Touchdown Daddy (148 page)

Rachel lay in bed between Michael and Sloan. Both men had their arms draped around her. She stared up at the ceiling in a near dreamlike state. Her body was still humming from the erotic session she had engaged in. It was hard to believe that both Sloan and Michael wanted to have sex with her again.
Together
. Could she keep up with them? They implied that they wanted to continue this strange relationship long-term. Rachel nearly let out a laugh. A few days ago she had wished for a boyfriend. Now she would have two.
Incredible
.

Her bladder began to protest, and she shifted in an attempt to detangle herself from Sloan and Michael. Both men tightened their arms around her, preventing her from getting up. Michael lifted his head to look sleepily at her. “What is it?”

“I have to go to the bathroom, but you two are like logs.”

He grinned and lifted his arm then threw Sloan’s off as well. “Sorry.”

Rachel smiled and scooted out of bed and pulled on the shirt Michael had been wearing earlier. She went through the door instead of using the bathroom in their master bedroom. She found one down the hall and then decided to raid the kitchen. She didn’t think the men would mind. Scanning the refrigerator, Rachel frowned. All she saw were beer and energy drinks. If Michael and Sloan expected her to keep coming back, they would have to start stacking up on a few things like ice cream, any kind of cake and maybe a bottle of wine. 

“Okay, water it is.” She took out a bottle and retrieved a glass.  Taking small sips, her eyes roamed around the room that she was seeing for the first time.

“Who are you?” A deep, raspy voice startled her. She swung around and gasped at the sight of a strange man standing in the shadows. The glass slipped from her fingers and shattered on the tile. He was just as big as Sloan and Michael. Was there another housemate that she didn’t know about?

“Um, w-who are
you
?” She stammered. The sinister vibe that the stranger was giving off made her take a few retreating steps backward.

“I’m Ronan. I see the boys have a new playmate. Perhaps I can use you to make them see reason.”

“Huh?” Rachel didn’t have time to run. Ronan reached her in a split second and grasped her arm.

“You’re coming with me, girl.” Ronan spun her around, wrapped powerful arms around her waist and lifted her off the floor. She opened her mouth to scream but he clamped a hand over it. “Quiet, little girl,” he snapped. Rachel thrashed and kicked against his shins to no avail.

***

Sloan’s eyes snapped open when he heard a glass fall. The sound came from the kitchen. He sat up and glanced around, remembering that he was in Michael’s bedroom. He glanced down. Michael’s eyes were open, and Rachel was absent.

“Did you hear that?”

Michael nodded. He sniffed the air. “Ronan is here.”

Sloan sprang from the bed in alarm. “Where’s Rachel?” he asked, already running through the door. They reached the kitchen to find Ronan making his way to the door with Rachel. Relief flashed in her eyes when she saw them.

“Put her down, Ronan,” Michael growled. His eyes flashed a peridot green.

Rachel’s eyes widened when she saw Michael’s eyes transform. Ronan threw her to the floor, knowing he was no match for the two ancient dragon shifters. “Both of you stay back or I’ll turn the girl to ash!” Ronan shouted.

Sloan and Michael stopped. “She’s an innocent human, Ronan. You don’t want to hurt her.”

Rachel stared up at Ronan with terror. What did he mean he would turn her to ash? And why did Michael refer to her as human, as if he,
they
weren’t?

Ronan laughed. “I can smell both of you on her. She belongs to you both. I can use her to gain your allegiance. What will it be, boys? Fight with me and the girl lives. Refuse and I fry her.”

Sloan’s jaw clenched. He could see Ronan preparing to shift. “Well, Michael?” he asked. Michael was better with words. Sloan would just attack Ronan and bite his head off, but he didn’t want to risk Rachel getting hurt.

“How about you and I step outside and talk, Ronan? Your problem is with us. Leave the girl out of it.”

Rachel whimpered when Ronan took a step closer to her. Her eyes bulged when his face began to contort, taking on a serpent-like shape. A shrilling scream escaped her lips. She felt a hard body drop over her and roll her away from Ronan right as a blast of heat grazed her right arm. She lay still for a moment, her mind racing and trying to process what she had just seen. None of it could be real. She was still sleeping, and this was all a dream. It had to be.

“Rachel, are you alright?” Sloan peered into her eyes.

She nodded and looked to the right, her eyes widening when she saw a huge scorch mark in the spot she had just been laying. She looked further to see two giant creatures rolling in battle, destroying the kitchen. Sloan grasped her shoulders and hauled her to her feet. “Let’s get you out of here.”

“Where’s Michael?” she asked, as he pulled her out of the room and up the stairs.

Sloan shot her a quick glance, not sure how to answer. “He’s um- he’ll be fine.” He pulled her into a dark room.

