Fair Play (55 page)

She nods her head.

And I hope it’s meant to be.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Angel

It’s noon, and River and I have spent a good portion of the night and morning making love all over his house. He insisted we sleep for a few hours around three a.m. so that I wouldn’t be worn out for my meeting with Ms. Onyx today. That lasted a total of six hours before we were awake and tangled in each other’s arms again.

Showered, semi-rested and thoroughly sated, I emerge from his bathroom wrapped in a towel.

“I’m going to need to throw my clothes in the dryer. I have to get home and get ready for my meeting. Any chance I can catch a ride?”

He is lying in bed with a towel wrapped around his waist, with one arm behind his head and the other pointing a remote at the television. He makes lounging around watching TV look incredibly sexy. In fact, the scene looks like a modeling shoot for men’s underwear—if he were wearing any, which he is not.

He drops the remote and scoots himself up in bed, leaning against the headboard.

“Nope, no can do.”

I arch one eyebrow high. “You’re the one who arranged this meeting for me, and now you’re going to make it difficult for me to go?”

He smiles and points at the seating area on the other side of the bed, where several boxes and shopping bags are sitting on the coffee table.

“What’s that?”

“Everything you need to wow Cammie Onyx besides your talent and perfect beauty, of course. I’d say you’ve got that covered.”

I pad across the thick, plush white carpet to the table. The bags are from Chanel, Louboutin, and Sax Fifth Avenue.

“This is for me?”

“I can’t have my girlfriend showing up in just anything. I had my personal shopper pick up some things so you could get ready here. I’ll drop you off at your meeting.”

“Louboutin shoes?” I touch the box and look at him.

“Open it.”

I slide open the brown box, tugging on a tab on one end. Inside is a gorgeous pair of black patent leather heels with bright red soles.

“This is too much, River. I mean, they’re beautiful, but you didn’t have to do that. I have things I could wear.”

“I know, but I thought a star ought to show up looking like a star.”

“I’m just a dancer, River, not a star. I do thank you for getting me this opportunity, though, I would never have met Cammie without you.”

“You are shockingly unaware of how talented you are, aren’t you?”

“I see myself dance. I know I’m good, but there are so many who are better than I am.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I’m willing to bet there are only a handful of people on earth who are as good as or better than you. It’s cool, though. I’ll let Cammie tell you. Maybe it takes someone who is entirely removed from the situation to validate your talent and make you believe in yourself.”

“Maybe.”

“Grab the Sax bag. It has makeup and hair things in it, and I had them deliver some personal items so you can brush your teeth and whatnot.”

“You thought of everything.”

“I did, including what goes under that Chanel dress that I’m going to take off you after your meeting.”

I peruse the bags with my eyes and find a black one marked Kiki de Montparnasse. I reach for it and hold it up.

“This?” I say, and he nods with a smile.

“I’m taking it all into your ridiculous closet to get dressed.”

“Be my guest. Make yourself at home. There’s plenty of room up there for you.”

“There’s room for a family of ten up there,” I say, puffing air from my nose.

I pick up the bags and shoebox and start for the stairs that lead to his little private clothing store when he stops me.

“Angel, there’s just one more thing I need you to do.”

I look at him out of the corner of my eye and ask, “What?”

“When you have on the shoes and lingerie, come to the top of the stairs and show me.”

“Is there anything in here?” I ask, holding up the feather light black sack. I can just see him giving me an empty clump of tissue so I would have to traipse around in my birthday suit and heels. The funny part of that is I’d do it without being tricked. Making River smile is fast becoming one of my favorite things to do.

“Of course.”

“I’ll be back.”

“I’ll just watch you go.”

I glance over my shoulder and smile at him while he blatantly stares at my ass as I walk away.

His closet is very comfortable. There are plush couches and various tables, a freestanding shepherd hook to hang my dress on while I do my makeup and hair, and even another television and sound system.

I hang the Chanel bag on the hook and unzip it. Inside is a perfectly tailored pair of black slacks that flare slightly at the bottom, a classic sleeveless white blouse, and a short jacket. I assumed it would be a dress, but I like this. It says I’m a dancer, but I’m smart too.

I sit down on the floor in front of a full-length mirror to fix my hair and apply my makeup. River has indeed thought of everything—hair dryer, toothbrush, makeup, deodorant, and a flat iron.

