Sacking The Player Read online

  “You really don’t have a choice. Remove your hands from her, or I’ll remove your hands,” Tate snarls at him. His muscles are bulging under the sleeves of his tee. Damn. He’s lethal and menacing when he’s angry. A vein pulses in his neck.

  Keith shoves me away as Tate steps closer, and I crash into the corner of the sink. Shit, that’s gonna bruise my hip.

  “You can’t have my girl, man.” Keith has his fists clenched ready to throw down.

  This is getting nasty.

  “She’s not yours, she’s mine.” Tate stakes his claim. It’s primal and fucking hot.

  Hearing him say I’m his does something to me and warmth pools in my lower belly.

  The guys are circling each other in the crowded space.

  Why do I suddenly feel as if I’m watching cavemen fight right now? I look over to Courtney who looks as if she just had an orgasm. She’s grinning and bouncing on the balls of her feet. I shake my head.

  “Well, I don’t want her with you,” Keith states as though he gets a say.

  “Well, too damn bad, she is, and you don’t get a say in it.” Tate cracks his knuckles.

  Keith swings but misses. Tate then sucker punches him right in the face and he goes down. Wow. Tate knocked him on his ass…for me. I don’t know what to think.

  Courtney is now hyperventilating, she always gets hot and bothered when men fight, especially when they fight over a woman.

  Keith scrambles back up and puts his weight into Tate’s shoulder as Tate continues to jab him in the ribs.

  Shit. I nearly shriek when they come in my direction. I need to move. Fast.

  I walk around the guys fighting and grab Courtney by the arm. “Get ahold of yourself!” I yell at her over the music. We rush out of the bathroom and run to the bouncer that is just glaring at everyone dancing around him.

  I grab his arm and pull while shouting, “Fight!” He stops resisting my pulling and follows quickly.

  Tate has Keith in a headlock in the hallway, about to choke him out. The bouncer steps in and recognizes Tate instantly and takes control of Keith, escorting him to the back alley and tossing him out by the dumpsters.

  Tate grabs my hand, rubbing his large fingers over my knuckles. “You okay?”

  I nod, unsure of all the thoughts and feelings swirling through my head.

  “You want to get of here?” His voice is low and hoarse. He sounds so sexy and commanding.

  “She totally does,” Court pipes in for me.

  “Actually, I need a drink,” I croak. My throat is dry, and my hip is aching.

  Tate drapes his other arm over my shoulder and says, “Lead the way.”

  What am I going to do with him? He’s everything I should run from, but I can’t help but be drawn to him.

  As a trio, the three of us make our way to the bar where Tate orders us all a shot. Courtney throws hers back and takes off to join Jen and Phaedra on the dance floor, leaving me alone with my self-proclaimed man.

  We toss back a few more shots, and I’m feeling bold. I pull him closer to me by the collar of his shirt. I put my lips up to his ear so he can hear me clearly. “So, what’s this you’re my man business?”

  “Let’s dance.” He deflects my question and takes me to the floor as a slower song comes on. Take Your Time by Sam Hunt. My arms are around his neck and his hands are on my waist. He dances better this way than trying to fast dance. His earthy scent envelops me as we sway to the music. I lay my head on his chest and let the moment wash over me.

  His fingers tilt my chin up, and I’m afraid he’s about to kiss me, but I’m even more afraid of the thought that I want him to, as he gazes into my eyes. His deep blues are an ocean of promise and wonder. He leans in and I hold my finger to his lips.

  “I’m starting to like you. Don’t ruin it, King.”

  He sighs and concedes. We dance to another song and he walks me back to my friends.

  “I’ll see ya, next class, Teach.”

  “Yeah,” I whisper, as he disappears into the crowd.

  “You guys ready to head out?” I ask the girls. They all nod. I think Jen drank too much. Her skin is turning green. I hope she doesn’t puke in the cab.

  “Girl, if I were you, I would be dragging that sexy beast, Tate, home for the night,” Phaedra says with a wink.

  That’s all guys like Tate want—one night.

