Johnny Deeper: A Sports Romance (22 page)

“Are you sure?”

“Nope.” He takes my hand again. “But I can’t wait to try.”

We entwine fingers. “Yeah,” I say. “I can’t either.”

“But you know what I
am
sure about?”

“What?”

“I’m
sure
… that
this
girl… will be
way
cuter than Junior’s girl was.”

I throw my head back and laugh. “Oh, really?”

“Oh, yeah. I guarantee it,” he says. “With your gorgeous looks and this handsome mug, there’s no contest.”

“I’m gonna tell him you said that,” I tease.

“Pfft. I ain’t afraid of Junior.”

“What about Eliza?”

He hesitates. “Maybe a little.”

I lie back and exhale the laugh from my lungs. “Two boys and a girl…” I say it again, still not quite believing it’s true.

“So, what will she be?” he asks. “A Dana or a Ramona?”

I draw a line across my upper belly, feeling the life stirring inside for a brief, fleeting moment. “I think she feels like a Dana…”

John nods. “I think so, too.” He leans in and kisses me softly. “So, should we call them back in here?”

I look at my husband, once again sensing a bit of movement inside of me, and I smile. “No. Just a few more minutes…”

“Perfect.”

He kisses me again and I kiss him back, letting the moment last for a little while longer.

Please enjoy

Whiplash: A Sports Romance

as a bonus read!

Thank you for reading!

xoxo

TK

WHIPLASH

A SPORTS ROMANCE

TABATHA KISS

Copyright © 2016 by Tabatha Kiss

All Rights Reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form

without written permission from the author.

This is a work of fiction intended for mature audiences only.

Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All characters detailed within are eighteen years of age or older.

No characters engaging in sexual acts are blood-related.

WARNING:
This novel contains explicit descriptions of

erotic and sexual acts that some may find offensive,

including perverse adult language.

Reader discretion advised.

http://tabathakiss.com

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WHIPLASH

A SPORTS ROMANCE

BY TABATHA KISS

If I’m a player…

Then she’s the coach.

ELIZA

My dad doesn’t want me socializing with the team.

But I’ve never been much of a daddy’s girl.

Junior Morgan thinks he can flash a wink and get me in his bed.

I won’t make it so easy for him.

Sorry, quarterback. You want me?

You’re gonna have to earn it.

Let’s play.

JUNIOR

The new coach doesn’t want the team involved with his daughter.

But I’ve never been one to follow the rules.

Eliza Pierce thinks she’s won her little game.

I’m not giving up so easy.

Sorry, honey. I know what I want.

You have no idea who you’re playing with.

Bring it on.

A handsome playboy. The coach’s forbidden daughter.

College football’s Most Valuable Player has met his match!

SEPTEMBER

Chapter 1

Junior

“Cary Pierce?!”

Ty nods, his eyes never leaving the road in front of us. “That’s what I heard.”

I blink, forcing my vision to focus but my head still spins. “No way. That’s impossible.”

“Before he retired, he said he’d like to coach a college team.”

“Most professionals say that on their way out,” I argue. “They usually don’t. There’s no way
Cary Pierce
is our new coach. Why would he even bother with a shitty school like ours?”

Ty grins and tilts his head, taking his eyes off the road for several dangerous seconds to glare at me. “Wanna bet?”

I’ve known Ty for two years now, ever since our freshman year. This is his
gotcha
face; his
I know something you don’t know
face.

“What do you know?” I ask.

“Make a right turn,”
his phone speaks, highlighting an upcoming road on the GPS map.

Ty barely slows down in time and makes a hard right turn. The car lurches and my guts shift as I grip my seatbelt a little tighter.

“I know,” he begins, “that my cousin, the real estate agent, just sold a big house just outside the city —” he points the map, “
this big house —
and had to sign a non-disclosure agreement before he met his client.”

I pause. “Really?”

