The Tight End: A New Adult Sports Romance ~ Casper (The Rookies Book 2)

by Zoë Lane

  “What do you mean? You think he’s injured?”

  “Yeah, but I hope not. He got into a car accident freshman year that tore his rotator cuff. Took him a year to recover, but he’s had some pretty tough hits these last couple of games.”

  “What has he said?”

  “Nothing much. That he’s fine.”

  She kissed my neck, then my jaw, and finally planted a soft kiss on my mouth. “Then trust him, Landyn.” Her lips touched mine. “Quit worrying.”

  Both of my hands squeezed her bottom. She squealed. Her legs straddled my hips and she rose up to sit on her knees. She moved my hands from her perfectly round rump and slid them over her thighs and up her torso.

  “Worry about what you’re going to do to me next,” she said in a husky tone.

  “Eager.” I stopped my hands and gripped two soft mounds. She let out a pleased moan.

  “In love,” she whispered back.

  “I’ll take what I can get.”

  She made a cry of feigned annoyance and slapped at my arms, which didn’t budge. I sat up, wrapped my arms around her waist, and took her mouth, my tongue thrusting in slow, but deep. Her hips wiggled against mine, but I was in no rush. We had skipped the dinner and the romantic candlelight I’d prepared. Who was I kidding? Carmencita had made dinner. I’d lit the candles—and come right to bed.

  The candles!

  I shoved Rose off me and darted out of bed.

  “Hey!”

  “The candles!”

  I raced to the dining room to see wax dripping onto the wooden table. I blew out the candles and moved them to a counter in the kitchen.

  Rose padded in, wrapping a robe around herself. “You afraid of burning this place down?” She laughed and pushed a finger into the still-warm wax at the base of the candlestick holder.

  “They weren’t very tall candles,” I argued.

  Rose bent over the stove and inhaled. “I’m hungry. What did Carmencita make?”

  I gave her a narrowed look. “What makes you think Carmencita made anything? I asked you to dinner.”

  She returned my look with a slanted one of her own. “You’re telling me”—she opened the oven door and eyed the chimichangas and rice—“you made chimichangas?”

  I laughed. “Girl, you know I didn’t make that.” I wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her hard against me, my mouth having a hard time taking hers while she laughed. “You want dinner?”

  “Yes, I would love dinner.” She relented and allowed me to thoroughly kiss her.

  “Good, because I’m starving.”

  After indulging in too many chimichangas, and probably equally too much rice and guacamole, I carried Rose back to the bedroom, hoping she couldn’t hear the symphony happening in my stomach.

  And that it stayed there until she fell asleep.

  “I’m sure if anything is seriously wrong with Casper, he’ll get the best medical care. Players recover from torn rotator cuffs.”

  “Not all the time.” I sat her on the edge of the bed and opened her legs wide. “Casper lives and breathes football. He’s got nothing else.”

  “You’re exaggerating.”

  I knelt before her. “I wish I were.”

  Both her hands held my head. “And I wish you’d stop thinking about him and concentrate on me.”

  “When did you become this bossy, Little Mouse?”

  “When I had you as a client. I know how you don’t like to follow rules.”

  I cocked my head to one side. “You’re giving me rules?” I asked with a dangerous tone.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Yes. Starting with, don’t stop until I beg you to.”

  I chuckled. “Shouldn’t take too long.” And I dove in.

  “Want to make a bet—ah!”

  My splayed hand on her chest gently pushed her back onto the bed so I could have more access. Even if she begged me, I wouldn’t stop.

  CHAPTER TEN

  SIOBHAN

  “Did Casper Taylor come see you?” I asked the doctor when I walked into his office Sunday morning.

  “Hmm?” Doctor Benzoli looked up from his reading, his glasses resting halfway down the bridge of his nose. “Who?”

  “Casper Taylor,” I emphasized the name. “One of the tight ends. I suggested he get an anti-inflammatory for his shoulder. He took a hard hit a couple of days ago, and tonight he has a game.”

