sam.”

  His gray eyes pierced through the walls I was putting up. “Come with me. Be with me. Let me do this for you.”

  He took the glass from my hand and rested it on the coffee table. My heart beat wildly. His eyes dipped to my breasts. He pushed my shirt up, exposing my nipple. He bent his head to take it in his mouth.

  He sucked it between his teeth and I whimpered.

  “Is this mine?” he asked.

  “Yes.” My head leaned back on the cushions.

  He rolled the other nipple between his fingers before sucking it into his mouth. “And this, is it mine, Natalia?”

  “Oh, yes.” I was already wet and the fire was burning in my core.

  He let go and I felt the cool air brush over my wet skin. He left my shirt dangling around my shoulders. His lips moved over mine.

  “And these lips.” He kissed me. “Are these mine or not?”

  I nodded as he bit my bottom lip. All at once his hand was snaking up the back of my running shorts, squeezing my ass. I squealed. But his grip was firm and his voice was serious.

  “I love your ass. Tell me it isn’t mine,” he commanded.

  “It’s yours,” I whispered.

  One finger and then another slid between my legs, over my slit, and tugged on my throbbing clit.

  “Oh,” I moaned. “God, Sam.”

  He twisted it slightly and I felt the need building. He was making his point clear.

  He pushed his fingers inside me while his thumb rubbed over my swollen nub. “All of this is mine, isn’t it?”

  I bit my lip. I was clenching around his fingers while they pushed inside me, curling against my walls.

  “It is,” I whispered, clawing at his back.

  He pulled his hands away and sat forward to pick up his wine glass. I wiggled upward and watched him.

  He looked at me over his shoulder, grinning.

  “I want you with me, Natalia.”

  I closed my eyes. I wanted it too. He was giving me a chance to pack up and leave the Goddesses for good. But at what cost? Was I his plaything? Some dance girl he bought to get him through the season?

  “Are you mine?” I asked the question bluntly.

  “What?”

  I could play the same games he could. I maneuvered so I was straddling him on the couch.

  “You know you own me. But do I own you?” I ran a finger along his jaw and to his bare chest. I didn’t stop there. My nails scraped his sides and I dropped to the floor between his knees. He leaned back while I pulled his warm up shorts from his legs. His cock sprung free and I smiled.

  I licked the tip, tasting the freshness of the shower on him. I kissed the silky skin before gliding my tongue over the sensitive spot between his balls.

  “Natalia.” He shoved his cock closer to me.

  I positioned my mouth over it and sucked him in as he groaned loudly.

  I sat back. “Is it mine?”

  “Keep going and I’ll tell you.” He reached for the back of my head, but I jerked to the side. My hand latched around his thick shaft.

  “No, tell me you’re mine too, Sam. Tell me we own each other.”

  I took another lick over the top of his cock, resisting the urge to suck him again. I needed an answer that would satisfy me. I would belong to him. I could admit that my body was his, but only if it was reciprocated. I needed to know he was just as much mine as I was his.

  He tilted my chin upward, and pulled me into his lap. I knew from the look in his eye that he was going crazy with want. I had started and stopped something he loved.

  “Yes,” he whispered.

  “What?”

  “This is yours,” he growled. He pried my shorts out of the way and pushed inside me. I rocked back into his arms. “I’m yours, Natalia.”

  My shirt flew over my head and I gave him my breasts to suck. I pressed his head to my chest, feeling the pulse run through my body. I didn’t know what answer I was going to give him. I didn’t know if I could uproot everything I had done here, but what I did know was I was his and he was mine and it didn’t matter what teams we were on. Nothing would change that.

  Twenty-Three

  Sam

  I didn’t think I’d ever say words like that again. I didn’t want to belong to someone. I didn’t want to love someone, but Natalia had upended all my plans this season, and why would this be any different? If the only way I could have her was to give her me, then that was the deal. Every part of her was mine. I made sure of that.

  I didn’t drive to Austin planning on having a heavy relationship talk. I planned on spending the night fucking the most beautiful woman I’d ever met. But I ended up asking her to move in with me and offering to help her rehab. She was in my head. She was under my skin. I was drowning in her.

  I watched her sleep next to me and traced a line between her shoulder blades. Her hair had fallen over her shoulder.

  She told me she had to leave by seven to make it to early morning practice, but we still had a lot to discuss. I wanted her with me in San Antonio this week. One week of long-distance phone calls and a drive to see her wasn’t going to be enough.

  I hated that Maddie called. I hated that she had my number. That she tried to throw me off my game for my night with Natalia. The moment I was finally happy again, she blindsided me with a desperate plea for help. Damn it.

  I didn’t give a shit if she needed anything. I wasn’t her ATM, and I wasn’t her friend. It was enough to scare the hell out of me about getting involved with Natalia. But they were nothing alike. Nothing.

