Troubled Nate Thomas: Hot Steamy Sport Romance (T.N.T. Series Book 1)

by Timms, Lexy

  Okay, so she’d stay. For now.

  She got up and found her jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt with a unicorn on it. The fact that it was pooping rainbows was entirely her business. No one had said anything about a dress code.

  Clothes decided, she’d just gone to make a cup of tea when there came a knock on the door.

  Nate Thomas stood on her stoop, wide sloppy grin and all.

  “Hey there!” he said and gave a perfunctory wave with all four fingers flying in separate directions.

  “Hey there?” Amanda echoed back.

  “Can I come in?” He looked past her into her new home.

  “Sure…” Amanda hesitated, but it was his house, after all. He probably had the right to see what she’d done with it.

  Nate walked into the living room and looked around, and then gave a low appreciative whistle. “This is nice,” he said with a lot more enthusiasm than was really merited. “I really like it, it’s so…. White.”

  “Well, it’s yours,” Amanda laughed, thinking she really should have done more with it. Maybe added some of her personal mementoes.

  “No, I couldn’t do that, you stay here.” Nate waved her off.

  Amanda blinked. “No, I mean, it’s literally yours. You own it.”

  “Oh,” Nate smiled and nodded. “Because it’s on my land. I get it. Very funny!” He smiled and nodded again.

  He seemed to be stuck on the two reactions. She was starting to wonder what he would do if she told him the house was on fire. Smile? Nod? He played pro football, he couldn’t be that dumb, right?

  “What can I do for you Mr. Turner?” Amanda asked, not wanting to actually know the answer. Anything to keep from descending into the world of eye-rolling. She was a professional. Professionals didn’t roll their eyes.

  “I was just thinking…” Nate said slowly, his forehead creasing into a pretty frown.

  “Were you?”

  “I was just thinking, you told Coach that you needed a place to live and that you were still studying for something in school…”

  “I’m working on my Master’s thesis in abnormal—”

  “Yeah, that.” He waved his hand. “Anyway, it occurred to me that if you tell Coach I’m ready to play, you could just stay on here for as long as you wanted. You know, the electric and all that’s paid anyway. No need for you to leave. You could stay here and study for… oh, say a year?”

  Amanda blinked. Now she was the one stuck on auto-play reactions. “Mr. Turner,” she said carefully, wondering just how much of this was going to have to be explained before it penetrated that thick skull. “You know I can’t do that. I have to report to Mr. Johnson—”

  “Who?”

  Amanda sighed. “Coach.”

  “Oh! Right.”

  “I have to report to Mr. … uh, ‘Coach’ as I see fit. Having heard some of your exploits, not to mention having the pleasure of witnessing them first-hand, I can’t say that I don’t understand his point of view.” She crossed her arms, leveled him a glare. “Besides, there’s something you need to know about me. Bribes are not acceptable behavior. Ever.”

  “What if I told you to leave?” Nate shot back.

  “Then I’d appreciate you helping me load the truck, since it’s here.” She shrugged. “You won’t be playing again this year, though. That’s in the contract.”

  He took a half step back, as if she’d struck him. His face even seemed to pale slightly, and for a moment she wondered if football players ever fainted.

  No, he wasn’t that fragile. If anything, he seemed angry.

  “I can’t take the year off! Don’t you get that? They leave me on the side, I’ll be traded. They’ll forget about me.” He shook his head and glared at her. “You can’t do this. You’ve got not right—”

  “Who are ‘they’?” Amanda asked, seeing past the fury to the fear, the confusion in his eyes.

  “Them! The fans, the… the girls! If I’m out for a while year, then I’ll be forgotten. They’ll focus on someone else, someone like Sanderson, and he’s… he’s freakin’ boring. The dude can’t play!” He shoved past her, pacing around the room, half raising a fist that for a moment caused her to flinch. Well, up until he clocked himself in the forehead with it. It had to hurt, though he gave no sign of that as he stopped dead in front of her and put out his hands, capturing her shoulders and giving her a shake hard enough to rattle her teeth. “So, here’s the deal. You get the place here rent-free for the season, you tell Coach that I’m behaving, and everyone wins.”

