Title: Play Hard
Series: Hot For Him Book One
Author: J.T. Fox
Release Date: January 4, 2015
BLURB
WARNING: Contains two dirty-talking, hard-f*cking,
no-apology-making alpha males. Read at your own risk.
Wanting him is the riskiest play of all...
Miami star quarterback Jordan Barr is the hottest man that halfback
Eric "The Brick" Higgins has ever laid eyes on, and he's wanted him
in his bed for years.
When a chance encounter puts the two pro football players in the
same town, the same TV studio, and the same locked room, the sparks don't just
fly, they burn. The chemistry between them is intense, immediate, and explosive
and Eric isn't about to miss his chance to have Jordan off the field. He'll
have Jordan naked in his bed—rumors of game fixing haunting both of their teams
be damned.
Eric is one extraordinarily stunning man, and Jordan would love
nothing more than to show Eric what it's like to be taken by someone who knows
exactly what he wants, in the bedroom and out. But Jordan has bills to pay and
far too many responsibilities to throw caution to the wind.
He has to resist. But it's getting hard....
Really, really hard.
Play Hard is the first installment in a three-part MM romance
trilogy and ends in a cliffhanger.
CHAPTER ONE
Eric
Another
roll of thunder boomed, shaking the walls of the Tampa TV station as Eric
followed the redheaded intern through the dimly-lit hall toward the green room.
He would be soaked to the skin if his driver hadn’t walked him from the limo to
the glass doors of the skyscraper underneath a giant golf umbrella. He was glad
he’d listened to his agent’s advice and hired a car and driver instead of a
rental convertible for the trip.
Sure, he
wanted to feel the wind in his hair, but that would have to wait for a weekend
when he didn’t have to worry about looking pretty for the camera.
“What a
storm, huh?” The intern glanced back at him with a wide, double-dimpled grin
that lit up her pretty face.
She was
a cute one. He was sure most men went crazy for her girl-next-door good looks.
“Should
I call you Brick or do you prefer Eric?” she asked.
“Well,”
he said, glancing at her name badge, “Kim, I like how both names sound rolling
off your tongue. Do I detect a hint of southern belle?”
She
giggled. “Born and raised a Georgia peach. I’m a senior at UGA, interning here
in Tampa this semester.”
“Georgia.
Never was a fan, but you might change my mind. The SEC sure does have the
prettiest women around.”
“And the
best football, too,” she teased.
Eric
couldn’t argue that point. His years playing for Florida State had taught him
to never underestimate any SEC team. They were sneaky bastards who came up from
behind to take a national title from their opponent and never look back.
Couldn’t
take it from him, though. He’d been
there, won that. As a second-string
halfback his sophomore year, he’d never expected to get a chance to play,
especially in the title game against Georgia. Then suddenly, the first string
player tore his ACL and the assistant offensive coordinator yelled for Eric to
fill in.
Before
he could say, “Go ’Noles!” Eric was on the field scoring the winning touchdown.
His life
hadn’t been the same since.
“I have
a small request, and I hope you don’t mind,” Kim said. “But your agent said you’d
be willing to sign some autographs before the interview. You’ve got quite a
gathering of fans waiting for you.”
He
flashed a grin. “Don’t mind at all. I’m as quick with a pen as I am on the
field.” Eric winked, his smile transforming to a booming laugh as Kim opened
the door to reveal a room packed wall to wall with Marauders fans, mostly women
holding pictures, notebooks, jerseys, and Sharpies.
“Hello
ladies!” he said, turning on the charm since this was, quite simply, one of his
favorite parts of the job. Not the sea of women, per se. But the adoration. The
love for the game and the love for The Brick.
God, it
felt so fucking good to have fans.
The
moment he stepped through the entryway, a din of feminine screams drowned out
the loudest roll of thunder so far. The storm outside couldn’t compare to the
swirling tempest of excitement in this room. When Eric “The Brick” Higgins was
in play, even Mother Nature should be prepared to take a backseat.
