Whatever Happens

by Lyla Grace

  WHATEVER HAPPENS

  By Lyla Grace

  WHATEVER HAPPENS

  All Rights Reserved.

  Copyright © 2019 Lyla Grace

  This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This book is dedicated to my parents who always believed in me, even when I didn’t. May you both rest in peace. Thank you for your undying love and support.

  CONTENTS

  Prologue – Carter

  Chapter 1 – Carter

  Chapter 2 – Lexie

  Chapter 3 – Carter

  Chapter 4 – Lexie

  Chapter 5 – Carter

  Chapter 6 – Lexie

  Chapter 7 – Carter

  Chapter 8 – Lexie

  Chapter 9 – Carter

  Chapter 10 – Lexie

  Chapter 11 – Carter

  Chapter 12 – Lexie

  Chapter 13 – Carter

  Chapter 14 – Lexie

  Chapter 15 – Carter

  Chapter 16 – Lexie

  Chapter 17 – Carter

  Chapter 18 – Lexie

  Chapter 19 – Carter

  Chapter 20 – Lexie

  Chapter 21 – Carter

  Chapter 22 – Lexie

  Chapter 23 – Carter

  Chapter 24 – Lexie

  Chapter 25 – Carter

  Chapter 26 – Lexie

  Chapter 27 – Carter

  Prologue – Carter

  The screech of the tires.

  The sound of metal crunching.

  The pain radiating through my body.

  I wake with a jolt, able to feel and hear every damn thing from that night as though I was there again.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to force out the memories that are flooding me and making the anger inside me rise with full force.

  Flashback…

  I open my eyes to darkness and my car damn near wrapped around a tree.

  I glance to my left, Cody in the driver seat. Son-of-a bitch. I don’t know whether to be relieved we’re alive or pissed that we crashed.

  “Cody, wake up,” I shout. I move my left arm and give him a shove. “Wake up, asshole.”

  “Carter?” he asks, confusion in his voice.

  “Yeah, it’s me, asshole. What the fuck were you thinking?” I yell.

  I try to move my right arm, but I can’t, it hurts to fucking bad. I cry out in pain.

  “What’s wrong?” Cody asks.

  I look at him and can see a few scratches on his head, but he seems okay.

  "My arm, my fucking arm, is killing me. Shit."

  I can hear the sirens. The police, help, it’s on the way. Thank God.

  “Move,” I order Cody.

  “What?”

  “Move,” I shout again.

  He gets out of the car and in complete agony, I move myself to the driver seat.

  “I was driving, got it?” I say.

  “But…”

  “Damnit Cody, if anyone finds out you were driving, you will go to jail. I don’t want Mom and Dad to go through that. I was driving.”

  “You were driving,” he repeats.

  Now, here I am, two months later, still in a shit ton of pain and still unable to play.

  I shove out of bed. Sleep hasn’t been my friend lately and it sure doesn’t seem like we’re going to be making up tonight so…

  I make my way to the bar where I know Green and the guys are. They’re here to blow off whatever steam they can before the season starts in a couple weeks. I’m here because fuck if I have anything better to do than drink myself into oblivion at this point.

  No football. No gym. No sex.

  That leaves alcohol. And bad decisions. Both with whom I have become very close.

  “What a fucking pussy,” the preppy looking douche behind me says.

  I hear the group of guys he is with snicker. Assholes. He’s been doing this shit since I, very nicely, asked him to back up so that he wouldn’t bump into my injured arm for the tenth time.

  “What the fuck is your problem?” I ask as I turn around to face him.

  “My problem is a multi-million dollar fucking football player who can’t seem to suck it up and earn his damn paycheck,” the douche says.

  Suck it up? This asshole has no idea how much damage that goddamn accident did to my shoulder, hell, my whole arm.

  “Fuck you, asshole. I can throw a damn ball injured better than you could ever dream of throwing. Stay the fuck back,” I tell him. Again.

  Does he listen? Does he? No, the fucking idiot starts mouthing off again. And I am at that point of drunk where I don’t give a damn anymore. So, I team my sling off, toss it onto the bar, and face him.

  “You want to talk all big and tough? Shut your mouth and prove it,” I say.

  I can hear the guys behind me, each one of them telling me to calm down, to walk away, and to let it go.

  Fuck that. Fuck him. Fuck this.

  I swing with everything I have. Which, considering the condition of my arm, isn’t much. It is enough to knock the guy on his ass though. And for me to fall to the ground in paid.

  Shit.

  I feel hands on me. I hear the voice of reason.

  “Damnit kid, what the hell are you doing?” he asks.

  “He called me a pussy,” I tell Landon, my words slurring as I do.

  “That’s it? He called you a pussy and you hit him?” He shoves me up against the bar. “How does your arm feel Mr. Big Bad Quarterback?”

  It hurts like hell, that’s how it feels. I sure as shit am not telling him that, though.

  “I feel fine,” I lie.

  “Sure you do,” he laughs. “Let’s go.”

  “I’m not ready to leave.”

  “I don’t care,” Landon tells me.

  I move forward to get in his face.

  “Try me, Carter. I assure you; I will not fall on the ground from your weak ass punch like that jackass did.”