  “Yes, yes.” Dr. Benzoli practically cut me off. “He mentioned you were diagnosing him and giving him medical advice.”

  “Wait. I was—”

  “I saw him. Gave him a prescription. I asked him to come back in”—he glanced at his watch—“in a few minutes, actually.” He folded the file of papers in front of him and stood. “Dolly was supposed to remind me. If she’s not doing her job, you’re more than welcome to fill in for her.”

  He didn’t look at me and I was taken aback, unsure if he was actually joking.

  “I hope he’s been resting his shoulder.”

  “Talking about me?”

  Now his voice made me shiver. I refused to turn around. Instead, I stood there mute, facing the doctor.

  “Come in, Casper. I’ll be ready in a moment.”

  “Excuse me,” I said and tried to sidestep Casper for the exit. His hand on my arm stopped me and my eyes met his. “I shouldn’t be here. It’s your appointment.”

  “I want you here,” he said quietly. “You took the time to ask about me. I appreciate that.”

  “I...I don’t know why I did. It’s none of my business—to follow up. I’m hovering.”

  He grinned wickedly and leaned close. “Hover all you want. I’ll be on my back anyway.”

  “Why do you have to do that all the time?”

  He laughed like he was pleased with himself.

  “You do know how bad you are, don’t you?”

  He shrugged, his blue eyes full of merriment. A blond curl fell over his forehead. I clasped my hands behind my back, the sudden urge to tuck it away overwhelming. He was still a...kid. It wouldn’t work. “I’m too old for you,” I blurted. Now why did I say that? He wasn’t an option.

  His expression darkened, creases between his eyes. “How old?”

  “Twenty-seven,” I said as a matter-of-factly.

  He snorted. “So? I’m twenty-two.”

  “That’s five years.”

  “You worried you’ll gray before me?”

  “What?”

  He smiled. “I’ve been thinking long-term, too. And I—”

  “Hold on—”

  “—don’t care about all that. We have plenty of time to get old and fat. To have babies...”

  Babies.

  Babies.

  His babies.

  My womb hummed. Actually hummed. Like it had recognized the man who was going to impregnate me. With my red hair and his blond, my pale skin and his light eyes, our children would never see the sun. Wait a minute. Our children?

  His smiled turned into a toothy grin. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”

  Like hell. “Nope.”

  He laughed.

  Dr. Benzoli returned and ushered Casper into his examining room. I waited outside until the examine was finished. Dr. Benzoli opened the door and the two of them walked out of the room. Casper looked completely normal. “I feel great. Thanks, Dr. Benzoli. I’m ready to play.”

  “I agree,” Dr. Benzoli said.

  “Are you sure?” My gaze darted from Casper to the doctor’s and back to Casper. “The other day...”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” His gaze held mine, and I felt the challenge hit me like a cold rush. Maybe I was wrong. It was his body; he would know. It was his word against mine, and mine carried no weight, considering I wasn’t the player.

  The doctor closed Casper’s file and slipped it into the plastic holder on the wall next to the door. “I’m giving you a clean bill of health.”

  “Thanks, Doc.”

  Casper shook Dr. Benzoli’s hand. Whi
le the doctor led him out, chatting about muscle recovery or something, I was completely forgotten by both men.

  I eyed Casper’s medical file.

  “Hey, lady. I didn’t know you were working today.”

  I jumped and whirled.

  Veronica.

  She laughed. “Did I scare you?”

  “No, Vero. I’m just trying to get some overtime to pay off debts.”

  Vero nodded. “I know how it is. I’m doing a couple of shifts at the hospital this week for some extra cash. Diego wants to go to the Caribbean when it starts getting really cold.”

  “The Caribbean! That’s nice.”

  Shit, I sounded like I was in trouble. Only I hadn’t done it yet.

  “You have any exercise plans you want me to add to players’ files?” Vero asked.

  “Ah, no. Casper was just here and I was following up on his plan.”

