Falling For The Player: An Instalove Possessive Alpha Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 178) Read online

  CONTENTS

  Falling For The Player

  NEWSLETTER

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  NEWSLETTER

  A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS

  BRATVA BEAR SHIFTERS

  LAIRDS & LADIES

  RUSSIAN UNDERWORLD

  IRISH WOLF SHIFTERS

  About the Author

  FALLING FOR THE PLAYER

  AN OLDER MAN YOUNGER WOMAN ROMANCE

  _______________________

  A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS, 178

  FLORA FERRARI

  Copyright © 2020 by Flora Ferrari

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers.

  FALLING FOR THE PLAYER

  I sit, waiting, trying to be patient. But how can I when my future is hanging in the balance with my injury. I’ve been lucky so far, an elite football player at the top level of my sport playing at my age. This is my future or so I thought.

  Until her.

  My life has been football since the beginning.

  I never thought I would find the one. Marriage and babies were not in my future until her.

  I’m a man of few words but only one comes to mind when I think of her ‘mine’ and she will be. I’m going to do what it takes to have her because when you find hands this magical, in combination with a body like that, there’s no way you just let it slip away without a fight.

  She will be mine.

  *Falling For The Player is an insta-everything standalone instalove romance with a HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.

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  CHAPTER ONE

  Eric

  I sit in the waiting room, trying to be patient. Someone like me isn’t used to waiting around. I normally get what I want delivered right to me, whenever I want it. Sad thing is, I guess now that I’m approaching the end of my career, the sharks in the water can smell it.

  I’m being melodramatic, probably. I’m only sitting around in the waiting room because, even though I’m an elite football player at the top level of my sport, this firm is also the top of their game. The best physical therapy clinic in the state. I thought I glimpsed a famous tennis player coming out of the building as I was parking my car. When you’re one face among a whole list of VIP clientele, that special treatment does tend to fade away a little.

  “Eric Fairlight?” a female voice calls out my name. I look up from the medical journal I’ve been flipping through, looking at the pictures of hideous injuries and checking for any articles about recovering from sports injuries, and see her waiting for me in the doorway.

  She looks, just for a moment, like an angel. She’s wearing the white uniform of the clinic, a tunic with silver buttons down one side over capri trousers, and the light from the room behind her plays with her blonde hair and shines around her like a halo. I’m distracted, staring at her as she comes more into focus and I realize she isn’t an angel at all. Just doing her best imitation of one.

  I look her up and down as I stand, limping slightly at the pressure on my busted right knee. She’s just exactly my type: all curves and swerves from head to toe, like an ancient carving of a fertility goddess, enough meat on her bones to grab onto. I normally try not to look at the women that tend to throng around me, concentrating on the game is the most important thing. Maybe it’s my injury putting a chink in my armor, but I don’t want to take my eyes off her.

  “I don’t know you,” I say, moving over to her carefully and slowly. I don’t want to make my knee worse before my session.

  “I just joined the team here,” she says, giving me a nervous smile. “Dr. Wallace will see you now.”

  I head into the room past her, deliberately letting my hand graze her shoulder, resting there for a moment as if I need support getting in through the doorway. Dr. Wallace, my usual therapist, is standing just beyond the therapy bed, his hands clasped loosely in front of him.

  “What’s your name?” I ask, my attention moving back immediately towards my angel. I’ll need something to call her, after all. Angel won’t get me very far if I want to look her up on social media.

  “Jenny,” she says, automatically, and when Dr. Wallace clears his throat, she corrects herself. “Miss Heath.”

  “Not a doctor?” I ask, leaning against the doorframe. I pretend I’m winded from the walk over, giving me a little more time to talk with her.

  “I’m undergoing the last part of my training here,” she says. “Dr. Wallace has allowed me to shadow him for the next few weeks.”

  “Huh.” I look up at Dr. Wallace. “So, doc, how good is she?”

  “Miss Heath graduated the best in her year,” Dr. Wallace says, smiling politely. “When she finishes her training, she’ll be joining us as a full member of staff.”

  “She can take me for this session then,” I say, shuffling over to the bed and laying down in preparation.

  Dr. Wallace is gaping above me. “But I am far more experienced. Mr. Fairlight, this is a recurring injury for you. You need the best care.”

  I know that what he says is true. Frankly, I wish he wouldn’t keep reminding me of it. I know this is it for me. If I don’t get better in time for the next game, a couple of months away now, then I’ll be off the team. My career will be over for good, and there are plenty of hungry young athletes waiting to take my place from me. There won’t be another chance.

  But, still. “You said she was the best in her class,” I say. “That means she’s freshly studied up and she knows all of the latest techniques. Right?”

