Dangerous Play (Dangerous Book 1) Read online

  Dangerous Play

  Dangerous, Book 1

  Romi Hart

  Copyright © 2019 by Romi Hart

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Also by Romi Hart

  Devil’s Flame MC Series

  Rafe

  Zeke

  Eli

  BOX SETS

  Stamina

  Out of Bounds

  Playing to Win

  Untamed Billionaires

  Dangerous

  Untamed Billionaires Series

  The Billionaire Bull

  The Billionaire Bold

  The Billionaire Brute

  Playing to Win Series

  One Kiss to Win

  One Chance to Win

  One Cheer to Win

  Out of Bounds Series

  Temptation

  Addiction

  Passion

  Dangerous Series

  Dangerous Play

  Dirty Play

  Daring Play

  Stand Alone Books

  Sinner

  Big Slide

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Dirty Play - Special Preview

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  Also by Romi Hart

  1

  Nate

  Bottom line, I slept with a lot of women I shouldn’t have. Single women, movie stars, poor women, older women, younger women, married women, women with boyfriends, women with girlfriends, female friends of my guy friends and of course, those classy women who say they don’t want no part of Nate Jiggur.

  They expect to meet a monster. A misogynist, a bully, a player, a cheat, a crook and a sneak. But that’s not me. That’s just the guy they try to sell you on TV. Everything the world knows about me is true. I’m the world’s fiercest quarterback who led the losing-streak Dallas Cowboys back to the Super Bowl—twice! I’m not just an MVP in sports, last year and the year before…I’m the MVP in real life, baby.

  Everything else, the life I live behind closed doors, that’s anyone’s guess.

  But you wouldn’t be wrong to say I get laid as much as the pope prays!

  When you have countless groupies throwing themselves at you after every game, the same old same old gets boring after a while. That’s why I like the women that say, No way, Hosea! Beware of Nate Jiggur, that shaved head twenty-six-year-old white boy is bad news!

  That’s what they all say at first. And when I finally take the bitch downtown, that’s when it feels oh so extra good to pound that sweet poontang until she comes twice. Because there’s nothing sexier than a woman that changes her mind and lets me dance in her forbidden garden, if you catch what I’m saying.

  I’ve heard it all before…

  I'm a high-class kind of girl and I want a man who worships the ground I walk on. And I've heard terrible, terrible things about Nate!

  Oh you heard things?

  Yes, I KNOW what kind of man you are. And I don’t fall for players. No sir!

  Ohhh I see, because you’re a championship girl, isn’t that right? You’re the highest caliber, MVP little miss special. Waiting for Mr. Right to come along. Million dollar woman that spreads her legs for NOBODY.

  That’s right! You’re not all that! I’ve had better.

  Wait, wait, sunshine. Let’s get one thing straight. You NEVER had better than Nate Jiggur.

  Yeah right! Whatever, Mister Ego!

  Now if you want to go tell your friends that you said NO to Nate Jiggur, the star quarterback, and you married your lame ass childhood sweetheart or some shit, you go right ahead. But you and I both know, there ain't nothing better than Nate. So stop lying to yourself. If you say no to me, you're missing out on the opportunity of a lifetime!

  And that’s when this rascal turns on the smile and makes them forget their own name. Is it my chiseled body they love? My handsome, flawless face with those shiny white teeth? Is it my movie star voice or just the fact that I ALWAYS win?

  Nah, I’ll let you in on a little secret…

  “Please do,” the uppity reporter Brenda Baynes says to me, listening to me rant and rave for a sports interview that’s going to air on HBO. “Just remember none of this is off the record.”

  “The secret is knowing when to make a pass,” I say slyly, always loving mixing it up with football and making love. A man makes the throw when a woman is feeling down. Low. Upset about her boyfriend. When she needs a little ego boost. That’s when I bring out the big guns. Not my huge cock, not my bulging biceps or very lickable abs. But my charm, you see. As in, ‘Damn you are so beautiful. You look so hot in that dress. Or my favorite, I’m trying really hard not to kiss you.’”

  “You really say that?”

  “The easiest ones are the under-sexed. The ones whose boyfriends are stupid enough to keep a woman waiting. All it takes is one smooth line, ‘I really don’t understand why your boyfriend doesn’t want to make love to you all the time! If I were you boyfriend I’d be all over you like grass on gridiron!’”

  She stares at me.

  “Err, that line usually works on football fanatics. Not neatly dressed ambitious news reporters.”

  “Ah, I see. So it’s safe to say that you haven’t matured to the point where you realize cheap sex is not all there is to life.”

  “Matured?” I say in giggling disbelief. “Matured? My fellow philosopher, one never matures from the joy of life! One is always living life to its fullest, is one not? If one is so tight-assed Republican that one cannot let her hair down and get it ON once in a while the WORLD feels sorry for such a one!”

  She struggles not to laugh and has her tongue firmly in cheek. I’m singing like I’m on American Idol. I love the controversy. I soak it in.

  “You are so full of it,” she barely says with a big smile on her face.