Rachel clutched his hand tightly. “We shouldn’t have left him down there with those things, whatever they are. I can’t see you.”

Sloan flicked on the light. He shifted uneasily. “Michael can take care of himself.” He paused. “We didn’t want you to find out yet, not this way.”

She pulled her hand from his. “What are you talking about? And why aren’t we calling the police right now?”

“Rachel, I-” The door opened cutting him off. Michael stood in the doorway, chest heaving and blood dripping from scratch wounds on his chest. There was a feral look in his eyes that made Rachel drawback, seeking Sloan’s protection. His gaze shifted to her, and he instantly softened.

“Rachel, I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“F-for what?” Rachel asked, eyeing his wounds. She was immensely relieved that he was still alive. She inched around Sloan and approached Michael cautiously. “I’m glad you’re okay. But you’ve been wounded.”

“I’m fine.” His eyes met Sloan’s inquiring gaze over Rachel’s head. “He’s dead,” he said gruffly, answering the silent question.

Rachel sucked in a breath. Did Michael kill the man who had tried to take her? “Okay, what the hell is going on? Clearly I’m not dreaming, or I would have woken up by now. Who’s Ronan? What were those things in the kitchen and why did your eyes change color?” Rachel was staring pointedly at Michael.

He swallowed. “Ronan is- was one of us, a dragon shifter.”

Rachel gawked at him in disbelief. He must have received a blow to the head. But she had seen the two creatures with her own eyes. Maybe he wasn’t suffering from a concussion after all. She let out a breath. “I need to sit down.” She took the few steps to the bed and dropped down. She glanced at Michael. “So you changed into one of those creatures, a-a dragon?”

He cleared his throat. “Yes.”

Her eyes swung to Sloan. “You’re one too?” He nodded, his gray eyes searching her face. “How long have you two been like that?” They shared a look and turned back to her. Her eyes narrowed.
Was that amusement she saw on their faces?

“We were born dragon shifters,” Sloan volunteered.

“Oh. I know Michael is twenty-eight.” Was Sloan the same age?

Michael’s lips curved upward. “Actually, I’m a bit older than that.”

Her eyes widened. “You lied about your age?”

He shrugged. “I can’t go around telling people I’m two thousand years old.”

Sloan let out a laugh. “He’s too old for you, Rachel. You should stick with me. I’m only fifteen hundred.” Michael shot him a deadly look.

Rachel stared at them both, her mouth hanging open. There was no way they were being serious. “What did I get myself into?” she murmured. She took a deep breath. “Assuming that the both of you haven’t totally lost your minds and you’re telling the truth, does anyone else know what you are?”

Michael took a step forward. His eyes bore into her. “No, we keep what we are from humans. We move often to keep our secret.”

“So you’ll be leaving soon?” Rachel’s heart dropped. If she were smart, she would be happy to know they would leave. But she didn’t want them to go, to leave
her
. She had even accepted their offer to make their nights together long-term.

“We’ll have to leave eventually,” Sloan said, taking a seat beside her. “But we’re not going anywhere without you.”

“Which is why we will stick around for a while until we convince you that the three of us belong together, and you will hopefully be willing to go with us,” Michael added.

Rachel looked from Michael to Sloan. There was no hint of humor on either’s expression. “You’re staying for
me
?” It was probably one of the most romantic things any man could do for a woman. And here she had
two
men willing to stay for her. Sure, she had to digest the knowledge that they weren’t entirely human. She should be freaking out at the moment, but she was oddly calm, which surprised her.

Sloan smiled. “We won’t let you go. I was jealous of you and Michael in the beginning, but now I see that we can make things between the three of us work. We can be happy together.”

Rachel swallowed. God help her, she wanted this, wanted to be with them. It didn’t matter if they weren’t human. A rush of excitement went through her at the risk she was going to take. “Okay,” she whispered. “I don’t want to leave Denver just yet, though.”

Michael grinned. “Fine by us. Let’s go back to bed. I’m feeling wound up after my little fight.” His eyes twinkled with carnal desire.

“Wait, we’re just going to leave a dead
dragon
in the kitchen?”

Sloan stood up. “We’ll clean up a bit later.”

Both men held their hands out to her. She stared at the outstretched hands for a few seconds before accepting. She had to see where things would lead with them. Michael and Sloan’s fingers wrapped around each of her hands, sealing their bond.

*****

THE END

Bonus Book 31: Basketball Daddy

By:
Ava Walsh

Description

He’s every woman’s dream. And he’s making me an offer I can’t refuse

Tamsin Clarkson has got her lucky break. She’s the journalist who is chosen to interview the winning team in the NBA semi-finals. This is exactly the boost she needs for her career.

Finding herself in the locker room after the game, she is confronted with superstar and notorious bad boy Crosby Jones. She’s supposed to interview him, but it’s a little difficult to concentrate when he’s in the shower... right in front of her.

