Page 10 of Rushing Her: Seattle, Westerners (Gridiron Warriors #2)
Brayden
T he game has been challenging, but I continue to play hard. “Come on, guys, we can do this.” I try rallying my team, but most of them look at me like I’ve grown a second head.
It was hard apologizing for my previous behavior, but I did. Before we came out on this field, I promised to give them the best of me from now on, and I’m showing them that.
The Portland Settlers aren’t allowing us to take this game with ease.
We are tied up again for the umpteenth time in this battle.
I look at our quarterback, Brogan Bennett, and nod.
We don’t always see eye to eye, but tonight, we are in sync.
We run back out to the field as the crowd starts cheering.
I look up and, there on the Jumbotron, is Brea, with Alexandra standing at her side.
Brea wears her husband’s number, and I notice the pride wash over his face for a moment.
It’s Alexandra I have eyes for, though. She’s not in a Portland Settlers jersey like she usually is for T.K.
’s opening games; instead, she has on a black shirt with a denim skirt.
Just as the camera is about to pan away from them, Alexandra holds up her arm and touches the side of her face as if posing.
The green and yellow wristband she flashes makes my heart thump harder in my chest. They’re the Oregon Ducks’ colors—the colors she wore every game for me, with my number on her body.
Soon, I’ll have my number back on that tempting figure.
I can do this. I’m getting older, and my body aches after every game, but I push through, and when the snap occurs, I take off down the field.
Bennett lets the ball fly, and it lands in my hands.
I tuck the pigskin close to my body, protecting it, as I take off like a shot.
I push with all my might to get in front of the Portland defense.
The end zone comes into view, and I shift into top gear and knuckle down.
A player approaches from my side, and I dodge away, hanging just on the edge of stepping out of bounds.
I cross into the end zone before my body’s knocked out, but both of my feet landed in bounds; that’s all that counts.
A hand reaches out to help me up; it’s one of our rookie linebackers.
“Good one, old man,” he chuckles, and we celebrate for a second before returning to the bench while the coaches call on Special Teams for the extra point.
We are up by seven, and we hold it until the very end, winning by the skin of our teeth.
I call the PR rep over to me as we exit the field and tell him to bring Alex down to me. In the locker room, I race through my shower and dress in slacks and a button-down, with twenty minutes to spare before boarding the bus back to Seattle.
“Is she waiting?” I ask when he returns.
He nods, and I step through the door into the private office our coaching staff uses for visitors.
“Bray, you were amazing.” Alexandra smiles at me, and I move across the space to pull her into my body.
Her perfume—that I’ve learned is Good Girl, from Caroline Herrera—washes over my senses, calming and soothing me.
I will fight with everything inside me for a future with this woman. We deserve it.
“I wish you’d go to my house and wait for me there. I want to hold you tonight.” It’s only been three days since I last had her, but it feels so much longer.
“I can’t. I have to fly to California for another player.”
“Okay. I’ll see you in a few days.”
The team’s PR guy pounds on the door, warning me that my time's up.
“Kiss me, Lexi,” I order her, and she stretches up on her toes and kisses me softly. I wrap my arms around her and bring her in close, taking the kiss deeper before the pounding resumes. “Thank you,” I say before nipping her nose and walking out, leaving her behind.
Alexandra
I watch him leave, hating that I lied to him, but I need to get home and figure out what the heck is going on.
I received a message from the private airstrip’s security just as the guy Brayden sent for me arrived.
He easily recognized me from working with other players.
I wasn’t shocked that Brayden wanted to see me; I had hoped he would notice what I wore to support him.
Stepping out of the room, the other players from the Westerners’ team can be heard shuffling toward the exit, while I head to the field to meet up with Brea and T.K. They are driving me to the plane so I can get home. I left my car parked at the hangar in Seattle, and apparently, it’s been damaged.
A n hour later, I step off the jetway and find myself in a state of shock.
My beautiful Porsche Macan, in the Teakwood color that appears brown in some lighting and a deep purple in others, has been damaged beyond belief.
The tires are slashed to shreds, and there isn’t a whole piece of glass left anywhere on the car.
Every corner has been caved in. It’s a total loss, and I’ll have to buy a new one.
“Is there footage?” I point to the camera as I talk with security and police. “Did you catch the person?”
The officer says, “No. They got away. We only have footage of them initially entering the premises before they destroyed the cameras aimed this way.” Shaking my head is all I can manage right now.