  I get the feeling that one night with a man like him wouldn’t be enough. I don’t need that or want it as tempting as it is. However, during the car ride to the dorm all I can think is…I wish I’d let him kiss me. My fingers press against my lips as I wonder how his mouth would taste.

  It must be the alcohol.

  It has to be.

  I can’t fall for another jock.

  I can’t fall for Tate.

  Chapter 7

  Tate

  I

  don’t know what came over me tonight. When Keith had his hands on Amaya, I wanted to rip his damn arms off and beat him with them. This feeling of ownership claimed me, and I knew she would be mine.

  She already is, she just doesn’t know it yet.

  I can be patient.

  I can give her time.

  She’ll see we are going to be together.

  I can feel it deep in my bones.

  I wanted to taste her velvety lips so fucking bad, but she asked me to back off, so I did. I respect the shit out of her. I can take my time and be her friend. I’ll show her what a real man is and how he treats his woman.

  My old man was right. Bam. I’ve been hit by the big bang. I know she’s the one. Mine.

  “Dude, what’s with you and tiny dancer?” Bucky nudges me in the rib.

  “I don’t know yet, but I’m enjoying finding out,” I confess.

  “No shit, you like her?”

  “Yeah man, I do,” I admit

  “That Keith fuckwad is a piece of work, better watch out for him, man. But you know I got your back.”

  I grunt. “I can handle him.”

  Bucky nods.

  “She has some hot friends.” He grins, his eyes trailing them through the club.

  I spy the girls heading toward the door. Amaya is stumbling over her own feet. She’s lit. I’d like to take her home, but she’d just get pissed. She likes to think she doesn’t need anyone, especially me. I can’t help but laugh as she holds onto the back of her friend’s jeans for support.

  I smack B on the chest before he walks off in search of an easy lay. “Hey, man. Do me a favor. If I do it, I’ll look like a stalker. Follow her out and make sure she gets home okay.”

  Bucky laughs. “Man, you really do like this chick?”

  I nod and he shakes his head.

  “I’ll be right back,” he says, taking off to the exit.

  I grab another beer from a server. I nurse it while waiting for the guys to get bored or laid, whichever comes first.

  Minutes later, someone taps me on the shoulder. “King.” I hear purred.

  “Not interested,” I tell the chick without turning around.

  She scoffs. “When are you ever not interested?”

  I turn and look at her. She’s beautiful, in the fake Barbie kind of way. She sure as hell isn’t no Amaya. Big tits that are pushed up to her damn chin, fake tan, plump lips, ass and legs for days. Shit, even her hair looks fake. I smile thinking of Amaya, all natural, perfect.

  “Since I found my one,” I say, glaring at her full of annoyance, hoping she gets the hint.

  She rolls her baby blues. “Fine whatever. I guess the rumors about you aren’t true.” She walks off, after hesitating for a moment, almost as if she thinks I’ll change my mind.

  Not happening.

  Last week, I’d have been all over her, going home with her, or taking her to the frat house for a few hours. But not now, never again.

  “Man. Shit, you, wow,” Bucky stutters when he comes back. “Usually, you’d be dragging a piece like that through the club and back to her place for a few h
ours.”

  I shrug. “Not interested. Did the girls get home okay?” I ask him.

  “Yeah, found them just before they got into the cab, and I even paid the driver. You owe me twenty.”

  He turns his head back to the easy blonde. “Care if I take a pass at her?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. He’s already stalking towards her. I snicker. Bucky doesn’t even need to use a line. Chick is already shoving her hand down the waist of his pants and sticking her tongue down his throat.

  When he comes up for air, I ask him for his keys. I’m ready to go crash for the night.

  “You could join us, King,” she suggests coyly.

  “Not my thing. I don’t share. Better wrap it up, B.” I punch his shoulder.

  He laughs and drops his keys in my palm after telling me he’s catching a ride to the house with Adams and his rebound.

  **

  A few days later, I’m in the weight room when I hear some shit that makes my blood boil.

  “Amaya was at Sleven Saturday night. Won’t be long and she’ll be begging me to take her back. Nobody’s going to put up with her tight ass like I do. She knows I’m as good as she’s gonna get.” Keith laughs, talking shit to his buddies.

