Sacking the Quarterback (7 page)

I'm at home,
making myself some lunch, when my cell rings. I don't recognize the number but decide to answer it. Maybe I'm hoping it'll be Grayson, calling me from a different line. I haven't heard anything from him since he asked me to leave his house last night.

“Hello?”

“Is this Melissa?”

“Depends who's asking.”

“Tyler—Tyler Knight.”

“Oh,” I say, surprised.

He pauses for a moment before he speaks. “I was just calling because…I wanted to say thank you for bailing me out last night.”

“It's fine.”

“Not many people would do that. You must care about my brother a lot.”

“I…” I only get one word out because I don't really know how to answer that.

“I'm sorry about last night, with Grayson asking you to leave. He does appreciate everything you've done.”

“Okay.”

“He just…he thinks he's protecting me.”

That gets my attention. “Protecting you from what?”

There's a pause on the line. “Can we meet? I don't want to talk over the phone.”

“Does Grayson know you're calling me?” I ask. I don't want to go behind his back on this…whatever it is that Tyler wants to talk about. But then, if it helps Grayson, maybe he should be left in the dark.

“No, he doesn't know I'm calling. But I need help and there's no one else I can ask.”

“You can ask Grayson, too. Talk to both him and me. Don't you think that the three of us should approach this together?”

“No. I…look, I'm just gonna come out and say it. I'm in trouble and Grayson…well, he's in trouble, too. But the thing is, he doesn't know it. I really need your help, Melissa.”

“Okay,” I say.

“You'll meet me?”

“There's a coffee shop on Ninth. I'll meet you there in twenty minutes.”

“Thank you, Melissa.”

I grab my purse and head for the door, my stomach twisting in knots. It's not that I don't trust Tyler or think he's out to hurt me. But he's definitely involved in something with some dangerous people.

I make a ten-minute trek to the coffee shop. I've been to this place a few times before with Tori. They do the most amazing carrot cake. And I could really do with some cake right now.

When I get there, Tyler hasn't arrived, so I take a seat near the window and order a coffee and a slice of my favorite dessert. The waitress brings over my order as Tyler pushes open the door. He looks harried and a little nervous. His eyes are darting everywhere. I lift a hand to get his attention. He spots me and comes over.

“Something to eat or drink?” the waitress asks Tyler.

“Just a black coffee,” he says.

“Is coffee a good idea?” I joke.

“What do you mean?” he asks as his gaze darts to mine. He takes his jacket off and hangs it on the back of the chair.

“You look on edge. Like you've already had a bucket of caffeine.”

“I need something hot.”

We sit in silence until his coffee arrives. “Thanks,” he says to the waitress when she puts it down in front of him.

“You sure you don't want something to eat? The cake here is really great.” I cut a piece off with the fork and put it in my mouth.

“No, thanks,” he says.

“Okay, so we're here. What did you want to talk about?” I put my fork down and pick up my coffee, blowing on it before taking a sip.

“What you said last night, at Grayson's place…about the real possibility of him getting jail time for the drug possession? Was that true?”

I put my cup down and lean back in my seat, staring at him. “Yes. Grayson isn't a drug user. The police took a look at the regular tests that athletes take. Grayson has taken these tests for the past twelve months, and since he's always showed up as clean, a hundred percent of the time, the police know the drugs weren't for personal use. And the amount he was carrying…well, even without the clean testing, they have enough evidence to pin an intent to distribute charge to him.”

“I didn't know,” Tyler says as he shakes his head, putting his cup down and staring into it.

“Grayson is hanging by the skin of his teeth onto the life he's living, and that's only because the press hasn't gotten wind of his arrest yet. The moment they do, his endorsements will go. He might still be allowed to play until his case goes to trial. But if he's found guilty, the team will drop him. And it wouldn't matter anyway, because if he goes to jail on the felony possession of the second degree charge, he'll be too old to go back into the pros when he's out, even if a team agrees to take him after he's damaged his reputation this much.”

“I didn't realize.”

“You knew how many drugs he had on him, and you had to know the police wouldn't think it was for personal use.”

“But I thought with him being who he is…they'd just let it go.”

I let out a dry laugh. “Police and judges love to make examples out of famous names—sports celebrities especially. With my old boss on the case, there was no way Grayson was getting off clean from the moment they found the drugs on him.”

“But he said—”

“It was Grayson's idea.”

He stares me in the eye. Then breaks contact and blows out a breath. “He won't be happy I'm telling you this.”

“He'll be less happy if he ends up living in a prison cell.”