  “Kiddo, I am bulletproof!” I say, smacking my hands together and ready for a touchdown dance. I’m dressed in my t-shirt and shorts and rocking back like a king.

  “Yeah I do have an ego the size of Jupiter and that’s because I’m motherfucking MVP, the man who they say – who THEY say – brought the Dallas Cowboys back to the Super Bowl. Nobody throws it like I do.”

  “Right, so I’ve heard,” she says with a sneer, acting as if she’s above me.

  “And it’s like, my throws are so solid it doesn’t matter who catches. A fucking dwarf could catch a ball that I throw. Because I don’t ever throw something that I know can’t land. That’s why we set the record for touchdowns this past season. I know each and every one of my players. I know when I make a good throw. And I know when a person can catch. And if he fumbles, he answers to me. Because I know what a man can catch and what he can’t.”

  “Right…”

  "And believe me, baby, when I throw my game at a girl, I KNOW what she can catch. And believe this, she's going to take it all. Take it ALL. You hear me? You feel me? Take everything I have coming. Take it all down like a good girl."

  Brenda folds her arms and gives me a grump face. “You seem like a man who�
��s never been humbled.”

  "That's because I never lose!" I say ebulliently. "On the field, in the bedroom, and on the mic. Win, win, win! Show me the numbers, baby!"

  “Well let’s talk about the things you do OFF the field and OUT of the bedroom, Mister Jiggur. What do you have to say about the recent incident where you were involved in a fistfight outside Ralphy’s Tavern in Dallas?”

  “Look,” I say with a smirk, “that whole story was blown out of proportion.”

  “Oh really? Multiple scars, big fight broke out between dozens of men and all over a woman?”

  “No, no, no, exaggerated. Nothing like that. Yeah I was there. Maybe I drank a little more than usual.”

  I laugh heartily, mentally undressing Brenda the foxy reporter with my eyes. She’s acting all superior and professional…but I’ll be tapping that ass by midnight tonight. Every reporter wants a JUICY story to tell off the record, believe that.

  "But here's the truth, Brenda. The guy I fought started it. And besides, we made up afterward. It was a misunderstanding, that's all."

  “Well from what the press knows about you, you seduce women, you fight men and you don’t seem to give a damn about anyone but yourself.”

  “Of course.”

  “Of course that’s true? So you’re a narcissist?”

  “Yes, in the eyes of the press it’s all true. See, the press, the media all those people don’t care about the truth. No one wants to hear that Nate Jiggur the baddest man in the NFL is a big puppy dog. They want the pit bull. They want the unstoppable force, the womanizing, MVP that sets the world on fire.”

  “And you’re saying that’s not the real you?”

  “Girl, you don’t even know me. You don’t know the first thing about the REAL ME.”

  “Uh huh, well I know one thing. I don’t like to be called ‘girl’!”

  I roll my eyes and snicker. Always some hot shot reporter got something to prove. Wants to tame Nate Jiggur and tell the world how she did it. There is NO taming the beast.

  “All right…” I sigh. “I admit…I’m not the Nate Jiggur you see on TV. That’s not me.”

  “Oh?”

  “The truth is…” I lose my smile. “I just play a character for the camera. But the real me is lost. Brooding. Vulnerable.”

  I keep my gaze soft as I look at her, my heart breaking. I even got the lower lip protruding. I bet if I could even make a tear roll on cue, if I needed to.

  “The truth is I’ve never been in love.” I say staring straight into her soul. “And…and sometimes I wonder if I’m just beyond it. Maybe I’m not built for anything real, you know?”

  “Ohhhh,” she swoons. “I knew it. I always suspected it. You’re not the player everyone says you are.”

  She gets up and walks forward, eager to comfort me.

  “Listen…” I say with teary eyes, almost got my tear roll going on! “How about we talk for real. And I give you a real piece of my mind?” I take a sniff.

  “Yes. I would love that, Nate,” she says already getting touched in the feels.

  I smile…

  And…touchdown! God, I can't wait to smack that serious journalist booty tonight!

  2

  Amanda

  “Oh my God Amanda!” Jan laughs. “Did you hear that Nate Jiggur got caught having sex with a news reporter?”

  “Eeew!” I reply, giving my best friend a WTF look. “I can’t believe they print that stuff in the newspaper. TMI, dude.”

  I swivel back around in my chair, chatting with my BFF inside our family owned music store. My specialty is repairing guitars. It seems to be the only thing that gives me peace…makes me forget. Jan is minding the cash register while my brother and father are out of town. I prefer it that way. I like working with my hands using my mind. Talking less. Sometimes I think I have nothing left to say to the world…maybe just to my loyal friend.

  “Well, Nate Jiggur sells papers!” Jan said.

  “Well, all we Dallas fans care about is that he makes those passes,” I say with a grin. “Who cares what players do off the field.”

  “Oh he’s a player all right!” Jan laughs. “And that’s on and off the field.”

  “Sounds like you want him,” I say with a giggle. “Does your boyfriend know that, Jan?”