  “What’d’ you just say about her you little pussy?” I rear my fist back ready to smash his condescending face in. I don’t know why I’m so pissed. She’s just a chick that’s doing me a favor. But I don’t like the way her name sounds on his tongue. I don’t want him anywhere near her. And deep down I know she’s going to be mine. I keep trying to squash my feelings, but they only seem to grow. I wanted to call her or text her when I got in from the club, but I’ve held back. I don’t want to come on too strong and too fast. I don’t want to scare her off.

  He squishes his lips and talks with his hand. “What’d you say about her?” He mocks.

  Big Tex gets between us. “I’ve shit bigger logs than you. You gotta problem with Tate. You gotta problem with me.” He bumps his chest against his and Keith steps around him.

  “Yeah well, superstar here needs to leave my girl alone.” His finger pokes my chest.

  Is this piece of shit for real? His girl. Dude has issues.

  “Your girl? She wasn’t your girl this morning when her legs were wrapped around my waist.” It’s a shit thing to insinuate but it’s not a lie. Her legs were around me, we were dancing, a few days ago, anyway.

  He steps into me, and I am begging him to throw the first punch. I can’t start shit in here, but I can finish it.

  “I knocked you the fuck out Saturday night for trying shit with Amaya. I swear to fuck if you don’t leave her alone, I’ll make sure you’re benched the rest of the season and you don’t get drafted,” I sneer at him. Like anyone wants him anyway. “She doesn’t want you, so stay the fuck away from her.” I clench my fist begging him to make a move so I can lay his ass out once and for all.

  Just as Keith grabs the front of my shirt, coach Mallard interrupts.

  “That’s enough! Break it up ladies and hit the showers,” assistant coach Mallard barks. “King, Coach wants you in his office.”

  Fuck. What is it this time?

  I wipe my face with a wet towel and hang it across the back of my neck. My shower will have to wait.

  I head past the lockers to coach. “You wanted to see me?” I say, sitting down.

  “Amaya gave me a report about you, says you’re doing a good job. But she is wanting to add another day to the schedule. Sunday after practice work for you?”

  “Uh yeah, that’s fine.” I grin. More time with my girl. Not going to complain about getting a few more hours a week to warm her over.

  “Good, good,” he says, marking it down. “Now, you want to tell me what’s going on between you and Keith? You know I don’t like outside shit coming into my house. I know he’s a punk, but he comes from a good family. They contribute heavily to our program. He has a lot of pressure put on him.”

  I shake my head. “He and Amaya dated, he cheated, they broke up. Now she’s with me, and Keith is losing his mind. Seems to think she’s still his.”

  “Wait, you and Amaya are together?” His brows go up. “You work fast.”

  “Well, not really but I’m wearing her down.” I give him a wink.

  He scoffs. “She’d be a fool not to give in to you. You’re the best guy I know. But don’t let it get in the way of the game. You’re too close to breaking the all-time school record for touchdown passes. It stands at 88.” I nod, I don’t plan on Amaya standing between me and the game. I’m going to demolish the record. “Okay, good talk, if Keith keeps up with this shit, let me know. I’ll make sure he gets in line. I won’t tolerate him making a fool of the program.”

  I laugh. “Sounds good, Coach.”

  I leave the office, catch a quick shower, grab my bag, throwing it over my shoulder, and jog out of gym. I don’t want to be late, or Amaya will have my balls.

  “Where you going off to so fast?” Big Tex calls from the parking lot.

  “Gotta go see my Twinkle Toes!” I shout back.

  The guys laugh, and I can hear Keith freaking out and glass shattering. I look back and see that he punched out his driver’s side window on his car. What a fucking idiot. At least he had the brains to use his non-throwing hand.

  I send a quick text to Coach letting him know what Keith just did so he can check the hand out. He’s lucky we’re only in training right now, otherwise his ass would be benched for two games.

  I brush him off and head to the dance center. My girl’s waiting for me. She just doesn’t know it yet.

