Bad Boy's Bridesmaid (36 page)

 I had to feel
it again.

“Jack, what are
you doing?” Her breath teased me with the tiniest of gasps. Not fear. Not
worry.

Lust.

“You know damn
well what I’m doing.” I tugged her legs wider apart. “Do you have any
fucking
idea what you do to me?”

“Apparently I
turn you into a beast. Let me go.”

I grinned and
pulled her leg up. The water lapped low against my trunks. It covered my cock,
but not by much. I kissed her toes, her heel, the sensitive arch.

“Jack, let me
go.”

“Why?”

Her brow
furrowed, but her words clipped as I sucked on her toe. “I don’t need to give
you a reason.”

“I want one.”

“I said no.”

“You’re afraid
you’ll like this.”

Leah swallowed.
“We can’t do this, Jack.”

“I’m not doing
anything,” I said. “Just kissing you a little.”

“That’s exactly
what I mean.”

“You don’t want
to be kissed?” I teased further up her leg. I thanked whatever fertility god blessed
the pool with cold water. It kept me from exploding with those curves so near
my fingertips. “You know my reputation better than anyone. Am I known as a
generous lover?”

My tongue
flicked behind her knee. She shivered.

“I doubt you’ve
ever thought of anyone but yourself,” she said.

“Ouch.” I nipped
her inner-thigh as a punishment. “I’ll have you know, I’ve been thinking
only
of you these past few days.”

“I’m supposed to
believe that?” Her words shuddered as I edged closer, resting her other leg on
my shoulders. Her skirt bumped high enough for a peek of her panties.

Pink today.

Innocent.

Fucking sexy.

She stared at
me, meeting my gaze as I kissed slower, lower, drifting towards a part of her
that watered my mouth. I fisted my cock twice a day just in memory of her
taste. Now there she was. Waiting. Trembling.

Wetter than me,
and I was in the pool.

“You’ve only
been thinking of how to get me into bed,” she said.

“Not just the
bed. The floor. Against the wall. Over the arm of the couch.”

“Jack—”

“I want to watch
you come.”

“W—what?”

I pushed her
legs apart, breathing heavy against her warm flesh. She panicked against her
own desire.

“I want to watch
you come. Once wasn’t enough, Kiss. Twice won’t be enough. If I had it my way,
I’d leave you naked and writhing on my bed from now until we both passed out
from exhaustion. Then I’d wake you up just so I could taste that sweet cream of
yours again. You get me?”

“I…I can’t.”

“You can’t
come?” My grin wasn’t meant to reassure her. I gave her fair warning before she
was about to get devoured. “Sure, you can, Kiss. You’ll come hard the instant I
slide my tongue over that little clit. I’ll suck on it a bit, make you purr.
Lap up all that honey inside you until you scream my name and I forgive you for
rejecting me.”

“Jack—”

“I want to make
you come. I want to hear you thank me with a moan. I want to taste your
pleasure. And I want to own this little pussy’s every quivering pulse. You get
it yet?” My fingers dug into her thighs. “And you’re gonna let me because you know
damn well it’s all you’ve thought about too.”

Her legs fell
open for me. Those pink panties were in my way. I’d have bitten through them if
I wasn’t worried I’d accidentally nip what I planned to worship, sink into,
grind against in a moment of pure ecstasy.

My cock hardened
until it threatened to rupture. No time to drag the material away. I pushed it
to the side with a quick flick of my fingers, exposing the delicate little
crest.

Leah held her
breath before I sunk between her legs.

She released it in
a surprised gasp the instant my tongue whipped against her clit. I took every
last fold and petal within my mouth and savored the part of her I wanted only
to taste and touch and fuck until we collapsed.

She didn’t need
teased, and I waited too long to eat her again. My lips curled over her clit,
and I suckled just the way I did before, just to hear that throaty groan turn
to utter panic at the rush of sensation and excitement and pleasure. Her
bastard fiancé never made her feel like this. Even better, I knew her fingers
couldn’t replicate this feeling when she thought of me alone in bed at night.

Leah’s head fell
back. Her hips angled up. Now I knew why she was so desperate to stay out of my
arms. She knew the instant I grabbed her would be the moment I never let her
go. Not until she fucking melted into a puddle of spent orgasm and slid from my
arms.

And even then,
it just made her easier to fuck.

I liked my women
exhausted. Panting. Agonized. But I never got a chance to destroy one in
pleasure before. I never wanted to, never enjoyed it before Leah.

But I could
watch this woman writhe all afternoon. I’d work her gasping breath and boiling
core into a frenzy, and then I’d let her crumple while I wrapped her legs
around her. I planned to fuck this woman delirious with her own desire.

A night of
continuous pleasure.

A cock buried
inside a clenching, dripping, begging pussy.

Watching as Leah
came and came and came against me.

