First down harmony hollo.., p.1
First Down: Harmony Hollow Haks, page 1
First Down by Dee Ellis
© 2022 by Dee Ellis. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any written, electronic, recording, or photocopying without written permission of the publisher or author. The exception would be in the case of brief quotations embodied in the critical articles or reviews and pages where permission is specifically granted by the publisher or author.
Cover Design: Just Wright Creations
Interior Formatting: Dee Ellis
Publisher: Hummingbird Press
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Hi Reader!
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Epilogue
Thank You for Reading!
Gridiron Love Series
About the Author
More from the Author
Chapter One
Dash
Should be an amazing night but until she walked in, it was anything but.
With my very first season in the NFL closed out, I am already looking forward to training camp. I want to get back on the field as soon as possible. I just signed a five-year contract worth enough money to take care of me for the rest of my life. All I need to do is play my best, not get hurt, and not get sidelined by fame or females.
Growing up in Sunset Springs, a small town devoted to football, I always had plans to be right where I am. I played hard and stuck to the same game plan. Practice, play, prevail, and repeat. Hard work and humbleness got me through college, the draft, an into the NFL.
Going into my second season, I will have to work harder than ever. I have not let up since I signed on with my team, but my intensity needs to explode since I got that contract. I have everything to lose if I do not prove I am worth every penny they signed me for.
That means no time for parties or play time. Yet the team insisted we all show for tonight's shindig. This is not my sort of scene. People pack the fancy hotel ballroom, slow music plays, and silver trays of pricey champagne and hors d’oeuvres I cannot even pronounce circle the room.
A ballroom this size might feel less stuffy if it was not crammed with the egos of the players and their entourages. Front office, management, and coaches mingle too, staying at the edge of the room in clusters showcasing the divisive line between them.
I have been here long enough to make the rounds, talk to the people I am expected to, and shake the hands I need to shake. We will have a few months before training camp, but I have no plans to take it easy. I do not have time to be wandering around making small talk or rubbing elbows.
But then she walks in, and I forget about everything else.
Really, she sort of stumbles in. In a bright yellow dress that pops against her creamy skin, miles of leg showing, her heels betray her. A few steps inside the big double doors, she teeters on the sexy stilettos. They make her taller than some men like, but I think she is striking in them. I bet she would be even more striking in only those.
My instinct is to run to save her, but I watch her catch herself. She laughs at the show of clumsiness, and I smile wide. No one seemed to notice but it doesn’t look as if she would care. I watch her in fascination as she takes a deep breath and starts her entrance again. Hard to take my eyes off a sight like her.
Dark honey blonde hair weaves down her shoulders, not curly but I just bet if it got wet, it would be wild. Her eyes look blue from here, but I bet they’re more green. Those long legs are thick and firm, and her hips are wide. When she turns to take a drink off a passing tray, her hand shaky, I get a treat. That ass is divine, and I can just imagine fitting it in my hands as I held that body against mine.
As if she heard my dirty thoughts, she turns back to look directly at me. My pulse races as she gives me a look of interest before averting her gaze. I cannot stand women who pretend to give a shit about me or the game but know nothing about either. Since I got drafted, I steer clear of women because they are nothing but trouble at this point in my career.
This one looks as if she would be worth the trouble.
I watch as she heads over to the bar, and I follow. I need to at least get her name. Find out why she is here tonight. I know most of the team’s ladies and she is not one of them. When I get to the bar, I order another Shirley Temple and the bartender sneers at me the same way he did before.
“A Shirley Temple, please,” a sweet voice calls, making my heart stop.
Dream girl in the yellow dress is drinking the same drink. I lean back to get a good look at her up close and I see her bow her head, chuckling. Oh shit. She heard me order that drink. She is teasing me and I fucking love it.
“You teasing me, sunshine?” I call to her as the two linebackers between us leave with their beers.
“Why would I do that? Big guy like you might not like that,” she shoots back, her eyes swinging to mine as she tilts her body towards me.
Oh yeah, those pretty eyes have flecks of green. They are almost turquoise, and I am mesmerized. Her nose is pierced, her make-up free face flushed at the cheeks, and her full mouth is a tempting pink. I want to kiss her the second the tip of her tongue darts out, tracing that sexy mouth.
Full lips and a cupid’s bow, with pouting corners, that mouth looks delicious. Her stunning eyes sparkle with humor and when she smiles, her eyes crinkle. Heaven above, she might be the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. More beautiful than a freshly lined field on a crisp October morning of two-a-days.
“Not if you were the one doing the teasing,” I offer back, sliding closer to her, as if drawn to her.
