Tackled by the King: A Bad Boy Sports Romance Read Online Free Page B
Author: Christina Clark
didn't know you had company. Hey, fellas.”
Val curled his lip and narrowed his eyes at the psychotic, but sexy woman cozying up to my side. I turned around and cloaked her with the towel hanging over my shoulder. As she snuck an arm around my waist, I could see Odell's I-told-you-so eyebrows climbing up his forehead from the corner of my eye.
“Figures. The drains have been acting up lately,” said Val resentfully as he rummaged through his bag. “Should've known it was you clogging 'em up with your cock snot.”
“That's not very nice –” Farrah started indignantly.
“I see Coach, Abigail, and the rest of the guys coming up the field,” Odell warned from the door. “You better get her outta here.”
Just as Odell warned me, one of the towel boys busted into the room with a squeaking laundry cart. I pried Farrah's arms off me, scooped her off the ground, and chucked her into the pile of dirty jockstraps and towels. Farrah pinched her nose, gagging.
“Sorry, but you needed to leave 10 minutes ago.” I slipped the towel boy a 20 and jerked my head towards the door. “Get her outta here.”
The towel boy threw a towel over Farrah's head and wheeled her out the door before she could object. Odell and I peered out the slitted window. We watched as the towel boy steered away from the approaching crowd and out of sight. That kid was the real MVP.
Coach Abasi and the rest of the team poured in to the locker room with Abigail following closely behind.
“Everyone here?” Coach thundered, looking around at us. “Alright, listen up. The Daily Dirt will be sending one of their journalists, Carrie Toussaint, to shadow the team for 2 months.”
“Carrie starts this afternoon. She'll be observing you all at practice, attending your games, social events, and will be doing pieces on a couple of the players,” Abigail explained. “Our team could really use the good publicity –”
“What she means is, you lot better get your shit straightened out. I don't give a damn what any of you do, just don't get caught. I'm talking to you, Kelly. Take it down a notch and stop screwing everything that moves.”
“Will do, Coach,” I replied, acknowledging Val's snorts with a silent fuck-you behind my back.
Coach glared at me before turning back to the team.
“And I expect nothing but your best behavior when you're around this woman. You treat her with the utmost respect – no funny business, understood?”
“Yes, Coach,” the team replied in lackluster unison.
“Good. I want your asses out in the field in 5. Get those laps in and start off with some X-drills. I'll be back later.”
When Coach and Abigail left the locker room, the team broke out in sleazy discourse over the chick reporter. I was halfway back to the shower when Louie Banks, our Tight End, called for everyone's attention. He waved his phone in the air, beckoning us towards him.
“I'm on The Daily Dirt ' s staff page. Who wants to check out this Carrie chick?”
I wandered back into the crowd gathering around Louie, who was scrolling across the different faces and bios on the page.
“Toussaint – sounds like one of those sexy French babes,” Val piped up, rubbing his hands together.
“Here she is – Carrie Toussaint.”
The team griped in shared disappointment.
I frowned at the picture, noting how outdated it looked compared to the rest. In fact, it appeared to be the senior portrait of a high school girl. The chubby girl wore old-fashioned glasses, and had unkempt black hair and a mouthful of colorful braces. Despite the cluster of acne on her forehead and cheeks, there was a glowing grin on her face as she posed in front of the starry backdrop. I wasn't sure why, but it was pretty refreshing, and I could feel the corners of my lips tugging back at the girl's unshakable confidence.
“Of all the fine pieces of ass on this page – shit, this bitch looks like Ugly Betty's uglier sister.” Val sneered, waving a hand dismissively.
I
Val curled his lip and narrowed his eyes at the psychotic, but sexy woman cozying up to my side. I turned around and cloaked her with the towel hanging over my shoulder. As she snuck an arm around my waist, I could see Odell's I-told-you-so eyebrows climbing up his forehead from the corner of my eye.
“Figures. The drains have been acting up lately,” said Val resentfully as he rummaged through his bag. “Should've known it was you clogging 'em up with your cock snot.”
“That's not very nice –” Farrah started indignantly.
“I see Coach, Abigail, and the rest of the guys coming up the field,” Odell warned from the door. “You better get her outta here.”
Just as Odell warned me, one of the towel boys busted into the room with a squeaking laundry cart. I pried Farrah's arms off me, scooped her off the ground, and chucked her into the pile of dirty jockstraps and towels. Farrah pinched her nose, gagging.
“Sorry, but you needed to leave 10 minutes ago.” I slipped the towel boy a 20 and jerked my head towards the door. “Get her outta here.”
The towel boy threw a towel over Farrah's head and wheeled her out the door before she could object. Odell and I peered out the slitted window. We watched as the towel boy steered away from the approaching crowd and out of sight. That kid was the real MVP.
Coach Abasi and the rest of the team poured in to the locker room with Abigail following closely behind.
“Everyone here?” Coach thundered, looking around at us. “Alright, listen up. The Daily Dirt will be sending one of their journalists, Carrie Toussaint, to shadow the team for 2 months.”
“Carrie starts this afternoon. She'll be observing you all at practice, attending your games, social events, and will be doing pieces on a couple of the players,” Abigail explained. “Our team could really use the good publicity –”
“What she means is, you lot better get your shit straightened out. I don't give a damn what any of you do, just don't get caught. I'm talking to you, Kelly. Take it down a notch and stop screwing everything that moves.”
“Will do, Coach,” I replied, acknowledging Val's snorts with a silent fuck-you behind my back.
Coach glared at me before turning back to the team.
“And I expect nothing but your best behavior when you're around this woman. You treat her with the utmost respect – no funny business, understood?”
“Yes, Coach,” the team replied in lackluster unison.
“Good. I want your asses out in the field in 5. Get those laps in and start off with some X-drills. I'll be back later.”
When Coach and Abigail left the locker room, the team broke out in sleazy discourse over the chick reporter. I was halfway back to the shower when Louie Banks, our Tight End, called for everyone's attention. He waved his phone in the air, beckoning us towards him.
“I'm on The Daily Dirt ' s staff page. Who wants to check out this Carrie chick?”
I wandered back into the crowd gathering around Louie, who was scrolling across the different faces and bios on the page.
“Toussaint – sounds like one of those sexy French babes,” Val piped up, rubbing his hands together.
“Here she is – Carrie Toussaint.”
The team griped in shared disappointment.
I frowned at the picture, noting how outdated it looked compared to the rest. In fact, it appeared to be the senior portrait of a high school girl. The chubby girl wore old-fashioned glasses, and had unkempt black hair and a mouthful of colorful braces. Despite the cluster of acne on her forehead and cheeks, there was a glowing grin on her face as she posed in front of the starry backdrop. I wasn't sure why, but it was pretty refreshing, and I could feel the corners of my lips tugging back at the girl's unshakable confidence.
“Of all the fine pieces of ass on this page – shit, this bitch looks like Ugly Betty's uglier sister.” Val sneered, waving a hand dismissively.
I
Readers choose
Carolyn Keene
Ronald Malfi
Lynn Cooper
Chaim Potok
Devon Hartford
Norman Finkelstein
Chance Carter
Ryan Flavelle
Thomas Mcguane