  “Well, I need to finish some paperwork. Want to get lunch?”

  “Sure.”

  “Okay, meet me in the cafeteria in thirty minutes.”

  Vero continued down the hall toward her usual spot at the nurse’s station.

  My eyes found their way back to Casper’s file. I should’ve taken the interruption as a sign, but I wasn’t big into coincidences. Things could be explained, usually with science.

  There wasn’t any reason why his shoulder wouldn’t be better. He’d been practicing ever since. If he’d taken the anti-inflammatory and done the stretches I’d recommended, he would be fine.

  While I argued that to myself, a hand grabbed the file and flipped it open. The other hand joined in and went through a few pages.

  Rotator cuff injury, right shoulder...2015.

  Severe damage.

  Car accident.

  I gasped and closed the file.

  He wasn’t fine.

  *****

  I caught up to Casper in the hallway, his hand on the locker room door.

  “Casper! You shouldn’t be playing. Not yet. You should probably have a scan—”

  “What are you talking about?” He faced me with a curious expression on his handsome face. “I feel great. Those stretches really helped, by the way.” His fingers brushed my arm.

  He had a way of being so nice that guilt began to form in the deepest pit of my stomach. I had looked at a person’s private medical records without consent. What the hell was I thinking?

  Casper. I was thinking about Casper and his injury. The pain on his face when I’d touched his shoulder during the massage the day he was injured. It was out of concern for a player who could injure himself further.

  “Thanks, but you’ve had a serious injury to your shoulder—”

  “Mike’s hit?” He laughed. “I wouldn’t exactly call that serious. He’d be proud to think so, I bet. Don’t tell him that I think he’s a bit soft.” He winked.

  I held his gaze. My mind screamed for me to keep my mouth shut while my heart argued the angel’s side. As far as I knew, only Casper and I knew the truth of how he really felt. He could trust me. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

  He stared back. “Then clarify.”

  “Your freshman year...” I trailed off, hoping not to have to spell it out completely and that he’d tell me the truth. I hated liars. Integrity was one of the characteristics I valued most in a person.

  A value I clearly couldn’t live up to.

  But I had a good excuse.

  Not something lame like I wasn’t spending enough time with him so he slept with someone in our bed. Weighing bad deeds, his was way worse.

  “How did you know about that?” His face reddened. His mouth twisted while nostrils flared. “Did you read my medical file?” he hissed.

  “I—”

  “Just now.” He stepped closer. “Did you look at my file?” He enunciated each word carefully.

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  Instantly I had a headache while my chest burned. My stomach twisted like I was having menstrual cramps, and bile rose up my throat, threatening to choke me.

  He scoffed. “Isn’t that a felony?”

  I closed my eyes. “Yes,” I answered again. “I’m sorry—”

  “Are you? Or do you have some other reason why you’re so interested in me?”

  My eyes flew open. I didn’t see the laughably cute expression he always had when teasing me or giving me yet another terrible come-on. Wave after wave of anger hit me square in the face, and my cheeks grew unbearably hot.

  “Casper...I was worried and I thought that...you were just trying to put on a good face about the injury. If you’re not healed, you could cause further damage. Is that what you want?”

  He was silent for a moment, staring at me, the intensity in his eyes not letting up. “I’d rather you’d be so concerned for a different reason that wouldn’t have you reading my protected medical information.”

  I had no excuse. I’d demanded integrity from the people closest to me, and I hadn’t lived up to my own standard. “Please, forgive me, I had no right—”

  “Exactly. You had no right.” He began to walk away.

  “Casper!” I called out to him. He wrenched open the door to the staircase, slamming it against the wall, and disappeared into the stairwell.

  I released a shaky sigh, my insides fully engulfed in nausea.

  I could lose my job, what I’ve worked for, all over a guy that I had no interest in.

  Why did I have to dig further? Why couldn’t I just have massaged him and left it alone?

