THE MAN. THE GAME. THE BABY. (A Knight Brothers Novel) (A Bad Boy Sports Romance) by London Casey & Karolyn James

Author:London Casey & Karolyn James
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Published: 2016-06-14T04:00:00+00:00

Shawn was far to my right. I scanned the field and made the call. I dropped back and watched him run. His long legs pumped, moving him forward. It was a simple post route, but watching him make the cut was almost pathetic. If this were in game action, I could drop it where he was going. But he wanted to run the right route? Fine.

I put the ball up and it came down about two yards away from Shawn.

He slowed, holding his sides, out of breath.

“Dive for that!” I yelled.

“Fuck you, motherfucker,” he yelled.

He grabbed the ball and jogged back to me.

He slammed the ball into my gut.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Too much down time?”

“Fuck you, Knight. Hit me. Hit the fucking receiver.”

“Hit your route,” I said. “Thirty-one. Blue eye. Forty.”

Shawn took off again. This time he had more steam. He cut across the field and then made the cut to go to the corner of the end zone. I knew he was going to be off by a yard so I adjusted my throw.

A perfect spiral.

Shawn put his hands out.

The ball fell right down into his hands.

Just. Like. That.

Shawn yelled and cheered.

He walked the ball back, nodding, sweat dripping down his face. “That’s how we do it. That’s how we fucking do it.”

“Easy,” I said. “Run a cross. Hands out wide. Go.”

Shawn ran and went ten yards out. In play, there’d be a defender on his ass. So I’d have to put the ball outside his reach and let him get to it first.

A perfect throw and a perfect catch.

Shawn ran back and tossed me the ball. “Do it again.”

We ran three more plays. Each time I had to place the ball for his benefit. Each time he caught the ball, he looked at me and nodded with a shit grin. As though he was doing me a favor by catching the fucking thing.

He tossed the ball to me again.

“First play,” I said. “Run it right.”

“Motherfucker, I always run it right,” he said.

Shawn took off before I said anything else.

Fuck him then.

I put the ball up and it came down right where it needed to be. But Shawn wasn’t there, just like the first time. It was off by two feet.

He turned and looked at me. “You’re fucking with me.”

“That’s the route,” I said. “Run it.”

“Fuck you, man. Throw it better. Stop pumping cans of beer and cheap women.”

“Maybe you should try to doing another squat or two instead of designing t-shirts,” I said. “Then you could get some real muscle.”

“Oh, you a dead man, motherfucker,” Shawn said.

We were charging at each other. My rage was easily triggered. Take pussy away from me and I wanted to fight more than ever.

Two feet away, Shawn put on the brakes and started waving his fingers at me. “You stupid fuck. You’re going to ruin the motherfucking team with your shit.”

“Fuck off, Shawn,” I said. “Learn your routes.”

“Learn to throw, pussy.”

My fist flew before I could stop myself. I cracked him in the jaw and he went flying back.

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