Jockblocked: A Novel (Gridiron Book 2)(110)

“Gosh, what a wonderful and charming invitation.” She rests her hands on her hips. Whether she intends it or not, the action frames her perky tits nicely. I use the cover of my sunglasses to appreciate how generous the good Lord was with her.

“You know you want to,” I coax.

She purses her lips. The way that the center plumps out makes me bite my lower lip, to stop myself from leaning forward to see how that ripe bit of pink flesh would feel sucked into my mouth.

In a quick move I don’t see coming, she vaults the seat backs in front of us and races down the steps. Bad knee, my ass.

I clamber down behind her, and although I could overtake her, I hover in the background ready to catch her if she falls. Except I get the sense she’d rather have a hot poker up her ass than ask me for help.

“Slowpoke,” she says, full of smiles, when we reach the field.

“Did you hustle me?” I ask in mock indignation.

“Yup,” she replies without a shred of remorse. “Does that mean the turf contest is off?”

“No way.” I pluck the T-shirt out from the waistband of my shorts and tug it on. She makes a sound and I like to think it means disappointment, but since wet grass burn is no laughing matter, I cover up. “Longest slide wins,” I tell her. I swing my arms in warm up.

“What am I winning?” she asks.

I grin at her cockiness. “I’ll let you run with me tomorrow.”

“I can’t wait to lose then.” She rolls her eyes.

“Personal pride, babe. That’s what we’re competing for.” I’m not making dumb bets. I don’t need a bet to get what I want. After we’re done here, I’ll take her out to breakfast and find out everything about her. This is for the fun of it, because I want to see the longing in her face satisfied.

“You first then. I don’t want you to accuse me of cheating.” She nudges her shoulder against my arm, and that small, innocent contact is like a cannon right to my nervous system. I’m on the edge of obliteration but I want more. Now is not the time. The compression shorts under my running gear can only hold so much in.

“Don’t be sad when you lose. I’ll take you out for breakfast either way,” I reassure her and then take off before she can turn me down. At the twenty, I launch myself and slide a good seven yards.

“That’s not enough for a first down,” she yells from the end zone.

“Let’s see what you got!” I holler back. Rolling over onto my side, I prop myself up on an elbow and gesture that it’s her turn.

She places one foot in front of the other and swings her arms a few times for momentum. She sprints down, leaping forward and then slides to a stop about a foot past me. Damn. I drag her back by the ankle so that her face is next to mine.

Drops of water cling to her grinning face. I lean forward, ready to lick the moisture from her face but I stop myself when she winces.

“Your knee okay?” I ask, worried that she’d hurt herself.

“It’s fine.” Her chest rises and falls as she gathers her breath. I have to force myself to look away. Rolling on my back, I listen as her breath evens out.

Apparently the universe’s gift requires some work. I’m not afraid of hard work. As the great Vince Lombardi said, only in the dictionary is work preceded by success. Rolling on my back, I stare up at the gorgeous blue sky and revel in the fact that what I’d waited for arrived.

“So you love football, huh?”

She shrugs and turns her face to hide her smile. “It’s okay.”

Yeah, and I’m not Knox Masters, decorated defensive end, captain of the Western State Warriors, and projected top ten NFL draft pick.





About the Author


Jen Frederick is the USA Today bestselling author of Unspoken, part of the Woodlands series, and Sacked, part of the Gridiron series. She is also the author of the Charlotte Chronicles and has had several books on the Kindle Top 100 list. She lives in the Midwest with a husband who keeps track of life’s details while she’s writing, a daughter who understands when Mom disappears into her office for hours at a time, and a rambunctious dog who does neither.