by Erin Hayes
Andre shifted his hands to grip my ass tightly, pulling me closer as he drove into me. I whimpered, and he moved his hands again, this time sliding one between us.
Lightly, he dragged his knuckles downward through my curls until he brushed them against my clit. My sharp inhale and the tightening of my pussy around his cock made him swell even more, and he began to circle my clit with his thumb as he moved inside me.
My own movements grew faster. I leaned my forehead against his and stared into his eyes, my breath hard and fast.
Yes. He’s mine.
I closed my eyes, my breath ragged and my movements wild as I ground my clit against his hand and rocked against him, harder and harder, the pressure building, ready to explode, even as I felt him grow harder and harder inside me.
I came again with a cry, shudders wracking my body, tightening around Andre in waves. And then he came, too, every pulse of his own orgasm rocking him against me and into me.
“What are we going to do about Clancy and Rodney?” I leaned my head against his chest an hour later as we sat on one of the cushioned chairs, still naked, my back against his chest. Andre’s fingers made lazy circles around my nipple in answer, and I sucked in a deep breath, willing myself to concentrate. “You’re not going to distract me. We need to discuss this.”
His lips brushed my shoulder. “Damn. I had hoped we could avoid that subject.”
“Not going to happen.” I pulled one of his fingers into my mouth, and his breath caught.
“What’s there to talk about?” he asked.
“It’s just…” I bit my bottom lip, trying to think how to word it. “I don’t know if it’s because I’m in a new place or if it’s because everything’s happening so fast, but…you’re not the only one I have feelings for.”
This was turning into the most awkward conversation of my life. I told the man I just had sex with that I also had feelings for two other guys. Guys that he had to work with.
He stilled, and I could feel him watching me in silence. Damn, if my heart wasn’t pounding in those moments.
“And do you have feelings for me, Madison?”
My heart wouldn’t stop hammering. “I do. But I also…”
My voice trailed off, and his big hand flattened against my belly, warming me to my core. "I’ve been thinking about that,” he rumbled against me. “About you with them. And you with me. And I thought...well, you are putting together a team. I guess so long as I'm on it, we'll be fine."
I froze. “Are you serious?” When he didn’t answer immediately, I sat up and turned halfway around to watch his face.
“Don’t tense up.” His free hands ran down my side and his warm brown eyes smiled into mine. “Yes. If they can handle it, so can I.”
I couldn’t help my stupid grin as I turned completely around to kiss him again. “You’re amazing,” I whispered.
I wonder if he has any more condoms with him?
Sixteen
Despite the crushing loss, I was on cloud nine the next morning. Deliciously sore and sporting a few hickeys on my neck, I was as giddy as if I had lost my virginity all over again.
I couldn’t believe that Andre was willing to be with me while I could be with other men. I didn’t know how long I could sustain that kind of relationship, but I loved the idea of not having to give up Rodney or Clancy. I loved the thought of having them come together as a real team, even if I were the only kind of glue holding them together.
Things were looking up.
At least, until I arrived at the office the next day. There was an air of melancholy in the stadium headquarters as I strode through to get to my office. Elliott seemed to be a little beaten down. Kathryn’s smile was more forced.
It felt like we were at a funeral. And I could imagine why.
Their hopes for a different team under my leadership were destroyed yesterday. To them, it was going to be another year of embarrassment and shame. It broke my heart to see their defeat like that.
No one said hi to me, at least until I got to my office.
Someone was sitting in front of my desk, waiting for me. This time, it wasn’t Coach Mack or Andre or anyone that I had met. This was someone else.
There was a smartly dressed woman with her white hair pulled back into a high ponytail. White hair, though she didn’t look old enough for it to be natural. It still looked amazing and chic.
“Can I help you?” I asked, and the woman turned around, giving me a tight-lipped smile as she rose to her feet.
“Madison Harte?” she asked, extending her hand. Her accent didn’t sound Southern, making me wonder if she was a transplant like me.
“Yes.” I didn’t take it. “Who are you?”
She withdrew her hand, as if sensing my uneasiness, and put it in the pocket of her A-line skirt. “My name is Sydney Knowles, and I lead the public relations team for the Yellowhammers.”
“How have I not met you before?” I asked, unable to keep the accusation from my voice. I mean, I’d been here for two and a half weeks, and I hadn’t heard anything about her until now.
Her smile turned apologetic. “That’s partly my fault.” She shifted her feet, uncomfortable. “I was actually on maternity leave until this past week.”
“Congratulations,” I said automatically, caught off guard. “Boy or girl?”
Her smile softened. “Girl. And thank you.” She let out a slow sigh. “I’d been doing what I could from my home, and I didn’t want to overwhelm you with everything. I knew that this would be a rough transition, and I didn’t want to burden you.”
I crossed my arms. “So you’re the spokesperson that’s been speaking for me?”
She was right in that it had been overwhelming. With everything that had been happening, I even forgot to look into the spokesperson that had been saying “no comment” in my stead.
Sydney nodded in answer, confirming it. So this was her.