When I’m finished, I stand up and shake out my long mane of silky black hair and peek inside the Kiki bag and find a lace nude matching bra and panty set. They are the most delicate things I’ve ever handled, and I bet they cost more than my entire wardrobe at home.

I stand in front of a three-way mirror and step into the panties, shimmy into the bra, and slide my feet into the gorgeous Louboutins.

When I look up, I’m shocked at how I look. I’ve lived in barely there costumes most of my adult life, but none of them made me look as sultry and seductive as this lingerie and shoe combination.

Well, he wanted to see me. I don’t think it’s a good idea when I’m on such a tight timeline, but here goes nothing.

I tread carefully in the new shoes to the railing that runs between the split staircases. I clear my throat to get his attention.

He tips his head up and flops back onto the bed on his back.

“You are a vision. Now I see why your parents named you Angel.”

He tucks his hands under his head, and I do a little turn for him and hold my arms over my head, making a halo with my hands.

“You can play around all you want, but you ought to be in the Victoria Secret catalog with a pair of wings. You’re so fucking beautiful.”

“Thank you. I’m not sure I’d go that far, but I’ll admit this is a good look for me.”

“Good? No, baby, it’s an off the charts look for you. You’re drop-dead gorgeous, and you’re mine.”

I place my hands on the railing and push my breasts out, leaning forward to give him a better view of what is his.

“Okay, you have to go get dressed, or I’m going to come up there and give you this.” He whips off his towel, and his thick, heavy erection springs free right before he jumps out of bed and runs up the stairs.

I screech and run giggling in my new heels to the hook where my outfit hangs. I snap the slacks off the hanger, quickly slipping my legs into them before he makes it to the top. When he does, he slows down and, naked from head to toe, he stalks me in a circle like I am his prey.

I try like crazy to ignore my racing heart and the pool of moisture that just formed between my legs. And I also try to ignore his big cock bouncing along as he circles me, but it's useless.

I take the blouse and slip it over my shoulders and begin to button it from top to bottom, but I only finish three before he’s pouncing.

“I don’t want to mess you up, Angel, but you’re so tempting.”

He reaches out and pulls me closer by the waist of my slacks.

I lean in to kiss him but stop right before his mouth and place my hands on his smooth, hard chest. I kneel before him and look up into his dark blue hooded eyes. His cock twitches before me, and I take it in my hands and stroke up and down, cradling his balls in my other hand.

He moans, and I lick the bead of pre-come from the tip of his cock and swirl it around with my tongue while he watches. Slowly, I wrap my cherry red lips around his cock and suck him deep into my warm mouth until he hits the back of my throat.

His hands fly to the sides of my head, and he guides his cock in and out at his own pace. He widens his stance so he can go deeper, and I take every silky vein-covered inch of him over and over. I let him fuck my mouth while I dig my nails into the muscles of his rock hard ass and breathe in the smell of his masculine body wash.

I can feel him swell as I swirl my tongue around his cock when he slides in. His grip on my hair tightens every time I suck him all the way to the tip before he plunges back in.

He’s close. His muscles are twitching, and his legs are trembling when he goes in deep one last time before his orgasm hits hard. I suck and swallow and lick every last drop as he reverently yells my name out loud.

When his legs relax, I let him slip from my mouth and drag my hands down his legs as I sit back and prop my butt on my heels and look up at his very satisfied face.

“Fuck, Angel, that’s not what I came up here for. I know you have to look perfect for your meeting. I was just messing around.”

I poke my bottom lip out and pout. “You didn’t like it?” I ask, knowing full well he loved it.

He pulls me up by my hands and cups my cheek with one of his.

“There was not one single tiny, itty bitty thing about it that I didn’t fucking love. You surprised me, that’s all. Thank you very much. I might just live until tonight now.”

I lean forward and kiss him between his pecs. “You’re an oversexed maniac, you know that?” I say in a teasing tone.

“Yeah, and you love it.”

“That I do.”

“Okay, I have to get dressed if I’m going to drive you to your meeting, and you need to reapply that sexy ass red lip gloss.”

I press my fingers to my mouth. He’s right. Not a drop of lip-gloss to be found.

“Oh, and I have one more thing for you before we go.”

I tip my head to the side and look at him in disbelief. What else could there possibly be?

