Stallion: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (5 page)

“Where are you going?” I shout after him, scrambling for my beer-soaked bag and notebook. I’ve never been so flustered in my entire life.

Is he just playing with me?

I’ve never felt so wanted and unwanted at the same time. One second he’s ready to take me upstairs and have his way with me, and then the next he’s just walking away from me? A girl could get whiplash from behavior like this.

But all I can do is chase after him, pushing past writhing, sweaty bodies, trying not to knock over anyone’s drink.

“Sorry! Excuse me!” I shout, pushing past the throngs of partiers, feeling completely out of place.

Finally, I reach the back door and stumble out onto the back deck. The cool air is like heaven as I suck in deep breaths through my mouth. I can finally breathe, but it does nothing to calm my heart, which is still racing like I’ve just run the hundred meter dash.

A loud splash comes from my left and I turn to see a girl, completely naked, plunging into the water. Men cheer like testosterone-filled warriors as the girl surfaces, leaping up and shaking her breasts for everyone to see.

Talk about not being shy!

“Here, here!” Walker shouts, clapping like a King who is pleased with the display being put on in his honor. I know I should be disgusted, and I am, but another part of me feels…and I hate to admit this…turned on.

There’s something so animalistic at this hedonistic display of sexuality. The way all these men are looking at that naked girl…no man has ever looked at me that way. Except of course how Walker was looking at me a minute ago.

And they’re all staring at her, and she knows it. What’s even more amazing, is that she
owns
it. She knows exactly what she’s doing, and she’s relishing in every glance, in every bit lip or bulge beneath a pair of shorts that she sees.

Could I ever do something like that?

Not if I wanted to maintain any ounce of professionalism I couldn’t. But even then…with all those eyes on me…

Walker did say I have a great rack. It’s better than hers…
I think, surprising even myself at my inner outburst of bitchy competitiveness. Five minutes ago, no one had even commented on my breasts, and now scowling at this girl because everyone’s looking at her
rack
instead of mine?

Walker really does do funny things to a girl.

“You guys ready for this?” Walker suddenly shouts from beside me. A roar of response comes from the crowd.
Praise the king!
“I said are you ready for this!?”

The crowd screams like it’s kickoff of the Super Bowl.

“All right, we’ve got a newcomer today. It’s her first cannonball contest, so make sure you all give it up for Emmy!”

What?

My heart stops. My body freezes as Walker turns to me. He’s grinning at me, clapping for me like I’m being invited on stage as a guest speaker. All eyes are on me, and I answer my own question.

No, I could never do something like that girl in the pool.

“What are you doing!?” I snap, stepping up close to him, trying to ignore the faint hint of cologne and the smell of his body.

“Don’t be a bore, Emmy,” he chuckles. “You’re a reporter right? Jump on in.”

He’s not serious. Is he?

“Seriously. Come on,” he says, ushering me towards the water.

Can he read my mind?

“Come on, Emmy!” Some guy shouts from the crowd. Great, now everyone knows who I am. “Take it off! Let’s see those babies!”

I look down at the pool below me and the drunken horde all cheering for me.
I am already soaked in beer
, I think as I turn to Walker.

“If I do this, you’ll give me an interview?”

“I’ll give you a lot more than that,” he says with a smile.

“An
interview
, Walker!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, waving his hand dismissively. “Let’s just say it will be a
post-game
interview.”

I twist my lips, thinking hard. Peter isn’t going to take no for an answer when it comes to this story. I know if I go back empty–handed, he’s going to just tell me to go back and get something. A good journalist gets her story, whatever it takes. So I jump into a pool? What’s the big deal? I’m in college. It’s a college party. Then I get the story, and I get away from Walker…far, far away where life is much simpler.

“Fine,” I tell him, stepping up to the edge of the porch. The crowd cheers louder, egging me on.

“Yeah, girl!”

“Take it off!” Someone shouts.

I ignore them and kick my shoes off, getting ready to take the plunge.
I can’t believe this
. As I step move to jump, the entire crowd boos in unison.

“Weak!”

“Laaaaame!”

“Take it off!”

Flabbergasted, I turn to Walker, who is smiling knowingly at me.

“What the Hell?” I ask.

“You gotta take your clothes off,” he tells me simply.

“I’m not taking my clothes off!” I shout back at him. More boos from the crowd.

“Well, it is the Balls-Out-Boobs-Out Cannonball Contest,” he says, as a simple matter of fact. Quickly, I bend down and snatch my shoes from the deck and race over to him.

“That is
not
okay!” I whisper-yell at him, shaking my hand in his face. “I am not taking my clothes off!”

“Hey, I didn’t make the rules, sweetheart. That’s just how it is. It’s tradition!”

Did he just call me sweetheart?
Suddenly, all desire I may have had for this man is replaced by murderous thoughts. I want to strangle Walker Johnson in front of everyone. How about
that
for a show!? I can see the headline:

Walker Johnson,
Colt’s star wide receiver choked to death by Tribune’s own reporter, Emmy Hutchinson.

A story like that might just break the internet. So what if he’s the most gorgeous man I’ve ever laid eyes on? There’s only so much I can take, and this is where I draw the line.

“I am not taking off my clothes,” I tell him firmly. I can see it in his eyes that he knows I’m serious. But he doesn’t look angry. It’s almost like he’s…amused.

“Hmm,” he muses, almost to himself more than me. “Okay, Emmy. Keep your clothes on. But I hope you don’t mind—“

And before I know it, Walker grabs his shirt and pulls it off over his head. The view takes my breath away.

