Jock: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (8 page)

B
reathe
.

It’s not until I’m through security at the Denver airport that I remember to do so.

I take a seat in the waiting area by my gate, feeling shaky, feeling electrified, and buzzing with the flushed thrill of the night before.

What the HELL just happened?

I’ve never been this unprofessional, not
once
. Hell, even before the hotel room, everything about my dealings with Holden Cade so far have been so wildly inappropriate that I don’t even know what to make of it. Talking about the contract and
negotiating
directly with a prospect? What was I even thinking? It should
never
have been Holden at that dinner last night to begin with, it should have been his manager and me discussing the terms.

But there I went and said yes to dinner with
him
, and as much as I want to vehemently deny it, I know it’s because one look at those smoky eyes and one flash of that stupidly charming grin had me saying yes like some sort of trained puppy.

Ugh.

And then I doubled down on stupid decisions. Because apparently taking a one-on-one business dinner with a prospect that I was already having wildly inappropriate thoughts about wasn’t enough. I had to introduce
alcohol
to the mix.

Nice job, girl. Well done.

I groan as I slump in my chair, pulling my hat down low over my eyes and blowing a thin stream of air out through my lips. I want to tell myself that the whole thing was about the deal - about making damn sure we got the trade. That’s all.

Except that’s not true, and I damn well know it. This was about not knowing how to, or even remotely
wanting to
say no to a man like Holden. This was seeing that train coming from a hundred miles away and standing firmly in the middle of the tracks.

Because I’m insane, apparently, not to mention seemingly perfectly okay jeopardizing the formidable reputation I’ve built for myself over the years.

Oh so you slept with him to make the deal?

I groan as the thought hits me again. I don’t want to think about what that makes me.

In any case, he’s interested. He’s going to make the move; I can feel it.

…Either that or it’s just my traitorous body remembering how he felt. I can feel the warm creep of a forbidden, wicked feeling starting in my stomach and spreading through my body as my mind flashes back the events of the night before.

His mouth, his fingers, moving over my skin and making it ache and burn for him.

The
size
of him.

How he felt. How his lips tasted.

I shiver, blushing and re-crossing my legs at the sudden tingle of heat and wetness between them.

That’s enough of that.

I shake my head, sitting up straight now and taking a deep, shaky breath.

Last night
happened
, but that doesn’t mean I can’t put it behind me and just move on. Holden wants this trade as much as we do, and the events of last night will in no way shape or form change that.

Besides, I think with a shrug, straightening my hat and taking my phone out of my bag; I’m allowed to have some fun once in a while.

I thumb my phone screen on, and I’m immediately greeted by a string of texts from my friend Serena I haven’t seen yet.

Serena also works for the Bulls on the publicity side of things. She’s my literal opposite: model-tall where I’m short, envy-inducing long, silken dark hair where my frizzy auburn locks frustrate, and olive skin to my freckled tone. The woman should be in a magazine selling lingerie, not in an office managing ad space for a pro football team. But her dad was a defensive coach and a friend of my father, and Serena and I click so well because she’s another daddy’s girl turned tomboy football nut, just like me.

I glance up to the board and notice my flight’s being slightly delayed in boarding, so I hit “call” instead of bothering to read all her late-night texts from when I was…
occupied.

“So how’d it go?”

My face instantly flushes at the sound of her voice, however innocuous the question. Because as close as we are, I’m not breathing a
word
about what happened last night to her.

I swallow thickly. “Oh, you know, fine.”

Serena sighs. “I love how you can make taking a business dinner with a guy like Holden Cade sound
boring
.”

I shrug. “It was just a preliminary business dinner,” I say quickly. “Nothing to write home about.”

“Apparently, because you didn’t respond to a
single
one of my texts last night.”

My stomach flip-flops a little as I feel the heat rush into my face.

“Well,” Serena presses on, hopelessly ignoring my stuttered silence of an answer. “And how was the man himself?”

I shrug again, as if she’s standing in front of me.

“Oh, fine.”

“Well,
yeah
, we know that,” Serena says with a snicker.

I roll my eyes; suddenly thankful we’re having this conversation over the phone instead of face to face.