“Oh cute. Very cute Mr.....” she trails off, glancing up at me from beneath thick, dark lashes.
Ah, shit. She has no idea who I am. Or if she does, she is a damn good actress. Her not knowing my name or that I just signed a huge contract is such a game changer. Over the past few months, that contract and my future is all anyone wants to talk about. For once, I just want to talk about right now. And I want to talk about it with this woman.
“Dash. Call me Dash. What can I call you?” I move even closer, breathing in the soft scent of freesia and something warm. Sunshine? I don’t know but I am hooked.
“Daisie,” she says, pronouncing the floral name softly.
“Oh, that suits you, sunshine,” I tell her honestly, throwing some money on the bar when our drinks are slid our way.
Daisie grins up at me and I realize she no longer seems nervous. And I am in no hurry to leave now. We talk a little about the coming season and she seems to know a thing or two about football. But it is everything else we talk about that counts.
We order another drink, taking it out to the atrium filled with flowers and artistic topiary. We walk through it all, laughing and talking about the city—bigger than the places we both grew up—and how we wound up here.
“I was never looking for bigger, better, or more,” she says as she gazes up at the skies glittering with stars nearly hidden by the big city buildings and lights. “But I did not want small, bad, and less either.”
Watching her in the warm night, I am taken by how close to her I feel. I have told her more in these short moments with her than I tell reporters digging for answers for hours. I find myself wanting to tell her everything about me. Everything that is not about football.
“Daisie...God, you are so beautiful,” I whisper, surprising us both as I reach out, cupping her jaw gently.
Her skin flushes beneath my touch and I move closer, wanting to feel her warmth. She bows her head and presses closer, and I sigh, brushing my lips over her forehead. Her head tips back and our gazes lock, saying a thousand things at once.
Bowing my head, I brush my lips over hers and my heart jackhammers in my chest. Her lips part and I groan, slipping my tongue into her sweet mouth. Her soft curves press against me eagerly. I don’t hide how turned on I am, and she moans when I notch myself between her thighs.
“I don’t want to go back in there,” I breathe against her mouth, licking the perfect shape of her lips.
“Neither do I,” she whispers back, fingers diving into my hair to pull me back to her.
Somehow, we wind up getting a room at the hotel. I barely get her inside the room before I tear that yellow dress off to bare her to me. Something tells me she is going be a significant person in my life, even if that makes no sense to me yet.
“I wanted to taste you the second I saw you come in the room tonight,” I tell her as I get on my knees, hiking one long leg up over my shoulder.
Dipping my head, I nuzzle my nose against her lace panties, loving how wet she is, so wet I don’t need to get her panties off to see her pussy. But I
Daisie shouts my name as she floods my mouth and I decide right then that making her come is how I want to celebrate every win for the rest of my life. I lick her through her orgasm, thrusting my fingers into her, grunting at how tight she is. Once I get my cock inside of her, I won’t ever want to come back out.
“Please,” she pants, pulling at my hair when I lick at her greedily, “I need more. I want you inside me,” she pleads.
“God, you are perfect. Come here, sunshine,” I call to her, standing to scoop her up. By the time I get her to the bed, I am naked too and I can barely think straight.
Daisie spread out in white sheets with her golden hair and creamy skin is the hottest thing I have ever seen. I don’t bother to tell her I never do this. I figure she won’t believe me anyway. Who would believe a hot NFL star has never been with a woman? That I never wasted time on women before her?
When I fit between her thighs and our bodies come together, I know I am not wasting my time with her. I kiss her until her lips are swollen and learn every curve of her body with my hands and my mouth. When I suck at her nipples, she almost hums, rubbing against me and begging me to take her. I don’t ever want her to beg, but damn does it turn me on.
Lacing our fingers together, I pin her beneath me, nudging at her slick sex. I don’t think to ask about birth control or condoms. In this moment, I don’t care. Gazing down at her, I can see a forever with her and if that means babies, so be it. I want to tie myself to her and it should scare the hell out of me. I cannot be tied to anything or anyone right now.
“Daisie,” I moan her name as I thrust and sink myself deep inside of her.
“Dash, yes, please,” she moans back, arcing to take me, drawing me even deeper.
It is slow at first, deep, shallow thrusts because she is so tight, so slippery wet, that I might lose my mind. I want to last all night inside of her. I want the push and pull of our bodies to go on forever. I have won a thousand games and hoisted trophies that used to mean everything to me.
None of those wins ever felt as good as taking her does.
