ROMANCE: SPORTS ROMANCE: Bad Boys of Sports: A Complete Collection (Alpha Male, Football, Hockey Secret Baby Romance) (Contemporary Sports Romance) (19 page)

With a squeak, she realized his grin had turned positively naughty as he stared at her red face.

“Do share,” he said, spinning the pen in his hand with a tilt of his chin.

“Sixth is call me by name in front of people.”

His face fell into a pout. “That’s not what you were thinking. And I will continue to call you Ms. Blogger in private.”

“Fair enough,” she muttered, hoping she could steal away to bury her worries in a shower. Her eyes wandered to the closed bathroom door. He scratched something down on the pad.

“A truce between parties,” he announced and pushed the notepad to her. “You can review if you want.”

She waved a hand, face still rushing with emotion. “That’s fine.”

From the corner of his eye, he cocked his head. “Let me take your picture.”

“Now?” She asked with wide eyes.

“To remember the treaty,” he argued. “If you let me take one, I’ll tell those models I was joking.”

That was certainly an attractive prospect. They only glared jealous daggers at her anytime she showed up to an event and passed by him. He was already unpacking one of the camera bags he’d brought back from the event. His quick hands found one camera, a smaller antique one that she hadn’t seen him use at the events.

“Tilt your face towards me,” he said with a motion of his fingers as he held the camera up to his face. “Pretend as if you’re angry with me.”

She flushed, a timid frown coming to her face. “You can’t expect me to just be angry at the drop of a hat.”

“Why not? You’re superb at it,” he said in a dry voice. He paused. “Can you read off number two of our treaty for me?”

She eyed him warily but lifted the notepad to read it. “Number two,” she began as her eyes crossed the page, “Number two: Stop telling other people that we’re having sex.” There was a tiny scrawl beneath it in parentheses. She deciphered it out loud. “You’re handwriting is awful. It says: Unless we do.”

Her head snapped up to hurl a withering look his way. Red cheeks, narrowed eyes, a flustered yell bubbling up. Snap, snap, snap. His finger pressed the button.

“Perfect shot, Ms. Blogger.”

Chapter 4

Madeline’s pursed her lips, clutching her latte with long rounded nails that were painted with tiny triangles of every color. She leaned in to drop her voice below the busy volume of the coffee shop.

“I mean, you haven’t, right?”

If anything, Natalie was thankful that Madeline was the exact opposite of Oliver: kind, soft, and no rude, blunt edges.

“No,” she muttered and twisted her mouth as she stared at her iced coffee. It was sweating, dripping water onto her schedule for the second to last day of Fashion Week. Time had flown by. Soon, she’d be hopping aboard a plane to head back to LA. Usually, that thought soothed her, but today it gnawed at her.

Madeline let out an awed breath. “You like him, don’t you?”

Natalie blinked, long and slow, looking up at the woman across from her. “What? Like him?”

“I know we haven’t known each other for that long,” Madeline said with a grin, “But, I can see it on your face, Natalie! And he’s dropping hints like crazy.”

“He’s a complete ass,” Natalie said with a shake of her head and then hung her head in defeat, “most of the time. He can be charming when he wants.”

“Wow.” Madeline rested her chin in her hands, eyes glittering. “This is what denial looks like.”

Natalie covered her face with her hands and groaned as Madeline chuckled cheerfully across from her.

“You’ve only got one more night together,” she reminded. Natalie peeked through her splayed fingers to see Madeline toss her green locks excitedly and clap, a habit she’d no doubt picked up from Fifi. “You should tell him how you feel!”

“I can’t do that!  Number one, he’ll reject me for sure,” Natalie muttered. “I’ll melt into a pool of embarrassment.  And number two, I don’t
like
him.  I just can’t help but notice his attractiveness from time to time; I’m not blind.  Sometimes I wish I were.  You said so yourself… ‘
mega hot
.’”

Madeline shrugged with a playful look. “You are going back to LA tomorrow. What’s there to lose?”

Natalie ticked them off in her mind: sanity, dignity, pride. Well, she’d already lost her sanity at this point. She stretched her tired arms above her head, tense muscles straining against the movement with tight pleasure.

“We’ll see.”

Madeline wiggled her eyebrows. “It’s perfect. Tonight is an early event, and you can come back to the penthouse. Grab a bottle of champagne from Fifi’s stash and open it to celebrate then… jump him.”

Natalie laughed. “For such a sweet girl, you’ve got quite a devious side.”

“What can I say?” Madeline asked with a beaming face. “I’m sharing this Fashion Week experience with all my favorite bloggers. Anything seems possible.”