  “Well – yes – but…” Dr. Wallace stammers.

  “Like you said, Dr. Wallace, this is a recurring injury.” I flick a disinterested gaze towards her. “That means last time you helped me, it came back anyway. Maybe a new therapist can help me work through this in a different way.”

  Dr. Wallace’s mouth opens and closes like a fish before he finally heads towards the door. “Call me if you need any help at all, Jenny,” he says, his voice clipped and harsh – before he leaves, closing the door behind him, and leaving me alone with my angel.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Jenny

  I watch Dr. Wallace leave the room, fe
eling my heart do somersaults inside my chest. I’m not ready to do this on my own, am I? I’ve never had a patient all to myself before, and for it to be Eric Fairlight.

  Of course, I know who he is. I’ve seen him play. He’s famous – really famous. I remember my dad cheering for him when I was younger. He’s been in the game for longer than most players manage, and he’s done that mostly by steering clear of major injuries that would end his career. That means I have to be careful right now, because if I get this wrong, I could be putting a hero out of commission.

  I turn to face him with what I hope is a confident smile plastered across my face, and instantly feel it falter. While sitting on the therapy bed he has already stripped off his jacket, leaving him in a tight black t-shirt that clings to all of the contours of his muscles. Not only that, but the black sweatpants he was wearing are also coming down as I watch, he’s sitting up to push them down over his ankles, leaving his legs bare.

  And leaving me trying very, very, very hard not to look at the, well, package between his legs.

  To my relief he is wearing black boxer shorts, but to my horror, they are pretty tight ones, straining around the muscles of his football player thighs. I swallow hard, and remind myself that this is nothing that I haven’t seen during my training. A body is a body.

  Just because it’s a very hot one, I shouldn’t allow myself to get distracted.

  “Are you… sure about this?” I ask hesitantly. Hesitant because I know that I’m probably not doing myself any favors if I make him doubt my abilities, but also because even I’m not too sure I can do this.

  “Of course,” he says, like it’s nothing. He lays back on the table, ready for me to do my work.

  I swallow hard again. I have to pull my eyes away from his face, familiar and perfect. He’s gorgeous, like a Roman statue chiseled out of marble, except that his skin is golden. Like a god. His eyes are blue, so pale they make you look twice. The pictures and his appearances on television, I decide, do him absolutely no justice. He’s far better looking in real life.

  I have no idea why he wants me to do this, considering that he knows I’m less experienced than Dr. Wallace, but here we are. I have to do this. I try to shake off the nerves by literally shaking my hands in the air, hoping that he doesn’t notice. The attraction I feel for him really isn’t helping my hands to stay steady.

  “It’s your right leg, isn’t it, Mr. Fairlight?”

  “Eric.”

  I look up and find him watching me, his head tilted up slightly from the table so that he can watch through lidded eyes. I nod nervously, wetting my lips. “Eric. The right?”

  He nods once. I wonder if he’s terse now because he’s not as impressed with me as he thought he would be. He seemed so talkative before. Did I do something wrong? I swallow hard again, trying to dislodge the bundle of nerves that seems to be sitting right inside my throat now, and move closer to his leg.

  The knee appears a little inflamed in comparison to the left, and I can see where it must have been hurting him. It’s strapped up, and I have to carefully peel off the tape to get a good look at it – which means my hands brushing over his skin, sending electric sparks up to my elbows and beyond, making me catch my breath as I shake even more.

  When I first set my hands onto his now bare knee to test it, he winces in pain. “Sorry,” I say automatically.

  He shakes his head. “Just do it,” he says. His voice is a little strained now, perhaps in anticipation of the coming pain.

  I take a deep breath, and use my hands to lift his calf, bending the knee and watching how it moves.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Eric

  I watch my angel as she works. I wonder if she knows that she’s blushing pink, like a rose, and that her hands are shaking when she touches me. It’s adorable.

  I hiss in pain as she bends and straightens my knee, an old routine that I’m familiar with even if it does hurt like hell. I know she has to assess the injury first. I just wish that didn’t mean provoking it.

  “Sorry,” she says again, the flame in her cheeks heating up even more. I let my head drop back onto the table, no longer watching her. As attractive as I find her, this will be easier if I let my body relax instead of craning my head to try to get a glimpse of her ass when she leans over me.

  I don’t feel the need to talk. Really, I’ve never been big on words. I say the ones that are necessary. If I have a question to ask, I’ll ask it – direct and to the point. If I want to share an opinion, I’ll do that. It tends to rub people the wrong way. I just don’t see the point in beating around the bush or trying to be subtle.

