Authors: Bridget Lang
FOOTBALL ROMANCE: Tight (Bad Boy Alpha Male College Football Player and First Time Virgin) (Contemporary New Adult Athlete Sports Romance) (6 page)
The library was packed, but Emma knew it would empty out soon. The frat party at Mason's place was tonight; she'd heard Zoey and some others talking about it. Apparently it was a big deal. It was alumni night—past members and new members got a chance to welcome each other. Everyone was trying to cram their studying into one short, intense session before heading over there. Even Zoey was here right now, her nose grinding against her books. When seven o' clock hit though, Emma would have the place all to herself.
She flipped through her biology and chem books, marking important passages with a tab before writing things into her notebook. There was another big test in biology on Monday and Emma couldn't afford to bomb it again.
The only good thing to come out of the last test was that no one in class had passed it with anything higher than a C, so Professor Douglas had decided to grade everything on a curve, thus turning her F into a C. Mason, as it turns out, had received the highest grade in class, much to Professor Douglas's astonishment. He appeared to have decided that Mason was some sort of idiot savant, and was now trying to nurture his untapped scientific genius rather than make fun of him.
Emma flipped back and forth between the pages of her bio book looking for the answer to question fourteen on the practice test Professor Douglas had given them. There were to be no surprises this time, he said, for which the entire class had thanked him.
She was flipping back to chapter nine when something hit the side of her head. She looked down and saw a paper airplane fall to the floor. It toppled onto its side; written in bright pink letters were the words "Open Me." Emma looked around but didn't see anyone watching her. She unfolded the airplane and read the message:
I love you. Please give me another chance. I'd do anything for you, including humiliate myself. Look up.
Emma raised her head and saw Mason walking towards her, a feather boa draped around his shoulders, a pink bathrobe covering his body. A small giggle escaped her throat. She couldn't help it. He looked ridiculous. Someone next to her looked up, and that person nudged the one next to them. Soon the whole library had their eyes on Mason. He stopped in front of Emma, who was trying to hide her smile.
"Mason," she said. "If you think that parading around in a bathrobe makes up for what you did to me..." But she couldn't hide the light creeping into her eyes.
"I don't," he said. "But I'm betting this does." He jumped onto the table where Emma sat with her books spread out. "Here ye, here ye," he said, raising his arm like the Statue of Liberty. He had the total attention of everyone in the library, including the librarians and professors who were working there.
"Mason," Emma whispered, tugging on his robe. "What are you doing?"
He took a deep breath. "I would like to declare, right here and now, my undying love for Emma Davis." He looked down at her and she felt her cheeks burn. She really wished he'd come back down from the table now. She appreciated what he was doing. But apparently he wasn't done.
"To prove my love for this woman, I would now like to perform a song just for her."
There were laughs and groans. She saw Professor Douglas in the back, holding a book and watching with a surprised smile on his face. Then, before Emma knew what was happening, Mason removed the pink bathrobe. The library burst into a round of laughter and applause as Mason stood before everyone in a hot pink lace thong. He began to sing:
"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,
You make me happy, when skies are grey,
You'll never know dear, how much I love you,
Oh please don't take, my sunshine away."
People stood up and began to stamp and applaud, hollering so that it didn't seem like a library anymore. It was more like a football stadium. Mason's cheeks were glowing. He looked down at Emma and reached out a hand to her. She took it.
"Am I forgiven?" he asked.
"Most definitely," she said, her face beaming.
"Good. I have one last thing I need to do. Will you meet me outside my frat house tonight at seven?"
"Okay."
He smiled and gave her a kiss that made her heart race before raising his head back up and looking across the sea of students who were still applauding. The librarians were trying to get things under control again.
"And just so this love of mine will never again doubt me..." he said, then he pulled the lace thong off in one swift move and jumped off the table, streaking through the library as the applause tripled and the librarians gave up.
Emma's heart had never felt so light. Zoey came running up to her. "I got it all on video. What's your email? I'll send it to you."
Emma couldn't hide the shock on her face as Zoey took her email down and seconds later Emma had the video in her inbox.
"Thanks."
"No problem," Zoey said. "Do you have a dress for tonight?"
Emma shook her head.
"Come on," Zoey said, closing Emma's books up. "There's not much time."