“I think he’s going to make the move.”

“Get
out
, seriously?”

Serena’s whole tone changes from teasing to suddenly interested. This is why I love this girl; she actually gets excited about things like player licensing contracts and trade deals like I do.

“Yeah, seriously.”

Serena whistles. “Jesus, girl, what the hell did you offer him?”

The blush comes roaring back to my face as my mind instantly flashes back to the night before.

Everything. I offered him everything, and had the best sex of my life when he took it.

“Okay, you just paused for
way
too long.”

I blink out of my filthy flashbacks at Serena’s prying tone.

“I did not,” I say primly, sitting up in my seat.

She gasps dramatically. “Oh my God, is
this
why you never called me back last night?”

“Serena-”

“A
preliminary business dinner
, huh?”

I can imagine the wide, grinning look on my friend’s face.

“You’re delusional.”

“No, just hopeful.” She chuckles. “You work too much, girl.”

“Yeah, well…” I trail off and sigh, reaching up to rub the bridge of my nose as I try and will the heat from my face.

“I’m about to work even
more
, because Holden Cade is about to become a Houston Bull.”

“This is going to be a media shit-storm, you know,” Serena says, whistling lowly.

Oh, if only you knew
.

The intercom at the gate buzzes to life, regretting to inform us that my flight back to Houston has been delayed
again.

I grumble into the phone.

“I gotta let you go so I can go find a cup of coffee.”

“Hey, London.”

“Yeah?”

“Congrats on getting the guy.” Serena giggles. “Take that either way you want.”

I groan, the blush flashing back into my face. “
Serena-”

“Oh go find your coffee, I’m just teasing you.”

Later, I find a new seat by the windows overlooking the runway with my overpriced, overly hot airport coffee.

No matter what happens - no matter if Holden ends up taking the deal like I think he will - what happened cann
ot
happen again. That was dumb, and even if we were both
way
too drunk and evidently not thinking clearly, it’s a mistake I can’t afford to make.

Hands off the players, Jesus.

I’ve worked too hard, and gone head-to-head with too many staunch old men who doubted my abilities and talents because of my gender to let my whole career go to shit because word gets out I
slept with
a man-whore of a prospect.

…No matter how mind-blowingly good it was.

I take a furtive sip of my coffee as I stare out at the runway, only to hear the intercom squawk again with another canned apology for yet
another
delay.

Goddamnit.

I don’t need to spend another
second
in Denver. I need to get home and get Holden Cade and the mistake of a lifetime out of my head.

I
stop
by my own place after leaving London’s hotel room just long enough to change into gym clothes before I head out the door.

No, it’s not that I’ve suddenly decided to start actually
showing up for
my scheduled morning workout routines. But working out and lifting has always cleared my head, and
shit
do I need to wipe mine clean right now.

The trainers and other guys on the team all give me odd, unbelieving looks when I actually show up at the training center before three pm for the first time in months. But I just nod, still too lost in my own head to say anything as I make my way to the weight room.

I grin as I rack some weights and take a seat on the bench, thinking about the night before.

Yeah, last night happened and it was fucking
amazing.

I shake my head as I lay back and grip the benching bar. I know I should have said no. Hell, I never should have even gone to dinner with her in the first place, let alone taking that cab with her under that ridiculous pretense of “making sure she got home okay.”

I start to work my way through some reps, but I break early, puffing as I rack the weights.

I frown, shaking my head to try and clear the thoughts of London Jacobs and the fucking
mind-blowing
way she rocked my damn world the night before from it. I try again, grunting through another set before I rack the bar again with an angry crash, sitting up and dropping my face into my hands.

Shit, what the
fuck
is wrong with me? I mean, I’m no stranger to bad decisions,
believe me
, and especially when it comes to bad decisions and women. But crossing that line with London last night was a step too far, and I know it. I’ve done a lot of shit I’m not proud of when it comes to girls. I’ve stepped over
plenty
of lines before when it comes to putting my hands on the wrong women - a coach’s wife back in college; a second-string linebacker’s
mom
a few years back that I doubt he ever knew about before he got traded.