“This is crazy. Why would someone do this? Have there been other acts of vandalism? That’s gotta be what it is, right?” I try not to focus on the fact that I’ve never had issues before now.
“No, ma’am, there has been no other vandalism. This looks like an isolated case.” He points to the hood of the car where ‘Whore’ is scratched into the paint.
“Yeah, okay.”
It’s over an hour before my vehicle gets towed to a repair shop so that the adjuster can inspect it.
Then I call a car service to pick me up, and all the way to my condo, I struggle to figure out why all of a sudden someone is focused on me.
By the time I step off the elevator into my hall, a shiver of fear lances up my spine. Do I have a stalker?
Entering my quiet apartment, it doesn’t settle my nerves like it ordinarily does, and Raven is still working her case, so I can’t bother her.
Instead, to ease my loneliness, I walk into the living room, grab the remote, and start my favorite movie— The Last Unicorn. It makes comforting background noise.
In my spare room, which has been turned into a home office and gym, I can hear the television playing, but my focus is not on the songs or the story. It’s on the necklace slipping between my fingers as I think of Bray. Dating him is out of the question when someone could be after me.
I have no idea what I could’ve done, but this is the second time someone has acted out towards me in the last few weeks. First, that Kimberly girl at Dr. Jarvis’ office, now this. I’ve never needed protection before.
There’s a knock at my door, so I walk over to the security panel and check the screen. Brayden is standing there. What the hell?
I open the door and am shocked as he grabs me into his arms and holds me flush to his body. He’s shaking, and I’m worried something bad has happened.
“How did you know I was home?” I ask. “Is your family all good?” There must be a reason he’s so upset.
“Are you okay? I have a car you can use until we get yours fixed, or we get you a new one.” His words stem my concern about his family. He’s worried about me .
“Wait, what? How did you know?” I try to pull back from him, but he won’t let me go. I push harder, and finally, he releases me. Stepping away, he stays close and moves toward me again.
“I told you I have eyes on you. I know everything.” I’ve never seen stark fear in his eyes before. “When my team called me about your car, I tried to get off that bus right then, so I could get to you.”
“Wait. You have security on me?” I hold up my hand, stopping him from cramming into my space again as I shake my head in confusion. He doesn’t even seem upset with the fact that he’s got people watching me. He just shrugs like it’s a foregone conclusion.
“I’ve had a team on you for a while now. When the profiler on my latest stalking case suggested that they would target any woman close to me, I knew I had to protect you.”
I’m so confused, my shaking head feels like it’s about to pop off.
“Woman close to you? Brayden, we broke up years ago; we haven’t been close at all.
You and I have dated other people. Shoot.
” I pause and decide that this is a moment for a curse word.
“ Shit , you even slept with every woman you could in the beginning. You were the league whore.” I throw out the nickname he earned in his first couple of seasons.
In the blink of an eye, I’m pressed against the wall behind me.
Caged in by Brayden’s enormous body. I look up at his face, and sure, he’s mad at me, but when he drops his head to kiss me, instead of pushing him away, I grip his shirt tight in my hands and pull him closer.
I wanted someone with me at the airport.
I needed to feel that someone was worried about me, and here he is showing that.
When he lifts his head, he looks down at me. “You’ve always been the only woman that matters to me other than my mother. Anyone would recognize that if they knew me. I’m not leaving here tonight. I can’t. Don’t ask me to.”
“I won’t.”
He reaches down and lifts me up by my ass. I wrap around him, and he searches for my living room. On the way there, he drops a bag on my dinette table that I didn’t even realize he was carrying, then moves to the sofa where he takes a seat with me straddling his lap.
I lean forward and kiss his neck, savoring the tension leaving his body.
When I sit back, he looks me over as if checking for any injuries.
“I’m safe. I’m okay,” I assure him, and he tugs me into his body and just holds me.
When we finally part, he scrutinizes me again, and this time, I remember what I have on.
I try to get off his lap, but his hands clamp down on my thighs, securing me in place.
“Lexi, baby. Is this my college jersey?” His fingers play with the shoulder of the old shirt that I’ve had for years.
I nod, and before I know it, I’m flopped onto my belly, and my ass is propped up in the air.
Brayden shimmies my workout leggings down my hips to my bent knees and then drops to his own.
He eats me out like a starving man, and I cry into my sofa pillows until he joins me and we make love right there on the sofa, deep and hard.
By the time we climb into my bed, it’s already three in the morning, and he cuddles around me, holding me tight as we both fall asleep.