  “No.” Amanda raised her arms, knocking his hands free, and stepped back. Scared little boy or not, there were boundaries.

  “Oh, come on, you don’t want to do this anymore than I do. This is stupid. I don’t need a babysitter!”

  “Good!” Amanda crossed her arms. Stared him down—rather, up at him. “Now you just have to prove that and we can all go home.”

  “I am home,” Nate muttered.

  She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

  “No. This is ridiculous.” Nate crossed his arms.

  Amanda tried not to notice how thick and large they were. Tried not to remember how it felt when he’d held her trapped… not trapped; he just hadn’t realized his own strength. It hadn’t hurt, it’d felt—she pushed the thought away. He’d let her go the second she’d moved away.

  “Am I missing something?” There was an odd pleading note in his voice.

  Amanda’s stomach clenched. I will not fall for this.

  She looked at the square jaw, the large, heavy arms, the shoulders that looked sculpted from a Redwood. Hell no! she thought, and put a heavy leash on that thought.

  Whatever he said next, she missed it entirely. One minute he was there huffing about something or another, and then suddenly the door was slamming shut behind him. She watched him through the window, stomping across the lawn to the big house only a short distance away.

  It was only a matter of time before he came back.

  Amanda lunged for the door, and locked it tight with slightly shaky hands.

  Why can’t I keep my head on my shoulders? He’s a client, dammit!

  “Yeah, when was the last time you had a ‘client’ who was more than six years old?” she muttered as she dropped down on the couch and stared straight ahead at the television without turning it on. She sat there, fuming at the man, the job, at Jennifer, at herself for taking the job.

  Which led down a whole new rabbit hole of self-hatred. Seriously. Here she was, babysitting the man her ex-roommate had slept with. She’d probably been all over those thick, heavy arms, been wrapped in the muscles, felt those big, heavy hands caress her breasts, stroke her legs. She imagined that Jennifer would have shimmied out of the skirt she was barely wearing. Amanda had seen the way Nate’s large, capable hands had covered the girl’s breast.

  Don’t forget, it wasn’t just one girl, was it? There’s been that other one…whatever her name was.

  Yeah. The one who’d destroyed Amanda’s glasses. Which brought her back to why the whole thing had started. The wet t-shirt contest.

  What was so wrong that she, Miss Amanda Jones, should be so mortified that her shirt was wet? Everyone else was so uninhibited.

  She knew exactly why. In a perverse way Amanda was jealous; not that she wanted Nate. Certainly not. He was disgusting.

  But to be that open, that free… To be that bold and whip her shirt off in a crowd and feel someone’s strong, capable hands pulling at her tender skin… to feel his hot breath on her neck, the way he would nibble at her nape and make her feel beautiful.

  She caught herself. Beauty wasn’t everything. Brains got you further. Brains kept with you into old age when beauty fades. But still, just once, would it be so bad to be… well, so bad?

  Unzipping her jeans and reaching into her panties, she imagined it was… not him. It was someone else, someone she could respect and admire, someone who held her that way, owned her, claimed her as his own.


  She would stand exposed, covered by his hands, under his protection, his love. And later, in the car—a stretch-limo of course—she would be completely naked as he ravished her, first with his eyes and then with short breaths. Caught by her beauty, he’d reach for her. There’d be desire and passion, and even respect at her boldness.

  How he, not Nate, definitely not Nate, but ‘he’ would hold her, his hands running down her side, cupping her breasts, grabbing her ass in strong handfuls and taking her wet sex to his face.

  And Amanda—shy, introverted Amanda—would lewdly and wantonly writhe in the back of the stretch- limo as it drove through the night, shamelessly attached to his lips, tongue, teeth as he worked over her more intimate place. His tongue flashing over her clit, delving into her hot sex, and he would bring her close, so close.

  She would beg him for release, but he would turn her around then, on all fours, and she would hear his zipper and anticipate him. She would feel his hardness slide into her, feel the fullness of his shaft opening her, and driving deep, so deep.