Mistakes? Bad decisions? Yeah, I’ve made a fuck-ton of them. But I’ve always brushed myself off and just gone on being
me
afterwards. No sense in looking back, “the only way forward is forward” and all that sort of shit.

This one’s different though, and I damn well know it.

And it’s not just that she might be my new boss’s daughter, or even partly my new boss herself. If it were
just
that, this would be easy.

It’s the fact that I can tell she’s not the kind of girl that
does
what happened last night. And in a way, there’s a strange sort of
guilty
feeling, like I’ve corrupted her somehow.

I shake my head again, rolling my eyes at my own sentimental bullshit.

I didn’t “corrupt” her. Hell, she practically dragged me into that room with her. And judging by how
dripping
wet she was for me, that wasn’t exactly a sudden decision on her part.

Nah, no way. That girl knew
exactly
what she was doing, and she knew exactly what she wanted from me.

I grin as I lay back on the bench ready to give my lifting another shot.

Yeah, she knew what she wanted from me, and I damn well
gave it
to her.

Twice.

I bring my hands up to the bar again, gripping it tight as I frown.

Still
.

Still, I’ve fucked
plenty
of inappropriate, off-limits girls and gone right on doing my own thing the next day. But her? I frown. Her I can’t seem to get out of head.

Hell, she may have been the one to drag me into that room last night, but she was also the one that walked away from me this morning. I think of the way she patted my cheek before walking out that door, like no girl has ever done.

Please.
Your loss, babe.

There’s a whole city’s worth of girls here ready to jump on my cock and
thank me
for it.

I try one more round of reps before I just give up with a growl of frustration. I sit up and flip my phone out.

It’s time to get some of the boys together and go out. It’s time to tear this town
apart
before I leave it in my rear view mirror.

Because whatever weird funk London left me with, I’m going to fuck my way out of it.

Hell, there’s gotta be a
few
girls who live here I haven’t slept with yet, right?

“
S
o what’s this about
, man?”

To the untrained eye, Max looks like one
scary
motherfucker.

For one, the guy’s a monstrous six-foot-four and probably three hundred twenty pounds of linebacker muscle. Throw in a thick black beard and tattoos all the way down both arms, and he basically looks like the bouncer from
hell
at the wildest heavy metal club in the world.

If you
know him
though, you know that Max is actually one giant fucking teddy bear.

Max is one of the good ones. That’s rare with big, rich, douchebag football guys, I can tell you. I used to always give him shit about being so damn
faithful
to the wife he married
way
too young in my opinion, especially when we were out on the road basically getting pussy
thrown
at us.

But I’ll hand it to the guy, he never flinched, and he never stepped out on Hannah.

Which is smart because for one, she’s model gorgeous - as in she’s
literally
a model that somehow a scary beast of a guy like Max charmed. And two, she’s smart as a whip – certainly smarter than Max, and genuinely a great, kind, and amazing person.

Which leads to number three: honestly, in the grand scheme of the world, a guy like Max just does
not
deserve a girl like Hannah. Well, except he
does
, cause the guy is fucking awesome.

I grin at him across the corner of the bar we’re sitting at.

“What do you mean?”

He sighs. “I mean what was so intense that I
had
to come out and meet you tonight?”

I shrug, shoving a beer his way.

“What, I can’t hang with my good buddy?”

Max eyes the beer, but doesn’t take it. He raises his dark eyes to me, frowning slightly.

“You sort of made it sound like it was important,” he says in his deep baritone voice.

I grin. “Dude, it’s always important for us to hang. Anyways, I also just said it was so you’d actually come.”

He groans, muttering under his breath.

“You disappear all the time now, man!” I clap him on the arm. “How the fuck else am I supposed to get you to actually come out?”

He chuckles. “Yeah well, life’s different now, dude. Things change.”

The changes he’s talking are the twin girls he and Hannah had three years back. Max is fucking
completely
devoted to them. Shit, he’s come to practice with his toenails painted sparkly pink like five times now, and no one gives him a
bit
of shit about it.

Well, I do, but that’s cause I’m an asshole - plus he knows I’m just messing with him.

