Spread Offense (The New York Nighthawks #11) Read Online Fiona Davenport

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Erotic, Insta-Love, Sports Tags Authors: Series: The New York Nighthawks Series by Fiona Davenport
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Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
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A second later, one of the reporters walked away, revealing someone new. We were far enough away that I couldn’t see any small details, but there was no missing her spectacular curves. My dick had definitely noticed, too, because he was suddenly hard as a rock. The only other things I could make out were wild, light brown curls and glasses. Attraction sizzled in my veins, but then guilt trickled in as I thought about my little gaming nerd.

Maybe this was my answer. If I was attracted to someone else, it would only complicate things to meet my anonymous friend in person.

But that felt wrong too.

“Damn,” one of the rookies murmured, and I scowled when I noticed he was also staring up at the box.

“Focus on the game, jackasses,” I growled. “You don’t have time to be mooning over some random woman.”

“Yeah, but—”

I whacked the back of the rookie’s helmet to shut him up. Their interest in the curvy bombshell was causing a burning in my gut. Not jealousy, I told myself. I want their attention on the game, dammit.

I heard my little gamer in my head. “Hmm.” She’d always done that when she thought I was lying.

“Ledger!” Coach Beaumont yelled. “Take the field!”

Grateful for the distraction, I put on my helmet and jogged out to join the huddle.

“Great game,” someone said as they walked past me in the hallway outside the locker room.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, keeping my head down to discourage anyone who considered trying to stop me to have a conversation. My mind was being pulled in twenty different directions, particularly the tug of war about whether to go to the press box and try to find the bombshell I’d spotted earlier.

I’d been having that particular argument with myself ever since we ran off the field. The mood was jubilant since we’d just won, but I just felt drained and in a funk. All this emotional bullshit was making me feel like a teenage girl. And that just put me in an even worse mood. All I wanted to do was go home and…

Fuck. Normally, I would get online and lose myself in a game, but that didn’t seem like an option that would bring me any peace tonight.

I pulled my phone from my pocket and texted Gia, asking for my little nerd’s contact info. Then I deleted it and shoved my cell back into my pants.

Seriously, Ledger. Get a fucking grip on yourself.

I was almost to the exit when I heard my name called and sighed, recognizing the voice. I turned around, and holy shit… Cole was striding down the hall with a gorgeous woman by his side. The same one I’d practically drooled over earlier.

Except now I could see every detail, and my body one thousand percent approved.

Her hair was even wilder than it had seemed, the corkscrew curls bouncing in every direction as she walked. Her face was round, but she had high cheekbones that made her kissable, rosebud mouth stand out. She wore cute, red-rimmed glasses that did nothing to dim the intensity of her hazel eyes.

My gaze dropped to her T-shirt, and my tongue went dry, taking in her generous tits pressing against the fabric as if her Nighthawks jersey could barely contain them. The only problem was that she wasn’t wearing my number. Not that I could blame her when we’d never met.

Her waist was a little thick—the perfect size for my big hands to span it—but her round hips gave her a mouthwatering hour-glass figure. I could almost feel their softness in my hands as I clenched them while I drove into her from behind.

Shit. Shit. Shit. My dick practically punched its way through my pants, so I shifted my duffel to hang in front of me.

Her leggings gave me a great view of her legs, and I had to press my mouth shut to stop myself from asking her to turn around because I wanted to see how amazing her ass looked in those pants.

When her black and red sneakers stopped in front of me, my eyes wandered back to her chest. I forced a smile and said, “Nice jersey,” hoping they wouldn’t notice I’d been ogling her rack.

When I raised my gaze to her face, she stared at me with a shocked expression.

“Gage, I want you to meet our new intern,” Cole said, gesturing to the obviously stunned woman. “Rory Abernathy. Rory, this is Gage Ledger, one of our running backs. I thought you two would get along since I know you’re both into gaming.”

The mention of gaming sent another trickle of guilt through my veins, especially considering I was still hard as fuck and imagining how it would feel to hold on to all those curls while her legs were wrapped around me and my cock was buried deep inside her.


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