  She would take great handfuls of the carpeting and cry out as he took her; she would feel impaled, filled, taken, and he would keep driving into her. Then he would pull back again, ramming that fullness, driving the thickness into her again and again.

  Her orgasms would wash over her, one after another, and the whole time he would continue to use her and take her, his shaft swelling and pulsing with his own impending release.

  She would take him then, ride him while he spent himself in her heat. She’d still be shaking and pulsing from her orgasms, so many… And when he came it would be deep inside of her, and his pulsing would become hers and her pulsing would become his. They would lie, spent and sated on the floor of a car.

  Oh…yes…Much like…that…

  Amanda gasped. Then screamed.

  Her flying fingers had found her own orgasm, had made her legs tremble. She suppressed another scream as a second wave tore through her. She bent over her hand as she spasmed, nearly falling off the couch in her intense release.

  Then realization hit.

  That single scream that had escaped her lips sounded suspiciously like Nate.

  She lay there, fingers wet, panting and trying to catch her breath.

  She had just enough air to say two words.

  “Oh shit...”

  Chapter 5

  “Coach Johnson,” Amanda said, and thought she was doing pretty well when she managed to find a smile. “How are you?”

  “May I come in?” Coach Johnson asked. He didn’t look happy. So far she’d never seen him happy. Perhaps he never was and there was nothing to worry about.

  Then why was her stomach full of butterflies trying madly to escape?

  It wasn’t like she had anything to worry about anymore. Hadn’t she already moved past caring somewhere around 5am? This…This was just icing on the cake.

  “Sure.” Amanda shrugged and stood aside. “Why not.”

  “Rough night?” When he asked, he sounded as though he cared.

  Why did he have to go and do that?

  She’s been prepared for him to yell. To get angry. To even throw things. But this fatherly kindness left her rather…well…knocked over. Now here she was, a grown woman, realizing that some small part of her wanted to curl up in his arms and suck her thumb and say it was too hard, that she couldn’t do it, but could she keep the guesthouse? It was a small voice and she ruthlessly stamped it out, but it didn’t stay quiet long.

  Besides wasn’t there some saying about how the best defense was a good offense?

  For a moment she was proud that she’d picked up so much football knowledge. Then she remembered she was supposed to be mad.

  Really mad.

  She turned on him before he’d even gotten through the doorway. “It’s like living with a Neanderthal!” she thundered. “He had women over last night. All night! The music was so loud no one in the area got any sleep, and by that I mean me.” She waved off the objection that Coach wasn’t making. “No, I checked, they were both of age, at least physically, but one of them came to the house holding a teddy bear in a nightgown.”

  Coach chuckled, standing with his arms crossed like he was ready to take on the entire defensive line. “The way you said that, it sounds like the teddy bear was wearing a nightgown.”

  She gave him a level look. “It was. At first. Then next thing I knew she’d stripped and put that teddy bear’s nightgown on like it was hers! Seriously! It didn’t cover much, let me tell you. Wasn’t waterproof either. It completely disappeared in the pool, except for the piece that ended up clogging the pool filter so that it ran at a high-pitched cry all night. Which, in turn, had all the dogs in the neighborhood howling.”

  “I take it you could hear it, too?”

  “NO! I HEARD THE DOGS!” She closed her eyes and counted to ten. Backward. Substituting swear words for the numbers. “I’m sorry, I’m just so exhausted.”

  He clucked in sympathy. “It sounds like a rough night.”

  She leveled a glare at him. “That was the start. Apparently, the meal choice for naked houseguests is to grill sausage in the pool.”

  “The grill was in the pool.” It wasn’t a question.

  “They float after a fashion.” It was her turn to cross her arms. Meeting his gaze squarely, eye to eye. Neither flinched. “It was comforting to know that the fire department only takes ten minutes to respond to a grass fire in this neighborhood.”

  He cleared his throat. “That’s the sort of thing you were hired to prevent, Ms. Jones.”