  Natalia could never treat me the way Maddie did.

  I had to fight the fear creeping under my ribs. I had to fight the thoughts to run and get out before she annihilated me. I was a different man now.

  I turned off the lamp next to the bed and stretched my legs out beside her. She sighed softly and I pulled her against my chest. She fit there perfectly. This graceful, beautiful woman fit. Only I had to convince her of that tomorrow before I left. After that phone call, it seemed more important than ever. I needed her commitment. I needed her loyalty. I needed to know she was mine.

  Natalia had been gone for two hours. I was working on making breakfast in the kitchen when my phone rang. It was Cavan.

  “Hey, what’s up, man?”

  “Sam, I was wondering if I could stop by and pick up one of the playbooks for tomorrow’s game. I never got one and the coordinators said you have those things memorized.”

  “Yeah, but I’m out right now. It’ll have to be later.”

  “Out? It’s nine o’clock in the morning.”

  “Working out, man. Have to get ready for the game.” I was staring at the playbook on Natalia’s kitchen table.

/>   “Just tell me where your spare key is and I’ll stop by.”

  “Can’t. It’s in my car. I’ll call you when I’m back and you can run over.”

  “This is serious. I haven’t seen any of the plays.”

  I flipped the bacon over in the frying pan. “Sorry, man. Call one of the other guys or wait until I’m home.”

  I was about to hang up on him.

  “Fine. Just call me.”

  “You got it.”

  I shoved the phone into my pocket and continued to work on breakfast. I had muffins in the oven and was ready to whip eggs into omelets, but I wasn’t sure when she’d be home. I didn’t want them to be cold.

  I heard her key in the door and smiled when she walked through.

  “Hey.” She grinned.

  “How was practice?” I asked.

  “Dreadful as usual.” She hung her bag next to the door and looped her keys on a hook. “It smells wonderful in here.”

  “Bacon always smells good. I was getting ready to make an omelet for you.”

  She laughed. “So if I took pictures of you right now making breakfast for me I couldn’t use these as blackmail.” She leaned up to kiss me on the cheek.

  “First of all, you wouldn’t do that. And second, yes, the guys don’t know about my culinary skills. So don’t blow my badass cover.”

  “Oh, that’s what you call yourself?” She sat at the table to watch me with the whisk.

  “You’re looking at the tight end with the most yards, most catches, most touchdowns, and most blocks in his rookie season and I’m on schedule to beat that this year.”

  “Wow. I had no idea.”

  I stared at her. “Really? No idea?”

  She shook her head. “It was never a line. I seriously know nothing about your career or much about football, but I have picked up a lot as a Goddess. We have to go to football class during our summer training camp.”

  “So if I quiz you, you think you’d pass?” I added cream to the eggs and whipped furiously. How could she not have heard of my record?

  “I think I would. I can hold my own in a conversation with the girls.”

  I chuckled. “Yeah, but those girls aren’t professional football players.”

  “True, but I’d bet I could pass.”

  “Want to make a bet?”

  She twisted her pouty lips together. “What kind of bet?”

  “If you win.” I stopped. “What do you want if you win?”

  She pressed her finger to her chin. “I want a full-body massage. Naked.”

  “That sounds like a win for me, but okay. If you win, you get a massage.”

  “And if I don’t?” she asked.

  “If I win, you try on those pointe shoes for me and let me watch you spin around the studio.”

  The smile fell from her face. “Sam, I was trying to be funny.”

  “I’m being serious. Take the bet. Prove to me you can pass a football quiz.”

  “Fine. I’ll do it. And you’ll be thanking me, because your hands will be all over this body you own.” She eyed me.

  “Either way I win.” I winked at her. I turned toward the stove to layer in the first omelet. “Here’s your first question. How many quarters are in a game?”

  “Really? That’s insulting. Four.”

  “Ding, ding, for the ballerina.” I watched to make sure the edges on the omelet didn’t brown too much. “Second question. How many players are on the field during a play?”

  She scrunched her nose. “Twenty-four?”

  “Err. No. Twenty-two. But that’s okay. It’s one to one.”

  She folded her arms. “Next.”

  I flipped the omelet over. “Okay, for your next question can you name four different offensive positions?”

  “Easily. Quarterback, wide receiver, tight end,” she paused to smile. “And.” She blinked a few times. “And…”

  “Err. That is incorrect. You could have said running back, kicker. I’d take lineman or center. But that’s okay. You were close.”

  She scowled at me. And I felt one question away from watching her dance for me.

  “For the final question. For my victory question.” I winked at her. “What is the play called a safety?”

  “That is not a fair question. Who knows what that is?”

  “Err, also incorrect. A safety is when the team who has the ball is tackled in their own end zone, resulting in two points for the other team.”

  “Two points? I’ve never heard of it.”

