Punished and benched after he paid a little needed retribution on a teammate, Marc Anders goes into self-exile at a Tahitian resort. He needed to get away from the media circus his life was about to become. But the ringleader of that circus, ex–lingerie model turned sports reporter, Sofia Figueroa, follows him trying to get her scoop.
Sofia nearly destroyed Marc's brother's career with a slanderous mistake, one she's apologized for repeatedly. Now she's on the hunt to write another piece on the Anders' clan, and Marc will do anything to stop her, even if it comes down to seducing her and making Sofia his mistress.
Cool and controlled, they don't call him The Iceman for nothing. Yet Sofia heats his blood and threatens to make him melt. Knowing he needs to hold on to the reins, his brand of control comes with cuffs and paddles, and he has more than one reason to punish his lover.
Can he hold on to his control and not let his own dark needs overshadow hers?
Tackling Her Heart
Football Fantasies, 3
by
Alexandra O’Hurley
M/F, LIGHT BDSM, SPANKING, FLOGGING,
TOY USE, ORAL SEX, AND ANAL PLAY
Twisted Erotica Publishing, Inc.
www.twistederoticapublishing.com
A TWISTED EROTICA PUBLISHING BOOK
Tackling Her Heart
Copyright © 2014 by Alexandra O’Hurley
Edited by Marie Medina
First E-book Publication: April 2014, SMASHWORDS EDITION
Cover design by K Designs
All cover art and logo copyright © 2014, Twisted Erotica Publishing.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
DEDICATION
To the one person who has always believed in me.
Tackling Her Heart
Chapter One
“How big do think that fine’s going to be?”
Marc Anders had just sat at his locker. Still in uniform, his mind was on the field reliving what he’d done. He’d not had enough time to decompress. Marc heard the question posed and was pretty sure he recognized the voice, too. Why the fuck did it have to be her? He knew shit was going to get deep, but he wasn’t in the mood to handle it from the one woman able to get under his thick skin. After taking a breath, he stood and started to take off his gear, ignoring her query.
“Oh, is this how we’re playing it? The Iceman tackles one of his own teammates on the field in the pre-season opener, with the whole world watching, and he thinks he doesn’t have to answer for it? Baltimoreans will want to know, Marc,” sports reporter Sofia Figueroa urged from behind him.
The Iceman. He hated that fucking nickname, although, it wasn’t too far off the mark. He normally kept himself cool on the field. When he did lose it, it was a big deal. Marc glanced over his shoulder, staring her and her recorder down. “Who’d you blow to be let in early?” The locker room wasn’t open to reporters until about ten minutes after the game, but then, Sofia was used to preferential treatment.
One of Sofia’s perfectly arched eyebrows elevated, but that was her only reaction to his comment. He turned back to his locker and drew his pads and jersey over his head, handing them over to the equipment handler. Sweat coated his body. Pre-season games were sometimes the worst, with the summer heat leeching into September. And was it hot—and not just because of the heat.
Sofia Figueroa had been a lingerie model before turning sports reporter, and that’s why her network liked having her around. She had a monthly spot on their Internet podcast and wrote for their monthly as well. Tens of thousands of young men probably still jerked off to her as much as they had when she’d graced the pages of the Victoria Secret’s catalog, even if she was wearing a little more now that she graced sweaty locker rooms instead of runways.
She had ties to South American soccer in a big way, so strings had been pulled to land her current gigs, he was sure. Daddy had been a player and now owned a team, where the nepotism ran rampant. His son, and her brother, was the team’s star player as well, from what Marc had found when he’d Googled her.
Marc had looked over the pictures of her in a tiny little nothing pair of panties and bra, strutting around on stage, her long, dark hair wrapping around her curvaceous body. All he could see was her hovering over him, that curtain of hair falling about him as he pumped up into her body. Her caramel skin was creamy looking and even now he wanted to reach out and touch her to see how smooth it was.
The more those thoughts circled in his mind, the angrier he got at her.
He’d investigated her after she nearly tanked his brother Maddox with one of her first big stories. Sofia had come close to ruining his brother’s life. Her report had been on a group of MLB players who’d been using, where she’d listed his brother as one of those involved. Maddox didn’t use, never had—and he’d been tested repeatedly to prove as much.
Yet the truth hadn’t taken all the humiliation away, even if Maddox had been exonerated. There was still a mark on his character that didn’t seem to want to go away, and the cloud would forever hang over Maddox’s head.
Sofia had done that.
No matter how gorgeous she was, no matter how well written her piece had been, no matter how smart she seemed to be in interviews—she wasn’t a woman for him to toy with.
“I mean, who knew you had emotions? Was it retribution for what Brian Brooks did to your sister?” Sofia asked, loud enough to get a couple of other players to turn and look. “If it was, I might actually like you more.”
Marc knew his teammates were curious as to what happened. As were the coaches. And they all more than likely had put two and two together. His coach had torn him a new asshole, which he’d expected. Marc had been mum after it happened, choosing to not answer. He’d be forced to talk eventually. The commissioner would want to see him, for sure. Until then, he needed to stop letting her under his skin—where she was firmly entrenching herself.