Fuck, why the
hell did I work my entire life for a championship when the only goddamned thing
I wanted was to give this woman the ultimate delight of my tongue flicking
against her clit?

“Jack…” Her
fingers ran through her hair, gripped the cement, reached for me. Nothing would
ease that need in her. One orgasm or a hundred, it wouldn’t matter when the
girl wanted to be fucked and fucked hard. “I’m…
I’m
…”

She didn’t have
to say it. I felt it. The tensing of her body, the clenching of that perfect
pussy over my tongue. She whispered my name, but it sounded louder in my head
than when they announced me entering the stadium on game day.

Leah arched and
bucked and exploded for me, on me, because of me, and nothing in my life looked
more beautiful than that woman enjoying the gift I gave her.

She sunk to the
cement, resting against the warmed concrete and letting her legs fall wide.

She was mine.

“Jack, God...”

Wasn’t the first
time I was compared to a deity. Wouldn’t be the last either.

Enough of this
bullshit. I had no contract extension. Articles were going to run labeling me
some sort of sexual predator.

Fuck it.

Why not get one
good thing tonight?

I hauled myself
out of the pool, stopping only to gather Leah in my arms. I was soaking wet,
and she murmured about her clothes, but they wouldn’t stay on her long enough
to matter.

I busted through
my living room, tracking water over the carpet. I’d rip it up and buy a new
one, I didn’t care. Leah whispered a protest. Hell no. I wasn’t letting her
cool off.

I stopped where
we were, lifted her in my arms, and took another kiss—deep and hot and promising
so much more than a simple orgasm delivered poolside.

Leah moaned,
gripping me tight.

I was in.

I had her.

I steadied her
over my couch. The TV blasted loud. The remote hid somewhere, fuck if I knew.
I’d ignore it…

…But the sports
channel I watched said my name.

Like a moth to
the goddamned bug zapper, I was drawn to my own destruction.

“…No amount of
talent is worth it. Jack Carson would be one-hundred million dollars’ worth of
trouble.”

Sons of bitches.
I knew the anchor—Ainsley Ruport, some silver-haired douchebag who never
stepped onto a field but thought he could play quarterback better than me. I
threatened a lot of reporters. Only one deserved the punch, and I was pissed I
never got the chance to crush his nose in.

Leah’s tongue
flicked over mine. I tried to focus on her, but the insults kept coming.

“…
With the
new morality and behavioral clauses in contracts, no team will risk a fine for
a player who refuses to put the team first…”

My fingers
tightened on Leah. A photo from the championship game appeared on the
screen—the confetti dropping over the podium as quarterback Tim Morgan hoisted
the trophy that should have been mine.

“
Morgan’s got
a solid head on his shoulders, and he should be expecting a significant bonus
and extension to his contract
.”

Bullshit. Tim
Morgan had more whores in his closet than skeletons. No way that bastard was
the pretty boy favorite now?

The picture
changed. He held the trophy
and
his year old daughter on the podium.
Christ only knew who he knocked up, but there he was. Brandishing the kid.
Changing hearts and minds.

The press loved
the baby more than the trophy.

“
…This new
father really turned his life around and made strides to mature and represent
his team…”

What the hell
did being a father have to do with being a good quarterback?

Fucking
nothing
.

But they coo’ed
over the goddamned baby pictures as if the kid were the starting quarterback
instead of Tim.

The idea crashed
into my head, so sudden and fucking
perfect
I dropped Leah on the couch
only to turn the volume up.

“Jack?” Leah
straightened her skirt, confused.

I didn’t take my
eyes from the TV, my grin growing by the second.

“I just solved
our PR problem, Kiss.”

“You did?”

“I know exactly
how to win over the league.”

She sat up
straighter, glancing from me to the TV. “How?”

“I wanna make a
baby.”

Chapter Seven – Leah

Make
a baby?

What in the
ever-loving—

“Are you out of
your mind?” I yanked my skirt down, covering a part of me way too exposed to
Horny McKnockup. “You want to
make
…you don’t
make
a baby. You
have
babies!”

“Don’t get
greedy, Kiss. I only need one.”

I bolted off the
couch. He had a raging hard-on and an idiotic idea. It was the Jack Carson
Trouble-Maker special, and I hadn’t ordered
any
of it.

“You want to
have a
baby
?”

“Look at him!”
He pointed to the television, gesturing to a very smug and attractive looking
man I recognized only once they showed him in uniform. “That is Tim Morgan.
He’s a cocksucking son of a bitch. If the earth had an asshole, he’s it,
walking around, pretending he’s God’s gift to the league. That bastard has
taken every drug on the market, fucked every whore on the gulf coast, and threw
his bowl game in college because he had money riding on it.”

“How do you
know?” I asked.

Jack snorted.
“We used to be friends.”

“I’m not
surprised.”

