Page 13 of False Start: Chicago Engines (Gridiron Warriors #3)

Weston

Georgie: How’s Florida?

Weston: Hot and wet.

Georgie: Like me?

Weston: Fuck, princess. You’re in a mood, aren’t you?

Georgie: Sorry. I feel like I need to butter you up before I ask a huge favor that I’ve been putting off asking, and you should absolutely say no to, but I really hope you’ll say yes.

Weston: Color me intrigued.

Georgie: Is there any chance you feel like celebrating a late Thanksgiving in Texas while you protect me from my nightmare family? Before you ask, I’m absolutely throwing you to the wolves and asking you to wrap yourself in bacon first.

Weston: I don’t know if that was meant to sound kinky, or if I’ve just been missing you, but seeing as saving you is one of my favorite hobbies, there’s no way I’d miss a chance to meet the family that puts the fun in dysfunctional.

Georgie: They’re really not fun. But thank you.

Georgie: I miss you too, BTW.

I grinned as I tucked my phone into my gym bag and headed for the bus to the hotel.

Between Georgia starting on set, and back-to-back away games for the team, we’d barely had a chance to see each other.

Our fake relationship was still in place, but the less I got to see her, the more I realized I wished it were real and that we could make the time to spend together.

Our text conversations had been the highlight of my day for weeks, but I hadn’t worked up the balls to tell her how I felt.

Life was unpredictable, and I didn’t think I’d survive getting close to Georgia and having her walk away from me like Harmony did.

“You look deep in thought,” Christian said, dropping into the seat beside me as the bus trundled out of the parking lot.

“Life, love, and next steps, my brother,” I said, watching the stadium recede into the distance.

Christian hummed, flipping his cell in his hands. “I get that. How is everything? Gia, your shoulder… you?”

I wanted to brush him off. Make like everything was sweet and move on, but it seemed like I mightn’t have been the only one going through something, so I went with something close to honesty.

“Things are good on the surface, but I guess I’m wondering if I can trust it, you know? I thought things were good with Harmony, but then…” I shrugged. Christian had been there through every step of the last year, and had seen me rebuild not just from the injury but from the heartbreak.

“Marina likes Gia.” It was said with the resolve that Amber would use to convince me cookies were better than cake. It was an absolute, and therefore impossible to refute.

“Does she?”

Christian glanced at me, then back at his hands as he continued to flip the phone over and over. His heel tapped out a staccato rhythm in time to his bouncing knee.

“She’s mentioned it a few times when I pick Zara up from her house. Just little things, but she likes how you are with Gia. She says you smile more, and that you both deserve some happiness.”

“That’s really nice of her to say—”

“She never liked Harmony.”

Christian met my eye with a firm look, like he wasn’t sure whether he’d dropped the social equivalent of a nuclear bomb.

“I don’t know if she has some therapist superpower, or she’s just really good at reading people, but she never liked her.

It wasn’t like she was rude about it, and never to her, but you know how Marina gets quiet around people she doesn’t trust. I dunno, man.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I know you have every reason to expect this relationship to bomb the same way your last one did, but the people around you are rooting for you. You both deserve to be happy.”

I wondered how they would feel if they knew the whole thing was a lie. That we’d let them believe in something that was nothing more than a business transaction. A mutually beneficial arrangement that, admittedly, kept blurring the professional lines.

It should have ended when Georgia got the job, but the thought of giving up what little I had of her felt like too much of a sacrifice. It was too soon. I needed more time. More of her.

So I insisted we keep going. And now I was going to meet her family and lie to a new group of people.

Was it really a lie, though?

It may have started that way, but I knew Georgia now, and she knew me.

Christian was right; she was nothing like Harmony.

Despite being in the public eye, she didn’t seek out the media.

I had the sneaking suspicion that she often forgot everyone else in the room when we were together.

And wasn’t that one hell of an ego boost.

Christian clapped me on the shoulder and pushed out of his seat. “Whatever happens, just know we’ve always got your back, bro.”

I caught his wrist as he moved toward the back of the bus.

“Same here, man. If there’s anything going on that you need to talk out, I’m here.”

He gave me a nod and moved back a few rows to sit with a rookie player who’d had a rough couple of games.

We pulled into our hotel and I made my way up to my room with visions of a shower and room service dancing in my head. I’d had a shower in the stadium, but I’d Googled the hotel we were in and I had two words. Rainfall. Showerhead. Hell yes.

Half an hour later I was warm and relaxed from my shower and accepting a pepperoni pizza I’d called up from the kitchen. I stretched out on my bed and bit into the first greasy slice when my phone pinged.

Georgie: What does a fake girlfriend have to do around here to get an unsolicited dick pic?