  I head over to the center and Amaya isn’t here. I pull my phone from my bag and double check the time. Shit, I’m on time. Where is she?

  I’ve had her number but never thought of using it until now. I fire off a text.

  King: Hey, It’s King. Did I screw up the time?

  Twinkle Toes: Coming up the stairs now. I have a surprise for you.

  I’m about to shoot off another text when she walks in stealing the air from my lungs. Her hair is braided and laying over her left shoulder. I want to pull her in close by that braid and kiss her. She isn’t dressed for dancing, wearing a pair of dark skinny jeans and a tight fitting, low cut shirt, hinting at her ample and sinful cleavage.

  “What’s this surprise?”

  “I’m taking you to a show.” She is beaming as she flashes two tickets, waving them around.

  “The theater? Do I look like the kinda guy that does the theater?”

  “Yup!” She pops the P, smacking the tickets into my chest.

  Fuck. “Should I change?” I’m not exactly dressed for anything fancy in my jersey shorts and muscle shirt.

  Her eyes travel my body with a flirty gleam. Her lips lift into a playful smile. “Can I dress you?”

  “I’ll be your Ken, if you agree to have dinner with me afterwards.”

  “Have you been spying on me? How did you know food is my weakness?” She eyes me turning her head to the side.

  I rub my hands together. “I didn’t but now that I do...” I trail off looking away with a smile.

  “Let’s go. We need to hurry if you’re gonna change.”

  I pick my bag up from the floor and follow her out. For having such a tiny butt, it looks damn good in those jeans. We pass a few dancers on the stairs and they blush, giggling, and whispering in my direction. I can hear Amaya muttering a curse under her breath. Is she jealous?

  On the sidewalk, I grab her hand and she jerks from my grip. “What are you doing?”

  “I can’t hold your hand. As a friend?” I tack on the friend part.

  She shakes her hand. “Friends do not hold hands like that.”

  “Well, we can change that.” I take her hand again and this time she doesn’t fight me.

  Her face goes red as people begin to stare and question, “Who’s that girl on King’s arm?”

  She clenches her teeth, and I squeeze her fingers lightly. “You want Keith to believe we�
��re a thing,” I remind her. “Let them talk and look.”

  She embraces my hand with her delicate fingers with a weak smile. We head up to my room. The guys are hanging out, studying over sandwiches and fries. My stomach grumbles. I’m famished.

  They all look up seeing Amaya. Their eyes bulge. They know I never bring chicks to the dorm. This is my sanctuary. The one place I don’t have to be perfect for Coach, my folks, everyone really.

  “Hey, guys.” She waves awkwardly.

  They all mutter acknowledging her but still too stunned to make conversation. I place my hand on her back and lead her to my room. The guys start whispering as Amaya sets foot in my room. I stick my head back out the door and glare in warning for them to keep quiet.

  I pull out my nicest shirt and dress slacks and start undressing. “Hey, what are you doing?” Amaya shields her eyes looking away.

  “Getting dressed.”

  “I can step out.”

  “You’ve already seen me in my underwear. I think you can watch me change pants.”

  Her lips are screwed up into a scowl that I want to taste.

  “So, what show are we going to see exactly?” I ask her.

  She grins so huge I almost worry her face is going to stay like that permanently. “Swan Lake!” she beams at me with so much joy it’s contagious.

  I raise a brow. “What’s that about?”

  She looks horrified before answering. “You don’t know Swan Lake? Like never even heard of it?”

  I shake my head no. “Nope. Sorry.”

  “It’s the best production I’ve ever seen. Every time it’s in town I have to see it. It’s so stunning and beautiful.”

  “So, I’m guessing it’s a ballet thing or an opera?”

  “The most beautiful ballet performance you will ever witness. I promise you.”

  We walk out of my room and the guys look up and stare. “Be back later,” I call out to them.

  Amaya walks out in front of me, and I look back at the guys who are staring in awe so I give them a final warning glare as I shut the door.

  “Should we call a cab or borrow someone’s car?” I ask her. I don’t know much about dance shit, but I don’t think there is anything like that within walking distance of our dorm.