Deflected (Texas Mutiny Book 4) Read online

  Deflected

  by M.E. Carter

  Copyright © 2018 by M.E. Carter

  All rights reserved.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the author of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  To all the Texas Mutiny fans—

  As we close out an era, know that I have immense gratitude to all of you for your love of a soccer team and the relationships that go with it.

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Something jars me from my sleep, but I’m comfortable enough, I don’t care to figure out what it is. The air in the room is cool, but the body behind me is warm. The contrast in temperatures is perfect, so I snuggle right back down into my pillows and doze off.

  Until I’m jarred from my sleep. Again.

  “Why the hell is your phone going off at the butt crack of dawn?” Rowen’s voice sounds groggy and muffled from the blankets.

  “It’s not that early. It’s”—I lean over to look at the clock—“8:06. Okay, yeah. That’s early.”

  He pulls me back down for more snuggles. “Stop moving. I’m comfortable.”

  I let him resituate us, my little spoon fitting perfectly against his big spoon. I love sleeping next to him. He makes me feel safe and insulated from the world. Plus, that whole body heat thing.

  My comfort is short-lived when my phone goes off again.

  “Son of a bitch,” I grumble and untangle myself from the blankets, reaching for my phone. “What do you want to bet it’s Quincy, freaking out about my hair appointment this morning?”

  “Why did you schedule a hair appointment the morning after we got back from our honeymoon?”

  “I didn’t know it was going to be our honeymoon. You sort of sprung that whole wedding thing on me, remember?”

  It was actually pretty perfect. After being the focal point of one of the biggest sports scandals ever to hit US professional soccer, I am more than happy to never be the center of attention again. Especially since it was a naked picture of me that made its way around the World Wide Web. I knew before we left for Fiji that Rowen was it for me. I just didn’t expect him to propose and marry me the same night. Turns out, he knew exactly what I’d want, and a private ceremony, just him and me—no family, no paparazzi, no stress—was exactly the way I needed it to be.

  “Oh, I definitely remember getting married. And our wedding night.” Rowen begins a trek of kisses from my shoulder down my arm. “The thought of jet lag never crossed your mind?”

  I try to ignore his lips on my skin, but it’s damn near impossible. The man is insatiable. “Nope. It was the first time I’ve been out of the country. Never occurred to me.” I blink my eyes, trying to get them to focus on the tiny little words on my text messages. “And I always make my hair appointment for the morning. That way I can get it done before work. I didn’t even think about it.”

  Finally, the words on the screen come into focus.

  Quincy: Are you still coming in today?

  Quincy: Tiffany, wake up so you’re here on time!

  Quincy: I’m serious. It’s a hair emergency! We’re doing all-over color, right?

  “What the hell?” I grumble. “What the hell is a hair emergency?”

  “Hmm?” Rowen mumbles as he continues his journey with his lips.

  “Nothing. Quincy’s being weird.”

  Me: Relax, you psycho. I’ll be there. And yes, all-over color.

  “You work today?”

  “No.” I toss my phone back on the nightstand, knowing I’m not getting out of this bed without having at least one orgasm. “Just my hair appointment, and then I’m free all day.

  “Good.” Rowen’s hand slides down my thigh, and he nudges my legs apart. “Open.” I lift my top leg to give him complete access to me. His finger slides inside and he moves it back and forth, thrusting in and out, and we both groan. “I have no idea how I lived without this for so long.”

  “I don’t know, but I’m so glad you did.”

  Suddenly, his finger is gone, and his cock takes its place. I groan again. He feels so good. This is exactly where I want him to be.

  For someone who stayed a virgin until our wedding night, Rowen has proven to be quite the adventurer in bed. He likes trying different positions and locations… he’s not an exhibitionist, though. He’s still extremely protective over my virtue, unless he’s the one violating it, of course. But we could probably write our own Kama Sutra book with things no one has ever seen before. For a girl who has always loved sex, having a husband who loves it just as much is a dream come true. Don’t get me wrong, I would still be happily married even if he didn’t have such a high libido. But I won’t ever complain about how much sex I get.

  I anchor myself with my hand and grind my hips against his every time he thrusts. Quickly, we discover this is a nice position, but it doesn’t get him as deep as we like it.

  Rowen pulls out and sits up on his knees, the sheets falling off of us. The crisp air makes my nipples harden even more than they were before. Positioning himself behind me, he gently lifts my top leg again and drives inside me. I raise my hips, causing him to get deeper. His fingers are digging into my hip and thigh as he thrusts.

  “You okay?” he asks gently, continuing his movements.

  “Oh yeah. This is better. It feels good, babe.”