I choked on my mouthful, spraying cheese across the bedspread and trying to regain my breath. Life was never dull talking to my Georgie girl, and I wondered what chain of thoughts had led her to the text.

Weston: She just needs to ask. Also, how did we get onto the subject of unsolicited dick pics?

Georgie: Well… after your text before about being hot and wet I went down a rabbit hole looking up weather trends in Florida, which led me to a site that showcases daily ‘Florida Man’ content (I hope you aren’t going out drinking there, BTW, these guys are insane)

Georgie: Anyway, one of the stories was a Florida woman who received an unsolicited dick pic from a guy, so she hunted him down and removed the dick to teach him about consent.

Anyway, then I thought that you’d never do anything like that without consent, but if I asked for it you might. So I texted you.

I laughed, setting my dinner aside in favor of this much more interesting conversation.

Weston: It sounds like you’ve been busy.

Georgie: I’ve been something. So can I get one?

Weston: And what do you plan to do with it?

The dancing dots appeared and disappeared for a drawn-out moment.

Georgie: Show me yours and I’ll show you mine.

Weston: You’re being delightfully bratty tonight, princess.

Georgie: I’m not-so-delightfully horny, Weston. Don’t make me Google Weston Naylor ass dot com. There are whole forums dedicated to how good you look in your uniform, FYI.

Weston: Good to know.

I glanced at the locked door, then at the semi I was already sporting. I liked that Georgia was open about appreciating my body. I worked hard for it. Plus, it felt more like she liked me for me. Not the sports star whose name could open doors. Just Weston.

Without further hesitation, I ditched the plush robe I slipped on after my shower and grabbed my phone. My dick got harder as I tried to take the best picture I could, thinking about what she would do once I sent it. Would she fuck herself with her fingers like she did on my patio?

Rub her clit raw while thinking of riding me?

“Fuck.”

I gripped my erection and gave it a hard stroke as I hit send.

Immediately, my phone rang. I answered without bothering to look at the caller ID.

“Is that what you wanted, princess?”

Through the line, I heard her breath hitch.

“What are you doing, Georgie girl?”

“Touching myself.”

I groaned, squeezing the base of my dick hard as it kicked in my hand.

“Set the scene for me.”

There was a rustle of fabric and a sigh. “I’m naked in my room. It’s a bit distracting in here because I started to paint it a few weeks ago and never finished, but my bed is comfortable—”

“Princess,” I cut in.

“Yes?”

“Turn off the light.”

“Okay.”

There were sounds of movement through the line and then a whump as she landed back in bed.

“Done.”

“Good. Now, tell me how you feel. Where are your hands? Where do you want my hands?”

Her moan sent goosebumps racing over my skin as I brought the memory of her naked form to mind.

“You’re pinching my nipple,” she murmured. “Your other hand is around my throat.”

“Do you like my hand there?”

She hummed. “I wish you’d do it to me more often. It makes me feel safe. Owned.”

The word lit me up from the inside out. Fucking hell, I wanted to own her.

“Put your hand between your legs and tell me how wet you are.”

Her breath stuttered, a small “ah” falling out as I waited for her response. Instead of telling me, she must have moved the speaker, because deliciously filthy noises came down the line as she slid her fingers into her wet pussy.

“Fuck yourself like I would if I was there,” I murmured, matching my strokes to the little mewls falling from her lips.

“Imagine they’re my fingers inside you. Can you feel me?”

“Yes.” Her breath was coming in faster pants, her sheets crinkling as she chased the high I wanted her to feel.

“Rub your clit with your other hand, baby. I want to hear you come apart for me.”

My balls tightened, a warning tingle in my lower back telling me I was seconds from blowing. I needed to get her there quickly.

“Be a good girl and come for me. Now.”

Her voice broke on a cry, and I let my own orgasm barrel through me, making no attempt to stifle the grunts and groans of pleasure. Letting her hear it all.

The room was quiet in the aftermath, except for the sound of her breath through the phone as I reached for napkins on my nightstand to clean myself up.

“You okay over there, Georgie girl?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Still need to search my ass on the internet?”

Her chuckle was deep and satisfied. I wanted to record it so I could play it back again and again while I slept alone in this hotel room.

“Maybe later.”

“Brat.” I grinned as she chuckled again. Overhead, the cooling system kicked in, sending a cold gust across my overheated skin. “I might need another shower,” I muttered, dropping the soiled napkins in a wastebasket in the corner of the room.

“Sounds lovely. I think I’m going to just fall asleep right here.”

“Did I wear you out, princess?”

The rustle of sheets was all the response I got, and as I pictured her sleeping naked my worn-out dick made a valiant attempt to rally.

“Sweet dreams, princess. Thanks for calling me.”

I ended the call and wandered into the bathroom for round two with the shower, feeling both elated and grounded in a way I hadn’t for a long time.