The Billionaire Quarterback

THE BILLIONAIRE QUARTERBACK A ONE NIGHT STAND FAKE FIANCÉ ROMANCE LAS VEGAS BILLIONAIRES ANA SWAN Copyright © 2023 by Ana Swan 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. CONTENTS 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 Sneak Peak of The Billionaire Daredevil FREE Novella: The Billionaire Boss ONE JEFF “Want to dance?” I have had my eyes on the cute cheerleader since they came running onto the field with their pom poms waving before the game. She is absolutely gorgeous. It’s not often a lady will get my attention long enough that I turn my head and look twice. I nearly missed a pass on the field because her smile was so shiny. I couldn’t look away. I bet that was the out-of-state team’s whole plan, bring a pretty babe like her to distract us, and maybe they’d stand a shot at winning. We won, they lost—and now she is here at the after-party looking even better in her tight denim skirt and white tank top. Her perfect preppy cheerleader ponytail swishes when she moves, and her giant grey-blue eyes light up when she smiles. I’m not sure who invited the losing team’s cheerleaders, but I am so glad they did. “I can’t dance with the opposing team’s star player. Are you crazy?” she asks me, carrying two beers, trying to bob and weave past me and back to her giggling girlfriends. “That’s a sin, you know.” She winks, and I get a glorious view of her perfect tight ass in that skirt as her hips sway side to side. She puts the beers down on the table and says something to her friends because they all look up at me at the same time. They quickly look away and get into some very heated girl talk at the table. I lean back against the bar and watch her. I don’t drink and often wonder why we even bother throwing a party for the winning team when the team cares way too much about their bodies being temples to drink or eat and enjoy themselves. If I look around the room, most of my team are married or in relationships. They don’t even come to these things for the women. When I look back to her table, she’s not there, but her friends are giving me a suspicious side-eye. I glance around, but I don’t see her. She must have snuck off to the lady’s room. I hope she didn’t leave. The music changes, and there’re a few whoops and whistles from the dance floor. The vibe in the room kicks up a notch, and I can literally feel the celebrations in the air. Across the room, bodies bounce, and grind to the music, and the lights strobe and flash, making them look animated. I see her again. She’s dancing like no one is watching, swaying and moving as if the music is part of her anatomy. I catch myself smiling at the stunning dancer, who definitely works for the wrong team. Although if she was one of ours, I’d never catch the ball because my eyes would always be on her. I saunter slowly through the buzzing, crowded room. My eyes locked onto one thing—her. She has her back to me now, hands up over her head as she wiggles her hips to the crazy beat of the DJ’s mix. Her skirt rides up higher, giving me a look at her muscular dancer’s legs. Good God, she’s a walking wet dream—a dancing one, really. As I walk onto the lit-up floor, there are too many moving bodies, all getting lost in the music. I have to squeeze, elbow, and even shove past some of them to get to the small clear space around her. No one is dancing too close or with her—they're all gawking at her like I am. Not that I have any reason for it, but I am jealous. They can look elsewhere. I am going after that dancer. She’s mine tonight. “Wanna dance?” I ask her a second time, standing right behind her as she spins around to see who is in her personal bubble. “I’m not as good as you, but I don’t have two left feet, I promise.” I wink, and she laughs, shaking her head. “You are very persistent, aren’t you?” “I have been told that before, yes. So, are we dancing or not?” She looks around at all the eyes on us. I know she is thinking about her job. “The season is over. We won. No one cares what you do in the off-season, even if you are doing the winning team’s quarterback.” She blushes, and I love how her smile is like a light. “I’m Angie,” she says with a sweet, shy look. “And I am not doing anyone, but sure let’s dance, Jeff,” she says playfully, almost joking. Everyone knows my name. It’s literally on my shirt the entire game. “You better not step on my toes with your big feet.” She mocks, and I take the bait. “You know what they say about big feet, right?” Angie raises a brow and replies cheekily. “No, what?” Oooh, she’s a feisty one. I like that. It is sexy when a woman can stand her ground. I don’t like a lady I have to worry about. I have other things that give me anxiety already. I wink at her, and she starts to move when a new song comes on. I put my hands on her hips and let myself relax just enough to move without being conscious of who