Quarterback Keeper (Fall Lake Ballers #1)

Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

KYLIAN

G ia’s pink tongue swiped across her lower lip, and I got hard, which was fucked up, since she looked nervous as hell. And even worse—she could be a plant from my dad. Her eyes kept darting to the exit then back to me. I closed the distance between us as she jumped to her feet, matching each of my steps until her back pressed against the wall. Then I took her place sitting on the bed to hide what was growing in my pants.

I needed to get to the bottom of why she was there. My first instinct that my dad had something to do with it faded based on the fear she was trying to hide. “You need to tell me the truth about why you’re on my boat.”

“I thought this was my friend’s boat.”

“You’re sticking with that lie?”

The upward tilt of her chin made me want to laugh. Yeah, she was a liar, just maybe not a dangerous one. I had to figure out her angle.

“I tried to call my friend to get the passcode for the door.” She flung her arm toward the broken keypad that secured the area. “I’m from out of town, and when Laura didn’t answer, I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Go to a hotel.”

She shifted from foot to foot, her eyes darting to the door again. Then her shoulders went back, and her gaze locked and held mine. “Maybe we can make a deal about me staying here.”

I took in her long, toned legs and wished I could get a view of her ass. I bet it was spectacular. Without a bra, I could see more than she probably realized through the threadbare pale blue T-shirt. My hand curled by my side as I imagined what her long, wavy dark-brown hair would feel like fisted in it. And her face… She was a showstopper with full pink lips, bright-blue eyes, and high cheekbones. She was attractive—beautiful, actually—but I didn’t need anything from her. Better to be blunt about it, especially since she was in the wrong. “I doubt you have anything I need.”

“There’s got to be something.” Straight white teeth sank into her full bottom lip before she released it.

The exchange was entertaining. “What?”

“I could do your homework.”

Not what I expected. “I’m on track to graduate magna cum laude. I don’t need help with my homework.” I let my gaze wander over her body, willing her to offer what I knew she would—what most chicks did so they could make a play to become a future NFL wife.

“Yeah, not that, QB1.” She scoffed. “I know your type.”

I smirked, loving the back-and-forth. Anything that distracted me from the stress in my life was worth entertaining. “Ah, I see you’re an expert in assumptions for people you don’t know. Tell me, what type am I?”

“A notorious womanizer who apparently has more money than sense.”

I laughed because she had that wrong in so many ways. “Notorious, huh?” I shook my head, ready to be done with the discussion. I’d had a hell of a week. All I’d wanted to do was take the boat out to relieve some stress and find some much-needed peace. And with her there, that wasn’t happening. I needed to get back and sleep, not spar with the stowaway. I had class in the morning, football practice in the afternoon, weights, watching film, then homework. “Look, this has been entertaining, but the fact is you’re trespassing, and you can’t offer anything to strike a deal.”

“Yeah, I meant what I said, and you must need help with something, especially after the loss against Michigan. That was quite a game.” She planted a fist on her hip, fire dancing in her eyes. “Three interceptions last Saturday, a fumble, and four sacks because you’re too comfy in the pocket. Too slow to protect yourself when the line breaks down.”

Huh, she could talk football and had watched that shit show. It’d been slippery as hell from slanting rain and punishing wind that day. Mom had had her first experimental treatment, and my head had not been where it should’ve been. On top of that, my offense hadn’t been stopping the defense’s left tackle from breaking the line. That fucker was quick.

“That was last week. Catch this Saturday’s game?” I knocked my head in the TV’s direction. “On my TV?”

She pursed her lips, and I snorted a laugh.

“I appreciate the fandom, whether I shit the bed that week or not, but this is my boat, and why the fuck are you really here? Truth time, or I’m calling the cops, which I should have done when I first came aboard.”

Her eyes went wide. “No fucking cops.”

“Then tell me the truth and not this bullshit about a made-up friend.”

“Fine,” she gritted between clenched teeth. “I needed a place to stay, and the boat was empty.”

“You knew it was my boat and thought you could take advantage.”

“Of what?” Her voice rose to a higher octave, pink staining her cheeks.

“The way you popped out of the closet when I came out of the shower was too convenient. It reeks of a setup.”

“You’re crazy.” Long fingers thrust into her hair, and she tilted her head back, which pushed her breasts against her T-shirt.

There was no way the girl wasn’t playing me with that move. Cold, calculating fury hardened me to her game.

She dropped her hands and glared at me with pure hatred. “Trust me. You don’t have anything I want or need.”

“Except my boat.”

More color leached from her face, taking some of my anger with it. Maybe I was a fool, but I was starting to believe she really needed a place to stay. Could it be she hadn’t singled me out? Or am I just a sucker? Easily conned and probably by my dad? He’d certainly taken me for a fool when I was young, and he’d taught me to sail while on his visitation time. It hadn’t been for me at all. It was so his buddies would see, and if someone happened to write an article on the business tycoon spending time with his son, all the better. I shook off the memories. They had no place in my head.

Still, I thought back to when she’d popped out of the closet and the surprise and fear on her face when she saw me. It was later, when I put on a Fall Lake University shirt, that recognition sparked in her eyes as to who I was. It was a long shot, backed only by the lack of family pictures or identifying information she could have seen on the boat.

Distrust crackled between us. If, and that was a big if, she had no connection to my pops or the media, she might be able to do something for me. I clinically scanned her fuck-hot body and gorgeous face. It could work, and after dinner with Mom, I felt helpless—a particular feeling I despised. So, I took a chance. “We can work something out, since I have what you need.”

Her gaze dropped to where my dick strained toward her. Even sitting on the bed couldn’t quite hide it. “Gross. No. I’m not sucking your dick so I can stay here.”

“I don’t need to pay to get that,” I snapped. Fuck, she pissed me the hell off. I took a breath, needing to keep my head because I had a feeling we could use each other in a mutually beneficial way. She was scared. Didn’t have somewhere to live. I could use those things to help both of us. “You need a place to crash, right?”

She crossed her arms over her chest and shifted on her feet. “Yes.”

The barely concealed terror swimming through her blue eyes convinced me she was telling enough of the truth to go ahead and negotiate a deal. “I have an idea for an arrangement that would let you stay here rent-free.”