  I slowly made my way back to the physical therapy training area, lost in thought. If I wrote him a letter...no, he’s pretty pissed. I considered enlisting the help of Landyn, but then Casper could accuse me of spreading his personal business around.

  I found a small, empty cardboard box that had once housed an order of towels and began rummaging throughout the training area and the office for my personal effects. Just in case.

  Because Casper should.

  Report me.

  I would.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  SIOBHAN

  It was a marathon session.

  Not sex. Talking.

  So much talking.

  Phillip had talked me right through the game and I hadn’t been able to see if Casper had gotten injured or not.

  The more I’d heard Phillip’s pleading voice, the louder the sound of that girl’s moans rang in my ears. She had pleaded, and he had obliged.

  How was I going to get past it? I couldn’t even sleep in the same bed with him. I was staying in the guest room.

  Vero had said I was an idiot to stay with him; that I was probably afraid of being alone when I had so much weight on my shoulders.

  Part of me thought she was right.

  Shame over the failed practice.

  Guilt over the money I had lost.

  Embarrassment every time I saw a letter from the IRS slip into my mailbox.

  Stress over the debt.

  I didn’t want to do this alone.

  Not by myself.

  I couldn’t...

  “What are you thinking?” Phillip asked.

  He touched my hand that had been covering my eyes. I couldn’t remember how long I had been sitting at our bar like this. Probably a while since my lower back was screaming for lumbar support and my elbow hurt like hell on this granite.

  He pulled my hand down. “Talk to me, Siobhan.”

  “I’m tried of talking,” I whispered. “I don’t think I can get past this, Phillip. It just isn’t fair to me.”

  He crossed his arms. “What do mean?”

  “I mean you get to do whatever pleases you in the moment, while I’m over here struggling to keep our heads above financial water. Maybe I wanted an afternoon off, full of sex. But you gave that to someone else. I feel like I have no support.” I slid off the stool. His hand on my arm halted my escape.

  “There’s a way.”

  I faced him. “What?”

  “Look, I’ve apolo
gized and promised I’d never do it again—”

  “That’s fine for you, but—”

  “Let me finish,” he urged. “But in order to trust, you have to let yourself be vulnerable.” His arms slipped around my waist. “With me. Like the therapist said.”

  I shook my head. “You don’t get it. I’ve been vulnerable this whole time. I’m still vulnerable. I don’t want to be hurt again.”

  His head mirrored my action. “I don’t mean vulnerable financially. I mean with your heart.” He leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on my neck.

  I stiffened. “Phillip, what are you doing?”

  “I think you know.”

  His warm breath fanned my ear. He placed a kiss right underneath my earlobe and I shuddered. Dammit, I shuddered.

  “There she is.”

  His lips found mine, his kiss not possessive or demanding, but slow and gentle. I let my lips be moved, suckled, and explored before I started kissing him back. My arms went around his shoulders at the same time his hands squeezed my ass cheeks. I heard my own moan and felt myself being lifted off the floor.

  He placed me on the couch, his thighs keeping my legs spread wide. The pulsing need pounded harder and I whimpered, desperate to be filled.

  It had been so long...too long.

  His kiss became more forceful, his tongue lunging in and out of my mouth, taking away all sense of rhythm.

  He grunted and groaned his excitement. He ripped his shirt off between kisses. His hands bruised my breasts and tugged at my yoga pants.

  “I’m going to make you feel so good,” he whispered. “You’re going to cum harder than you’ve ever cum before.”

  Another savage kiss.

  “No going back, baby.”

  I sucked in a breath when he released my lips and my hands fell away from his waist.

  Going forward.

  If I wanted to get past this, I had to move on. I had to open my heart and trust him. Trust that he would be the dependable man I needed, the honorable one I would never have to question, the supporter I didn’t currently have.

  I heard his jeans unzip.

  I couldn’t.

  He wasn’t what I need. What I wanted.

  What I deserved.

  I shoved his hands away from my pants and rolled over and off the couch.