Read The Hook Up (Game On Book 1) for Free Online Page A

smile deepens. “Stop being obtuse. You’re talking about my irresistibility. I’m talking about my honesty. Two vastly different topics.”
    My lips twitch. Damn it. “I don’t recall saying you were irresistible.”
    “Besides,” he goes on as if I haven’t spoken, “I can’t see what sort of culpability I have in girls wanting to get to know me. It’s not like I’m bribing them or lying to have my ‘wicked way’ with them. It is what it is.”
    I stare at him a long moment, one in which he grins his stupid grin and I fight the stupid urge to return it.
    “You know what? You’re right.”
    “Finally!” he says to no one in particular before smiling down at me.
    I give him a bland look. “So let’s put it this way.” I step into his space, glaring up at him. “I could not care less about football. I don’t give a shit who you are or what you do or—”
    My tirade dies when he leans so close that our noses practically touch. The look in his eyes isn’t angry. It’s triumphant. “Exactly, Jones.”
    Two words and he’s knocked the wind out of my sails. His not wanting me to fawn all over him is the last thing I expect. I start to frown. Maybe I even do. I can’t stop myself from saying, “Well, hell.”
    And he bursts out laughing. A rich, full laugh that’s so infectious, I respond to it, snorting a little as I try to keep from laughing too. Our eyes meet, and the air between us abruptly shifts. Base heat swamps me so fast that I lose my next breath. Maybe he does too because he goes absolutely still. A lion about to pounce. I blink back, the gazelle caught out in full sunlight.
    But then a lumbering form comes up to us, and a big hand slaps down on Baylor’s shoulder. “Battle, my man,” says the hulking guy who has to be one of Baylor’s linemen. “Sandra here wants to say hello.”
    It’s like I’m not even there. Not to The Hulk, who actually bumps me back with his arm as he gestures to some eighteen year old with over-bleached hair and a coy smile. Not when she slinks up to press herself against Baylor’s arm. “Hey, Battle,” she breathes— breathes it , because I’m not sure I heard any actual consonants—“will you sign my shirt?”
    Of course she’s wearing his jersey, the number eleven splayed across her breasts. It’s no shocker when she points directly to that area, in case he wasn’t sure where he should sign.
    I want to roll my eyes but don’t. She’s not the problem here. Baylor isn’t even the problem. I am.
    “Well then,” I say. “I’ll leave you to it.”
    I turn and flee, hearing him call my name. But I don’t look back.
    I nearly reach the hall when he steps in front of me, halting my progress. “Hold up.” Baylor’s lips pull in a pout, which should look emasculating but simply makes him hotter. “I thought we were having a conversation.”
    “I think it was more like bickering,” I say, and when he starts to smile, I hurry on. “And it was clearly over.”
    His lush mouth flattens. “Why? Because of that interruption?” He gives a little jerk of his head in the direction of his number one fan.
    I shake my head. “Don’t let me keep you, honestly.”
    Instead of backing off, he takes a step closer, and his voice lowers. “But I’d rather be talking to you.”
    My heart is beating so hard now I feel it in my fingertips. I don’t know where to look or what to do. My gaze settles on the leather cord he wears around his strong neck. I’ve never seen him without it. A small rectangle of polished wood hangs from the cord, dangling just below the hollow of his throat. My fingers itch to touch the pendant, to trace along the cord up to the stubble that starts just below his jaw. I lift my hand to do just that when a masculine shout snaps me out of it.
    “Baylor!” Yet another one of his teammates seeking his attention. The freshman is still there, waving to get his attention.
    I glance that way. “You’re obviously busy.”
    A frustrated