  Reluctantly, I follow him out of the bar, doing my best to avoid the snickers and shit I hear as I do. Christ, I am a fucking pussy.

  Landon follows me all the way into the house. “You good?” he asks.

  I nod. I look up to this guy like no one else. He’s basically my hero. And, here I sit, a fucking useless asshole who just fucked up his arm even more.

  “I know your angry, man. I get it, I do. The shit that you pulled tonight, though? It’s not going to get you anywhere but further from where you need to be.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry, man. Just don’t do it again.”

  In a fatherly fashion, he squeezes my shoulder. “I’m here if you need me.”

  I sit on the couch wallowing in self-pity after he leaves. I need more than a pep talk from Landon Sutton. I need major fucking help.

  Chapter 1 – Carter

  I watch as the girl I just turned down walks away. She's gorgeous. Or at least I thought so until I noticed the white band on her finger. The tan line that tells me she usually wears a wedding band there and took it off right before she approached me.

  It may not bother guys like Green, those who believe that it’s not their fault, they’re not the ones cheating. But I don’t play by those rules. I am far from being a saint, but everyone has to have limits. And married women are mine.

  It's why things with Ashlynn were so perfect. No strings, just sex. Then I went and turned into a pussy and got fed up with the fact that her heart belonged to someone else. While I wasn't looking at stealing her heart and making her fall in love with
me, I also wasn't willing to play second fiddle to some other guy. Not when the other guy is Landon Sutton, one of my best friends and teammates. He also happens to be the same one who set us up. Don’t get me wrong. I'm not here heartbroken, and all woe is me, but it sucks. She was fun to hang around. And if nothing else, the woman was amazing in bed. Damn you, Ash, I curse to myself.

  I broke things off two months ago. Since then? My ass hasn't gotten laid once. With my mood right now, I’m not exactly the smooth talker that I once was. Women aren’t exactly flocking to the one-armed injured player.

  Pissed and frustrated with no outlet in which I can release it, I came out tonight with the guys to let off some steam. I need something, anything. I feel like a damn caged animal. All thanks to my stupid brother and that stupid accident.

  So here I am hoping to find a woman, any woman that isn’t married, to take home tonight.

  Then my gaze falls on her.

  She is tall with black hair, olive skin, and a body that makes my dick stand at attention instantly.

  Everything about this woman screams trouble with a capital T. The exact kind of trouble I am looking to get into tonight. She is fucking gorgeous. Her designer dress screams money and entitlement – she is not the type of woman that typically interests me. Hell, when they look that good though, type goes right out the damn window. The minute my eyes settle on her hips, how they move, I want nothing more than to know what they feel like grinding against mine.

  Lucky me, she is headed right for me. “Hi, I’m Lexie,” she says.

  Taking my shoulder into consideration, she extends her left hand to me. I instantly take note that there isn’t a ring on it or any sign that one had been there. “I’m Carter.”

  "Oh, believe me, I know." She has a sexy and naughty smile that appeals to me when it usually wouldn't. "Dance with me?" she asks with her hand still in mine.

  I don't answer her. I merely follow her lead, and her ass, out onto the floor. She presses her body against mine. We move to the rhythm of the sensual beat of the music. Christ, this woman knows how to move. We continue to move together, her hands roaming my body and mine dying to get to know certain areas of hers a little better. When the song ends, she leans in, her head angled up to me. I lean down to hear what she's trying to say, allowing me a glorious view of her chest that is on perfect display.

  “Buy me a drink?” she asks.

  I will buy her a damn car if it gets us out of here and into one of our beds. My hand rests on the small of her back as we head to the bar. "What are you drinking?" I ask.

  “I’ll have whatever you’re having,” she replies.

  “You sure you can handle it?” I ask. Somehow, I don’t think Princess here is going to like the whiskey I drink, but she asked for it. I lean in and give the bartender my order before turning back my attention to her.

  “I assure you; I can handle anything you throw my way.”

  We’ll see about that. “So, tell me about yourself, Lexie.” Her eyes widen, and she laughs. “What’s so funny?’ I ask.

  The bartender brings our drinks. We clink glasses, and I watch in amazement as she slams her drink back.

  “Why don’t we just have some fun and save the getting to know you stuff for another time?” she suggests.

  Well, that’s new. Isn’t it usually the guy that says that kind of stuff? If the lady wants to have some fun, who am I to deny her that? “What exactly did you have in mind?”

  She smiles again; one that tells me I am in so much trouble when it comes to this woman, but that I'm going to enjoy the hell out of it.

  “How about a little more foreplay on the dance floor and then we get the hell out of here?” She moves to head back to the dance floor. But stops and turns back to me. “Are you coming or not?”

  The smirk on her face tells me she is referring to more than to just the dance floor. I slam my drink and follow her because – well hell, look at her.

  We spend the next hour together on the dance floor drinking, dancing, and laughing. Unable to restrain myself anymore, I bend my head and capture her lips with mine. The kiss burns me, ignites a fire in me that I have never felt before. She responds quickly, her tongue dancing with mine. I dig my fingers into her hips and hold her against me. Either I am hornier than I thought, or this woman has put some curse on me. I'm not usually a PDA kind of guy, but I can't seem to keep my hands or my mouth off of her.

