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That's okay. I can understand.
"But I've never even been on the field," I tell him. "So this is all new to me."
"And you're completely playing those guys," Danny says, gesturing briefly to the window. "Like a violin. You sure you've never done this before?"
I shake my head. Have I ever been in a situation where I've had to pretend that a gaggle of photographers outside the window didn't exist?
Uhm, that would be a no.
But have I ever crushed on a guy real hard that within the first ten minutes of sitting down to dinner I knew I was going to fuck him?
That's a big affirmative. And no, I'm not thinking of giving it up to him just because he's famous and has his own travelling press corps. I'm thinking of giving it up to him because he's cute and hot and looks like he has a giant cock.
Those are the normal reasons why girls should give it up to guys, right?
I lean over and pull Danny's face towards mine.
"Hey," I say to him. He looks at me and smiles.
I kiss him.
800 million flashbulbs.
So not why I was doing it.
But I'll take it!
That’s it.
I’ve decided.
Life with Danny Manning is going to be a fucking blast.
32
Fiona
I can’t believe that I actually pulled this off.
The security at the Nailers’ stadium is pretty tight, but I somehow managed to sneak inside the private areas just by waving Ashley’s press card as fast as I can and pretending that I was some big shot press officer.
I strolled down the corridors in awe as I passed by some of the players, tall muscled men just getting out of the shower. Who do I talk to about living down here? I can bring a tent.
Finding Danny wasn’t hard; I just needed to follow the noise. He was right in front of the conference room, hounded by a legion of journalists that wanted more than just his short post-game comments. I figure that tomorrow people will be talking about his performance for hours on end.
The moment Danny sees me walking down the corridor, he pushes his way out from the circle of journalists and heads toward me in a hurried pace. I stand in place, looking at him come as if I’ve never seen him before. God, he looks so deliciously handsome. How in the world have I slept in his bed? I should buy a lottery ticket, you know, just in case my luck keeps being this good.
Grabbing me by the arm, he pushes me inside a room, stunned by the fact that I somehow managed to pass security. I just take Ashley’s press credentials and wave them in front of his face. Oh, yeah, I’m a resourceful woman.
“You’re trouble, Fiona,” he tells me, his words sending a shiver down my spine. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of his deep rumbling voice.
“You have no idea,” I say, going up on my tiptoes and pressing my lips against his. When I pull back, my heart is racing at a thousand miles per hour. “Where are we?” I ask him, looking around the place we’re in. There are wide polished benches lining the walls, and there are numbered Nailers jerseys hanging in front of tall lockers over the benches. To my right, the room opens up into a large showering area without any stalls. For a moment, I imagine dozens of naked gorgeous men standing under the running water, and that pleasant warmness spreads to my pussy.
“Welcome to the Nailers’ locker ro
om,” he smiles, and I can hear a note of pride in the way he says it.
“Lock the door,” I whisper at him, placing both my hands on his chest. What? I want to know how it feels to fuck in one of the most famous locker rooms in the US.
