Illegal Touching (The New York Nighthawks #10) Read Online Fiona Davenport

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love, Virgin Tags Authors: Series: The New York Nighthawks Series by Fiona Davenport
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Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
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Unfortunately, my eyes darted over to the jumbotron, and I froze.

What the actual fuck?

The camera was zoomed in on the owner’s box, showing Finley in the front row, looking amazing in a team jersey…although it didn’t have my fucking number on it, which already had me irritated. But the guy sitting next to her was leaning in too fucking close and saying something in her ear. Then she threw her head back and laughed, just as the whistle blew.

My head whipped back to the field, but those precious seconds of distraction cost me. The next thing I knew, I was knocked on my ass.

“Son of a bitch!” I cursed when I tried to stand, and my leg gave out on me. I recognized the feeling. It wasn't an injury, just a motherfucker of a charley horse where the other guy's foot had clipped my calf.

Kellan—another offensive lineman—and Gage each grabbed an arm to help me get onto my feet and limp off the field. After talking with the coach, he sent for one of our on-call physical therapists, and I hobbled over to the bench.

It was while the PT and I were working out the knot that I noticed an angry man stalking toward me and winced.

Yeah, Coach O’Hara was pissed as fuck. He wouldn’t have left the private skybox where he and the defensive coordinator spent our games unless he was angry enough that he wanted to ream me out in person.

“What the hell, Channing?” he shouted. “Since when do you take a hit like that? Since when the fuck do you take a hit at all?!”

I had a reputation for being wicked fast and was rarely taken down when tackled. It took monumental effort not to glance up at the jumbotron or the box where I knew Finley was sitting. “Sorry, Coach,” I mumbled.

“Sorry doesn’t get us to the championship game, Rhodes,” he snapped. “Get your head in the fucking game, or I’ll have you benched for the rest of the season. Do I make myself clear?”

I grimaced at the deadly tone of his voice. Coach O’Hara was exceptional at his job, but he was also honest and hardworking. He demanded respect, but he earned it. And he didn’t make idle threats.

“Understood,” I grunted.

“Good. How’s the leg?”

I stretched it out and twisted my foot around. The muscle was loose, and there was no sign of the spasm. “Ready to go.”

“Get your ass back out there and win the fucking game.” Then he turned on his heel and marched back toward the tunnel.

Watching the play happening on the field, I stood and began to pace. Eventually, I was unable to help myself and glanced up at the owner’s suite. Finley stood at the railing, staring down at me. She cocked her head to the side, and I instinctively knew she was asking if I was okay.

I nodded, and her shoulders relaxed, then she dropped into her seat. The chair next to her was empty now, and for some reason, it took a weight off my chest. Then she looked around and up at the big screen before blowing me a small kiss.

A grin spread across my face, and my head cleared. The whistle blew, drawing my attention back to the game, where I kept it until the clock ran out, ending the game 45-14.

We celebrated all the way off the field, and the coaches and staff waited for us in the locker room. Cole strode over and whacked me on the back. “Nice job, Channing. Glad you got your head out of your ass.”

“That’s what I said,” Brady interrupted with a snicker.

I rolled my eyes and removed my gear, then headed for the showers.

Kellan, Gage, and Micah wandered over just as I was shrugging on my coat. “We’re headed to The End Zone. Prentice and some of the coaches are coming too. You in?”

I shook my head as I shoved my keys and wallet into my pockets.

“I can’t make it tonight. Sorry, guys.”

“What the fuck, Rhodes?” Micah asked curiously. “You weren’t there after the last game either. Since when don’t you celebrate with us?”

“Since he went and got pussy-whipped,” Gage muttered.

I shot him a scathing look, and he just shrugged.

“Let’s just say I have a better offer,” I admitted with a lopsided smile, then I turned and started for the door. My grin widened when I heard Kellan ask incredulously, “Did he just smile?”

As I walked toward the parking lot, I saw another group chattering and laughing as they headed in the same direction. I quickly recognized Lennox and Brie, then my eyes fell to the other three people in the group. Finley and the punk who’d been sitting next to her, and another woman. The women were chattering, while the men looked to be in a deep discussion.

I attempted to hide in the shadows, but obviously failed because I heard Brie call my name.


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