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Trent Carrington.
Trent Mr. Perfect-Has-Everyone-Fooled Carrington.
He’s the star quarterback, university scholar, and happens to be the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. He shines at any angle, and especially under the Saturday night stadium lights where I watch him from the sidelines. But I know the real him, the one who broke my heart and pretended I didn’t exist for the past two years.
I’m the third-string kicker, the only woman on the team and nothing better than a mascot. Until I’m not. Until I get my chance to earn a full scholarship and join the team as first-string. The only way I’ll make the cut is to accept help from the one man I swore to never trust again. The problem is, with each stolen glance and lingering touch, I begin to realizing that trusting Trent isn’t the problem. It’s that I can’t trust myself when I’m around him.
This is a full-length, standalone American football romance novel with hot guys in tight pants who really know how to handle their balls.
“Cordy?”
I turned over and buried my head under a pillow.
Deep laughter and his voice again. “Cordy? We’re going to miss practice.”
Practice? Something was off. My dorm room bed didn’t have enough space for me to roll over and stretch out. I pulled my head from beneath the pillow and blinked against the sun streaming into the room. Not my room.
“Shit!” I clutched the blanket to me and blinked the sleep away.
Trent stood at the foot of the bed, his hair wet as if freshly showered. And, sweet baby Jesus, he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Dark hair dusted his broad chest, ran down the center of his hard abs, and disappeared into his athletic shorts.
I swallowed hard.
“Want me to take you back to your dorm so you can get ready?”
“I, uh.” I looked around at the room—dark wood floors, high ceilings, and a wall of windows looking out onto the city park. Elegant and understated, it was easily the nicest bedroom I’d ever been in. I still wore the sweater dress, but my boots were sitting by the door, and my belt was draped over a dresser. “How did I get here?”
“You were out by the time we got back. I figured it would be easier if you slept here.”
I glanced to the other side of the bed. It was still made.
He followed my gaze. “I slept in the guest room next door.”
“Oh.” Was that disappointment in my voice?
He walked around and sat next to me, his golden skin and light eyes making heat swirl in my stomach. “I called the doctor first thing. Your dad is doing better and is set to be released this afternoon. He’ll be transported straight to the rehab. It’s all taken care of.”
“Thank you.”
He took my hand. “You’re welcome.” He stared down at me for a few beats, and something in his look had my skin heating. His gaze darted to my lips, and he tensed. The longer he looked, the more it seemed as if my lungs couldn’t get enough air. But he pulled his hand away and stood. “I, um, I’ve already set out some breakfast we can grab and go.” He walked into a large closet next to what looked like an en suite bathroom. He snagged a team t-shirt and pulled it over his head as he walked out of the bedroom. “I’ll wait in the living room.”
All the heat he’d stoked inside me dissipated and left me feeling on edge.
I rose and took a tour of his marble bathroom with clear glass shower and soaking tub, then walked out the door and into the sunny living room. He leaned on the granite bar in the kitchen. A bagel, already slathered with cream cheese, sat at the ready along with a travel cup of orange juice.
“You can eat on the way.” He finished his coffee and placed the cup in the sink.
I snagged the food and the juice. “I love bagels.”
“Yeah?” He dropped his gaze.
I took a big bite as I followed him to his front door. “And this is my favorite flavor of cream cheese.”
“Good to know.” He walked around the kitchen island and toward the front door.
I took in his spacious apartment. The living room was full of leather furniture, a big screen TV, and a plush rug that I wanted to run my hand across.
He opened the door and led me out, then closed it behind him and locked it. We rode the elevator down to his car, and the drive to my dorm was less than ten minutes. I ate my bagel and downed the last of my juice as he parked.
“I’ll wait here for you and drive you to practice. It’s faster that way.”
I opened the door, a blast of frigid air whipping into the warm car, then turned to him. “Come on up. I don’t mind.”
The corner of his mouth twitched in a smile, and he killed the engine. “Sure.”
Brandy waved us through and gave Trent a wink. I pretended I didn’t see it and climbed the two flights of stairs to my floor. Trent walked behind me, his presence making my skin warm and my mind wander. I fumbled with the keys, but managed to make it into my room without dropping them.
Trent followed and closed the door behind him. Ellie was out, but had left a half-eaten piece of peanut butter toast on her bed, crumbs and all.
I walked to my closet and picked out a t-shirt, athletic pants, and fresh underwear. Ellie’s dress had served me well over the last day and a half, but I was ready to be rid of it.
“Just make yourself at home.” I turned as Trent sat at the foot of my bed. He watched me, never taking his eyes from me as I strode to the bathroom. “I’ll shower and dress right quick.”
“I’ll be here. We’re making good time. Practice doesn’t start for another forty-five minutes.” He lay back and tucked his hands under his head, his broad back taking up almost all my double bed.
A shock of need shot through my pussy, and I scissored my legs to fight the sensation. He followed the movement and licked his lips.
“I, um, shower, yeah.” I hurried into the bathroom and closed the door behind me.
“What are you doing?” I whispered to myself, though the scolding did nothing to chill my need for Trent. He’d looked like a powerful cat lounging on my bed.
After peeling off the dress, I took a short shower to wash off the stress of the past few days. Halfway through, my fingers dipped to my pussy as I thought of Trent laid out on my bed. God, why did he have to be so gorgeous? I stroked myself a few times before forcing my fingers to stop. He might hear, and I couldn’t bear the thought of him busting me touching myself in the shower.
I dried off, put on fresh clothes, and wrapped my towel around my wet hair. When I opened the door, he was in the same position, but his eyes were trained on me.
“Better?” He let his gaze travel the length of my body.
“Much. Thanks.” My nipples tingled and hardened, and I crossed my arms over my chest to hide it. “I just need to get some socks.”
I walked past Trent to my bedside table and opened the bottom drawer. He shifted on the bed, and when I turned around, he was sitting closer to me.
My heart raced at his nearness, but I tried to play it off by sitting next to him and pulling on my socks. I could sense how focused he was on me, and the knowledge sent a tingle of electricity over my skin. I finished and pulled the towel from my hair.
“I think I’m ready.” I met his eyes, our arms lightly touching as we sat beside each other.
“Are you?” He leaned in and kissed me.
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Celia Aaron is the self-publishing pseudonym of a published romance and erotica author. She loves to write stories with hot heroes and heroines that are twisty and often dark. Thanks for reading.
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I single-handedly built the hottest website for dating and relationship advice. Got a question? Scarlet Rocket can answer it for you. I was your modern day agony aunt with the solutions to all your pesky personal problems. The only issue? I was actually a man named Willis Halloran, not the female Scarlet Rocket. I thought my secret was safe. But then a sexy con artist calling herself Scarlet Rocket began showing up at society events, pretending to be me. I couldn’t let it go, so I tracked her down and confronted her. It went well … except for the part where she stole my wallet. Oh, and the part where she conned my agent into having us work together. And after that? Let’s just say she wound up stealing something much more valuable than my wallet or my [fake] name.
Celia Aaron is a recovering attorney who loves romance and erotic fiction. Dark to light, angsty to funny, real to fantasy—if it’s hot and strikes her fancy, she writes it. Want a free bestselling book? 
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