Tackled by the King: A Bad Boy Sports Romance Read Online Free Page A

gym. His dreadlocks were tied back and his tank was dashed with sweat marks. I reached for his hand and pulled him in for a chest bump. 
    “What you doing here so early?”
    Before I could answer, the hissing sounds of running water drifted in from the shower.
    “Oh, I see, player.” Odell smirked, stroking his goatee. “You got a girl in there with you.”
    “Yep.”
    “You better get her outta here before coach sees.” Odell opened his locker and threw his duffel inside. “I can keep an eye out you for another 10, but when I hit the shower, you're on your own, man.”
    “Thanks, but she's gonna bounce soon.”
    “Who you got in there, anyway? Anyone I know?”
    “I might have mentioned her in passing.” I opened my locker and grabbed 2 fresh towels. “It's Farrah.”
    “Farrah... Where have I heard that name bef –” Odell cranked his neck back abruptly. “Wait, you mean that stalker chick?”
    “That's her.” I draped the towels over my shoulders. “Now, before you say anything, have you seen the fun bags on that chick?”
    “Oh, hell naw, brother.” Odell shook his head. “Haven't you ever heard of that age-old saying, 'Don't stick your dick in crazy'?”
    “I wasn't planning on it. She was waiting for me outside the locker room, wearing this tiny little gold number – I mean, you had to be there. What was I supposed to do?”
    “You turn around and run the fuck away, that's what you do!” Odell peeked over my shoulder, lowering his voice. “You're nuts, King. Isn't this the same chick who made you a necklace from her pubes?”
    “I get it – not my finest moment. And do me a favor, will ya? If she comes out here later, don't let it slip that I'm living up at Grosse Pointe now.” I reached for my phone on the top shelf to check my messages. “I had to move from Bloomfield last year – she kept breaking in to leave crystals and Ziplocs of her toenails on my front porch.”
    “Like I said, nuts –”
    “Shit.” I reread my only new text message, sent from an unknown number. My fingers shook as I read it out loud. “'I know what you did, you selfish sack of shit, and you're going to pay for this. I've alerted the press. Now your fans will know what a phony you really are.'”
    Odell's face clouded with fear, his voice sounding strangled.
    “Who is it?”
    “I don't – shit! My phone died.” I slid my phone back onto the top shelf and punted my locker door shut. “Check your phone.”
    Odell snatched his phone from his bag hastily. He unlocked his screen with both hands. I'd never seen the dude so shook in all the 8 years we've known each other.
    “Did you get a message, too?”
    “No.”
    “Okay, well get on that shit and Google me.” I wrapped a towel around my waist and stood behind him, looking over his shoulder.
    Odell tapped away at the search bar, his brows furrowed in concentration. But when the page of search results loaded, our shoulders relaxed. The “Breaking News” tags published just 4 hours ago boasted similar headlines: “ Superstar Quarterback Kingsley Kelly Spotted With Banker's Wife.”
    “Damn, brother. I know you're young and just having fun, but you can't go around porking every rando's wife. You know you're one screw-up away from getting benched for the rest of the season.”
    “Yeah, well, not all of us fall in love and get hitched to our high school sweethearts. And in my defense, Wendy said they were separated.”
    “Maybe I should get Nellie to set you up with one of her –”
    “You dick weasels should really put a sock on the door if you're thinking of doing any of that faggot business around here.”
    Val Presley, the Wide Receiver, strutted through the door. He dropped his bag onto the bench closest to the door, chuckling at his own shitty remark. I opened my mouth to say something, but a wet and buck-naked Farrah came sauntering out of the shower from behind me, and did all the talking for me.
    “King? King, what's taking you so – oh. I