“Put your jacket on and meet me in the foyer,” he says, backing away several steps before he turns and saunters down an aisle of casual clothes to pick some mouth-watering metrosexual outfit to wear. I watch his tight ass and the muscles of his back flex and relax as he goes.

“You’re staring at my ass, aren’t you?” he calls over his shoulder.

“No,” I say with a smile in my voice.

“You’re a shitty liar, Pretty Dancer.”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s to your benefit, Football Man.”

“True, I like that.”

“Honest Angel. That’s what they call me.”

He throws his head back and laughs. “Do they really?”

“No, but you can if you want.”

“I like Pretty Dancer better.”

“Me too.” I slip on the jacket and reapply my lip gloss before leaving River to work his clothing magic.

Chapter Twenty-Three

River

In the foyer, I run my hands along her arms and kiss her on the cheek.

“Ready to go?” she asks.

“I am. Let’s go make you famous, Pretty Dancer.”

Excitement rolls off her like ocean waves, and she smiles wide.

“Okay,” she says with a tiny squeal, and I remove her arms from my neck.

I open the door for her and breathe in the scent of her perfume when she breezes by.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” I say, holding the door open. “Go ahead. I have to get something.”

She rolls her eyes and glides away to the car in her heels like she’s barefoot. I’ve never seen a woman so elegantly graceful. It’s like every muscle in her body naturally flows perfectly together like water flows effortlessly down a river.

I drag my gaze from her and go to get one last gift to complete her look. I’m a fashion junkie, and I know a million people in the business, so it was nothing to have a few things delivered to the house for Angel.

In the car, I hand her another black box.

“More Chanel?” she says, shaking her head. “I can’t. You’ve done too much already.”

“Angel, I want to, and I’ll be insulted if you don’t accept it. I love giving gifts, so you may as well get used to it now.”

She sighs and opens the lid to find a white Chanel bag wrapped in tissue.

“Oh, River, it’s beautiful, and it goes perfectly with my outfit.”

“That was the idea. A beautiful woman deserves beautiful things.”

“Maybe it will bring me luck.”

“You don’t need luck, baby. The world’s going to adore you, just like I do.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Angel

Well, that couldn’t have gone any better. I can’t even feel my feet hitting the pavement after my meeting with Cammie Onyx. She wants to be my manager, and she’s sending me to New York next week to meet with some of the most famous dancers in the world at The National Ballet Company.

I want to scream it from the rooftop, but more than anything, I want to stop at my parents’ house dressed head to toe in designer clothes on River Kelly’s arm and show them that being a dancer doesn’t mean I’m a failure.

River insisted on waiting for me. I told him I could get an Uber home, but he wasn’t having any part of that.

When I open the door, he starts shooting questions right away.

“How’d it go? She loved you, didn’t she? She’s going to be your manager, isn’t she?”

I laugh and climb into the front seat and wonder why it still has that new car smell.

“It went perfectly, yes. I think she loved me, and yes, she’s going to be my manager!” I say and clap my hands together.

I yelp when he pulls me over the console and into his lap.

“Hey, my boyfriend just bought me these clothes, and you’re going to ruin them.”

“If he bought you these, he can buy you more.”

He leans in and presses his lips to mine. For a moment, it’s a soft kiss until he deepens it with his tongue. I allow him in and thread my fingers into his hair, following him down, down, down, into a rabbit hole like the one in
Alice in Wonderland
.

Kissing River isn’t just kissing. It’s an out of body experience that I have to be careful of. One day, I may just let him sweep me away into another world where we would kiss each other forever. That would be the happiest place that ever existed.

“I have a favor to ask,” I say, still kissing him.

“Anything,” he says, kissing a trail to my ear and causing shivers to race up my spine.

“Come to my house and meet my parents. I want to tell them I’m going to New York.”

The kissing ends, and he stills in the seat under me. The look on his face almost makes me think that he’s going to say no, but he nods his head up and down.

“I’ll go with you because you’ve asked me to, but I don’t think you have to prove anything to them. I know they have been a big part of your drive to be successful, but you should do this for you, because it’s your dream, not to rub it in their face.”

I slide my arm around his neck and lay my head on his shoulder. He’s right. My dreams are coming true, and for the most part, my parents had nothing to do with my success. I always give credit where credit is due, and this credit is all River’s.

