Read Stallion: A Bad Boy Sports Romance for Free Online Page A

giving up. No story is worth this . Peter is just going to have to deal .
    Grabbing the now useless stack of wet paper that used to be my notebook, I stuff everything back into the bag, which I’ll probably have to replace. I wonder if any of the reporters for the Post ever had to go through something like this. I mean, I could understand if I was covering a professional, or some ultra-famous rock star, but a collegiate athlete? No way.
    Just as I’m about to stand up, I hear a voice behind me.
    “You here for the cannonball contest?”
    When I turn around and look up – I see Walker Johnson standing over me.
    My breath escapes my lungs. He’s gorgeous! It’s like looking up and seeing the David standing over you. I’d seen him on TV, and the countless photos of him all over campus and in magazines, but one of them did anything to prepare me for the reality of him. In fact, if anything, it’s made the reality of him even more intense. His image on screen pales in comparison to the real thing.
    Our eyes meet and it’s like I’m hypnotized. His beautiful brown eyes look down at me, and it’s like…he owns me and he already knows it. It’s like he can read my mind. He’s barely even smiling – a knowing smile, like he already understands the effect he’s having on me.
    My heart is racing, and I can’t remember what the Hell I was doing two seconds ago. Why am I even here? What’s my name? But I do know he said something and that I should probably respond.
    “What? Sorry.”
    “The cannonball contest. I bet you could win with a body like that.” I don’t even understand English right now. “But even if you don’t, at least we get to see the goods.”
    Even his voice is making me melt. This is bad . But what is he saying?
    As he looks at me, I can practically feel his hands on my body and his lips on mine, giving myself over to his every desire.
    Am I fantasizing right now?
    Calm down , I want to scream at myself. “I mean, you’re obviously not shy.”
    My head is spinning. He just said something again. Respond. Respond!
    “What!? Shy?” I manage to spit out, realizing I’m on my knees in front of the biggest stud on campus. And as though they have a mind of their own, my eyes move down from his face to his very prominent bulge less than two feet from my face. His jeans look like they’re ready to explode open at the slightest touch. I feel my jaw loosen and my mouth open a crack.
    This is bad.
    Quickly, I avert my gaze and bring my eyes back to his – back to that picture perfect smile. . This doesn’t do much for my heartrate, but maybe I can salvage some of my dignity.
    “Yeah. I mean, I’m loving the wet t-shirt and all,” he says. “Pretty ballsy.”
    And it’s then that I remember.
    The idiot with the beer. Seeing Walker drove all other thoughts out of my mind, and I look down to see my shirt has gone completely see-through. I should be completely embarrassed, but another part of me, a part I never knew existed, is…excited.
    Walker Johnson is checking me out .
    What if I hadn’t worn a bra? He’d be seeing everything! And that I would not be okay with…right?
    The thought actually excites me, and I feel another rush of blood, but this time it’s not to my face, but somewhere else…I have to get it together. I clamp my legs together and quickly jump to my feet. My legs feel like al dente spaghetti, threatening to give out with the wrong move.
    “It’s not ballsy,” I snap back, unsure of how to respond. A war is waging within me, between animal instinct and professionalism, and right now I’m not sure who’s winning. I have to pick sides. “It was a mistake! Some jerk spilled beer on me!”
    “Uh, huh. Suuuure ,” he grins. Even when he’s being an asshole he’s charming. In fact, maybe even more so -- however much sense that makes.
    Nothing about this situation makes sense. What am I even doing here?
    I should have told Peter to shove this story right up his rear, but