“Tim knocked
some girl up two seasons ago, and now that asshole is on every cereal box and
video game. He didn’t change a damn thing about himself. Just holds up that kid
and people think he’s the second coming. The baby changed his image. Everyone
forgot the bullshit, and now they praise him for being a great
father
.”

“You think
having a
baby
changed his image?”

“Yeah, I do. And
it
worked
.” Jack set his jaw. That sexy determination infected him with
the worst ideas ever. “I need to have a baby.”

“Wanting to
change your image is no reason to have a
child
.”

“Why not? I like
kids.”

“Oh, my God.” My
legs were still wobbling from the most amazing orgasm of my life. “Are you
serious right now?”

“Uh-oh. If you
don’t like that idea, you’re gonna hate the next...”

Jack raised his
eyebrows. His gaze was positively lecherous.

I knew
exactly
what he wanted.

I pointed a
finger at him but regretted not flipping the one he deserved. “Absolutely not.”

“Come on.”

“Oh, yeah.
That’s a convincing argument.” I stared him down, but the dashing blues were
entirely too excited for this conversation. “Might as well just beg me because
all
the cool football players are doing it
.”

“Hear me out—”

“Jack, I’m not
having a
baby
with you!”

“Look, we’re
already playing the committed relationship card. This would
really
make
them think I’ve changed.”

“How about
instead of making them
think
you’ve changed, you stop getting into
trouble? You take some responsibility for yourself?”

He shrugged. “Be
realistic. The league likes having a scapegoat. They
want
to punish me.
The media loves to catch me with my pants down and a girl sucking my cock.
They’re looking for reasons to fuck me over. It won’t matter if I turn celibate
and never leave the house. I’ll make a mistake, and they’ll use it against me.
Having a baby is like…like…”

“Don’t say it.”

“Insurance.”

“You swallowed
too much pool water.”

Jack grinned.
“Swallowed more of you, Kiss. You’re slicker than the pool.”

“Stop.”

I avoided
trapping myself within his reach. Jack’s pecs and abs still glistened from
droplets of water, highlighting every chiseled definition and shadow caught in
his muscles. The water ran to the V of his hips, the solid form of an athlete
at his peak physical condition and then some. I’d never met a man as
attractive, as deliciously gorgeous as Jack.

If I was smart,
I wouldn’t meet him again.

Letting him
touch me with those skilled hands and his tempting tongue was dangerous enough.
Now he looked at me like a woman who needed to be fucked…and I didn’t think he
meant to use protection now.

“You wanted a
kid,” Jack said. “A couple. Hell, you planned to be pregnant already.”

I knew it was a
bad idea to be honest with the playboy. “Yeah. I also planned to be
married
.”

“To the asshole
that cheated on you.”

I swallowed.
“Yes, I was going to marry Wyatt. Don’t insult the life I wanted. He broke my
heart.”

Jack crossed his
arms. His muscles flexed, but the only bulge I studied was the one between his
legs. “You didn’t love him.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t think
you loved him.”

He was right,
but I’d never admit it. “You think you know me that well?”

“Love is
overrated. You need
passion
and
excitement
and a night where
you’re free to get into trouble. He never gave that to you.”

“No, but I never
asked for it
.
I chose stability. Responsibility. A plan and a routine.
There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.”

“It’s boring.”
Jack teased me with a smile. “You need more, Kiss. It’s time to take that step.
So what if your plan is accomplished out of order?”

“What—”

“With me, you
get a baby. You get to advance that career. Hell, you can even travel…at least
to a couple different stadium cities.” He extended his arms. “So? What do you
say?”

I braved a
chance to face him again. I marched before his broad chest and tried to reason
with a man who memorialized his every mistake with a tattoo inked into his
flesh.

“Jack, you’re
talking about having a
baby
.”

“You wanted a
baby.”

“Not like this.”
I stared at him, wondering why he still looked so calm, so dedicated to such a
crazy proposition. “Just stop. We already have one crisis with this article
coming out tomorrow. I…I’ll go back to the office. See if I can’t organize an
interview or something for you to refute the allegations.”

“I’ll give you a
million dollars.”

My heart
stopped.

I turned,
staring at him, my mouth dry.

He wasn’t
serious. Was he?

“You’ll…
pay
me?”

“To have my
baby. Yes.”

“Jack, are you—”

“Kiss, I can’t
think of anyone better for it. You’re smart. You’re talented. You’re fucking
beautiful. We have a good relationship. Why couldn’t we have a kid together?”

“We aren’t in
love.”

“So? We could
handle it.”

Was he that
naïve? I didn’t speak, just took my steps backward and hoped I wouldn’t crash
into anything while I rushed to the door.

Jack knew he
made a mistake, but he called to me again.

“I know you want
to be a partner in Jolene’s firm,” he said. “Screw her. Leave the agency, and
I’ll follow. I’ll be your primary client, and I’ll get a couple of the guys on
the team to sign on too.”