He agrees to give her an exclusive feature article that she could never have imagined in her wildest dreams, but only if she gives him what he wants first: herself.

Tamsin agrees to the deal, but soon has to face the consequences: a surprise pregnancy.

She doesn’t tell him about it and breaks off all contact because she’s convinced that he doesn’t want the baby. Or is there a chance that he does?

Tamsin can’t afford to make another mistake—especially since she’s still dealing with Adam, her creepy one night stand who won’t stop texting her.

Adam is harmless though, right?

Tamsin was afraid she’d break a nail at the rate at which she was twisting her fingers from nervousness. Whatever happened, she had to be calm, she knew that. It was her first time on an assignment like this one, where she actually got to interview a team after the game in their locker room. The worst thing she could do was appear nervous and mess it up.

She was standing at the door of the locker room, waiting for the team to come back in. The loud cheers from the stadium made it evident that the fans were not ready for the team to leave yet after their win. That was okay, Tamsin could wait. The longer they took to return, the more time she would have to soothe her nerves.

The phone in her bag vibrated and she felt it move against her thigh. Tamsin pulled it out irritably. She didn’t need any more distractions.

Ver R U? answr nw

She couldn’t believe Adam had actually got himself a new number, since she’d blocked his old one. He couldn’t even write a complete sentence without dropping all the vowels. Tamsin rolled her eyes, as annoyed with herself as she was with him. What had she been thinking? Why had she agreed to a one-night stand with a random guy she met at a bar?

She deleted the text, dropped the phone back into her bag and leaned against the doorway.

The cheering from the crowd grew louder. This victory meant the team had made it to the semi-finals. Tamsin went from screwing up her fingers to biting her nails. She could feel the vibration of the floor as the team made its way back in.

Ever since she was a little girl, all she had wanted was to be a sports journalist, to cover NBA games and meet some of her favorite players, and it was happening now. This was her chance.

The team appeared at the end of the corridor. The guys were in their red and black jerseys, with their manager, coach and other supporters behind them. High fives were flying around, and she could see the sweat dripping down their hair, down their temples, soaking their jerseys. To Tamsin, they looked like warriors, like heroes, and they were making their way towards her.

That was when she saw him for the first time in real life. Crosby Jones. The guy had been an inspiration to her and many others. At the tender age of eighteen, Crosby had entered the NBA, having been scouted in college, and had become a national star in no time.

Now, six years later, he was a veteran but still going strong. Tamsin couldn’t help but smile at them. They were approaching her in a huddle, and she stood frozen at the spot.

“Are you Tamsin Clarkson?” somebody asked her, but she remained staring at the guys, following their every movement with bewildered eyes. Her dream had come true.

“Excuse me, miss. Are you Tamsin Clarkson?” The voice interrupted her thoughts again and she turned to find the manager of the team standing there with his arms crossed, glaring at her.

“Uhh…yes, I am.” She was fumbling with her words, still trying to get her bearings and shake herself out of the daze.

“Yes. I was told you’d be here. We don’t have much time for you, Miss Clarkson. Just a quick interview with the coach and a few of the players will have to do.” He started to walk into the locker room and Tamsin followed him, fumbling with her notebook and pen in her bag.

“Of course. I was promised an exclusive with Crosby Jones as well,” she said, still nervous as hell.

“Crosby doesn’t have time, Miss Clarkson. The coach will have to do for now.” He turned to her with an icy smile as he navigated his way through the people in the locker room. She wasn’t really paying much attention to what he had to say. All she could do was look around her in awe.

“Time for what?” someone asked and Tamsin jerked her head to look at Crosby standing in front of his locker. His shirt was off, and he was standing with his hands planted on his hips. Tamsin could feel her cheeks grow warm. She had never thought she would ever meet him in person, and here he was in his full bare glory.

Crosby towered over her by at least a foot, his pale skin was tanned and the muscles on his bare chest and arms were flexed. As he looked at her with curiosity in his eyes, she could see that his green eyes sparkled. Strands of his blond, shining hair fell over his eyes as he examined her. Sweat glistened on his forehead and his bare torso. Tamsin could feel her belly flop. He was the hottest guy she had ever set her eyes on. No wonder he had the reputation he had, of making women drop their panties with just one look.

What she wasn’t expecting was for him to smile. It was wide, displaying his neat, white teeth, and it overtook his face. She felt like she wouldn’t have the courage to say a word.

“She’s just here for an interview. Don’t worry about it, she can talk to the coach,” the manager answered and was starting to direct Tamsin away from him again. But their eyes were locked, and she could see that he was sizing her up. His eyes lingered on her breasts, then traveled to her face, while she grew even warmer and bit down on her lip.