Eric
spied a couple of young boys to his left and made a beeline for them first. He
hated to make kids wait and knew the mamas in the room would love him even more
for showing his soft side to their sons. “What’s your name, tough guy?” he
asked the smaller of the two.
“Dylan.”
The boy’s chocolate brown eyes went wide in his face.
“Dylan,
do you play football?” Eric knelt down to be on Dylan’s level before taking the
glossy headshot from the boy’s hand and signing it with a Sharpie that seemed
to appear out of thin air.
“No,
sir. My brother does. I will when I’m bigger.”
“Are you
his brother?” Eric turned to the older boy next to him, signing the jersey he
held.
“Yes,
sir. And that’s my mama and my baby sister.” He pointed proudly to a
tired-looking woman with tightly curled brown hair, holding a sleeping baby in
the corner of the room. “My name is Christopher. I’m seven and a half. You came
to visit my football camp this summer. I’m fast like you and getting faster
every day.”
“I just
bet you are. And I remember you, man. You were tearing it up out there.” He hadn’t
remembered Chris’s name, but he remembered that determined little face.
Christopher
was one of the four scholarship players at the exclusive camp. This was the
first year the camp had offered scholarships—at Eric’s insistence and funding.
He spent
the next twenty minutes signing more autographs, happy to flirt, smile, and
hand out hugs and compliments.
It’s a shame I’m not into the opposite sex. I could clean up with the ladies. I know how
to listen, I love kids, I’m quick with a compliment, and I’m damn good in the
sack.
And
having a hard-on for women would certainly make life less complicated.
As the
last fan left the room hugging her coveted autographed jersey, followed by a
giggly girlfriend who’d had Eric sign her ankle, the storm seemed to kick it up
a notch. Thunder boomed and lightning brightened the room through the one small
window in the back of the simply-decorated
space.
Kim had
gone ahead to wrangle the crowd, so Eric followed the stragglers down the hall
toward the studio for the interview.
Matthew
Morgan, the host of Sports Talk, was
a hardcore football fan and it showed in the studio decor. Framed jerseys lined
the walls from those who had been here before him. Ewing, Irving, Smith,
Dorsett, Jackson, McCallister, and three Mannings.
Eric
wondered if his #27 would be there one day. He liked to imagine it would.
“This
way, Eric,” Kim said, popping out of nowhere. “Sorry, didn’t mean to abandon
you.”
“No
worries,” he said, grateful for the guide. The hallways morphed into a
labyrinth as she led him toward the studio. Eric took advantage of the long
walk to take a few deep breaths and get ready to bring his A game.
This
interview was for a good cause—a great one—and media attention for the new
football camp for inner-city kids would mean more money rolling in from donors
next year. Besides, it was nice to have the chance to focus on something
positive for a change, instead of the bullshit game-fixing rumors that had
plagued the Marauders for the past few months.
Why the
media was so eager to give a voice to a bunch of fucking conspiracy theorists
baffled him.
As they
entered the studio, Kim stopped abruptly behind a tall, broad, and sturdy man
with dark-blond hair that was past due for a haircut. The guy was dressed in a
pair of snug slate gray slacks that hugged his perfect ass, well….perfectly.
Hell,
that ass was like a sculpture. Round, firm, tight—a piece of living art.
The rest
of him was equally well-carved, and Eric took a moment to appreciate the view
from behind. The man’s purple long-sleeved shirt was tailored to fit a strong,
well-defined back; his arms were thick and muscular, stretching the supple
fabric; and those pants….
Damn,
those pants were making matters inside of Eric’s hard to handle.
“Eric,
I’d like to introduce you to Jordan Barr,” Kim said, “the quarterback for the
Miami Heat Wave. He worked at the camp’s Tallahassee location. All the people
up there can’t stop talking about what a difference he made. Y’all will be
interviewed together this mornin’.”
As if on
cue, lightning struck and the lights flickered as Jordan Barr—the Jordan Barr, the stuff of shower
fantasies and more raging hard-ons than you could shake a stick at—turned to
face him.
Eric
swallowed, but it wasn’t easy. His throat was suddenly bone-dry and he could
feel his face flushing.
