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CHAPTER 1
Magik
“Come on, man, we nailed our first preseason game. Celebrate with your team for once.” Kennedy punches me in the shoulder as we leave the stadium.
“We did nail those Penn fuckers, didn’t we?” I laugh.
Wheeler jogs to meet us. “Now the only thing left to nail is a horny sophomore at Scooter’s place.”
I roll my eyes. The party scene is not my way to relax, and I’ve got better things to do with my time than coax a different girl into my bed each night. “One hour, man, then you can fuck off home and play with your dick,” Kennedy jokes.
“Get in the car before I leave your asses here,” I tell them. We pile into my SUV and follow the others through the quiet streets to Scooter’s. Scott Toovey is our number one running back, he’s fierce and quick on his feet, hence his nickname, Scooter.
New to Ohio State on a full scholarship, he’s following in his father’s footsteps, and all the team parties are held at his place. Luckily, his father works out of town and is rarely here.
The bar is always stocked, the pool full of half-naked bitches in their skimpy suits, and the jukebox never misses a beat.
I’m pretty sure his father wanted him to have the same college experience he did.
With a pool table near the wet bar, a dartboard, and mini-golf greens in the yard, there’s never a dull moment.
We pull into the street and park behind a carload of girls piling out of a Range Rover, one by one. “Girl, let’s go, I promise we won’t say long,” a brunette in short cut-offs and a Bucs supporter shirt, smiles as she coaxes her friend out of the vehicle.
Yeah, I’m all too familiar with being dragged along to these things. As much as I love hanging with my teammates, I’d prefer a quieter setting where women looking to score weren’t plastering themselves all over me.
I kill the engine and enjoy the view as the blonde topples out of the car, giving me a clear view of her pink thong before she corrects herself to stand tall. Gorgeous, tanned skin, and toned legs for days, heavy waves falling down the middle of her back.
Damn. Maybe it’s been too long since I entertained a chick.
“Magik,” Kennedy yells. “Let’s go.” He signals for me to get out of the car and hurry the fuck up. But the mention of my name and the brunette is all fan-girly and spirit fingers.
“O-M-G, Magik’s here!” she squeals, reminding me of everything I hate about being the star quarterback.
The game, I love.
The spotlight, not so much.
The girls wanting to add my name to their list of conquests, that’s the part I despise.
“Settle down, ladies, he’s only here for an hour, then you can party with the real men.” Kennedy laughs, approaching them. I’m pretty sure the brunette is one Kennedy hooked up with not so long ago.
When the shy blonde with heavenly thighs, standing awkwardly in the background raises her head and walks toward us, I’m speechless.
Paris Weston.
Coach Weston’s daughter.
Off-limits in every way and until this year, it hasn’t mattered. But now, the way she’s grown into her curves and filled out…gone from being the coach’s little girl to a young woman in her own right…there’s a lot I’d love to learn about her.
Though if I want to keep my place on the team, I must shut off the burning desire to touch her, to get to know her. She’s a brilliantly smart student and has a passion for stray dogs, spending a lot of hours volunteering at a pet shelter. As she’s matured, I’ve tried to stay clear of knowing anything further.
Why torment myself with the presence of a woman I know I’ll never be able to have.
“Paris, what are you doing here?”
The so-called friend screws up her face when I ignore her advance and over-the-top excitement about my presence and speak directly to Paris. “Same as you.” Paris smiles.
Her eyes light up the darkness and fuck, she’s even more beautiful than I ever remember. The bouncy brunette, I think it’s Becky or Brittany, huffs in annoyance. “Of course, the coach’s daughter.” Reaching for Paris, she plasters on a fake smile, “This is exactly why you have to party with us, you can help us get to know all the players.” She turns her fake lashes and pouty lips to me, but I can’t take my eyes off Paris.