“So what, I gotta lie to you to get you to come out with me these days?”

“Yeah, basically.” He glares at me. “I can’t believe you dragged me out here, you liar. Tonight was movie night.”

I pull a face. “Sorry, dude. I just missed hanging with you.”

He grins. “I’m just fucking with you.”

He grabs the beer in front of him and takes a swig.

“You asshole.”

I turn and take a sip of my own beer before I take a deep breath.

“Okay, actually…” I trail off and shrug.

“There is something I need to talk to you about.”

“You’re moving.”

I choke mid-sip from my bottle. Max laughs.

“Dude, you’re
way
less sneaky than you think you are.”

Fuck.

I stare at my beer, not sure what to say before Max chuckles and claps me on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I’m the only one that has it figured out – by the way, thanks for confirming my hunch just now.”

I mutter under my breath and look away.

“Hey, I get it man.” Max nods slowly, stroking his beard before he takes another slug of beer.

“Brandon, all the pressure of being the hometown boy,” he shrugs. “You could have an easy career here, you know.”

“I know.”

“But you want to be more than just a hometown boy though, I can tell.”

I nod. “I need a change, man.”

We sit in silence for another second, just drinking our beers before Max turns back to me.

“Where?”

I chew on it for a second before answering.

“Houston.”

He smirks, raising a questioning brow. “The
Bulls
?”

“It’s a hell of an offer.”

Max laughs. “Well,
yeah
, I’d hope so for being the worst fucking team in the league.”

“Yeah no shit.”

He laughs again, shaking his head before he turns back to me.

“That said, you turn it around for them and you’re a
god
.”

“The thought had occurred to me.” I grin at him. “Maybe I could get them to buy you too.”

He snorts. “Yeah, Hannah would be thrilled.”

He puts a heavy hand on my shoulder and nods as he raises his beer to me.

“Well hey man, congrats.”

I give him a wry look. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. You think it’s the right move?”

“I think it might be.”

He nods. “Well then, fuck it. Long as you visit once in a while, you prick.”

He turns back to his beer.

“Not
that
often, though,” he says with a grin.

“Dick.”

I turn to the bartender and call out for a couple shots of whiskey, but Max frowns and shakes his head.

“Nah, I’m good man. Only having the one.”

I roll my eyes. “Oh c’mon! This is big, man! Hell, I thought you said movie night was bullshit.”

“It is, but that doesn’t mean I can or want to get home late and drunk.”

I thank the bartender for the shots and then shake my head at Max.

“Live a little.”

He shakes his head sternly.

“
Ugh, fine
.”

I take the first shot and then do the one I got him.

Max’s mouth goes tight.

“You’re not driving tonight, right?”

My post-shot buzz instantly sours as I glare at him.

“No, of course not.”

“Good.”

We’re silent a minute.

“How you doing with that anyways,” he says quietly.

“With what,” I snap.

I know damn well what he’s talking about, it’s just nothing I seem to ever be able to have a straight discussion about.

Brandon.

My best friend.

The one I let walk away from that party with his truck keys in his hand because I was too interested in getting a piece of ass to chase him down and tell him to call a fucking cab.

I look away. “I’m fine, Max.”

“Bro, you can talk about it, you know. That shit hit all of us pretty-”

“I’m
fine
, man,” I snap again.

Max backs off, nodding.

“Sorry,” I mumble.

“Don’t,” he says gruffly. “It’s fine to be angry man, just don’t be angry at
yourself
. And don’t you fucking dare end up like him,” he adds, jabbing a finger at me. “Get a fucking Uber or something.”

“I know, I will.”

Max sighs. “Well, fuck, this got morose fast.”

“Seriously how do I bribe you to come get fucked up with me?”

He snorts, shaking his head.

“Come on, let’s hit up Soul Lounge and pick up some college chicks.”

Max raises a single eyebrow at me and gives me the same look I remember from the road whenever I’d try and convince him there were other vaginas in the world than the one he was married to.

It’s a look that says ‘shut up and back the fuck off
right
now’.

I’ve missed that look.