  When she pulls back, breaks the kiss, one look into her desire filled eyes, I instantly crash my mouth onto her again.

  When she breaks the kiss again, she says, "Easy boy. What do you say we get out of here?"

  “I say my place or yours?”

  “Yours.”

  I wrap my arm around her and lead her out of the club to my truck. She grabs the door handle, but I cover my hand with hers. “Not so fast,” I tell her. She turns in my arms, eyes boring into mine.

  “What are you up to?” she asks.

  I glance around the parking lot. She has me so desperate and needy; I don’t think I can wait to get her home to have a taste of her. I give her a wink before I sink to my knees. Whether she knew it or not, she had been torturing me for the last hour with her dancing and grinding on me. Now it’s time for a little payback. My hands run up her thighs until they find the silky thong underneath. I slowly pull it down until it is around her ankles, helping her step out of one side.

  "Carter…" It's a question and a plea all in one. I do a glance to make sure no one else I around before I hike up her skirt, not that it has far to go. "Carter," she shrieks when she finally realizes that I am going to do what she thinks I am.

  Rather than respond with words, I hike her leg onto my good shoulder and cover my mouth over her sensitive clit. She inhales sharply, her hands running through my hair.

  I had intended to tease her. Her gasps and the moans she is trying to hold back are too much. It's so fucking hot and turning me on so much. I need to make her orgasm, more than I even need my own. She begins to writhe against my mouth until her body tenses in my arms.

  “Holy shit,” she cries out.

  I smile up at her from the ground, the satisfied look on her face stroking my ego. I hop back onto my feet and open the truck door for her. “Get in,” I tell her.

  She hesitates for a moment, just looking at me, a massive smile on her face. "You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

  My lips cover hers. “You have no idea.” I tap her on the ass as she climbs into the truck. Firm and perfect. Who the hell is this woman? And where has she been all my life?

  I hurry around the truck and get into the driver seat. The minute I do, I instantly curse my sling because I want nothing more than to put my hand on her thigh. I want to reach out to her, keep this connection that we seem to have, but I can’t. I settle on driving as fast as I safely can. I’m not drunk, far from it. But I don’t need another accident under my belt, that’s for sure. The drive to my house that is no more than ten minutes on most nights, suddenly feels like an eternity. The sight of her has my hands itching with anticipation; longing to touch and explore her body.

  I pull into the driveway and kill the engine. There is no time to waste. I rush out of the truck, to the passenger side, and help her out of it. Hand in hand, we make our way into my house.

  “You have a very nice home,” she says as she makes her way inside.

  “Mmm-hmmm.” My uninjured arm snakes around her waist, my lips dropping kisses from her neck down to her shoulder.

  “That’s it?” she asks with a laugh.

  I slip my hand under her shirt and glide up to her breast, instilling a moan from her. And from me.

  “How about we talk about that later?” I reply.

  This one-handed bullshit has to go. Shoulder be damned, I need to touch her. I slide my arm out of the sling intending for my right hand to follow suit of my left — her body tenses when she feels my hand on her. "Carter, your arm," she warns. Not very often, your one-night stand gives a shit
about your well-being. Maybe I should give Princess a little more credit.

  "It's fine," I lie. I slide my hand under the fabric of her shirt, and the extension sends an excruciating jolt down my arm. I try to hide it, fight through the pain. I need this; I need her.

  Lexie eases herself out of my arms as though she can somehow sense my pain. With every step she takes, she touches herself; her hands are gliding over her body, to her zipper that she slides down with ease. Her dress falls to the floor. All the while, she never turns around, giving me time to get my shit together and something else to focus on to help forget the pain.

  I put the sling back on.

  “Look at me,” I tell her.

  When she turns -Fuck. She stands before me, naked, bottom lip between her teeth and a look in her electric blue eyes that nearly makes me come on sight. I curse my fucking shoulder and the pain because right now I want to hoist her against the wall and fuck her like crazy. But I can't.

  “You look a little overdressed,” she tells me.

  She saunters toward me, not an ounce of insecurity in her stride. Confidence like this in a woman is rare – and sexy as hell. My hands drop to my belt, but before I can do anything, she reaches me and moves my hand.

  “Please, allow me,” she purrs.

  She works my belt and zipper quickly shoving my pants and boxers down around my ankles. I reach for her with both arms grimacing only slightly. With a slight shove, she pushes me back onto the sofa.

  “Why don’t you let me,” she begins as she positions herself over me, knees flanking my hips. “take care of you.” Her mouth is next to my ear, a whisper of assurance, “I promise you’ll like it.”

  I don’t need the convincing. I’ve only kissed her and I am in heaven already. When she slides herself down on me, completely sheathing me in her warm, wet, perfect fucking pussy, there isn’t a doubt in my mind that I am going to enjoy the hell out of this. I wrap my arm around her, my forehead resting on her chest, as I hold her there reveling in how amazing she feels. I feel her fingers on my face, raising it, making me look at her as she begins a slow, torturous assault on my cock.