  I twist my body to look at him over my shoulder and smile. His thighs flex, his chest strains tight as he hangs on to my hips for dear life. I turn back and anchor myself again, raising my hips ever so slightly once more.

  My breathing picks up as his cock hits that spot deep inside me.

  “Keep doing that, Rowen,” I breathe. “Just a little harder.”

  He complies and pushes deeper still, hitting me just the right way.

  “Right there, Rowen… ooooooohhhhh…” My e
ntire body feels like it lights up as my orgasm shoots through me.

  Behind me, Rowen’s movements get jerky as he begins to climax. “Oh god. Oh fuck, babe.”

  I lose track of how long he comes, too sated from my own pleasure. Eventually, he practically melts on top of me as he comes down from his high. Kissing his way up my arm, over my shoulder, around my neck, across my jaw…

  I put my hand on his mouth to stop him. “Morning breath. Don’t kiss me.”

  “I don’t give a damn about morning breath,” he practically growls.

  “I do. I want to live with the fantasy that my husband is perfect in every way. I don’t want to know about any hygiene issues yet.”

  He props himself up on his elbow to look at me. “You suck my cock and have this random fascination with my butthole, but you’re worried about my morning breath?”

  I giggle. “One time, Rookie. I lightly brushed your ass one time with my finger, and you would’ve thought I set your butt on fire.”

  He settles back in behind me. “Exit only, baby.”

  “I know. And I don’t want to know anything about what comes out of there either.”

  He chuckles. “You realize someday you’re going to have to brush your teeth or pee or something right after I shit, right? You’re going to find out it smells like everyone else’s.”

  “Someday. But for now, I’m pretending you smell like roses.” I kiss his hand and throw the covers off of me. “I’m gonna be late.”

  “Hey,” he gripes, “it’s cold.”

  Clamoring out of bed, the covers are barely back over him when he snuggles into the pillows.

  I jump in the shower to wash off the smell of sex, even though I love his scent on me. But Quincy probably won’t appreciate getting up close and personal with it, so his body wash will just have to suffice today.

  Forty-five minutes later, I’ve kissed my husband goodbye, driven to the salon, and am still barely coherent while being manhandled by Quincy.

  “Ohmygod, I’m so happy to see you! Congratulations!” She releases me from the world’s tightest hug and grabs my hand. “Oh wow! Look at that rock! He did so good! It’s beautiful!” Grabbing my hand, Quincy drags me to her station. She wasn’t kidding when she said she’d be prepared before I got there. All her supplies are sitting out on a tray, waiting for her to mix and apply. “How was the trip? Was it amazing?” She shakes out the cape and wraps it around my neck.

  “It was beautiful,” I say with a smile. “It would’ve been better if I wasn’t woken up first thing this morning to frantic texts.”

  She looks sheepish. “Sorry about that. I have to squeeze someone in while your color processes. She’s having a hair emergency.”

  “I got that from your messages, but what does that mean?”

  Quincy blows out a breath, like it’s quite the dramatic story. “My client’s five-year-old granddaughter and her parents are staying with her for a few days.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Apparently the granddaughter decided overnight she wants to be a hair dresser.”

  “Oh no.” I have a bad feeling I know where this is going.

  “Yeah. She woke up this morning to a new set of bangs.”

  My eyes widen. “Oh no! The little girl gave herself bangs?”

  She shakes her head and tightens her jaw, like she’s trying really hard not to find it funny. “No. She gave my client bangs.”

  I gasp.

  “Yep. The worst part is they’re visiting because they have a family wedding to go to tonight. Which means family pictures they’ll be in. And I have no idea if I’ll be able to fix it.”

  “Are you talking about Sue again?” Geni, another stylist, guesses, plopping into her chair and grabbing a magazine. “I told her that child was a hellion.”

  “She’s not that bad,” Quincy quips.

  “Sue has new bangs; that says she is.” Geni keeps flipping through the magazine, absent-mindedly. “Anyway, how are you feeling now, Whore?” She turns to address me. “You’re looking kind of tired. Your man keeping you up late at night?”

  “Geni!” Quincy reprimands.

  “What? You think she’s been staying up late playing cards?” Geni leans forward as she asks for details. “How is he? A ferocious tiger in the sack? A gentle lover? Give me details.”

  “I’m not giving you details, Slutbag.” Somehow insults have become our thing. We trade them back and forth constantly. The stranger, the better. “What happens in the privacy of my bedroom, stays there.”

  She snorts. “You’re full of shit.”

  “I’m serious! It’s different now that I’m married. It’s more… I don’t know… intimate. I like it that way.”

  Geni rolls her eyes. “Fine. I can respect that. For now. But next time you’re drunk, I need to know how he compares to the others.”