He nods. “But we went out for drinks last night and he said he’d fucking kill to be
in my cleats
right now because our new coach is a retired,
four-time pro football champion—
”

“You are so full of shit, dude,” I scoff.

“Hey…” He holds up his hands and the wheel curves gently left, sending the car along with it. “Don’t believe me if you want but you’re gonna be sucking my dick later.”

“Just watch the road, man,” I urge, shifting in my seat to get a little more comfortable.

A suit and tie isn’t usually my style but the invitation the team received insisted on us looking our best to meet the new coach in order to pay respect to the last one — Marty Duncan. He’d been the university football coach for the last two decades until he finally keeled over last week — just two weeks before the first game of the season. The gentle, relieved sighs of the school board could be heard throughout campus for days as they celebrated the idea of bringing in some new blood after begging him to retire for years.

But
Cary Pierce
blood? Not a fucking chance.

Still, a bit of doubt seeps in as we round the dirt corner and the house comes into view. Scratch that — it’s not a house, it’s a damn mansion with a large, black gate surrounding it.

“Holy shit,” I say. “I didn’t even know this was out here.”

“Me neither,” Ty mutters.

We come to a stop at the front gate where a security guard emerges out of nowhere. He grins at us as Ty rolls down his window, flashing a pair of old, stained teeth. “Welcome, boys!” he greets. “Come to meet the new coach?”

“Yeah,” Ty says, scavenging into his back pocket for his invitation. He holds it out and the man waves us through.

“Have fun!”

The gate slides open slowly, adding even more annoying anticipation towards finding out who this mysterious new coach is. As Ty drives forward, his smug grin dances a little more on his face. Could he be right? Could we be driving towards professional football royalty right now?

I shake the thoughts away. We’re smack in the middle of a damn fly-over state. Cary Pierce is from New York City and he probably retired there as well, along with his millions.

“Whoa-o-o!” Ty laughs as we swing into the circle drive. His eyes flash around, taking in the perfect lawn and the huge fountain at its center.

Even my jaw sags a little. I grew up about a half a block from the bad part of town in a neighborhood that pretended to be nicer than it really was. My family got by just fine but never in a million years did I think I would ever step foot in a place as nice as this.

A man in a vest charges down the front steps and meets us at the end of the drive, signaling for Ty’s keys as we climb outside.

Ty passes them off, his grin stretching out even longer. “Valet parking,” he remarks, staring at me.

“It’s
not
Cary Pierce’s house, man,” I say, although I’m not even sure what to believe anymore. The valet drives off and I chuckle. “For all you know, that guy just stole your car.”

“Pfft,” Ty laughs. “Joke’s on him. Thing ain’t worth shit. He did me a favor.”

I chuckle and the front door opens before we even reach it.

“It’s about time, guys! The team is waiting on you!”

My jaw drops and I glance over at Ty as his mouth slides into a thin smirk.

Cary Pierce.
The
Cary Pierce. Four-time champion Cary Pierce, a man I’ve looked up to since I was ten years old, is standing in front of me. He looks exactly the way he did when I was a kid with the small exception of his black hair looking a little thin around the edges and the slight wrinkles taking hold of the skin around his eyes.

No fucking way.

He waves us in with a thick hand. “Well, don’t just stand there.”

We step forward and Ty takes the lead, shoving forward to shake hands with a legend. “It’s awesome to meet you, sir,” he says. “I’m Ty Fisher.”

“Fisher?” Pierce asks. “You know a Sal Fisher?”

“Sal’s my cousin.”

“Good man! He gave me a decent deal on this house.”

“And what a beautiful house it is!” Ty winks.

Pierce gestures him inside and his eyes fall on me. “And
you
must be Junior Morgan.”

I blink, taking his hand. “How did you know?”

“Process of elimination,” he shrugs. “You’re the only one I haven’t met yet — and you’re gonna have to work on that grip if you’re going to be my quarterback.”

My cheeks bleed red. I just gave the world’s daintiest handshake to Cary freakin’ Pierce.