“That night I was out with Grayson. I had that stash on me. I wasn't actually selling yet. I would never do that around Grayson. But I was out and he called me—asked me to come meet him for a drink. So I went along for one. I was planning to leave and hit up some clubs after, sell the shit on me.”

“But the cops showed up?”

He nods. “I panicked and told Grayson I was carrying. I knew that if I got caught with the drugs, I was going down. Grayson told me to give them to him. That he wouldn't get searched because of who he is. I followed his orders. But then they searched him and carted him off.” Tyler meets my stare and says, “I didn't mean for any of this to happen. And now I'm totally screwed.
We're
totally screwed.”

“You're not screwed. All you have to do is tell the truth. I can help you.”

“You don't understand,” he says, picking up his coffee and taking a big drink of it. “It's gone further than that now.” He meets my eyes again. “You were right about what you said last night, about my bosses…not being happy. Shit.” Tyler covers his face with his hands.

“Calm down. Talk to me.”

He drops his hands and stares at me. “I got involved with the wrong people. The drugs…they're cartel drugs. I've been dealing for the cartel.”

“Holy shit.” The words came out loud, so I adjust my voice down to a whisper. “You're working for the cartel?”

Tyler nods. “The drugs that were seized from Grayson were part of my second run for them. I was supposed to sell them and bring back the money. But then Grayson was arrested. I didn't want to ask him for the money to pay them on top of everything else. So, I…damnit. I stole some drugs from the stash, hoping they wouldn't notice, so I could sell those to pay them the money I owed them.”

“You took drugs from the cartel and were planning to pay them back with that money you made off of stolen goods? What were you thinking?”

“Clearly I wasn't!” he snaps. “I panicked. And now those drugs are gone, too, and I don't have any money to pay them. And when I got home from Grayson's late last night…my place had been shot up. And there was a note pinned to my wall…a warning. They knew I'd been arrested. They're telling me to keep my mouth shut. I don't think they know about Grayson's arrest or the missing drugs yet, because if they did, then they wouldn't have shot up my place as a message. There would have been someone waiting there with a bullet for my head.”

“I still can't believe that you're involved with the cartel,” I say, putting my elbows on the table, driving my fingers into my hair. This feels way out of my league.

“What do I do, Melissa? How do I fix this?”

I lift my stare to Tyler. I can see how afraid he is when he says, “I don't want anything to happen to Grayson because of me.”

“Let me think about it. I'll figure out what to do. But first I need to talk to your brother. He has to know what's been going on with you.”

“No,” he says.

“Yes. I have to tell him everything—about the cartel and what happened to you last night. I don't think it's a good idea if you're there when I tell him. I need to have Grayson thinking rationally, not trying to kill his little brother. Once I have him thinking straight, I'll bring him around to talk to you.”

“What do I do while you do that?”

“Don't go back to your place. Just in case the cartel wises up and comes looking for you. Do you have anywhere to go that they don't know about?”

He shakes his head. “No.”

I pull the keys to my apartment from my bag. “Go to my place. You'll be safe there.” I give him my address. “Don't call or speak to anyone. I'll try to be as quick as I can with Grayson. Then I'll come home and we'll figure this out—the three of us. Don't worry.”

I get up, hanging my bag on my shoulder.

As I walk past him, Tyler touches my shoulder. “Thanks—for everything.”

“Don't thank me yet. Thank me when this is all over, when you and Grayson are safe.”

I arrive at
the Bubble and have an easy time getting in to see Grayson. The security guy from last night is on reception today and he recognizes me and leads me straight through. I head out to the field, knowing that's where Grayson will be.

He's scrimmaging with his teammates, so I take a seat up in the stands. Watching him out on the field is really something special. He's magical out there. His teammates are great, but Grayson shines especially bright.

Once the scrimmage comes to an end, he sees me sitting up in the stands. I watch him move toward me, removing his helmet, so I start to make my way down the steps. “Hey,” I say, stopping on the bottom rung.

“Hey,” he says, holding his helmet in both his hands. He stares down at it. “I was going to call you.”

“You were?”

“Yeah,” he says, shifting the helmet into one hand and running the other hand through his wet hair. I know that he's just run around the field, but I can't stop imagining that I've made that hair sweaty in bed instead. “I was going to call you as soon as practice was over.” He steps closer to me—so close I smell the sweat on him. It's a primal male scent and I can't get enough of it. It does funny things to my stomach and makes my legs feel weak.