“Why take down your teammate unless it was about vengeance. Since the only thing I have is Brian cheating on your sister and getting caught very publicly, that’s what I’m going to assume—as is the general public. Brian was gunning for Jennings Ashby, who’s sleeping with your sister, correct?”
Marc spun around and stormed closer at Sofia. The woman had to back down when it came to his family. It was no one’s business who Maggie was sleeping with, except Maggie’s.
He had to give Sofia credit—she didn’t back down at all as he rushed her. Her chin lifted and she held her ground as he charged.
Marc glared down into her … gorgeous … eyes. Fuck, I am so not going there. “I don’t have to answer to you for anything. You can leave my family out of this. Haven’t you done enough damage?”
Sofia clicked off her recorder and narrowed her eyes. “We printed a very public apology for what I wrote about your brother. His name was listed in the doctor’s records as having received therapy, just like the other players I named. He was the only one clean out of the ten I found. He was the only one who’d actually gone for real physical therapy. It was a mistake, and I’m sorry he got tangled up in it.”
“Tangled up in it? You’re the one who did the tangling. Did you apologize to him? Face to face, not hiding behind your magazine?”
Sofia swallowed thickly, her eyes widening a bit. “No … I didn’t.”
“Maybe you should,” Marc added.
“I’ll take that into consideration, but I still have a job to do. Tonight that jo
b is discovering the story. You just decked a teammate on the field in front of thousands of fans. One way or another, I will find out why. This is your chance to set me straight so I don’t make another Anders mistake.”
Marc clenched his jaw, weighing his options. Should he talk to her and give her the truth, or should he back off before the commissioner got involved? The second idea was probably in his best interests, even though it would add fuel to the rumor fires. “Even if I told you the truth, you’d more than likely spin it, so why bother?”
He turned his back on her and faced his locker. Ignoring her presence, he began to strip down and get ready for a shower, one she was preventing him from getting.
“When have I ever spun a story? I made a mistake. I didn’t pull crap from thin air. Come on, Anders, give it to me straight.”
Marc kicked off his shoes and then drew his pants down. Give it to her straight, hmm? After shucking his underwear, he turned back, naked as the day he was born.
Sofia’s eyes veered lower, and Marc’s cock stretched a little, as if it knew it were under her scrutiny. He felt himself stirring and anger filled him. No matter how gorgeous she was, she was a career-ruining harpy and he wasn’t going to get caught in her trap.
“You want it straight? You don’t belong here. Is that straight enough for you?”
Sofia’s tongue peeked out, and she swiped it over her glossy, full lips as she turned to stop staring at him. Marc noticed her rapid breathing and knew he had an effect on her, too, which only goaded his masculine pride.
“I have every right to be in this locker room. Sports reporting isn’t only a man’s world anymore,” Sofia spat.
That wasn’t what Marc had implied. He’d meant she was in over her head and she’d gotten into the locker room before the press was allowed in, but if she wanted to add Neanderthal to his list, whatever. Marc had no desire to impress Sofia.
Tell that to my dick.
It kept getting harder the longer he watched her, his observation taking in her supple curves. Sofia was only a few inches shorter than Marc’s six foot five in those heels of hers. Her long, graceful legs were on show under her short skirt. His gaze traveled from her graceful ankles up to the edge of that skirt. When he looked up, he saw her glaring at him. Apparently she’d noticed his attention to her form. Or maybe that was for him being the chauvinist pig she assumed he was.
The wounded look he glimpsed in her gaze a moment later made the smile wither from his face. He’d tormented her enough. “Just get out,” Marc said, his voice low.
The doors burst open, and a flock of media hounds descended on Marc. At least three dozen reporters, cameramen, and photographers jockeyed for attention as Marc did his best to pull a towel over his midsection.
“Marc! Marc! What happened out there?”
“Marc! Does this have something to do with your sister?”
“Marc! What was Harbaugh’s reaction?”
Marc closed his eyes from a moment and gripped the towel at his waist, before reopening them and staring them down. “No comment.” He listened to the cacophony grow even louder at his denial of information as he searched the crowd for Sofia. She was nowhere to be found.
Probably for the best she got out of there.
He spun on his heel, leaving the mass of reporters and heading for the showers where he could think in near peace. As soon as the hot water hit him, something nagged at the back of his brain. Sofia wasn’t known for just letting a story drop. She could be a dog with a bone. Relentless. Why did she back away so quickly and easily without drilling him for more?
But then he wasn’t the only one in on the story, now was he?
Marc quickly washed himself, knowing he needed to intercede before Sofia caused more problems.
Chapter Two
Sofia stalked out of the locker room, anger rippling through her. Marc Anders was an asshole, that was common knowledge, but to know he was also a chauvinist was news. Not when he invaded every single one of her wet dreams and had done so for years. Learning that the man she’d had an immoral crush on for years was thirty years behind the times dampened some of her lusts.