Natalie beamed back at her. “Have you ever thought of starting your own?  Blog that is.”

Madeline stared at her mutely.

“I mean, I know you’re already in the world of fashion, pursuing an enviable career and everything.  It’s just that you seem to know a lot about the blogosphere.  I bet you’d have an amazing blog.”

“Well, to be honest,” Madeline said shyly, “I am playing around with the idea.”  She shrugged at Natalie meekly.  “Sasha told me she can introduce me to a website designer, and she knows a few good photographers that are willing to help me get started.”  She bit her lip.

Natalie hugged her new friend tightly.  “I’m so excited for you Madeline!  You have to tell me when you launch your website so I can start following you immediately.  When you’re ready, we can do some collaborations too.”

“Really?”  Madeline beamed at Natalie.  “I’d appreciate that so much.”  A bright blush bloomed on the girl’s face. 

They dove into chatter about tonight’s event, the last huge party before tomorrow’s closing show. After an hour, she glanced at her watch and said farewell to her friend. She had notes to type about the show and event yesterday. Her mind rolled over her mental to-do list. She’d shot some images on her phone that she wanted to edit and crop. Even if they weren’t on a fancy camera, she still made them look a piece of art on her blog.

When she got back to the penthouse, her heart fell once she realized he wasn’t there. Maybe he was shooting something for the magazine. She collapsed on her bed and then forced herself to open her laptop, fingers going wild on the falling caffeine rush in her system.

The red numbers of the alarm clock beside her flashed as her alarm to get ready went off. An hour before every event, but she’d set it two hours today. She wanted to look regal tonight. Her post was planned around mythology, and she hoped to appear as the walking image of a goddess from the city.  She had rented a green designer gown worthy of the stars, and she was filled with uncontainable excitement to wear it.  She had always dreamed of attending black tie events, and now she was going to be doing just that. The imaging in her mind unfurled as she hopped under the hot shower stream. Sweet pomegranate filled her lungs as she scrubbed her body on every inch.

As she let the water wash the suds down the drain, she stared at Oliver’s products lined up neatly in the shower. He bathed with an exclusive men’s line from Paris. She clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes. Of course, he did! Her fingers snapped up one of the bottles, the soap he lavished on himself every day. It smelled of spearmint. Her eyes drifted close as she inhaled the scent. 

Making sure to put everything back as it was, she dried off. She craned her head out into the room. He was nowhere to be seen, and it was still over an hour before the event. Her mind weighed the reasons. He must’ve gone early to set up, meaning she had the entire place to herself.

She slipped into the nicest underwear she’d brought, a nude lacy set that was nearly half a size too small after she’d dined on croissants every morning this week.  Whatever. She rang out her hair in the towel and tossed it over her shoulder, and looked around the bathroom for her bra.  Not able to locate it, she shrugged and got to work on her makeup instead.

As she put the last finishing touches on her eyes, her hands found her phone and turned on a jazzy station. She smiled at her reflection; face polished to perfection with soft touches of pink on the apples of her cheek. The facemask from the goodie bag they’d handed out last night made her face glow; she was definitely going on her blog about this great find. She made a mental note to jot that down in her notebook as she began to toss her hair to the side, singing along to the crooning siren in the song blaring from her phone.

It must’ve been too loud. Her mind must’ve been wrapped up in appreciation at her handiwork with her makeup. She must’ve been too pleased with the shade of red she’d picked out. Her thoughts must’ve been wrapped up in a thousand new ideas for her blog, creating content while she pondered over how to fix her hair for tonight.

She hadn’t heard the click of the bedroom door. She hadn’t heard him stomping through until his voice called out as he swung the door open.  She turned her body towards the door in shock.

“Woman, you’d better be done in here. I had to use Taylor’s shower because you were taking so damn long. Did you drown in-” Oliver’s rude question died in the air as he stopped dead in his tracks.

They stood in silence. Her mouth opened wide and stared at the towel around his waist, at his toned abs.  Madeline’s guess had been right.

His eyes were ablaze with nothing but hunger for an amateur. 

“I’m not dressed,” she managed in a soft voice. Her mind reeled from the shock of even being able to speak. The temperature shot up in the room.

“I can see that.” His reply suggested that he was only concentrating on that fact. The bathroom was warm, too warm even with nearly every inch of her flesh exposed.

“Oliver.” She hadn’t meant for his name to sound needed, wanted, lusted after in her voice. But, it came out like begging. Her body was making its stand. Logical wishes be damned.

