The Jock by Jasmine Leveaux Read Free Book Online

she was doing real well with her picture
taking.
    So
that could only mean that somewhere deep down, Gwen still cared about him
enough to have kept his shirt... if even as just a friend. The knowledge of it
was making him hard all over again.
    Sam
sighed as he raked a punishing set of fingers through his short black hair. He
needed to get himself under control. now. Gwen had certainly given him
no sign that she still carried a torch for him and he didn't want to make her
uncomfortable by ogling her generously endowed body like a sex-starved boy of
fifteen when he made his way downstairs for dinner in a few short hours. He
could only hope Cupcake had donned a bra to cover up those jutting nipples by
the time he next saw her.
    Hell,
he thought dejectedly, the nipples were only one of many erection-inducing
things about Gwen. Even if he was lucky enough to find her sporting a bra—and not sporting those Daisy Duke shorts—she'd still have a million curves, cuter than
all hell dimples, and strawberry scented hair. Sweet Jesus, even the woman's
dainty little ankles set his blood to racin'. And that tiny little dot of a
mole set right above her lip.
    Sam
blew out a breath and flopped onto his belly to go to sleep. He couldn't let
himself start thinking about Gwen like this. It was too soon and he had no
intention of scaring her away from the game before he even made it to first
base. She was probably still mad at him over that scene with Stacy ten years
back. He'd definitely have to handle this situation with expert precision.
    Sam
decided he'd treat this just as he did any competition he'd set his mind to
winning. He'd play hard and give it his all. Strategy . It always came
down to strategy. And with Cupcake the best strategy would be to reel her in
slowly, like a doe he was trying to lure closer to feed from his hand.
    Sam
fell asleep with a grin on his lips. He'd waited over a decade to take his
not-so-pudgy princess to bed, and he'd be damned if he'd go home before it
finally happened. He wasn't certain if he was quite ready to settle down and
make a family just yet, but maybe he was. Hell—who could say what he was or
wasn't ready for 'til the time came.
    But
there was something he was definitely ready for. One way or another, Sam
"The Slam" Trevianni wasn't leaving Tampa Florida 'til he gave
Gwenyth Marie Jones the fuckin' of a lifetime.
    Poor
little girl. She'd never know what hit her.

Chapter 5
    "You're
lookin' good boy, lookin' real good." Granddad Willy nodded toward Sam as
his wife Verlene fussed over him, slathering Sam's baked potato up with a heavy
dollop of creamy butter and the smooth as sin sour cream Willy had made from
scratch.
    Harry
slapped Sam on the back and grinned. "You don't look much different. A
little gray around the temples maybe, old man, but not much different."
    Sam
grunted affectionately at his old pal. It was good to have someone to verbally
spar with again. Most people approached him with kid gloves, afraid to offend
him in any way. "You're one to talk, Jones. I see more than one laugh line
or two crinklin' at the corners of your eyes."
    Harry
chuckled. "The ladies rather like my laugh lines. They say it gives me
character."
    Willy
harrumphed, drawing Sam's attention toward him. He had to grin at the tee shirt
old Willy was wearing today: It's a Black Thang . "You date
some strange women, son. Your Grandmama, on the other hand, was always partial
to my backside." He inclined his head in a gesture of pure male ego.
"She's a butt woman, my Verlene."
    Said
butt-woman rolled her eyes to the ceiling.
    Sam
laughed. God he'd missed this bunch.
    Dinnertime
began with the same flair and panache as it always did at the Jones family
home. Sam closed his eyes briefly as he inhaled the aromas of the food rising
up around him. He could barely stand the wait. He was just dying to fork a bite
of the green beans that had been prepared in bacon fat into his mouth. This was
true southern cookin' at its finest