Some.
The fact she still yearned for him after that audacious show in the locker room only meant she needed to get her head on straight. He was bad news.
But he was newsworthy, bad or not.
Seeing that scene all over again in her head made her body throb. Marc was masculine perfection. His cock hadn’t even been hard and it had hung there long and proud, her gaze immediately drawn to it and the thick nest of light brown curls surrounding it. Those curls had thinned as they’d drifted up his stomach and fanned out over his large pecs.
His handsome face had been a mask of indifference. Marc had stared at her with his cool gray eyes, which sparked with gold in them when he argued with her. He never argued with any of the other reporters, only her, as far as she could tell. Marc didn’t respect her, and it showed.
Sofia sighed, wishing she’d never taken this job in the first place. It had seemed better than being leered at half naked as she’d walked down a runway, but it had come with its own set of problems. Now she interviewed half naked men while trying to keep her eyes on theirs and never below the belt.
Or there were times like tonight when an asshole caveman felt the need to flash her just to throw her off guard.
No one in the business took her seriously, and she was fairly certain the magazine had hired her as a publicity stunt. In her desire to prove herself capable, she’d gone after the juiciest gossip she’d first come across—the same story she’d hurt Marc’s brother with. Her own credibility had suffered as well, as Maddox had been guiltless.
Luckily the other men involved had been guilty as sin. That had been the only reason she’d kept her job and hadn’t been laughed out of the business, but then would losing it have truly been a bad thing?
Being a cutthroat wasn’t in her wheelhouse. She was often expected to nearly kill herself for the story, to outscoop the competition. Sofia had flirted, lied, and cheated to get the story and doing those things was starting to weigh on her shoulders. Sofia wasn’t that person and the job was changing her, not for the better. She’d modeled to make her mother happy. She’d taken this job to make her father happy. Perhaps it was time to sit down and reevaluate her life and decide what would truly make her happy.
Until then, Sofia had a job to do. She needed to get the deets on what had happened on the field. If Marc wasn’t talking, she’d find someone who would. Brian Brooks wouldn’t talk, and if he did, it would be a line of egotistical bullshit because he’d been taken down. Jennings Ashby? Maybe. He’d have a circus of reporters around him already, and she’d have to scream to be heard over the crush. The best target was probably Marc’s sister, Maggie Anders. She was at the heart of the issue, and Sofia could possibly get the woman to talk before any of the guys.
Maggie Anders just so happened to work for the opposing team, alongside her new boyfriend Jennings. If Sofia could get the woman aside, maybe she had a shot. Of course, that was, if Maggie didn’t recognize who Sofia was. After her mistake with Maddox, none of the Anders clan liked her too much and probably had a picture of her on a dartboard somewhere. But then Sofia wouldn’t like herself too much if she were in their shoes.
It was a risk worth taking. Maggie was the focus. Maggie had dated Brian Brooks, Brooks had cheated, and then Jennings Ashby had picked up the pieces. And she’d be the only thing to make the man with ice in his veins react like that on the field. The Anders tribe was known for their familial support, that was for certain.
Sofia wormed her way through the twisted underground corridors of the stadium, hoping she didn’t get lost in the labyrinth. Her heels clicked on the hard concrete floors, the sound echoing around her as her mind ran down the facts and she mulled over the best approach to broach the topic.
She rounded a corner and saw the throng of people outside the opposing team’s locker room. Grabbing her press
pass to forge her way through, she finally squeezed through and into the space. It wasn’t quite as finely appointed, but then they were the away team, so the visitors only got the bells, not the whistles. A crowd surrounded Jennings Ashby, just as she’d expected. Good thing she thought like a woman and knew where the real dirt would be.
Sofia scanned the room, checking for female employees. When she saw one looking lovestruck in Jennings’ general area, she figured she’d hit paydirt. Approaching cautiously, she edged up to the woman as she tucked in her press pass. No reason to offer up her name too easily, and that’s if Maggie would even recognize it.
Maggie supposedly worked with the Texas team as a physical therapist. Quick on the draw, Sofia slipped off one heel and limped the rest of the way over.
“Do you work on the medical staff?” Sofia asked.
The woman spun around and then offered Sofia a hand. “Hey, what happened to you?”
“One of the guys wasn’t paying attention to where he was going, and I think I’ve hurt my ankle,” Sofia said, feeling terrible for lying.
“Let’s get you off your feet,” the woman said.
Sofia allowed the woman to usher her to an open seat and sat. The woman knelt before Sofia and began gently probing Sofia’s ankle. Scanning the woman’s badge, she saw Maggie Anders emblazoned along the bottom. Score!
“These guys are such bulls in china cabinets. I hate working in a male-dominated world sometimes. You’d think they could be more considerate at times,” Sofia babbled on, trying to strike up a conversation.
Maggie chuckled and gazed up with the same gray eyes as her brother’s. “I hear ya, but sometimes you have to be faster on your feet than them so you don’t get trampled on.”
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