“Don’t do this.”

“Why struggle to
become a partner when you can get your own agency? I’ll give it to you.” His
voice lowered. “How’s that plan looking now? Your own company
and
your
baby all at the same time. That’s some good multi-tasking.”

This wasn’t
happening. This wasn’t how I planned anything.

And it was
nothing I should have considered while my core still heated from his touch.

I backed away.
“Jack, we can’t do this.”

“Think about
it.”

“I don’t have
to.”

“Think about it
anyway.”

“I should go.”

I didn’t let him
walk me out. I escaped, grabbing my belongings before I suffered another
mistake within Jack Carson’s hands.

No way.

I wasn’t even
going to
consider
the insanity he proposed.

He got me in
trouble when he lied about us dating. Before we started the fake relationship,
it was hard to keep him
out
of the news. Now that I had to artificially
insert him into stories, dropping hints about our life and relationship, I
couldn’t get him in enough articles. No one wanted that news.

Jack had a bad
habit of taking the sack when he should have thrown the ball away. He dug in,
and now I faced the blitz with him.

I couldn’t.

A
million
dollars?

My own PR
company?

God, he was
buying
a child from me. What was more insensitive—wanting a baby from me or
insinuating that love was irrelevant to the beginning of a family? Sure, people
had kids all the time without being married, but that wasn’t me.

…Was it?

Hadn’t I already
got the paperwork? Considered finding a donor?

Was my life so
structured I’d break down into desperation if even one aspect fell out of
place?

I didn’t like
those thoughts.

I raced to the
office and chose to bury myself in work. The article defaming Jack was running
in a major sport magazine with high visibility for the critique of the
wholesome,
family
atmosphere
he tarnished by remaining in the league. The
entire story was just a hit piece, meant to make him look bad.

Granted, Jack
was bad, but he wasn’t malicious, he only wanted to have fun.

He
was
fun.

And now I was
defending him.

Jolene’s light
was on in her office. I rapped on her door. She hadn’t even gone home yet. The
clock on her shelf chimed—eight PM. She warmed a Styrofoam cup of soup in the
microwave and juggled two phones and a laptop between two different
conversations. One call ended, but she didn’t have the free hands to hang up.

I rushed to help
as a stack of folders, newspapers, and paper coffee cups fell. She yelled at
whoever was on the other end of her cell, ended the call, and lost the phone
somewhere in the disaster of her desk.

“Everything
okay?” I asked.

“Bryon
Washington has
three
sexual harassment suits against him. His agent is
about to drop him, and he wants
me
to smooth this over.” Jolene sipped
her soup, burned her lip, and pitched the whole cup in the garbage. “This will
be a long night.”

“Did Frank
Bennett get involved?”

Jolene frowned. “Bennett’s
crusade is with your Trouble-Maker, not Bryon.”

“But…Bryon’s
actually been arrested.”

“Doesn’t matter.
A quarterback is an easier target than a running back. Do me a favor. I need
you to call the airlines and cancel my ticket.”

My heart broke
for her. “But you’ve been planning the Hawaii trip all year.”

She stretched to
reach a discarded highlighter. “Maybe Bryon will take me to the game if he
makes the All-Star team this year. I might get a seat next to you.”

“What?”

Jolene smirked.
“You and Jack. Jack will probably be voted as an MVP. It’d be good for the two
of you to take that vacation when the season ends.”

The air got
stuck somewhere between my mouth and lungs. I coughed it out. “Why?”

Jolene extended
her arms over the mess that was her desk, her office, her undone braid, and the
soup spilling in her garbage can.

“One day, all
this will be yours. I haven’t had a vacation in five years, and it doesn’t look
like I’ll get one this year either. You wanted to travel, right?”

“I…yes.”

“Do it while
you’re young, Leah. Before you get too entrenched in this career and then the
kids.”

“
Kids
?”

“Yes, kids. You
said you wanted three. Leah, what’s wrong with you? You’re acting strange.”

“You haven’t had
a vacation in
five
years?”

“I go for the
occasional mani-pedi day, but running a business is 24/7.” She winked. “I take
back everything I said about you and Jack. I’m glad you’re sowing some oats
now. I haven’t been on a date since…” She grimaced. “Well, before that last
vacation.”

Oh,
no no no
.

This wasn’t what
I wanted to hear.

I knew Jolene
was busy, but I thought she
liked
being that way. I had no idea she was
this frazzled—canceling vacations that cost her thousands of dollars, losing
her chance to date and see the world…

But it didn’t
make sense to equate her life with mine. We were different people. We wanted
different things.

Right?

I retreated to
my office and called the airline for her. The ticket was un-refundable—as was
the deposit on her hotel—and it wasn’t the news she wanted to hear.