An hour later Emma emerged from her dorm room with Zoey, who was now behaving like they were old friends rather than enemies. They walked across the grounds together, Zoey leaving her when she saw Mason approaching. "Good luck," she whispered.
"Thanks," Emma said. The dress she wore was bright pink—Zoey said she should wear it in honor of Mason's love declaration—and hugged every curve of her body.
"Hi," he said, taking her in his arms. "You look beautiful."
He kissed her hard and her insides tingled. She was ready to forget the frat party and go back to her room. "Thank you for coming. You know I meant every word I said in the library, right?"
She nodded. There was no denying his feelings for her anymore. "I love you," he said, pressing his lips to hers once more. She could almost feel his pulse as his mouth moved against hers.
"I love you too," she told him. He smiled and took her hand. "Come on," he said. "My father is an alumnus. I'll introduce you, properly this time."
"What if he hates me?" Emma asked.
"I don't care," Mason said. "I'm not losing you, ever again." He squeezed her hand and led her inside. They didn't know what the future might hold, but they knew that from now on, they'd be facing it together.
THE END
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KODIAK ISLAND SHIFTERS:
Sterling Bear Shifters Book 1:
COLTON
(This book is a standalone with a Happily Ever After ending. It is the first book in a series you’re going to love about the Sterling Brothers, Grizzly Bear Shifters.)
Colton Sterling- Brilliant business strategist, Ladies man, Adrenaline junky, Self-made billionaire, and a Kodiak grizzly bear shifter.
Colton Never thought he’d settle down. It’s not that he didn’t like the ladies, he LOVED the ladies, and they loved him. In fact, his brothers joked about him having a woman in every port. The thing is, his grizzly had no desire to claim any of them as his mate, none took his breath away.
Until he saw her…
Hannah Cooper- Smart, curvy, bold young doctor way out of her league in the Alaskan wilderness. The thing is, she’s just passing through.
Colton has 24 hours to make her fall in love with him before she’s gone, back to the lower 48.
Can he rise to the challenge?
I hate Jett Lang.
I’ve hated him for six years- ever since college. I was a shy, awkward freshman and he was a cocky, arrogant football star.
A.K.A. the a-hole who made my college days a living hell.
It figures he would be the one to come to my rescue
Now he’s a better-paid, cocky, arrogant NFL star.
Still steaming hot, panty-meltingly gorgeous. Still an a-hole.
And, here he is in front of me with a proposition that I’m in no position to refuse.
Damn him.
***************
Claire Donnelly.
Sweet, mousy little Claire Donnelly.
My bad boy rep is hurting my career and Claire is just the sweet thing that can help me change that.
Besides, she makes my d*ck harder than any woman I’ve ever known.
I will do anything to get me a piece of Claire.
The one thing I didn’t expect was to fall head over heels in love with her.
Another night, another bar. Jesus Christ.
I blow my hair out of my eyes, and wrap both arms around my drunk boyfriend. The idiot is, as usual, totally shitfaced, which means I got a call at home from the bartender about 10 minutes ago hollering about Aaron picking fights with some poor college freshman over a game of darts, and how I needed to come pick him up.
“Get that asshole under control, Claire.” the bartender barks at me as I drag Aaron, still screaming, out of the bar.
Yeah,
I want to shout back,
I’ll get right on that.
No one can get Aaron under control when he’s been drinking, which is pretty much all the time anymore. Tonight I have no doubt I’ll be repaid for the kindness of keeping him from pounding those scared kids into the floor with a lovely black eye that everyone at work will avoid asking me about.
My co-workers have already heard all the stupid, repetitive lies; they aren’t interested in hearing them again.
“Aaron, please try to calm down,” I try to talk comfortingly. I’m too exhausted to be scared of what I know is coming when we get home. I never thought I’d feel this exhausted at the age of 24.
“Those little fucks cheated me out of my money!” Aaron bellows, still scrambling to get around me and back into the bar. “They fucking hustled me!”
I lean into his body trying to nonchalantly block him with mine. The car is in sight. “I know, baby,” I lie, placating him, “but you can’t just go after them. The bartender said we have to leave.”
“I
can’t?!”
Aaron whips around to face me, his eyes wild and bloodshot.
Oh crap! I said the wrong thing.
“Did you just tell me what I
can’t do,
you little cunt?”
Oh, God.