“I was going to give you a primer between the preseason and the regular season, as the preseason would have given you a taste for what it was like as team owner.”
“Oh, it definitely did,” I agree. “Yesterday, was...brutal.”
Something flashed in Sydney’s eyes, and I had the feeling that she was similar to me in that she was business-driven all the way, much like the women I had the privilege of working with in the tech industry back in San Francisco.
She and I would have gotten along under different circumstances.
As it was, though, I could see that she had tightly-leashed fury rippling under her demeanor. She was pissed.
“It was brutal in other ways, too,” she said, picking up a folder from the desk. She flipped it open and pulled out some stapled pieces of paper. She held them out for me, and I took them from her. They were printed articles from the internet. And every article had a horrible picture of me. I recognized it as the moment I told that reporter to fuck off.
The accompanying headlines weren’t kind at all. NEW HAMMER OWNER ASSAULTS REPORTER. Among many others. Some were more sympathetic. But others…
My stomach curdled as I read them.
“Fuck,” I whispered in disbelief. “I didn’t assault her. I—”
“I know,” Sydney said. “I am in contact with an organization right now that actually has footage of how aggressive that reporter was in getting her story. Once it’s circulated, it will clear you from blame. Mostly,” she added cautiously. “You’re in the Deep South now, Madison. You can’t just go around telling people to fuck off.”
Now that she said the words out loud back to me, I flinched. I could only imagine how badly that would read to some families.
“I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “Don’t say sorry to me.” She put a hand on her chest. “If there was one good thing that came out of those headlines, it’s that yesterday’s defeat isn’t the biggest story today. But we need to work on your people skills. Because your team depends on you being the best damn owner you can be.”
&
nbsp; Tears pricked in my eyes, hearing her say those words. “I’m trying.”
“I depend on you being a good team owner,” Sydney clarified. “And my daughter does, as well as everyone out there.”
“Should I say I’m sorry?” I offered. “Issue a public apology?” I struggled for something that would help. “Say no comment?”
Sydney shook her head. “I’ll take care of it.” In that moment, I realized how much I was going to have to depend on this woman to help me navigate the media. “I’d...wanted give you a little more time to acclimate to being a team owner, but that doesn’t look like it’s going to happen. You have plenty of eyes on you. And I need to work with your PR skills before the next preseason game.”
I startled. “There’s another preseason game?” Just how many games were there in this whole thing?
Sydney’s expression was curious as she nodded. “Three more. The next one is on Saturday in Detroit.”
I blinked. “So I have to go to Detroit?”
Now she shook her head again. “No, not you. The team, yes. But you? You’re staying here until I’m sure you can face the cameras without being accused of assaulting reporters.”
I licked my bottom lip, processing what she was telling me. She had a lot of balls telling the team owner she couldn’t do something. I wondered if she had been this way with Uncle Dusty, and I instantly liked the idea of that. “You’re grounding me?”
She gave me an amused smile. “I’m considering it as practice for my daughter. So, starting now, you’re under my watch. And you’re going to learn how to make a statement that doesn’t include vulgarities. Okay?”
I let out a breath. “Yes. Yes, that’s fine.”
After all, this woman had been cleaning up my messes since I arrived. Following her advice was the least I could do.
True to Sydney’s word, a video surfaced that showed exactly how aggressive the reporter had been. The footage made it look worse than it was, but it did exonerate me from most of the criticism surrounding the incident. Amusingly, much of the harshest commentary came from Alabama’s news sources. They said that I should have been more gracious.
Coach Mack was probably right in that I would scandalize my team if it ever got out that I was sleeping with Andre. So we hid our liaisons at night, sneaking to each other’s rooms to sleep together, avoiding questioning eyes as much as possible.
Those nights with Andre made the hard slog of the days more bearable. In fact, they were downright wonderful in contrast to me working with Sydney. The woman was a dictator when it came to getting things right. She made me practice public speaking. Thinking on my feet. Doing everything I could to make the team look great from a publicity standpoint.
Of course, that meant staying in Birmingham while the team went to Detroit for the game. The night they left, I drove myself to the airport to say goodbye and good luck to the team, remembering how many of the restaurants were chicken wing places on the way. Everything felt so different now that I had been here for a several weeks.
Shit, I was going native, wasn’t I?
BHM was packed when I pulled up, and it took me a few loops around the terminal before I finally gave up and parked my rental car in a no-parking zone.
I didn’t fucking care.
I got out, locked the door, and ran down to the check-in terminals, where I recognized the whole team checking in at the economy line. Every single one of them, except for Coach Mack, who was in the first-class line. He had been pointedly ignoring everyone until I showed up, and he cast a glance over at me, as if watching for me to make a slip.
I coolly met his eyes before locating Andre and Clancy standing together in the line, their big forms unmistakable. Andre just had a suitcase and duffel bag, while Clancy had a couple of big duffels by him. The attendant seemed starstruck as she clacked away on her keyboard, issuing their tickets. The thought of them sitting in the tiny economy seats was both amusing and sad.
“Hey,” I said breathlessly as I approached Andre and Clancy. They both glanced over at me, and, adorably, they both grinned widely, giving me little waves.
