Free Sacking the Quarterback by Samantha Towle

cartel. That’s where the drugs came from. He’s working for them.”
    Grayson doesn’t speak but his eyes say it all.
    “This is serious, Grayson,” I say, my voice nearly a whisper. “You could lose everything—seriously, everything .”
    “You think I don’t know that? Damnit!” he says, pushing off the counter and stalking away from me to the other side of the room. He slumps down in a chair at the large glass kitchen table. He puts his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.
    I hesitate for a moment before I go to him. I slip off the stool and I move over toward him, my bare feet padding on the wood. He doesn’t look up as I get close. He stays there with his head in his hands.
    I lift a hand to touch him, then pause, hesitating once again. With my hand hovering in the air, it feels like I’m touching him. Like I’m making the decision to erase that line between us. I stare down at him, my heart beating wildly.
    Then I press my hand to his head. His hair is much softer than I was expecting. I slide my fingers through it.
    He lifts his head and his dark-green eyes meet mine.
    “We can fix this,” I whisper.
    “How?” he asks, and for the first time, he sounds vulnerable. And that’s what cuts me wide open. He’s finally allowing me in.
    “I know people who can help…all you have to do is tell the truth—you and Tyler.”
    He lifts a hand and wraps his fingers around my wrist. His eyes drift down from me.
    There’s a beat before he lifts them back to me. “Okay,” he says softly. “Do what you need to do, and I’ll talk to whoever you need me to talk to, just…Tyler…”
    “I’ll make sure he’s safe,” I say quietly. Our eyes are locked. My thumping heart skips, beating erratically. “You’ll have to let George Simpson go so I can represent you and Tyler. I should, um, make some calls…” My hand is still on his head, his fingers still wrapped around my wrist.
    “Yeah,” he says. But neither of us moves or looks away. “Look, Mel. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate what you’re doing. My brother means the world to me and now you—you’ve quit your job, you’re sticking your neck out…you’re an amazing person.”
    Then he stands and my hand trails away from his head. But he doesn’t let go of my arm as my eyes follow his body as it rises. Suddenly, we’re face to face.
    My mouth feels dry. I wet my lips with my tongue.
    It’s right then that I see it in his eyes, the exact moment he makes the decision to consume me. He yanks me into his body, my chest heaving into his, and his mouth crashes directly onto mine, and he kisses me.
    And, boy, does he kiss me.
    Hands in my hair, tongue in my mouth, he kisses me. And it’s hot as hell. My hands are gripping his huge arms for support and my legs feel like they’re going out from under me.
    God, the man can kiss .
    He’s kissing me like it’s the only thing he needs—like I’m all he needs. There’s no aphrodisiac like it. He presses into my hip and the feeling of how much I turn him on does all kinds of crazy things to me. I slide my hands up his arms and wind them around his neck. He makes a deep sound of pleasure into my mouth. It ripples through me, hardening my already erect nipples and teasing my clit like a featherlight touch of his fingers.
    His hands leave my hair and slide down my back, grabbing my ass through my pencil skirt. His mouth leaves mine, and the sensation leaves me panting, and then he kisses down my neck, his teeth grazing my skin and making me shiver. “I want you so bad,” he rasps against my skin.
    I’m sure I mumble something incoherent back. All rational thought has left my mind and I’m a mess of hormones. But more than that—I’m his completely. In this moment, he can do whatever he wishes to me.
    His fingers find the hem of my skirt and pull it up, over my hips. Then his hands are back on my ass and he’s lifting me, then placing me down on the table.
    He stares down into my