  “Well, I gave them a phony name, but they knew whose house this was. I had to tell them that Nate was away at training camp and I started the fire because I don’t like flowerbeds. So at least it won’t be in the papers… At least, I don’t think.”

  His head tilted back, eyes closed. It was his turn to count to ten. She could hear him. He was a better man than her. He was actually using numbers. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

  She sighed. “Again, I’m sorry, I didn’t sleep last night at all. I’m cranky.” She straightened and made an effort to try and smile. “What can I do for you?”

  “How about we wait till Nate gets here?” He headed toward the couch and sat down, motioning for her to do the same.

  A chill shot through her. Pure panic. “Why is… Why’s Nate coming?”

  “Because I told him to meet us here,” he replied as though it was obvious.

  “There is no way you’re going to get him out of bed this morning, Coach,” she muttered, and sat, arms still crossed. Knowing she’d gone from power position to pouting child, she didn’t care at this point. “With the antics he pulled last night, it took me half an hour to load him on a wheelbarrow and roll him up to his room. It would’ve been longer if he hadn’t passed out, lying over the thick branch by the front door. Good thing that tree’s an oak; I highly doubt it would have held him otherwise. Who knows why he was climbing the thing at the time. Anyway, I parked the wheelbarrow right under his knees and pushed him backward.”

  He stared at her a long moment. She swore the corners of his lips were twitching. “Where did you find a wheelbarrow?”

  “Gardener’s shed. It wasn’t exactly clean. Did he ever have horses?”

  Coach’s lips curled upward. “No, but I’m sure they use fertilizer.”

  “Good.” She reveled in the image a moment.

  “I’m sure your second night here will be better.”

  Was he laughing at her?

  She shook that thought off. “I don’t see how you’re going to get him here. You won’t see him this side of the pit for most of the—”

  A knock at the door interrupted her.

  “You want to get that, or should I?” Coach asked finally when she hadn’t moved.

  She broke from her reverie, shaking her head in confusion before getting up and opening the door.

  “Mornin’!” Nate called, and pushed past her into the room. “Hey, Coach!�
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  Nate was fresh, active, and, to all appearances, bursting with energy.

  I hate him.

  She sighed and a single sob escaped her lips as she closed the door. She lay her head on it a moment before turning finally to face the men. Only, neither seemed to have even noticed her momentary lapse. Nate had crashed on the couch next to Coach, and was playing with the bowl of mixed nuts she’d left out on the coffee table. He cracked a walnut in his fist.

  The sound was like a rifle shot to her throbbing head.

  Amanda gritted her teeth and returned to her spot, sitting somewhat gingerly, when what she really wanted to do was to wrap her hands around Nate’s neck and see if she could make him sit still for a while. Or permanently. Either would work at this point.

  “Next game’s in L.A.,” Coach Johnson said without preamble, his eyes on Nate’s face. “Since you’re coming along,” he turned toward Amanda briefly, gesturing with his thumb, “we have to find an excuse for you being there and hanging around this guy.” He jerked his thumb at Nate.

  Amanda followed his hand motion, slowly letting the words sink in. Her brain seemed sluggish, but she thought he’d just said something about her needing to travel…with Nate? She cleared her throat. “Wait, I’m going to L.A.?”

  Both men looked at her. She was starting to get used to confused stares. It was kind of what you’d expect people to look like if you suddenly grew another head or something.

  “You do know that we play games in other stadiums than our own, right?” Coach asked, his voice gentle. Fatherly again. Kinda. Like if your dad happened to be explaining to you why Fido wasn’t coming home anymore.

  She frowned. “You do?”

  “Hey,” Nate interrupted, throwing broken shell onto the coffee table and reaching for another nut to crack. “Free trip to L.A., what other plans do you have?” he spoke with his mouth full. Really full. How many nuts had he taken?

  She glanced at the floor around his feet. Wished she hadn’t.

  She took a breath and opened her mouth to shoot down what she realized was a well thought-out cohesive argument. It was a greater surprise than the trip, so she shrugged and said, “OK.” Still, she had the vague sense that she’d just lost an argument to an ape and wasn’t sure what to do with that.