“I'm sorry,” he says in a low voice. Reaching out, he wraps his large hand around my wrist, drawing my eyes to it. “I was totally out of it last night.”

I lift my eyes from where we're joined and stare at him and say, “You don't need to always be at your peak performance with me, Grayson.”

He lets out a soft laugh and says, “Using sports terminology now, are we, lawyer?”

I laugh, shaking my head. But then I take the humor out of my voice. “I'm serious. I want to be with you, and that means being with you when you're acting like yourself. All the time.”

His hands move down from my wrist, and he takes hold of my hand.

My eyes fix on his.

“I'm still sorry.”

“I know you are,” I reply softly. Then I slide my fingers between his.

I see the surprise in his eyes and then watch them soften. He curls his fingers around mine, gripping them tightly. “Let me take you home,” he says. And I know he means to use his time alone with me well.

“We need to talk.”

“I know,” he replies. “We can do that at my place.”

“I do mean talk, Grayson. That isn't code for sex.”

“Talk,” he says, laughing. “I got it.”

“Seriously. It's going to be about things you probably won't like and you have to promise not to throw me out of your house again.”

His brows push together. “I won't ever do that again. That was a terrible idea, and I don't make the same mistake twice.”

“I'm glad to hear it.”

“Let me take a quick shower first. Then we can get out of here. I'll drive us back to my place.”

For all the times I've fought it, I know that I want Grayson more than ever right now. More than I've wanted anything in my life.

And I'm tired of fighting it. Fighting him. So I settle on letting him take the lead so we can see where we end up. But I pray that I didn't just make a terrible decision.

I step into
Grayson's house, remembering my visit there yesterday. That was the first and only time I had been here. And it didn't go so well. I'm hoping this one turns out better.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Grayson says. He takes off his jacket and hangs it on the coatrack in the hallway.

I remove my own and hang it up, putting my bag away with it. “Water would be good,” I say, and follow behind him, my heels clicking on the wooden floor. I really should have taken them off at the door.

“You don't want something stronger?”

I'm standing with my hand against the wall, reaching down to remove my shoes. When I look up, I see Grayson's eyes slide down my body to the foot I just freed from my heels. Something that smolders like lust ignites in his eyes. And it sets off a heat inside of me. Swallowing, I place my first shoe down and then quickly remove the other.

“Water's fine.” I don't think alcohol would be a good idea around him, especially if one look is already setting me on fire. We have a big problem on our hands right now. And we have to address it first if we want Tyler to stay safe.

I head into the kitchen, where Grayson is already at the fridge. He pulls out two bottles of water, walks over to me, and hands me one.

“You're a lot smaller without your heels,” he says, a hint of something like humor or sex in his voice—or both, I think. Without my shoes, he's towering over me and the feeling is thrilling.

“I'm normal-sized,” I say with a grin. “You're just weirdly tall.” Then I make the mistake of meeting his eyes.

The air crackles between us with lust so thick it fogs up my vision. All I can see is him.

“I, er…” I stumble back a step. Seeing the breakfast bar, I move over to it and prop myself up on a stool. Feeling flushed, I unscrew the cap on my bottle and take a long pull of water.

Grayson moves around to the other side of the breakfast bar. He puts his unopened water down on the countertop and curls his hands around the marble edge. I put my water bottle down and keep my eyes on it as I slowly screw the cap back on.

I know he's staring at me, but I'm nervous to meet his eyes again. The more I look into his eyes, the more I get caught in their hold. It's easier for us to control ourselves when there are other people around, but when it's just me and him…it's impossible.

And my willpower is weakening by the second.

“So…” he says, voice low and decadent.

“I saw Tyler earlier,” I say, cutting through the tension. We need to focus on his brother. “He called and asked me if I would meet with him, so I did.”

The silence is palpable. I risk a glance at him.

Grayson's jaw is tight. But he doesn't look angry, he just looks closed off. It's a look I've seen on him before. “And what did he have to say?”

I squeeze the bottle tightly. “He told me the truth—that the drugs found on you were actually his.”

Grayson doesn't move or speak. But I see his grip on the counter tighten, his knuckles whitening.

“Why didn't you tell me?” I ask, looking him in the eyes unafraid, because I know sex is the last thing on his mind right now.

“Because he's my brother.” He says this like it's a given. Like there isn't anything he wouldn't do for him.

Emotion overwhelms me. I find myself wondering, again, what it'd be like to have someone who cares about you so deeply that they would literally do anything for you—put their own ass on the line, risk going to jail for you, potentially lose everything—just like Grayson is doing for his brother. I find myself envious of Tyler in this moment.