“Okay, can we go to your parents’ house then? For family dinner?”

“Tonight’s not family dinner night.”

I sigh, “That’s too bad.”

“When do you leave for New York?’

“Next Wednesday.”

“That’s before family dinner night, but I’m sure my mom and dad won’t mind us coming earlier. Mom’s always cooking. I’m sure she’d love the company, even if it’s just the two of us.”

“I’d love that.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what’s with the change of heart? You weren’t thrilled about family dinner night a couple of days ago.”

“You weren’t my boyfriend a couple of days ago.”

He shrugs. “That’s true. Over you go, then. I have to call and make my mother a very happy woman.”

I crawl back into my seat and pull my seatbelt across me. It feels good knowing that I can share this news with people who will be happy for me. My family surely would have minimized this accomplishment like they always have. It’s time to put that insecurity to bed.

I don’t need their approval to validate my success. I have my friends, and now, I have River to support me and lift me up. Who could ask for more?

River calls his mother, and I can hear her joyful whoop from the passenger seat. She’s excited about having us for dinner.

“So where to now then?” I ask.

“Should we celebrate?”

“I’m all dressed up. We may as well.”

“Dinner at Chateau Royal?”

“Sure. I have no idea what Chateau Royal is, but it sounds like a place to celebrate.”

“It most definitely is, but the paparazzi can be pretty thick outside. Are you sure you want to deal with all of that?”

“I don’t have to worry about Miss Valentina anymore, so bring it on.”

“What are you going to do about that situation?”

“I’m going to quit. I love teaching, but Cammie says I’m going to be much too busy to work for the studio anymore.”

“The guys are going to miss you, and Sasha will too.”

“I do feel bad about that, but your coach only scheduled a few weeks of class, so you will be off the hook pretty soon. And Sasha can suck it up.”

“Oh, there’s no love lost between the two of you, is there?”

“She’s spoiled. I mean, I didn’t come from the slums or anything, but I’ve never relied on my parents. Sasha drives a Mercedes and parties every weekend, and she’s only sixteen. It’s ridiculous.”

“I’m glad my parents were hard working, blue collar people. We learned early on to work for what we wanted. My mom and dad taught us the value of the dollar.”

“I could have been spoiled. My sister was, but my interests didn’t mesh with their idea of success, so I did my own thing. I’ve been teaching dance since I was fourteen. I paid for my own clothes and car, and I went to college on a scholarship, much to my mother’s horror. She thought of it as charity, and her children didn’t need a handout. I didn’t care, though. It made my accomplishments more my own somehow.”

“Exactly. I got a full ride too. My mom and dad would have never been able to send us all to college, but if they had, I think it would have made me feel guilty.”

“Look at us, a couple of freeloading, athletic college graduates getting famous on someone else’s dime.”

He chuckles. “Somebody’s got to do it, right?”

“Right.”

“Seriously, though, I give back to the community. I donate to scholarship programs all the time. I think if the system is going to work, people should give back to those who helped get them where they are.”

“I like that. If I’m ever famous, I’ll make a college scholarship for dancers. You're special, you know that, Football Man?”

“You’ve got it going on too, Pretty Dancer. Here we are. This is your last chance to bail on our celebrity celebration,” he says and pulls into a circle drive, where a valet immediately approaches my door.

“I’m not bailing. Let’s do this.”

The Valet opens the door, and instantly, I'm blinded by flashing cameras and reporters with microphones leaning over a droopy velvet rope that wouldn’t protect anyone from anything.

Before I can even put a foot on the ground, River is around the car, offering me his hand. He helps me out, and the incessant clicking of shutters rattles around in my brain as the paparazzi start shouting questions.

“Who are you wearing?”

“Who is this, River?”

“Are you River’s girlfriend?”

“Are you having fish or steak tonight, River?”

I stop when I hear that last question. River is still walking, and my pause catches him by surprise.

“We need to keep moving, Angel.”

I’m only listening to him with one ear because I’m still caught on the steak vs. fish question. Who asks such a dumb question? I look directly into the photographer’s lens, where I can see my puzzled reflection looking back at me.

“Angel! Are you River’s new girlfriend?” another photographer calls when he hears River address me by name. That guy must have supersonic hearing. River spoke quietly in my ear when he said that.