  “Look it up,” I instructed as I delivered her breakfast in front of her.

  She started typing on her phone and whispered the definition for a safety score out loud. “I feel tricked. That was a trick question.”

  “It was not. Now eat up and then put on the shoes. I want to see you dance.”

  “Today?”

  “I’m leaving today. So yes.”

  I cut into my omelet and took a bite. Victory always tasted sweet.

  Twenty-Four

  Natalia

  I stared at the satin laces dangling from the shelf, taunting me, begging me to wear them. Sam had schemed me into this and I wasn’t happy.

  He was in the studio waiting for me to show him something a ballerina would do. My Goddess uniform was hanging where it always did. Didn’t he know I hadn’t been a ballerina for a long time?

  I dug through my closet until I found one of my wrap shirts and a light pink wrap skirt. I quickly put them on and then began to pull the pointe shoes from the shelf. I was shaking and my fingers tingled. I didn’t know if I could go through with this.

  I sat on the edge of the bed. What if it didn’t feel right? What if I injured my hamstring again? What if this was a setback? This could end all of the plans I had made to audition. With a new injury, I would ruin the chance I did have.

  “Natalia, where are you?” Sam called from the room next to mine.

  “Hold on,” I replied.

  I had to do this. Not only because I had to pay up for the bet I had lost, but because I had been putting it off way too long. My fear had eaten away at my confidence. I could tell Sam was trying to give some of that back to me.

  But he hadn’t been there. He didn’t know the pain it caused and the months of anguish piled on top.

  I exhaled, and for the first time in nine months, my feet wore pointe shoes.

  I might as well have been stepping onto the stage for my first performance. My stomach did somersaults and I could feel the sticky perspiration in my hands. I took my time walking into the studio.

  Sam was going through my record collection, but he must have heard me enter and turned around.

  “Wow.”

  “I don’t know if I can do this.” My mouth felt dry. Wearing the shoes again had brought back not only the good memories but also the nightmare. I trembled.

  He took a few long strides toward me and took my hand, leading me to the center of the room. “I know you can.”

  I looked at us in the mirror. He was tall and strong, overpowering, almost, in my quiet sanctuary. He made me look dainty even though I was five-eight. He stood behind me and squeezed my shoulders.

  “I’ll put on the music.”

  “But what if I can’t?” I eked.

  He turned. “I’ve got you. And if you can’t, we’ll figure out how to make sure you can.”

  It sounded simple. It sounded as if he had figured out the perfect remedy to my problems. All I had to do was dance.

  He placed a vinyl record on the turntable, moved the arm, and hit the switch. There were a few moments of crackling static before I heard the notes of the piano. I needed a moment to center myself. A moment to remember who I was as a dancer.

  I felt the air fill my lungs before I started with a gentle plié. My arms swished to the sides before I moved onto my toes in a relevé. I wasn’t ready to try one leg at a time yet. I needed to work through the motions slowly. I felt the strength in my legs as I held the position on the tips of m
y toes and pressed into the ground with my shoes.

  The more I moved, the more I started to remember the joy of dancing. The lure of the stage. The music in my ears. I stopped thinking about the accident and the pain. I let my body dictate how it floated through space.

  Sam didn’t utter a word. He stood in the corner next to the record player, while I picked up my left leg and then my right. I leaned toward the bar, kicking a leg behind me, all the while maintaining my balance on my toes. It was happening. There was stability and balance. I had trust in my body again. I didn’t feel like my right leg was going to snap like a twig. Instead I felt the power in my standing leg as I moved easily from position to position.

  I twirled on my toes and bowed at Sam. My heart was about to beat out of my chest, but no longer from fear—from bliss.

  “What do you think?” I was practically glowing. I could see it in the mirror.

  “I think you’re beautiful and you’ve never been sexier than you are right now.”

  I skipped over the room and jumped into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist. I kissed him fiercely.

  “Thank you for making me lose that stupid football bet.”

  He pressed my face between his palms. “I’m happy for you. How’s your leg?”

  I lowered myself to the ground and pressed my right toes into the floor. “It feels fine. I can’t believe it feels okay.” I was still stunned.

  “Whether you like it or not, all that ass shaking you do with the Goddesses has probably been more therapy than you realized. You have a tight little ass and that means strong hamstrings.”

  “I think that’s a compliment.” I smiled slyly at him. He never let me forget how much he enjoyed my body.

  “It is most definitely a compliment.”

  I pulled on his hand. “Now it’s your turn.”

  “Oh no.” His eyes widened with fear. “I don’t dance.”

  “Really? Aren’t you the ring leader of the club scene?”

  “Have you been cyber stalking me?” He eyed me.

  I pinched my fingers together. “Maybe a little bit.”

  “That doesn’t mean I dance. It means I party. There’s a difference.”