“Oh you
know
what I mean,” I say with a grin. “
I’ll
pick up college girls and you’ll be the kindly friend who graciously declines the obvious and inevitable invitation to get laid.”

“And then pass her your way?”

I give him two thumbs up.

“Despite the fact that you’ll already most likely have three girls crawling all over you.”

I nod eagerly. “Yeah that’s the general plan. The more the merrier, Max. I think everyone deserves a little love.”

“You’re a nut, Holden.”

“Yeah, nuts for hot college girls begging for it.” I sigh at him. “And you’re fucking insane for tying yourself to one woman.”

He eyes me again as I grin at him and deflate a little.

“Okay, no, you’re not insane. You actually just have the game figured out.”

He claps me on the back. “You’re learning. I’m proud of you, buddy.”

“So you’re
really
not going to come out with me and help me get laid.”

“You don’t need help in that department last time I checked the papers.”

I grin at him and he sighs dramatically.

“Look, I’ll give you a fucking
ride
to Soul Lounge, okay?”

I pump a fist in the air. “You’re the best, Max. Let me just get a shot for the road.”

He frowns at me. “Take it easy, man.”

“Nah,” I grin. “That’s
your job,
family man.”

“It’ll happen to you, and you’ll get it.” Max stands as I signal the bartender for another shot.

“You’ll find a girl and find out what I’m talking about.”

London’s face pops into my head before I even know what hits me, and I freeze, the shot-glass halfway to my lips.

What the fuck is that?

Max is talking about goddamn soul mates and families and shit, and the girl I had a one-night drunken fling with pops in my head.

Jesus, I need to get laid.

It’s been roughly eight hours since London walked out of that hotel room, but
damn
do I need to get something strange to get that girl out of my head, for whatever reason she’s still there.

I quickly take the shot of whiskey, grunting at the burn before I turn to Max and gesture dramatically.

“Bring me to pussy, valet!”

* * *

T
he bravado is gone
fifteen minutes after getting to the club.

The scene is exactly what I thought and said it would be. Me, drunk in a private booth with three girls fucking
feeding
me booze, stroking my body, and writhing on top of me.

Yeah, in this town, I’m the fucking
king
. And yet here I am thinking about leaving it, like some sort of idiot.

Two of the girls - a couple of blondes - start to make out over me, right in front of me. The third leans in and whispers in my ear that we should all head back to my place.

All
.

My cock throbs. Fuck, I mean, of
course
it does. I’m a red blooded man after all.

But then one face pops into my head, and the whole debaucherous fantasy comes crashing down.

Fucking
London’s
face.

Again.

And then I’m not thinking about the hedonistic orgy that’s being offered to me. I’m not thinking about any of these vapid, giggling football groupies.

I’m thinking of
her.

I’m thinking of that sass, or of how she threw it right back at me - how she made me
work
for it.

I’m thinking about how she rode me, how she spread her legs and took me inside, clawing at my back and moving with me like no other girl ever has.

The way
she
brushed
me
off this morning.

I can’t do this.

And at that point, I don’t even want to. The booze is coursing through me, the music’s too loud, and suddenly I just feel claustrophobic with these skanks crawling all over me.

I need air.

“I’ll be back in a sec, honey,” I say, pushing the third blonde off of me.

She frowns. “Where are you going?”

I stand and all three of them look at me like I’m fucking insane.

And I really might be.

“I just need some air.”

She pouts in this thoroughly un-sexy, obnoxious way.

“Coming
back
?”

I nod. “Yeah, definitely.” I flash them a grin and the three of them start giggling.

I’m not coming back.

I stagger outside, just needing to be
out
of that fucking place and away from the crowds and the music and the meaningless groupies.

I grab a cab back to the first bar down the street where I parked. I’m stumbling, and fishing for my keys, ignoring Max’s words. I get to my car, squinting at the door handle, when Brandon’s face comes scowling into my head.

Fuck.

What am I, an idiot?

I stare at the keys in my hand; slowly shaking my head and feeling my shoulders droop.

Not like this.

I stuff the keys in my pocket instead, turning and shuffling back to the street to see if I can grab a new cab.