“She is,” he says and pulls me through the doors into the palatial foyer of Chateau Royal with my head still turned, looking at the photographer.

“You just told the world I’m your girlfriend,” I say.

“I did. Sometimes, you have to give them a little of what they want so they’ll stop asking dumb ass questions like will it be the fish or the steak tonight, River?” he says, mimicking the photographer perfectly.

I laugh. “I couldn’t believe he asked that. How unoriginal and random.”

“Oh, it’s worse than that sometimes, believe me.”

I inhale and blow out a big breath, and a loose curl of my hair flutters out in front of me. River reaches out and tucks it behind my ear and kisses my cheek.

“So, Angel, will it be steak or fish tonight?” he asks.

“Neither. I’m in the mood for pasta.”

He laughs, and a woman who looks shockingly like a young Mariah Carrey approaches us with two newspaper-sized black menus in hand.

“Do you have a reservation, Mr. Kelly?”

“No, this was an impromptu dinner. We’re celebrating a special occasion.”

Her eyes light up at the mention of a celebration, and she’s leading us to a table in five seconds flat.

The restaurant is decorated to match its name, a noble royal manor. Immediately, my attention is drawn to a glimmering chandelier that hangs high in the center of the room. Floor to ceiling windows are covered in dark red, heavy drapes that pool onto the black and white checkered floor. Intricately detailed crown molding and sconces line the outer walls, making it feel like you’ve transported into a medieval castle. It’s breathtakingly beautiful. If I ever have a home of my own to decorate, this is how I want it done.

“Your server will be Micah. He will be right with you,” the hostess says and places a large menu in front of each of us.

“Thanks, Lilly. I appreciate you squeezing us in.”

She shakes her head and waves her hand dismissively.

“It’s no problem. Any time.”

She sashays away, and I’m almost positive there is an extra swish of her hips that I didn’t notice when we were following her into the dining room.

“Old girlfriend?” I ask. I’m not the jealous type, but he doesn’t know that.

“No. I mean yeah, we went out a couple of times for drinks, but nothing more than that. She’s just a friend.”

“A friend with benefits?” I say, raising my eyebrows. I’m not going to be able to hold back the giggles much longer.

“No, no benefits. We had drinks, that’s it.” He reaches across the table to take my hand reassuringly.

I laugh, and his eyes narrow when he realizes he’s been duped.

“I’m messing with you. I am fully aware that you weren’t a virgin when we met.”

“Virgin?” he says with a chuckle, “That ship sailed a long, long time ago.”

I open the menu. It’s all written in French. I tip it forward to watch as he flips the pages like he’s reading an epic novel.

“You speak French?” I ask.

He looks up at me and then to my menu.

“Sorry, forgot this thing’s in French. Wait, I've heard you speak French before,” he says and removes the menu from my hands.

"I know all things related to dance in French. My skills are limited."

"I wouldn't say that," he says as he smirks at me over his menu.

"And yes, I took four years of French in high school and traveled abroad one summer to Paris.

“A world traveling, hunky football player, huh? And the plot thickens.”

“Tu as raison.”

“Okay, show off, I only know ballet terms in French. What’s that mean?”

“It means, you’re right.”

“I like that.”

“All women do,” he says with a wink that melts my heart.

“Will you order for me?”

“Sure, no food allergies, right?”

“Nope, I can eat anything,” I say, admiring the chandelier.

“You know, everything you say sounds like a sexual innuendo to me. Why is that?”

I look across the table at him and shrug, “Maybe because we’ve basically been having nonstop sex for days on end?”

“Good point. We should eat fast so we can get back to my place so we don’t lose momentum.”

“What if I want to go home and sleep in my bed tonight?”

He looks at me carefully for a second.

“Do you?”

I bat my eyelashes and look as innocent as I possibly can before I answer.

“No.”

“Revenge is going to be sweet tonight, Pretty Dancer.”

“Uh-oh, tickle torture?”

“Oh no, you’re not going to get off that easily.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” And I am. I think I’ve made up for all of my years without sex in three days with River. I’m going to miss that when I go to New York.

My feelings for him nearly outweigh my dreams of becoming a famous dancer now. Anymore, my heart is ruling my life instead of my head, and I can’t ignore that.

I do not want to have to make that choice.