I hoped he would have at least waited until we were in the car. “No, baby, that’s not…”
“Not what? Not what?” He grabs my hair and starts yanking me around by it, bringing me to my knees. “Not you trying to fucking control me? You little lying bitch, that’s all you ever do. You just want to fucking control me.”
“No, I swear,” I can feel eyes on us from all over the parking lot. No one will intervene. No one will try to stop him - they never do. Most will look away or leave. Some will watch in disgust. Those who watch will be more disgusted by me taking a beating than by him giving me one. I will just have to endure it, as always.
“I’m not trying to control you. You’re in charge, okay, baby? You’re the boss. Please, let’s just go home, I’ll give you a massage and you can relax -”
My words are cut short by a slamming punch to my jaw. I’m sent reeling backwards, knocked flat on the ground. I lie sprawled out on the pavement with Aaron ranting and screaming above me, but I’m not listening. I want to fucking kill him, the tears in my eyes are from humiliation rather than pain, although my jaw throbs. But I know my 5’2” frame springing up and throwing lame punches at him won’t diffuse the situation, it will make it worse for me.
Just keep breathing,
I remind myself, trying to swallow the fear that crawls up my throat like bile. I’ve been through this before, and I will make it through this time.
Just keep breathing, stay still, don’t fight back, don’t talk. Don’t make this last longer than it has to. You’ll get past this.
I wince when I feel his kicks on my back, legs, and stomach, but I just curl into a ball with my arms over my face.
$623.52.
As the kicks continue, sharp painful blows with his boot, I just keep reminding myself of the $623.52 that I have stashed under the false bottom of my sock drawer. Soon I’ll have enough to get away from this psycho-asshole, to go somewhere else, start a new life, become a new person.
I just need a little more money.
I am suddenly aware of another male voice, and the kicks abruptly cease. I peek out from beneath my arms. A heavily-muscled man with dark blonde hair has Aaron by the shirt collar. He delivers a vicious punch to Aaron’s stomach.
“The fuck is wrong with you?” the guy bellows, his voice is deep and smooth but I detect an underlying tremor of rage. “Think you’re such a big man, beating up on a little woman, you piece of shit? That make you feel strong?” The larger man throws Aaron against the hood of my car. “Come on, man, show me how tough you are now!”
Aaron doubles over, coughing, and I almost feel like laughing. Aaron is an intimidating presence, but this guy is huge. His back is to me but from the way it looks, he is solid muscle. I don’t think of myself as a particularly vengeful person, but knowing Aaron will have bruises tomorrow too feels unbelievably satisfying. Unfortunately, it will also mean he’ll become more enraged, and more rage means more taking his anger out on me.
With Aaron reduced to a groaning pile on the gravel parking lot, the big guy turns and reaches out a hand to help me up.
“Hey, lady, are you oka- ” He freezes mid-sentence, and when our eyes meet, I know why.
Jett Lang.
Jett fucking Lang
…
Lord, this can’t be happening to me!
“Claire?... Claire Donnelly?... Is that you?” he asks.
I groan. Of course, the one guy who so honorably comes to my rescue has to be Jett Lang, who used to be the biggest fucking douchebag college football player, and is now the more famous, better-paid fucking douchebag NFL player. Also known as the asshole who made my college days a living hell.
When will I catch a break?
“Yes, it’s me,” Using the hand he offers, I pull myself to my feet, and dust off my jeans. “Hey, Jett.”
“Holy shit, I can’t believe it’s you.” He motions with his thumb at my mess of a boyfriend. “Who the fuck is that guy?”
“My boyfriend,” I sigh. “And if you’re done playing white knight, I have to get him home. Thanks, though.”
“What?... Oh, hell no. No, no, no. Don’t you tell me you’re driving him home?” Jett was never the sharpest tool in the shed.
“Well, we do live together and I do have to deal with him sooner or later.”
Jett is standing in front of me shaking his head. His eyes scan my body from head to toes, and I feel myself shrink. Then, he grabs my arm and starts pulling me towards a nearby Lexus.
“That dick can take a cab.”
“Wha-- Were are we going? Where are you taking me?”
“We’re getting dinner.”
“Says who?” I snap.
I realize the guy just saved me from getting a worse beat-down, but I’ve had about all the arrogant control freaks I can stand tonight, thank you very much.
“Says me,” he snaps back, and then his voice softens, “Think about it - do you really want to deal with that idiot right now?”