“No. I have time. Hello, I’m Crosby Jones,” he said and stuck out his hand towards her, and Tamsin froze again. Why was he introducing himself to her? Of course she knew his name. Who didn’t?

“Tamsin. Tamsin Clarkson,” she said meekly, shaking his hand. His hand was large, double the size of her own and he shook it gently but firmly at the same time. Tamsin felt a shiver run down her spine. He was gorgeous.

“Crosby, you don’t have to.” She heard the manager’s voice behind her.

“I want to. Follow me, Tamsin. I need a quick shower,” he said, and walked past her, flinging a towel over his shoulder. She turned and followed him, at a loss for words still. Her mind wasn’t connecting to the rest of her body, and her limbs moved mechanically while her thoughts were elsewhere. Shower? Crosby? Those shoulders! She was drooling.

He stopped in front of a shower cubicle, exchanging a quick high-five with one of his teammates.

“Now, shoot,” he said, and stepped into the shower. He was still in his jersey shorts and for that Tamsin was thankful. She could feel her hands shaking. She fumbled with her notebook and pen. The curtain of the cubicle wasn’t drawn so she could see him position himself under the shower head. He was facing her, that same smile on his face, his eyes scrutinizing her every move.

“I…I wanted to do a piece about your inspiration, your motivation…and…” Tamsin was trying to get the words out, but they wouldn’t come, and her eyes were fixed on him.

And then she watched as he hooked the elastic band of his shorts with his thumbs and slowly pulled them down so they fell around his ankles. Crosby Jones was naked in front of her, with his legs spread wide apart and planted firmly on the tiles. In a second he had turned the shower on. Her eyes were fixed on his nakedness, on his big, thick dick throbbing between his legs. When she looked back at his face, she realized that he wasn’t looking at her.

He was massaging his head with the froth of the shampoo, completely oblivious to the way that Tamsin was gawking at him.

“My inspiration and motivation? So this isn’t a regular after-game interview?” she heard him ask, and it snapped her out of her thoughts. He had his eyes closed to shield himself against the torrent of water, and Tamsin cleared her throat. She needed to focus. This was normal locker-room life for him. She needed to act naturally if she wanted this interview to be a success.

“No. I mean, it can be, but I wanted to write a feature. About your life and childhood, and anything else you want to talk about.” She was still struggling with her words, but she was forcing herself to get through this. She was a professional after all, and she needed to come across as one if she was to be taken seriously.

“Those are high ambitions,” he said with a laugh, and Tamsin felt even more nervous. Could he tell that she was just a rookie?

“I don’t know if I want to talk about all that right after a game, when I should be celebrating.” Crosby turned off the shower and looked at her with a smile. His green eyes were shining and he didn’t look annoyed or arrogant, like many other small-time sportsmen and women that Tamsin had had to deal with before. How had the money and fame not gone to Crosby’s head? She was growing genuinely curious about the man’s life and personality. He was known to be media shy. He didn’t like interviews. Even though he was one of the biggest basketball players in the country, people didn’t know much about him. Other than, of course, the paparazzi photos of him with a new supermodel in his arms on a secluded beach in the Caribbean every few months.

She hadn’t expected him to cooperate. This was Crosby Jones. Who was she kidding? But she was taking her chances. He would say no to the interview and then she’d go and interview the coach. That was the worst that could happen, and that wasn’t so bad.

“I’ll tell you what, Tamsin Clarkson,” Crosby said, reaching for the dry towel he had hung on the hook. Her eyes widened as she looked at him. “We can do this feature article you’re talking about. Under certain conditions of course,” he said, rubbing his hair with the towel. She could feel her knees shaking. What did he mean?

“What conditions?” she asked, and he turned to her with a smirk.

“First, we decide on the line of questioning together. Second, the interview takes place later, not now,” he said, stepping out of the shower. He had come to a stop in front of her, just inches away from her body, so that Tamsin’s face was now level with his naked chest. She had done a good job of ignoring his body up until now, though, and she tried to keep her gaze focused on his face instead.

“I can agree to that, but you can’t edit the answers. We can decide the questions together, but what I record and write, I print.” Tamsin crossed her arms across her chest and caught him looking. He smiled again and then brushed past her.

“My house this Sunday. Five PM. I’ll be expecting you, Tamsin Clarkson,” Crosby said as he walked away from her, leaving her standing in front of the shower cubicle. He didn’t wait for a response or even a nod. He was gone as quickly as he had appeared. She could hardly believe any of those things had happened. It was like a dream. Was Crosby Jones even real? Why had he agreed to the interview? Was it some kind of trick? Was her mind deceiving her? There was only one way to find out. Sunday was only two days away.

Her phone vibrated, jerking her out of her reverie. It was Adam again.

I wil fnd u