“And he told me that he's…” I bite my lip. I'm actually nervous to tell him this part.

“What?” he asks. His tone is impatient, as is the look on his face.

“He's involved with the cartel. That's where the drugs came from. He's working for them.”

Grayson doesn't speak but his eyes say it all.

“This is serious, Grayson,” I say, my voice nearly a whisper. “You could lose everything—seriously,
everything
.”

“You think I don't know that? Damnit!” he says, pushing off the counter and stalking away from me to the other side of the room. He slumps down in a chair at the large glass kitchen table. He puts his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

I hesitate for a moment before I go to him. I slip off the stool and I move over toward him, my bare feet padding on the wood. He doesn't look up as I get close. He stays there with his head in his hands.

I lift a hand to touch him, then pause, hesitating once again. With my hand hovering in the air, it feels like I'm touching him. Like I'm making the decision to erase that line between us. I stare down at him, my heart beating wildly.

Then I press my hand to his head. His hair is much softer than I was expecting. I slide my fingers through it.

He lifts his head and his dark-green eyes meet mine.

“We can fix this,” I whisper.

“How?” he asks, and for the first time, he sounds vulnerable. And that's what cuts me wide open. He's finally allowing me in.

“I know people who can help…all you have to do is tell the truth—you and Tyler.”

He lifts a hand and wraps his fingers around my wrist. His eyes drift down from me.

There's a beat before he lifts them back to me. “Okay,” he says softly. “Do what you need to do, and I'll talk to whoever you need me to talk to, just…Tyler…”

“I'll make sure he's safe,” I say quietly. Our eyes are locked. My thumping heart skips, beating erratically. “You'll have to let George Simpson go so I can represent you and Tyler. I should, um, make some calls…” My hand is still on his head, his fingers still wrapped around my wrist.

“Yeah,” he says. But neither of us moves or looks away. “Look, Mel. I can't tell you how much I appreciate what you're doing. My brother means the world to me and now you—you've quit your job, you're sticking your neck out…you're an amazing person.”

Then he stands and my hand trails away from his head. But he doesn't let go of my arm as my eyes follow his body as it rises. Suddenly, we're face to face.

My mouth feels dry. I wet my lips with my tongue.

It's right then that I see it in his eyes, the exact moment he makes the decision to consume me. He yanks me into his body, my chest heaving into his, and his mouth crashes directly onto mine, and he kisses me.

And, boy, does he kiss me.

Hands in my hair, tongue in my mouth, he kisses me. And it's hot as hell. My hands are gripping his huge arms for support and my legs feel like they're going out from under me.

God, the man can kiss
.

He's kissing me like it's the only thing he needs—like I'm all he needs. There's no aphrodisiac like it. He presses into my hip and the feeling of how much I turn him on does all kinds of crazy things to me. I slide my hands up his arms and wind them around his neck. He makes a deep sound of pleasure into my mouth. It ripples through me, hardening my already erect nipples and teasing my clit like a featherlight touch of his fingers.

His hands leave my hair and slide down my back, grabbing my ass through my pencil skirt. His mouth leaves mine, and the sensation leaves me panting, and then he kisses down my neck, his teeth grazing my skin and making me shiver. “I want you so bad,” he rasps against my skin.

I'm sure I mumble something incoherent back. All rational thought has left my mind and I'm a mess of hormones. But more than that—I'm his completely. In this moment, he can do whatever he wishes to me.

His fingers find the hem of my skirt and pull it up, over my hips. Then his hands are back on my ass and he's lifting me, then placing me down on the table.

He stares down into my eyes as his large hands cup my face. “I've never wanted anyone the way I want you, Mel. You make me crazy—seriously, it's unbelievable how it feels so good and so right when I'm with you. I can't even sleep because I'm always thinking about you.”

“I…” I swallow. “I feel the same—and…I want you. I want you, too.” As I speak, I'm pretty sure my face is the color of a tomato because for some reason, I can barely get the words out. I might be falling for him.

His lips break into a smile that could dissolve the panties I'm wearing and his eyes darken with lust. Then his mouth crashes back down on mine, kissing me, taking greedy pulls on my tongue as he sucks it into his mouth.

Jesus, that feels good—amazing
. He feels amazing. And I need more of him. All of him. Reaching my hands down, I fumble for the button on his jeans. I pop it, then slide the zipper down and slip my hand inside. I barely get my fingers inside his pants when he catches hold of my wrist, stopping me.