“Hey there, Madison,” Clancy said. “Are you coming to Detroit now?” He sounded so hopeful.
“Did Sydney un-ground you?” Andre asked, referring to what he and I had been jokingly calling it ever since I met the PR specialist. He had agreed with Sydney that I shouldn’t be dealing with the press anymore until I had some training.
I hated that he was right.
I shook my head, and I could actually see their hopes deflate. “I just wanted to say bye to you. And wish you good luck.”
Andre’s brown eyes sparkled. “That means a lot, Madison,” he murmured as his huge arms encircled me. I closed my eyes and relished the feel of him as he pressed a kiss to my brow. In public.
Sydney would love that if anyone saw it. He even pulled back and gave me a knowing wink.
“We will have good luck,” Clancy said as he hugged me as well, only without the kiss. Andre stepped aside and didn’t get in the way. He was true to his word. And Clancy was as sweet as could be. “You’re our good luck charm.”
I snorted as we parted. “I’m not a good luck charm. You lost your first game.”
He winked. “But we didn’t lose as badly as we did with Mr. Dusty as owner.”
I didn’t know whether to laugh or feel sad.
“Call me after the game,” I told Andre as I squeezed his hand. “I’ll be watching on TV.”
From my hotel room with Winston and a bottle of vodka to help me get through it. For not caring a damn about football before, now I was fully invested in it. I wasn’t sure whether I could stand an entire game of it by myself, but I was going to try.
“Will do,” Andre said. I gave him a wave before I ran off to find Rodney, who was the only player busy at one of the self-service kiosks.
“Not checking anything?” I asked.
He shrugged without looking up at me. “Hate dealing with lines. Clancy’s checking my bag for me.”
That would explain why Clancy had the extra luggage. “You’re a diva.”
He looked up now, his gaze questioning. “Clancy doesn’t mind.”
“I don’t think Clancy would mind an atomic bomb going off in his living room.” Seriously, nothing rattled the guy, and Rodney smiled in agreement.
“What are you doing here, Madison?” he asked, his voice somewhat resigned.
“Wishing you guys good luck. Since I can’t come along.”
“Can’t or won’t?” He turned fully toward me and leaned against the kiosk.
“Can’t,” I clarified. “Not until I learn how to play nice with the press.” I chose those words on purpose, but he just shook his head.
“Fuck ‘em,” he scoffed.
“That’s exactly what got me into trouble in the first place.”
“Seriously, Madison, why care what anyone thinks?”
I’d been wondering that ever since I landed in Birmingham. Andre was all right with me going out with other guys. If Rodney and Clancy were, too, why should I care what everyone else thought?
But I just shook my head. “There’s too much riding on this.” I squeezed his hand. “Good luck, okay? I’ll be cheering for you.”
He only nodded, and as I waved to Andre one more time while I ran back out to my car, I wished I didn’t care about the what-ifs around my actions.
I wanted to be there for my team.
The Yellowhammers lost even worse in Detroit. There was a viewing party at the office, but I stayed back at my hotel, so I could cuddle my dog and drink without someone judging me.
Because I drank a lot. And Winston got plenty of love from me as I pet him for my own emotional support. What I would have given for Ashley to be here with me, but she was still in San Francisco, packing everything up.
One thing was certain though. Sydney had been right in making me stay here for the game. I probably would have decked a reporter tonight if they got in my face again.
I sat on the edge of the bed in my hotel room, a graveyard of mini-bar bottles scattered around me. Winston had his head in my lap, as the station cut back to the newsroom for sports analysis.
I couldn’t understand much of what they were saying, only that they were talking about my team and replaying bits and pieces from the game. I wanted them to go back to the team on the field. I wanted to see them. To make sure that they were as okay as they could be.
Winston, sensing my despair, mournfully whined and I scratched him between the ears.
“I know, bud. I know.”
My phone rang, and I jumped, startling my dog and he got up with a huff. I grabbed my phone and glanced at the caller ID.
It was Andre.
“Hey,” I said, answering it.
“Hey.” Andre sounded tired and defeated. “Just wanted to hear your voice before we called it a night and went back to the hotel.”
The resignation in his voice made my heart feel like it was crumbling. “Are you okay?”
There was a pause. “As okay as I can be, I guess.” Another pause. “We’ll be home tomorrow, okay?”
I nodded, noticing that he called Birmingham “home.” As I was starting to think of it as home, too. After all, didn’t they say that home is where the heart is?
I had three hearts in Birmingham.
“I’ll be here,” I promised him. “You’ll play better for the next preseason game, I promise. It’s a home game.” I was learning. Truly.
He gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “Thanks, Madison.”
Words bubbled in my throat, words that I shouldn’t be saying this early in our relationship. I’d said them too quickly with Jacob and look what happened there.
So I just said, “We’ll figure it out. We’ll win, okay?”
“Okay. Good night.”
“Night.”
We hung up, and I stared down at my dog, who looked back at me with his puppy-dog eyes. “I guess we’re staying in Birmingham a little longer.”