Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 70294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
The assignment? Write an article for the college paper about him, just in time for homecoming.
The problem? I slept with the egotistical jock on day one… and I hate how good he was.
I’m a college senior with a darker past than most people will ever endure.
I don’t like anybody. I don’t trust them, either.
I write articles that bite, and get the best interviews out of people that the TNU college paper has ever seen.
Cocky? No. I just know what I’m good at.
Andrew Peachel is out and proud, and he knows he's a college football god.
But there’s more behind his golden-boy, dimples-and-muscles, himbo perfect image.
I have an all-access pass to follow him anywhere.
Everywhere.
And I bring him to his knees on night one.
In public, he acts like I’m the enemy.
In bed, he demands I give him more.
He’s bossy. Cockier than me. A problem.
But when he responds by becoming obsessed with me, how can I resist?
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER 1
ANDREW
The football was like an arrow aimed straight at me.
And that is a perfect fucking pass.
Linford had been tapped into some sort of magic all game.
And I was off my game, for the first time in months, getting caught out and fucked over since the first quarter.
One thing in particular felt different, this game.
And I could feel it in the air.
I lunged to the right, watching the football like it was prey headed right into my grasp. I wasn’t going to miss it again.
I’d fumbled the last pass, and that was the last one I was willing to let slip away.
The football is mine.
And mine only.
I pulled in a sharp breath of air through my nostrils. The bright lights surrounding the field glinted in my eyes as I looked up, but I didn’t lose sight of that ball.
They’re all watching.
Everyone up in the stands, and…
Him.
That one person watching me tonight whose eyes had been digging under my skin for the whole game.
Someone who wasn’t on the team.
The definition of an outsider.
Gray Gilman was the smartest, cockiest asshole in all of TNU, from what I had heard.
And he was writing an article about me. About the TNU Tempests football team, really, but I’d felt his eyes on me for the entire game. The senior year head writer for the TNU school paper was known for writing scandalous articles.
He wrote the type of articles that could absolutely destroy someone’s reputation.
And as the star senior player on the Tempests and Coach’s favorite?
The last fucking thing I needed in life right now was some exaggerated, scandalous article written about me by a guy who couldn’t wipe that smug look off of his face on the sidelines.
Pay.
Attention.
To the damn.
Football.
As I bolted further to the right on the field, hanging back just a little to make sure the football came right at me, I could feel his gaze on me.
Do you like what you see?
Does it get you off, seeing just how good I am with a ball?
There’s a whole fucking lot more where this comes from. Soak it in.
The football slammed into me like a bullseye, right in the pocket I made with my hands and my chest.
Finally.
I took off for the endzone, my thighs building up fire as I ran.
This was what I was made for. The crowd was already going wild by the time the football touched me, but I had dozens of yards to run now. I kept my head up, focused forward.
Eye on that prize.
I kept my breathing even, my lungs heating up as I ran for it.
I saw the line of the end zone coming closer with each footfall as I ran.
I could taste the touchdown about to happen right in front of me. I could hear the crowd getting ready to explode.
Please, give me something good tonight.
Something good for this cocky bastard to write about.
The past few weeks of my life had been… punishing.
I hated keeping secrets, but I had been hooking up with Coach’s son Danny, so that was the first boulder on my back.
Then Danny cheated on me. Multiple times.
Then I’d discovered Danny cheating on me, in a bar, with a blond guy who rubbed it right in my face, saying something to me I couldn’t forgive.
That’s when I’d gotten too drunk and made the first big mistake of my life.
I’d clocked Danny’s new blond boytoy in the jaw.
Mistake, mistake, mistake.
All of that needed to be kept very, very secret. Which meant that as of tonight, it was now my full-time job to keep Gray Gilman from finding out a single shred of that information.
Something went cold in my chest.
No. Right now my job was to run this fucking football. Get the touchdown, no matter what.
I sucked in air and pushed harder, trying to dig deep and run faster to the end zone.
I was less than twenty yards off now.
So close.
It was already mine.
And then my next mistake came up on my right.
No shot.
He can’t fucking be there.
I was too close to Dev Bailey, Kansas University’s best cornerback. He’d gained on me, and I’d been doing the one thing I knew I shouldn’t do: thinking too much. So distracted by one guy, sitting on the sidelines, watching my every move.
The blood in my veins changed rapidly, going from stone cold to molten hot.
Like desperation.
Like shame.
Out here on this field was the one place where the rest of the world should melt away, but for all of tonight’s game, I’d been focused on something else, and pure, red-hot anger was barreling at me like a semi truck named Dev Bailey. My own distraction was about to cost me the touchdown.
I thought I had a clean path on the field. But there was no avoiding it now.
I was about to be tackled.
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath, already thrown off-kilter. How could I not have seen him?