Beauty and the Blitz by Sosie Frost

the hit you put on that wide receiver.”
    Yeah. The hit that already made the highlight reel around the league. I hardly remembered it—just the muffled slap of the ball, the gasp of the crowd and then…
    A crash.
    My shoulder driving into his chest. The ball flying out of his hands. A grown man in peak physical condition driven to the ground as a result of my tackle.
    The trainers peeled him off the field, but no one had an update on his condition yet. It all depended on if he needed surgery to fix his back or not. So we waited.
    “Ainsley Ruport said it was a dirty hit,” Piper said.
    “Ainsley Ruport is a dick. It wasn’t a dirty hit. That’s how we play the game.”
    “Do you think the league knows that?”
    “Yeah.”
    “And the Monarch coaching staff?”
    “Like I said, people get hurt. It happens every season.”
    She tilted her head. “Did you have to hit him so hard?”
    I didn’t answer her.
    It was so easy for everyone else to judge. To put themselves in my shoes and play the good guy.
    But they didn’t know. There was no stopping. No controlling it. No soft hits.
    I lived, breathed, and fought with a ferocious strength, as much a gift as it was a curse.
    I shifted across the hot tub. Piper covered her chest with her arms, and her legs drew up. But I wasn’t after her curves. I stared into her eyes, her beautiful chestnut brightness.
    “I don’t play a game ,” I murmured.
    I edged close to her, trapping her within my graveled whisper.
    She didn’t try to escape.
    I wouldn’t have let her go.
    “By its definition it’s a game ,” Piper said.
    “But by its nature ?” I dropped closer. Only the heat of the water protected her from me. “It’s always rewarded those who were the most aggressive and physical.”
    “And brutal?”
    “All passions are brutal.” I inhaled, practically tasting her citrusy, orange scent. “Football. Fighting. Sex.”
    “That’s not true. Sex isn’t brutal.”
    “Maybe you haven’t been fucked right.”
    “Or maybe you’ve been doing it wrong.”
    “No one’s ever complained.”
    Piper glanced over the patio, the gardens, the house. “Then where’s Mrs. Hawthorne?”
    “Never wanted to find her. Why bother? I only need one thing.”
    “And what’s that?” she asked.
    “A good hit on the field. A good fuck when I get home.”
    “You’re not really a romantic, are you?”
    “Do you want romance?”
    I brushed a hand over her arms, encouraging them to drop away. Piper tensed, but she didn’t resist. She held my stare as I freed her chest.
    Jesus, she had the most perfect pair of tits.
    I lowered my voice. “You know just as well as I do that romance won’t get you off.”
    “You think you know me so well.”
    “You don’t tolerate bullshit,” I said. “Let’s get real. Who needs the flowers and the champagne when a woman’s just gonna get bent over anyway?”
    Piper’s quirked eyebrow was a little tease. “And if she wants to get on top?”
    “You offering?”
    “You intimidated?”
    “Not in the least.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because sex is like football. It’s a mind-game as well as a quick fight.”
    “A fight ?” Piper’s breath caught as my fingers grazed her shoulder. “Why would you ever fight a lover?”
    “You tell me, beautiful…”
    My fingers dipped, tracing her curves under the water. Her breath quickened, and I grazed the soft swell of her breast. She shuddered. I took what I wanted.
    A kiss.
    Hard and fierce.
    Stolen from her lips as my hand sunk into the water and gripped her thigh.
    “You’re not fighting me now,” I murmured. “You know what you need. Same thing every woman wants from me. No romance. No flowers. No promise of a happily ever after .”
    My fingers drifted between her legs, to the waiting and ready softness of her slit. Even in the water she was hot and slick, begging for something more than a splash of bubbles and heat from the jets to satisfy her urges.
    “Don’t lie, beautiful.” I