  “Oh he knows. And he’s cool with it because he wants our next door neighbor. So if he gets a crush I get a crush.”

  “Ick!” I reply. “At least yours sounds like a crush. If he wants the next door neighbor isn’t that a bit…I dunno, concerning?”

  “Nah, Tony is good,” she laughs. “I’ve got him trained well. Believe me! He’s no cheater.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “Now Nate on the other hand,” Jan laughs. “That man is never going to settle down.”

  “Must be a sad life”, I say concentrating on my polishing.

  “Yeah right,” she says. “That’s every guy’s fantasy, isn’t it? Endless parades of women? I don’t know, don’t you think there’s something very sexy about a confident man. A guy who always wins…don’t you agree?”

  I shrug it off. “I guess all the guys on TV just seem alike to me. You've seen one shirtless muscle-head, you've seen them all."

  “And I never see enough!” Jan says. “And hey, even though I’m not single at the moment, you are!”

  “I’m not really single. I’m more asexual right now.” I laugh hard. “You know, like those amoebas that just don’t date or mate.”

  “So what, you’re going to have a virgin birth?”

  "No. I think I'm just going to waste away," I said evenly. "Like a rose at the end of its life. Age gracefully, wither away when autumn comes."

  “No way! That’s bullshit. You’re in the prime of your life honey. You’re mid-twenties. Blond, fit and you look great in a pair of jeans and a polka dot shirt. That’s the kind of natural beauty guys spend all their lives looking for.”

  “Well…”

  “We just got to do something about that soft country accent. It makes guys think…you know…”

  "What?" I say curiously, as I look back up from my workstation.

  “Well you know! That you’re too innocent.”

  "Me innocent?" I lose my smile. "I don't feel innocent at all." Great, now I'm self-conscious about my voice!

  "Well believe me, you are," Jan says. "But you're sweet, pretty and talented. Guys would love to date you…if you just stopped being, you know…"

  “So innocent?”

  “So…inside your own head.”

  “Ah,” I say with a quick nod, going back to my guitar. “Thanks for the advice. I’ll keep that in mind when you know, Nate Jiggur gives me a call.”

  “Hey, that loser would be HONORED to date you, Amanda.”

  Yeah right. With my luck…I probably would meet Nate Jiggur. Because he seems like a jerk. And bad luck just seems to follow me.

  * * *

  "Congratulations!" the man told me as he handed me two tickets to some live event downtown. I was in disbelief the whole time I was standing there, at the mall, in front of a small floor exhibit. The guy was making a commotion saying he was giving away free things. Sure, I'll take some free stuff. Why not?

  I was half expecting a scam. I smiled…waiting for the punch line. And that's when he told me…and pretty much ruined my day!

  “I mean it. Two free tickets.”

  “I won two free tickets?”

  “I told you I was giving free stuff away, didn’t I?” the man said.

  “Oh cool where at…ohh…the Dallas Cowboys?” I smiled…politely.

  “Yes! Two free tickets to see the Dallas Cowboys play! That’s Nate Jiggur’s team, my team!”

  “No catch?” I said, raising a brow.

  “No ma’am. Sure, I could have given those tickets to some teenage hooligans. But you look like you’re really going to appreciate them.”

  “Well yeah…” I said hesitantly. “I do think it’s awesome. I just am not sure who to bri
ng with me.”

  “Hey,” the man said with slanting eyes. “Bring a girlfriend. Sometimes Nate Jiggur brings sets of girls backstage for a VIP tour.”

  I squint in disbelief. “No that’s cool. I’m going to see the Cowboys in spite of Nate Jiggur.”

  * * *

  And that's what brings me here today, surprising my longtime friend (without benefits!) Scott with the good news.

  “Oh my God! You got free tickets? This is the hottest ticket in town!”

  I smile, always amused at how excitable Scott gets. We’ve been friends so long, ever since we were children. He may be the LAST guy I really can talk to…since I know we’re platonic friends and have never been attracted to each other. Thank God, it’s not always about sex.

  “Amanda this is great…but…are you sure you want to take me? You could take Jan…”

  “No, no. Jan’s not a real fan. I mean she is, but she just likes Nate Jiggur. That womanizing guy?”

  “Ohhh, I gotcha. And you’re more a fan of the team!” Scott laughs.

  “Exactly. So will you come? I really don’t want to go alone. And I want to bring a guy friend that’s not…you know a guy.”

  “Ohhh damn!” Scott says, shaking off my inadvertent insult.

  “Ohh noo! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “Owwch, dude,” Scott said.

  “I’m sorry!” I laugh and blush at my blunder. “That was so rude. It came out wrong.”

  I really didn't mean anything by it. Scott is adorable. He's thin and good looking, brown hair and late twenties. Yeah, but he's SWEET. He doesn't look like a muscle-bound goon. He doesn't trash talk like all the alpha males who need attention. He’s cute. He has a big heart. I love his dorky glasses. I love his intelligence and his conversation. But…