The last
time he’d laid eyes on Jordan was the summer after high school, when they were
both working as junior coaches at football camp. It was the summer Eric had
embraced his inner horndog, getting it on with two older local guys after
practice. It wasn’t until the summer was over, however, that he’d learned that
one of those same studs had blown Jordan behind the movie theater.
Eric had
spent a solid month afterward cursing his gaydar for failing him.
He had
wanted to get his hands all over Jordan’s tight body for years—ever since that
summer after high school. Jordan had always been a stunning specimen, and he’d
only gotten better with age.
Hell,
why fuck around? Jordan Barr was the hottest man Eric had ever seen in the
flesh.
If
Jordan only knew how many times Eric had taken his dick in his hand and
pictured Jordan. Pictured taking him, touching him, sliding his fist up and
down Jordan’s thick cock until the other man came screaming his name. Eric
wanted to feel Jordan fucking his hand until he lost control, then have Jordan
return the favor, pumping Eric’s dick until he couldn’t think…well, straight.
Eric
smirked. Straight clearly wasn’t an issue.
He
imagined Jordan’s jaw would hit the floor if he knew he’d starred in so many of
Eric’s fantasies he practically headlined the marquis. ’Course, if Jordan’s
mouth were wide open, Eric knew exactly what he’d like to do with it—slide
inside and get those full, sexy lips wrapped tight around his cock.
Fucking
hell.
Get it together, Higgins.
Eric
smiled as he shook Jordan’s hand, trying to play it cool, as if he hadn’t
whacked off to imaginary Jordan a few hundred times. “We actually grew up
together, but it’s been a long time.”
“It
has.” Jordan nodded, his light blue eyes glittering with that same sharp
intelligence Eric remembered. “I always respected your game, man.”
And I yours.
Boy had he.
As he
and Jordan shook hands, electricity shot between them, another lightning
strike, and this time, the thunder-down-under decided to join the storm.
Careful, Eric. You’re going on live TV in
just a few minutes with this guy. You can’t have an erection the size of a goal
post when you sit down on the couch.
Eric
cleared his throat. “I was a fan of yours, too. Still am,” he said with a
raised brow and a half-smile. Fan of your
ass. Fan of your mouth. Fan of your cock—or I’m sure I will be once I get my lips
around it.
Jesus
Christ. His dirty mind was working overtime this afternoon.
“Thanks.”
Jordan pulled his hand away a little too quickly. “Nice weather today,
huh? I guess Tampa needed a long shower
to cool off.”
Eric
laughed easily, even as he wondered if that was Jordan’s way of calling him
out. Did Jordan know that Eric had spied on him in the shower one afternoon
when they’d both stayed late at camp?
Eric had
been lucky enough to catch a glimpse of Jordan alone after practice—his
stunning body glowing in a shaft of sunlight streaming through the high, dusty
windows of the locker room. Every tight, toned, tanned, wet inch—including the
increasingly erect inches between his legs—had been on stunning display, making
Eric’s body respond with an epic woody of his own. The sight had taken his
breath away and fed his fantasies for years.
“Well, I
enjoy a good shower,” Eric said wryly, unable to resist testing his theory.
“Don’t you?”
A flush
crept up Jordan’s strong neck. “Yeah. Sure. Showers are good.”
Well,
well, well…
Maybe
his hard-on for Jordan was something that went both ways.
“Okay,”
Kim said, nodding at someone across the studio. “Looks like they’re ready for
you guys.”
With a
last nod in Jordan’s direction, Eric followed Kim onto the set. Jordan was
right behind him and soon they were seated on a leather couch in a corner of
the studio designed to look like a living room.
The
moment his fine ass touched leather, Jordan picked up the mug of water on the
coffee table in front of them and drained it dry.
Well,
look at that. Was the big guy nervous being around him?
Eric’s
lips twitched up in a grin.
Looked
like this interview was going be even more of a pleasure than he had expected.
And maybe afterward he and Jordan could find a private place to catch up and
see what they’d missed out on that summer they’d spent blowing other guys.
About J.T Fox
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