I blink up at him in surprise.

He lowers his forehead to mine, his breath gusting over my mouth as he speaks. “I want to make love to you in my bed. But if you touch me here, it's game over, Mel. I will take you right on this table.”

Sweet baby Jesus.

“Maybe I want you to give it to me on the table,” I say, hardly sounding like myself at all. I sound kind of…husky and sexy.

“Christ,” he breathes, and I take it as an invitation. I slide my hand inside his jeans, and he doesn't stop me. My fingertips make contact with skin. The fact that he isn't wearing boxer shorts sends me over the edge.

Holy God.

I curl my fingers around his cock, gripping him.

“Shit,” he hisses. His hand comes down so he can shove his jeans down to the floor. He wraps his big hand around mine and moves my hand up and down, so we're both driving him wild. And, damn, it's hot.

“That's it, harder—grip me harder.”

I tighten my grip, giving him what he needs. His hand leaves mine, and I keep working him up and down. He wraps my hair around his hand, and then takes my mouth in a hot kiss.

The hottest, wettest, dirtiest kiss I have ever experienced in my life. The kind of kiss that could make a girl come. And honestly, with his tongue in my mouth and his cock in my hand, I feel like I could at any second.

His hand drops from my hair and pulls my silk shirt out from the confines of my skirt, kissing me all the while. He unfastens a couple of the buttons, and after he breaks away from my mouth, he pulls the shirt over my head.

His eyes drop to my breasts, which are still covered by my white, lacy La Perla bra.

Moving back from him, I take my hand out of his pants. I reach back and unfasten the clasp on my bra. Sliding the straps down my arms, I drop it on the table.

When I look back to Grayson, his eyes are on fire.

His large hands come up and cup my breasts, and he brushes his thumbs over my nipples, making me shiver. His lips lift at the corner and he bites down on that smile. Then he lowers his head, taking one of my nipples in his mouth. He swirls his tongue around and in less than a moment, I'm squirming. His mouth feels exquisite.

“God, Grayson,” I pant. I'm burning up, desperate for his touch. I push my hips forward, needing contact…needing him.

He must have read my body language, because he drops to his knees before me. With his hands curling into my skirt, he tugs it off me. I lift my hips. Skirt gone, he yanks my panties down, tosses them over his shoulder, pushes my thighs apart, and puts his mouth on me.

“Oh, my God!” My head drops and my hands press to the table as they try to grip the flat surface. “Grayson!” I cry.

There, on Grayson's kitchen table, I have my first orgasm from him.
God, don't let it be the last.
It explodes out of me in a toe-curling, mind-blowing release. I'm still trembling when he gets to his feet.

“Do you know how hot you are?” His voice is a rasp, exuding pure sex. I feel it shiver through me.

“I know how hot you make me,” I whisper.

His eyes flare with need. Then, his hand goes down and wraps around his impossibly hard cock. “You make me crazy,” he says, sliding his hand up and then down slowly. My eyes are fixed on his hand, riveted. “I'm going to show you exactly how crazy you make me.”

He reaches his other hand into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet while he keeps working his hand up and down his shaft. He flips his wallet open and pulls out a condom. After he rips open the packet with his teeth, he slowly rolls the condom on.

When his cock is sheathed, his eyes lift back to mine.

I tremble from the look in them.

He moves in between my legs and takes my face in his hands, kissing me deeply. His tongue slides over mine in a mind-blowing, drugging kiss. He breaks away from my lips, his eyes burning into mine, and drops his hands from my face to grab my hips.

He pulls me forward so my ass is perched on the edge of the table, and he slowly pushes himself inside me.

The feel of him sliding inside me so deep is like nothing I've ever felt before. And the look in his eyes…I feel like he's staring right into the very heart of me. The parts of me that I keep hidden from everyone else.

I feel exposed, vulnerable, but also…safe.

While he's inside me with his hips pressed against mine, his hands come back up to my face. Cupping it, he kisses me again. Gently this time.

He starts to move, slowly at first. I moan into his mouth, and that's when his control seems to snap. Our tempo instantly picks up. He's driving into me and the feeling is beyond incredible.

Grayson starts moving with an animalistic need. My hands are on his back, nails digging into his skin. The only sound is the rasp of our heavy breaths. No words are needed because our bodies are saying everything.

And mine is saying a lot. The second orgasm hits me and I'm crying out Grayson's name, my nails digging deeper into his back. My orgasm seems to set him off, because he yells out a string of expletives, my name mixed in among them, as he comes right after me.