Muscles on muscles on muscles, and a six pack I could do my laundry on – I actually picture that for a second. How does a man even look like this? I always thought physiques like this were photoshopped in magazines, but the reality is that in person Walker is even more impressive looking, if that was even possible.

I imagine this is what it would feel like to actually stand underneath the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.

But before I even get a chance to take it all in, Walker does something that blows my mind; he pulls his pants off.

And there it is. Right in front of me. The thing of legend. What all the girls talk about.

So that’s why they call him the Stallion
, I realize. I’m staring, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m already soaked from the beer, but suddenly I feel wet in a much different place.

Waves of heat flood up my body from my toes, and I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. My stomach is twisted into the tightest of knots, and I feel like my legs are turning into cookie dough, threatening to give out at the slightest touch.

Stop it! Look away. Look away!
I scream at myself.

“See anything you like?” I hear Walker’s voice and force myself to look up at him. Those mesmerizing brown eyes aren’t even close to being a distraction from what I just saw. If anything, I feel even more overwhelmed by the look on his face.
He knows what I’m feeling right now
, and I can’t stand it.

I open my lips to speak, but nothing comes out. My mouth is watering, but my throat is dry. I force myself to swallow and try to speak.

“You sure you don’t want to go upstairs? I’m not just a star on the field, you know.”

“I have to go!” I blurt out. Before I can think twice, I reach down and snatch my bag and shoes and race off into the crowd.

“You know where to find me if you want the full story!” I hear Walker shout after me. As I enter the house I hear the roar of the crowd and a splash as Walker does his cannonball.

He really is a star
.

* * *

I
burst
into my dorm room and immediately collapse onto the bed, my heart racing, gasping for air. I’m winded. I ran the whole way home. I had to get out of there.

That was insanity! I’d heard the rumors about Walker – not just the ones about his sexual prowess either. The parties at football house were the stuff of legend, and I never thought I’d ever find myself at one.

He’s gorgeous
…

But such a dickhead! Asking me upstairs with him like that, like he just assumed I’d say yes. When was the last time he actually heard no? Probably when he asked a girl if she wanted to leave and go back to her dorm now because he was tired.

I put a hand on my chest to feel my heartbeat, and feel something wet.

Shit. The beer
.

With a groan, I get up and grab my towel. Looks like it’s time for another shower. I bring the soaked shirt and bra to the bathroom with me, crank the water on, douse them in soap and leave them soaking in the sink before getting back in the stall.

I can’t handle the hot water now. I need ice cold water on my skin. I need to wash the Walker off of me…out of me…out of my mind.

But I can’t.

I’m practically freezing to death as I step under the icy blast from the showerhead, but every time I try to think of something else, I see his naked body standing there in front of me. Those muscles. The unreal Adonis body, like a renaissance sculpture in the hands of an artisan. I hate admitting it, but he’s flawless. The broad shoulders, the biceps, the abs, the chest muscles…

And the rest of him.

No wonder he has no issues getting naked. If I looked like that I wouldn’t either.

Well, maybe that’s not true
. He did say I have a great rack, and I still managed to keep my clothes on at the pool.

The cold water is doing nothing to cool me down. Isn’t this what guys do when they’re horny?

I’m horny!
I finally admit to myself. Abbey was right. I thought I’d somehow be immune to his charm. I’d prepared myself, but this wasn’t like studying for an exam. I had no idea what to prepare for. I was going to go in and be a professional, get my story and get out. But I guess getting involved with Walker Johnson is going to be a lot more complicated.

Getting involved!
What am I thinking?

No one’s getting involved here. This is just a story! That’s all he is – a story. Just another step on my ladder to success. So what if he’s the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen? And so what if his smile makes my heart race? Am I that predictable that I’m going to let myself succumb to his obvious advances?

I can still feel his strong arm around my waist as I lean back against the wall of the shower. He just went for it and grabbed me like he already owned me. Zero hesitation.

The shower isn’t going to solve anything. There’s no way I’ll be able to even approach Walker again, let alone interview him for the Tribune. That is unless I find some way to take care of this.

Closing my eyes, I run my hand across the place where he touched me, imagining my touch as his touch. I can smell him again, the scent of his cologne and his smell underneath. The memory of his body against mine sends my heart racing, and I start to feel warm between my legs.

What would it be like to be with Walker? A man like him definitely knows what he’s doing. I’ve heard rumors of football guys being bad in bed and just expecting girls to worship them and do all the work, but I can tell from Walker’s attitude that he takes his performance off the field just as seriously as on, and there’s no way he wouldn’t do everything he could to blow my mind.

With his chiseled arms around me, I’d be so small and helpless. He would take complete control, and I would let him. His eyes would hypnotize me, and his strong hands would show me what to do. Standing nude beside the pool, he was impressive enough. I can’t imagine what he would be like fully hard. Would I even be able to take that?

Yes…
I think.

I’m not the kind of girl who backs down from a challenge. I slide my hand down between my legs and feel a pulse of pleasure that sends my mouth open and my head back.

My touch – his touch…

Would he hesitate? No. He would take me when and how he wanted. Guys like Walker don’t ask. They know. He would know just how to give it to me to turn me into a melted girl puddle on his bed. He almost brought me to my knees with his eyes, imagine what he could do with the rest of him.

Would it hurt? Probably. I doubt I could even get my hand around that thing. It would take my breath away going in, and then I’d be flooded with pleasure as he started to fuck me.

My hand moves faster between my legs, moving in slight circles as I picture his sculpted body on top of me.

Walker Johnson inside me…