The Final Countdown

Chapter 8

Cameron

The worst part about being a professional football player is having to keep up with the fame. It doesn't matter that (as other people claim) I'm one of the best players the league has ever seen. Management wants to profit off of me, and I quickly learned after I first got signed that it was easier to accept their advice and participate in doing these magazine covers and endorsements. Otherwise, if I declined, I started offending companies and influential people I really shouldn't be offending, thus tainting my image and causing more rumors in the press that caused me more trouble than simply agreeing to the deal in the first place.

And at first, I didn't mind agreeing with them. Yeah, it kept the media off my back, but it also allowed me to put away money for Izzy and any future kids Maddie and I may or may not have. Any money I make from endorsements or photo shoots goes to my family.

That's the only reason I'm allowing Katie to be draped over me in a string bikini. Well, that and ensuring Maddie's video is kept safe until I figure out how the hell to handle this.

As much as I'd love to think Katie won't ever speak to me again after this, I'm not that naive. There's always going to be more favors, more requests... I'll never truly get rid of her until I put a stop to this for good.

"Cameron, look this way," the photographer shouts over the fans blowing Katie's blonde hair in the wind. I clench my jaw and look in the direction he's wanting, and thankfully, being pissed and broody is precisely how they want me to look. "Perfect!" He shouts.

Katie's hand moves lower down my oiled-up abdomen, hovering above the band of my shorts. "Move it," I seethe between my teeth. I'm clenching my molars so hard I'm afraid they'll crack.

"Oh, come on," she teases, letting out a giggle. The cameras shutter in response. "It's for a photoshoot, Cam."

"Cameron," I correct, "and we can take photos without your hand near my dick."

"You used to love it when I did this," she says, running her fingertips back and forth. "Remember? When we'd get a moment alone in your dorm room and I'd—"

Physically grabbing her hand myself, I shove her away from me and storm off the set. We've been taking pictures for almost an hour now. If there's not a decent shot, then they need to hire a new photographer.

"So temperamental," she chides, following right on my heels. "I have to admit, the anger thing is working for you."

I keep my mouth shut, not wanting to give her the satisfaction, and as soon as I reach my dressing room, I swing the door in her face, but she stops it with her arm, smiling devilishly. "Thank you for the photos," she says sweetly. "I'm sure we'll be in touch soon."

Finally, I'm surrounded by silence, and I collapse against the wall, softly hitting my forehead against the plaster. I knew going into this would be hell, but, just as expected, she's not ending this any time soon.

It's been a month and a half since she sent that email. When will her next one come? Until I can figure out a way to stop this, I'm going to be holding my breath every single day until her next task comes through.

My phone is sitting on a plush chair in the corner of the room, and I have several text messages from Maddie. Rightly so, she's been wary of today and how it would go, and she won't be pleased when she sees the images of Katie's hands all over me. She knew before I came here today that it would be a potential, and although she was furious, she knew why I had agreed to do it.

Maddie: Hey, you okay?

Maddie: How's the shoot going?

Maddie: Did they put oil on you again?