Read Online Hearts in Overtime: A Bad Boy Sports Romance by Daphne Swan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Daphne Swan
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then I spill my guts, filling Tracy in on every last detail from the first moment we met to the last kiss goodbye. I stumble a bit when I tell her about me sucking him off in the office and him going down on me, but I manage to power through. This is no time to be shy. I’m in desperate need of some advice here.
“No way,” she murmurs once I’ve finished telling her.
I’m not sure what to make of her hushed tones. Is she scandalized or what?
“Um…yes way.”
“No way!” she shouts this time. “Charlotte Leigh Marshall, you are such a rock star! You go with your bad self, fooling around with the hottest superstar in the freakin’ NFL. Man, I had no idea you were such a badass! Usually you’re the one who’s pouring me into a cab after a night of drunken debauchery.”
I can’t help but smile. Maybe I really am somewhat of a badass…
“Who would ever have thought?” she goes on to say. “Wholesome, corn-fed Charlotte from Wis-caaan-sin getting busy with a world famous football star on a table in an office building no less. And the way you called his bluff when you said you’d go down on him? Priceless!”
Tracy continues to congratulate me on my bad self (and I can think of absolutely no reason to stop her) but once she’s run out of things to say, I rein the conversation in a bit because I need help figuring out what to do going forward.
“Wait. I don’t get it. Why would you even consider calling things off?” she asks. “Why not have a hot, steamy fling with a hot sexy guy? How long’s it been for you, anyway?”
Rolling onto my back, I release a groan.
“Too long. I haven’t been with anyone since Tim.”
“Tim?!” Tracy shrieks. “Charlotte, that was over two years ago. Didn’t you even have rebound sex with anyone?”
“Nope.”
“Well, that’s all the more reason to go for it with Ryan Blake.”
She’s got a point. But I’m still not sure.
“If I’d met him in a bar or at a party or something, I wouldn’t hesitate to go with the flow, but this is different. We’re working together in a professional capacity and what happened today is so not professional.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about it,” she says. “I think it’s safe to assume that the world of professional sports isn’t like the real world. Players probably have more sex in one season than most people have in their entire lives, what with fans and groupies all lining up to drop their panties. Normal rules don’t apply. I would hazard a guess that sex is not as big a deal to them as it is to most people. You know what I mean?”
“Sort of, I guess. But it’s not like I’m just some random groupie. I’m his biographer. I’m getting paid to work with him.”
“Yeah, but I’ll bet you anything that these star athletes have bedded down plenty of women who were getting paid to work with them—journalists, trainers, party planners, masseuses, personal shoppers, assistants, whatever. Probably even lawyers and accountants. Maybe even doctors.”
“Doctors? I doubt that,” I interject.
“Yeah, probably not doctors. The code of ethics is pretty clear about that sort of thing. Anyway, the point is, it’s really not that big of a deal. I wouldn’t broadcast the fact that you’re getting it on, but if one of Ryan’s teammates should happen to catch you guys making out or something, it wouldn’t be the end of the world.”
Tracy makes a good point. I feel so much better about the idea of taking things further with him, and it hits me that I really just needed her blessing—or anybody’s blessing, really—in order to go forward with this. I am so relaxed now. Only now, that my body is free of tension does it hit me how much tension it was holding, especially in my shoulders.
“Thanks for everything, Tracy. I really needed to talk this through, and I feel a hundred percent better now.”
“My pleasure. Thank you for sharing all the deets with me. Ryan Blake, huh? Who’d have
“No way,” she murmurs once I’ve finished telling her.
I’m not sure what to make of her hushed tones. Is she scandalized or what?
“Um…yes way.”
“No way!” she shouts this time. “Charlotte Leigh Marshall, you are such a rock star! You go with your bad self, fooling around with the hottest superstar in the freakin’ NFL. Man, I had no idea you were such a badass! Usually you’re the one who’s pouring me into a cab after a night of drunken debauchery.”
I can’t help but smile. Maybe I really am somewhat of a badass…
“Who would ever have thought?” she goes on to say. “Wholesome, corn-fed Charlotte from Wis-caaan-sin getting busy with a world famous football star on a table in an office building no less. And the way you called his bluff when you said you’d go down on him? Priceless!”
Tracy continues to congratulate me on my bad self (and I can think of absolutely no reason to stop her) but once she’s run out of things to say, I rein the conversation in a bit because I need help figuring out what to do going forward.
“Wait. I don’t get it. Why would you even consider calling things off?” she asks. “Why not have a hot, steamy fling with a hot sexy guy? How long’s it been for you, anyway?”
Rolling onto my back, I release a groan.
“Too long. I haven’t been with anyone since Tim.”
“Tim?!” Tracy shrieks. “Charlotte, that was over two years ago. Didn’t you even have rebound sex with anyone?”
“Nope.”
“Well, that’s all the more reason to go for it with Ryan Blake.”
She’s got a point. But I’m still not sure.
“If I’d met him in a bar or at a party or something, I wouldn’t hesitate to go with the flow, but this is different. We’re working together in a professional capacity and what happened today is so not professional.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about it,” she says. “I think it’s safe to assume that the world of professional sports isn’t like the real world. Players probably have more sex in one season than most people have in their entire lives, what with fans and groupies all lining up to drop their panties. Normal rules don’t apply. I would hazard a guess that sex is not as big a deal to them as it is to most people. You know what I mean?”
“Sort of, I guess. But it’s not like I’m just some random groupie. I’m his biographer. I’m getting paid to work with him.”
“Yeah, but I’ll bet you anything that these star athletes have bedded down plenty of women who were getting paid to work with them—journalists, trainers, party planners, masseuses, personal shoppers, assistants, whatever. Probably even lawyers and accountants. Maybe even doctors.”
“Doctors? I doubt that,” I interject.
“Yeah, probably not doctors. The code of ethics is pretty clear about that sort of thing. Anyway, the point is, it’s really not that big of a deal. I wouldn’t broadcast the fact that you’re getting it on, but if one of Ryan’s teammates should happen to catch you guys making out or something, it wouldn’t be the end of the world.”
Tracy makes a good point. I feel so much better about the idea of taking things further with him, and it hits me that I really just needed her blessing—or anybody’s blessing, really—in order to go forward with this. I am so relaxed now. Only now, that my body is free of tension does it hit me how much tension it was holding, especially in my shoulders.
“Thanks for everything, Tracy. I really needed to talk this through, and I feel a hundred percent better now.”
“My pleasure. Thank you for sharing all the deets with me. Ryan Blake, huh? Who’d have
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