  “Deal,” I answer, knowing full well I won’t be drinking around her any time soon. With any luck, she’ll forget all about this conversation by then.

  “Tell us more about this wedding anyway,” Quincy says, as she twists part of my hair up and out of the way. “The pictures looked fabulous.”

  “Pictures?” My heart starts beating wildly. “What pictures?”

  “The pictures online.”

  My breathing picks up, and I know I just went pale. Ever since that picture of me was put out for the entire first world to see, I’ve been adamant that my private life stays private. Nothing gets released without my approval first. No pictures. No information. Nothing. To this day, I don’t know who took the nudie pic of me, so now Rowen and I are very, very careful who knows about our everyday lives or sees us in pictures. Even our wedding pictures.

  “I didn’t give anyone permission to post a picture online,” I whisper, my hands balling into fists. I feel like I’m about to lose it.

  Geni stills, and Quincy catches my eyes in the mirror.

  “Relax,” she says quietly, putting a hand on my shoulder. “It was only one, and it’s a nice picture.”

  “Are you sure?” I know it’s ridiculous that I’m freaking out. But when your privacy has been violated in such a humiliating and public way, stuff like this can trigger some very unwelcome feelings.

  “Here, babe,” Geni says, squatting down in front of me, holding her phone out for me to see. “It was this one. It’s beautiful.”

  When I finally focus, I realize it’s actually my favorite picture from that night. The beautiful blue ocean in the background, the bouquet of native flowers held close to my thigh, my dark hair over one shoulder. Rowen’s forehead rests against my head, a small smile on his lips, and I’m looking at the camera.

  I nod and take a deep breath. “You’re sure that’s the only one?”

  Geni looks at me kindly, which she doesn’t do often and means she knows how badly I am freaking out right now. She gives me a reassuring smile. “I’m the biggest bitch you know. Would I be standing here calmly if there was something else you didn’t know about?”

  She’s got a point. When she gets mad, she’s a mass of inappropriate language and empty threats.

  I relax a little. “How the hell did that picture get released? We didn’t give it to anyone except his parents and—” I stop abruptly when it all comes together.

  “What?” Quincy asks, pausing momentarily mid stroke.

  “My mother.”

  “You think it was her?”

  “I know it was her. Wait… how did you guys find out we got married, anyway?”

  Quincy looks at me like I’m ridiculous. “When we saw the picture. How did you think we found out?”

  “Honestly, I thought Rowen must’ve texted Daniel. It never occurred to me he’d be able to keep it a secret. He’s not very good at that when he’s excited.”

  She laughs. “Yeah, those guys are the biggest gossips. And they accuse us of talking too much.”

  “Please. We gossip at the hair salon once every six to eight weeks. They do it in the locker room every day.�
��

  “Seriously.” She grabs more color on her brush and continues painting my hair. “Tell us about this wedding anyway. Do you have any more pictures?”

  So I tell them the whole story. From Rowen proposing on the beach to him having wedding dresses delivered to the hotel for me to try on to saying our “I do’s” at sunset. It feels nice to tell people I trust, who are genuinely interested in my wedding, and not because they’re going to post it online. I briefly wonder if I’ll ever fully get over the scandal.

  “Okay, let’s get you under the dryers,” Quincy says as she throws the brushes in the now empty bowls. “Looks like Sue is here.”

  I look over and see an older woman wearing a hoodie and dark sunglasses.

  Geni chuckles. “Oh yes. That’s inconspicuous.”

  “Don’t make fun,” Quincy says as she pushes the tray of supplies to the side. “She’s you in about fifty years.”

  “Hey!” Geni cries then stops to think. “Yeah, okay. That’s accurate.” She shrugs, turning to go get her own client who just arrived.

  Quincy gets me situated under the dryer and leaves me with my phone for entertainment. As much as I want to look up the most recent sports scores, I need to text my mom first.

  Me: Good morning, Mom. I have a question.

  Mom: Hi Honey! Glad to see you’re back in the land of the living.

  Me: Barely. I’ve never had jet lag. It’s worse that I imagined it would be.

  Mom: Aw. I’m sorry. What’s up? You and my new son-in-law getting back into the swing of things?

  Me: Working on it. Hey, did you release a wedding pic to the press?

  Mom: No, of course not! I put a wedding announcement in the paper. But only in Nashville and Detroit for the families to see.

  I groan. My mother still doesn’t seem to understand that anything related to Rowen won’t stay local news. Ever. I didn’t even realize how far Rowen’s reach was until we went to Los Angeles last year for one of his games. As we left the restaurant where we had dinner, some European tourists recognized him. It took me a minute to finally catch the word “Ryan” as the tourists chatted back and forth while taking pictures with us. That’s when I finally put it all together…