We don’t stop until the sun starts lighting the room in dusky pinks. I take her in the shower, with her riding me on a chair in the corner, pressed up against a window overlooking the city. We cannot get enough of each other, and I want to leave my mark all over her the way she is leaving hers on me.
When we finally fall into the bed, tangled up in one another, I tell her I don’t want her to go. I never want her to go. Just one night and I forget all about feeling alone, about feeling out of place here in this city. With her, I feel as if I know just where I belong. It is with her, and I am so damn lucky she showed up tonight.
Before I open my eyes hours later, I know she is gone. Her little body nestled next to mine so perfectly, I feel the absence of it. And I hate it. I want it back. I want her back and I want nights like last night for the rest of my life. I did not get to the NFL by chance—I worked my ass off for it and I will do the same for her.
I will find my sunshine again—and this time, I won’t let her get away.
Chapter Two
Daisie
Two Months Later...
Nights haunt me with memories of him. The days though...they are the worst.
It has been two months since I snuck out of a hotel room after the best night of my life. I should never have left that night and the moment I got on the elevator, I broke down because I knew I made a huge mistake. I was so afraid he would wake up and make me leave anyway, I never gave him the chance.
Every day since I walked out, I wished I could go back to that night. I wished I could stay curled up in that bed with him until he did ask me to go. I wanted to savor the time I had with him. It was the first time I had ever felt so good. He had been my home in the middle of nowhere that night and I have been miserable since I walked away from him.
“You good, Dais?” Presli shouts from a safe distance.
Nodding, I put a hand up before I grip the basin and retch again. How is there anything left? I have been tossing my cookies all morning—there should be no more cookies left to toss. All I want is sweet tea and peaches. I find myself wondering as get up close and personal with the toilet if Dash is to blame for that?
Well, he is to blame of course. He is the one who got me pregnant, after all.
How did we forget to even talk about this sort of thing that night? I mean, I had never been with someone before—or since—but I know he lives a different life than I do. To be fair—I had no idea who he was that night, so I could not have known that at the time.
That night he was everything I needed—sweet, passionate, and attentive. From the moment he smiled at me, I stopped feeling alone. Stopped feeling out of my element—I was in his orbit, and it was a beautiful place to be. I don’t know if I would have felt that way had I known who he truly is.
Dash Dawson is the talk of the town—a hotshot NFL wide receiver who is worth millions and lives the life of a superstar playboy. I had no idea he was the new star they were all whispering about. I felt so foolish when I found out a few days later—when I saw him on the front page of the newspaper with a stunning blonde on his arm at some gala event.
I had tried to find him after that night, until I saw him for what he was. Just another player playing the game they are all pros at. I gave up looking for him and began dreading it. I knew I would have to face him eventually—we were both at that soiree because of the team. Neither of us talked about football so I had hoped he was not a player.
“How will you do your job like this, Dais?” Presli asks for the tenth time.
“The way lots of women who are with child do it, I suppose,” I shoot back with a weary smirk.
I am not showing and besides throwing up a half dozen times a day—and weird cravings—I am doing just fine. I mean I have a breakdown a few times a day too, but that’s not so new for me. My life has fallen apart over the last year, so I figure I earned a good cry now and again.
Last year, I had a good job in my hometown as a physical therapist. I am damn good at my job and had happy clients from the local D1 college. I was even dating a cute coach from the football team for a few weeks. One of the biggest mistakes of my life.
Refusing to go to bed with him hit him right in the ego. He convinced half the town that I was sleeping with my young student clients. Like some sort of a slutty escort—not a certified medical professional. It ruined my name there, leaving me no choice but to pack up and leave to start over here.
Now another football player has changed the course of my life again. But no matter what, I do not consider this another mistake. I am terrified of facing him and telling him that I am pregnant with his child. But there was never any option for me to have this baby. I wanted him or her the moment I found out, even if I need to do it alone.
Most of my life has been spent alone. My father died before I was born, and my mother never really got over it. Growing up, I was the one taking care of her. Eventually I had to start taking care of myself and she resented me for going to college and leaving her behind. We stopped talking when I was barely legal age, and she died a few years after that.
“Will they even let you work once you...you know, start showing?” she wonders, bringing me back to the present.
“Not sure about that. More worried about what will happen if I tell them who the father is,” I wince as I say it because I still have not said out loud who he is. Not even to my roommate, who since I met her five months ago has been my only friend.
Presli cocks her head at me and sighs, shaking her head. Crouching behind me, she wets a washcloth and washes my face gently. Tears spring to my eyes because I cannot recall the last time someone took care of me. She has been there every time I need someone, she supported me when I decided to keep the baby. She has even read the parenting books and gone to doctor appointments with me.