“Christ,” he muttered. His eyes were trained squarely on her exposed breasts. Her cheeks burned with heat, but desire coiled hot in her core. Her mouth dried at the flicker in his eyes. The desire. A rush of feminine pride slammed into her. Her fingers feathered out over her collarbone, drawing his attention to the movement.

She wasn’t prepared to stare into his blue eyes. Icy during an average hour, but molten hot that very moment, resting on her and nobody else. Her knees threatened to give out underneath her. She swayed a hair, backing up against the slippery tiles and trying her best to muster a fiery look.

“See something you like, Mr. Professional?” Her breathy tone caused a spark of clarity to cut through his glazed eyes. He smirked and lifted his chin.

“I don’t see you running away,” he pointed out, and she tried to concentrate on the smugness dripping from him and not the water running along the ridges of his abs. His hand flexed on the towel around his waist, hovering above the knot that held the rest of his beautiful body away from her.

She swallowed as he caught her glancing to the movement. The wicked promise that flickered on his face nearly caused her to lose herself. She wasn’t going to pounce on him. Or that’s what she kept telling her burning limbs. Her skin longed to feel the brush of his heated flesh.

How would it feel to crush that irritating smirk against her lips?

“Natalie,” his rumbling voice tugged her out of her trance. Her eyes widened. He’d never used her name before. Her heart thumped loud against her chest. How could he not hear it? She sucked in a sharp breath as she met his gaze. All desire. All for her.

Her body was hot – hotter than it’d ever been. In front of him, she was vulnerable. Raw, brazen, all of the things he touted to hate.

But, her reaction to him saying her name. He licked his lips and said it again.  “Natalie.”

Arousal ran through her veins, throbbing painfully in the space between her thighs. She was crumbling, and he wasn’t even touching her.

He took a step toward her. The towel slipped lower around his waist. She bit her lip and glanced to the revealed expanse of flesh. A droplet of water rolled down his lower stomach to disappear into the fibers of the towel. She swallowed the hard lump in her throat as her eyes grazed over the bulge visible through the white fabric.

There was no point in saving face. Not with him saying her name as his own personal prayer.  He walked closer to her now. She trembled against the tile. Heat coursed through every nerve ending; she closed her eyes.

She felt him, hovering just before her. His towel was so close that it could brush up against her pelvis if he leaned forward another inch.  And then she felt it drop to the ground next to her feet.

“Open your eyes,” he whispered in a deep voice as he leaned forward to find her ear. She nearly jumped as his hot breath hit her ear.

With reluctant obedience, her eyelids fluttered open, and she found his eyes. Piercing and aimed straight at her.

“We’re going to have to revise the treaty,” she said with a weak punch of humor. His wicked mouth spewed something affirmative before crushing against her.

Molten lava surged through her veins. She gasped as he pressed against her, his erect member brushing against the thin fabric of her panties.  He pounced for advantage in her reaction and slipped his tongue into her mouth with a carnivorous growl. She moaned against his lips, searing hot against her, and rolled her pelvis into his.

He let out a low howl beneath his breath at the contact, ripping his head back to grunt in pleasure. His head snapped back to focus his laser vision on her, chest rising and falling with muscles rippling beneath his smooth skin.

“Woman, I intend to do every single thing I’ve wanted to do to your body until you scream my name loud enough for them to hear at the party,” he said in a husky whisper. “And we’re skipping the damn party.”

“Fine by me,” she muttered as his hands flew to dance up her sides. A low moan escaped her at the touch of his fingertips against her. “You’ve thought about this?”

“If you tell me that you haven’t then you’re lying to me again,” he mumbled lowly, kissing her neck with a smile on his lips. She writhed beneath him. He leaned against her, pinning her against the tiles. She cried out, arching her back, as his hardness pressed against her panties. His fingers slid down, and he smirked against her neck.

“Wet already,” he said with a dark laugh. “You can’t lie to me now.”

She bucked her hips into him, earning a hiss of pleasure. “Wasn’t going to.”

“Good,” he growled and captured her lips again. His hands gripped her head with delicious force, her hair tangling in his fingers as he pushed her against his kiss. Her tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip, and he groaned as she sucked it with soft pressure. “Was it fun torturing me this whole week?” His hoarse question rose into the air as he moved his kisses down her neck.

“Torturing you?” she asked, mind hazy as his tongue licked above the lace detail of her bra.

“Those shorts,” he said, tongue dipping to tease the edge of her nipple. She gasped in pleasure as he smirked against her skin. “That top. Knowing that you sleep just a few feet away from me.”

Her eyebrows lifted and then shot downward, eyes snapping shut in pleasure, as his fingers dove to grab her breast, caressing them both with a firm force, thumbs feathering over her nipples to harden them to nubs.