I don’t answer, but when he turns and continues toward the Lexus, I follow, mostly because my jaw stings like a mother, my body aches, I’m exhausted, and he’s right; I need to regroup for a few before dealing with Aaron again.
We don’t speak the whole way there. Jett looks over at me a couple times, but doesn’t say anything, and I pretend to be interested in what’s outside of the car window.
I’m grateful when Jett pulls into a small hole-in-the-wall diner in the middle of nowhere. In college, Jett craved the limelight, loved to make himself look good. Always the arrogant center of attention. Now that he is one of the biggest players in the NFL, I half-expected him to take me to some five-star bistro to show me off as his new charity case. That would totally be something he’d do.
It’s not until after a waitress with bright orange hair wearing a polyester uniform and orthopedic shoes takes our burger orders and saunters away that Jett breaks the silence between us.
“So, that asshat was your boyfriend?”
“Yep.”
“But, why?”
Oh, here it comes.
I roll my eyes.
“Well, Jett, when he first asked me out, he told me he planned to beat the crap out of me on a regular basis, and I said ‘well, you sound like my kinda guy,’ so now here we are three years later, just as planned.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.” Jett mumbles. He leans forward and I catch a whiff of his cologne, the same kind he wore in college. For a moment, I’m back in the tutoring center explaining physics to Jett while he plays with his pencil and stares into space.
He hasn’t even changed cologne.
What a narcissist.
“I’m not trying to sound like a dick,” Jett continues, “I’m just confused.”
“You? Confused? What a surprise.” I know I’m being a grade A bitch, and maybe he doesn’t deserve it. He did just come to my aid back in the parking lot, something none of the other patrons standing around were willing to do. I gaze over at his tousled, dirty-blonde hair, straight nose, chiseled jawline. Still hot as hell, maybe even hotter. Besides, people can change. Maybe Jett deserves a chance to be absolved of past deeds and given a fresh start. I ponder this a second.
Nope, still hate him
.
He ignores my comment. “I just don’t understand why you’re still with that guy. I know we didn’t know each other all that well in college, but I knew you well enough to know that you’re really smart, and you’re pretty talented. You could do a helluva lot better than that asscrack. What makes you stay with him?”
I take a sip of my water. I haven’t heard that question since I had friends, something that Aaron ensured ended completely at least a year and a half ago, back when he’d tried to convinced me I didn’t need anyone but him. I never agreed with him, I just got tired of the hassles and arguments.
“A lot of reasons,” I finally say. “At first it was because I hoped he’d change, and I still loved him. Now… well, I’m trying to leave now, but it’s a lot harder than people think.”
“How?” In Jett’s eyes, I see a genuine question. He isn’t being sarcastic or condescending, he really seems to want to know.
“Well, first, I need money. I’ve started salting away a little here and there without him noticing, but he controls our bank account and without money, there’s not much I can do. Right now I have a little over $600 in my sock drawer.” I take another sip of water, trying to figure out how to phrase the next part. “Plus, it’s not like he’s just going to let me go, just let me walk out. With someone like him, it’s not over just because
I
say it’s over. He’ll come after me, try to find me and probably keep trying to hurt me, even after I’m gone…” my voice trails off.
Jett just sits there silently watching me. I expect him to say something but he appears lost in thought. The silence kind of makes me nervous, so I continue, “I need enough money to completely disappear, and that’s hard to do since all of my paychecks are direct-deposited into our joint account.”
Again silence.
“Are you gonna say something?” I finally ask.
“I could give you some money.”
That was not what I expected him to say. At all.
“No,” I say flatly. “I don’t want your charity.”
A wicked smirk crosses his face. “It wouldn’t be charity,” he leans forward, his elbows resting on the formica tabletop. “I’d need you to do something for me, too.”
Oh, here we go. Of course
.
“I am NOT going to sleep with you for money,” I snap, sitting up straight and glaring at him, as if drawing myself up to my full, miniscule height will intimidate him. “I do have
some
self-respect left, you know.”
He tilts his head back and laughs as though I’ve just said the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. “God, relax, would you? You’re always so uptight. It has nothing to do with sex.” He pauses, and then his gaze sweeps over me. “Unless you want it to.”
“I don’t.” I cross my arms in front of my chest. “What would I need to do?”
“Marry me.”