  I let my eyes slide shut, feeling Jenny’s hands work over me. After the initial twinge of pain, it actually feels much better already. Her hands are gentle and deft, and they seem to know what they’re doing. I wonder if that applies to other activities as well. I feel a small twitch inside my shorts at the thought and start trying to run through practice plays in my head instead. After all, if I get hard right now, it’s not like I’ll be able to hide it.

  I let my eyes drift open again, watching the part of her that I can see from this angle. Her face is set in concentration. The embarrassment seems to have gone away now that she’s focused on her work. Her hands are warm and soft, though firm in their movements, and I can feel the ache in my knee fading away.

  Trainee or not, Jenny is perfect. I made the right choice. I catch myself moving my head again, getting another glimpse at her body. Those curves put them together with those hands of hers, and I’m about ready to lose my mind.

  The door opens, an abrupt intrusion into our shared calm. It’s Dr. Wallace again. Didn’t I tell him to go away?

  “How’s it going in here?” he asks. “Jenny, don’t roll your hands like that. You’ll want to apply more pressure around the ligament ending.”

  “Oh – yes, Dr. Wallace,” Jenny says, changing her technique. I instantly wince. That doesn’t feel right at all, definitely not as good as whatever she was doing before.

  “Now, I really don’t think we ought to be leaving you in the care of someone so inexperienced, Mr. Fairlight,” Dr. Wallace says, hurrying around the side of the table and brushing Jenny’s hands out of the way. “It needs to be done like this, Jenny – not like that.”

  He starts groping at my knee, working the muscles. I feel an instant change, the pain flares right back up again, and I can’t help but feel that something is wrong.

  “Hey,” I say, pushing myself up to a sitting position. “Stop.”

  Dr. Wallace removes his hands, but looks at me with barely concealed confusion. Misinterpreting me completely, he quickly turns on Jenny. “See? You’ve already caused more damage. It’s our job to help athletes like Mr. Fairlight get better, not make them worse. Get out of here, go on! I’ll give you a disciplinary debrief later.”

  Jenny backs away. She looks like she’s about to cry, and her eyes are stuck on the floor as she moves back. She’s about to pass me and head for the door, I stick my arm out, blocking her path.

  “No,” I say. “You go. She’s fine.”

  Dr. Wallace gapes at me for the second time today. Is he stupid? “I’m not going to leave you in the hands of some incompetent, wet-behind-the-ears slip of a thing…” he starts, but I’m not prepared to listen to the rest of what he has to say.

  “Leave.” I demand.

  A change comes over Dr. Wallace’s face, pinching it together. He turns on Jenny again, somehow chasing her into the corner of the room in a matter of seconds as she tries to duck away from him. “What have you been doing, you stupid girl? I told you this was a bad idea. I’ll have you struck off our list. You shouldn’t be allowed to finish your training after something like this.”

  He isn’t listening to me, and I only know one way to make him. It usually works. My aim is good – I mean, obviously. It’s not like I do this for a living or anything.

  Dr. Wallace ducks with a yelp as the clipboard featuring all of my personal inj
ury details soars through the air and clatters against the wall next to his head. I didn’t want to actually hit him, at least not this time. The threat is enough.

  “What was that?” he demands.

  “You weren’t listening,” I tell him, deadpan.

  Dr. Wallace is shaken, I can see that from how hard he’s trying to pretend that he isn’t. He shakes his head, his face going red, and moves towards the door. “Fine. I don’t want to work with a madman. You’re welcome to try to deal with him if you think you can handle it, Jenny.”

  With that last retort over his shoulder, he slams the door behind him, and he’s gone.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Jenny

  “Um,” I say, really not sure where to go from here.

  Eric lays back down on the table as if nothing happened, and gestures to his knee. I take this as an instruction to get back to it, and head over, trying not to feel frightened. Dr. Wallace was being a bully, and it was totally unjustified, the client even told him I was doing a good job. But I still didn’t expect Eric to throw something.

  “Why did you do that?” I ask, figuring it’s better to broach the subject while my hands are still massaging over his knee.

  “He hurt me,” Eric says, his voice short and to-the-point as before. “And he was mean to you.”

  That’s kind of fair, I suppose, I can’t argue with any of it. So, I continue working in silence, with nothing more to say.

  I’m almost done with moving his knee up and down, one of the last exercises I have to put him through to finish the session, when he speaks again, almost making me jump. He’s so quiet, I just keep going into my own little world, totally focused on his knee.

  “Did I scare you?” he asks.

  “N-no,” I say, although to be honest, I did wonder if I was going to get something thrown at me next. “It’s fine.”

  There’s a pause for a few moments as I finish off the exercise. “I’m sorry,” he says, finally.