Know When to Hold Him (18 page)

Liam lifted his hand and brushed a lock of hair away from her face before he kissed her, owning her mouth as well as everything else.

The intensity grew, like a large, looming wave. He reached down and rubbed the spot still plump and sensitive from his tongue. It was like setting off a fuse. Wracked by pleasure, she set off a chain reaction in him as he came inside her, shuddering and crying out.

For several minutes, they lay, breathless and trembling in each other’s arms. Then he pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before leaving her for a moment. Within a few seconds, he was back in her arms, and she stroked his back, loving the grace and strength under her hands.

The sunlight had lengthened in the hotel room. Shadows danced around, creating an intimate haze. Or maybe that was just Spencer’s post-amazing-sex brain that was lazily processing all her senses.
Overload.

And maybe that was why, when Liam pulled her a little tighter to his chest and whispered “Thank you,” she laughed. Not a coy chuckle, or a girlish giggle. A loud guffaw. Spencer wrapped her arms around him and planted a kiss on his neck and laughed. Liam was amazing. Simply amazing.

He squeezed her tighter. “I hope this laughing isn’t something I should worry about.” Spencer shook her head as the happiness welled up in her.

“What are you thanking me for?” she asked, propping herself up so she could see his face. He brushed her hair back and tucked it behind her ear.

“For inviting me tonight.” Liam’s face was solemn. And right then, Spencer saw that he had feared she would never make this decision. That she wouldn’t choose him. Which was just about the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard.

“Of course,” she said in a soft voice, praying that he recognized her sincerity. “I think you and I were a foregone conclusion.”

Liam’s brows drew together as if she was speaking Chinese. “Since when?”

Since birth
. “Since we met.”

Liam still couldn’t keep the incredulity off his face. “Since I punched your date?”

“Since you helped me. No questions asked.” She remembered their seamless teamwork at the benefit. They had trusted each other instinctively.

“Since you beat me at poker?” There was a tease in his question.

“It was almost a tie,” Spencer acknowledged, fair for once.

Liam’s hand traveled lazily up and down her spine. “We’ll have to play again some time.” There was a naughty glint in his eye. Spencer arched her brow at his expression as much as the hand that was drifting over her bottom. “Strip poker.”

Spencer wasn’t surprised at the suggestion. She was surprised that she liked the idea so much. She, who never played a game unless she was assured of victory. But of course, there would be no losers in a game of strip poker with him. They’d both come out as winners. Win-win.

She drew a lazy finger around the bright green shamrock tattoo on his chest. “What’s this for?”

“Luck.”

Spencer shook her head. As if this man needed luck. “I wanted to do this since I first saw you in the pool.”

“What?”

“Touch your tattoos.”
With my tongue.
Spencer pulled away a bit so she could focus on his left shoulder and the tattoo that covered it. A muscular, sinuous tiger prowled down Liam’s shoulder, an elegant tail sweeping behind him. The tattoo was done mostly in black, with only the tiger’s eyes in gold. Spencer indulged her fantasy and slowly explored the design, stretched over warm skin and sculpted muscles.

Liam stayed still, watching her trace the lines with her fingertips.

“What’s this for?” she asked, before giving the tiger a little kiss on the nose.

“A bunch of the guys on the team got them Senior year.”

“Missouri Tigers.”

“Yeah. Kinda dumb.”

“No.”

“No?”

“This tiger kind of drives me crazy.”

Liam chuckled.

“Turn around,” Spencer ordered, pushing up on his shoulder. He rolled onto his left side, so she could see his back, and the large design that was inked from shoulder to shoulder.

He answered her question before she asked it. “I lived in Seattle for four years.”

The black, white, and red design was intricate and geometric, a beautiful Native American totem design with wings stretched across Liam’s sculpted back and the head of an eagle that reached up to the bottom of his very sexy neck.

Spencer couldn’t help herself. She spooned behind him and started placing kisses along his spine and rubbing her hands up and down his back. She was making this hers.

Liam shivered and twisted so that he was lying on his right side. They were nose to nose and he put his hands on her waist and pulled them together so that his rapidly recovered length was apparent. Spencer’s lazy fingers traced his right shoulder and arm.

“Why is this spot empty?” Although no ink graced this part of his body, Spencer didn’t find it any less erotic. She still wanted to lick it, touch it, claim the bare skin.

Liam went a long time before answering. Long enough that Spencer decided to start kissing the shamrock again, seductively moving up to the tiger tail, enjoying the sensation of him rising, harder, against her.

“I was saving it,” Liam finally said, in a voice that seemed off somehow.

“For what?” Spencer’s voice was husky against warm, tan skin. Then she squealed and forgot her question as Liam grabbed her and settled her on top of him.

Her thighs stretched along the sides of his hips. She had a perfect view of his perfect body. Nothing could be more erotic.

…

It was intoxicating to watch the naked woman on top of him. Spencer’s long hair hung loose and messy, reminding Liam of the way she shook her head back and forth when he made her come. Her breasts had faint pink streaks where he had used his lips and teeth and beard to make her cry out. Her legs were spread, just for him, fitting him perfectly.

Just as he wanted.

He took in all of the intimate details, just for him. His hand caressed her right thigh, the way the curve fit just so in his palm.

“And this is from your accident…” The words were an echo of her questions about his tattoos, their pasts.

She paused but answered. “It’s not such a big deal.”

Liam frowned at her nonchalance. “I thought you were nearly killed.”

“But I survived that. It’s what came after that was hard to overcome.” Her voice lowered, softened. Liam took her hand and squeezed it, as if all his support and love could go back in time and help her battle those demons in her past.

“From where I stand, you overcame it all.”

She smiled as though she was embarrassed. “I spent some time in therapy. I worked through it. I learned coping mechanisms.”

“Car accidents can be traumatic.”

She half-laughed then. “The coping mechanisms weren’t for the accident.” Liam didn’t understand that response and was going to ask her something else, but she moved along the length of him, sliding her wet heat over him and basically all reasonable thoughts went
poof
. He needed her again. Now.

“God, Spencer,” he groaned as she took him in her hand.

“Yes, Liam.” She reached to the nightstand, pulled out a condom, and then guided him where she wanted him.

…

The next morning, Spencer waited until they were showered and dressed to address the elephant in the room. “Should we…”

“Yeah.” The single word wasn’t enthusiastic. “We should.”

They each sat down on the side of the bed. Shoulder to shoulder. It was time to face this. “So. Maybe some ground rules?”

“Probably.”

“What happens in the bedroom stays in the bedroom,” Liam suggested.

“What happens downstairs stays downstairs,” Spencer agreed. “We don’t get mad when the other person is a zealous advocate for their client.”

“Or when the other client is unreasonable.”

Spencer nodded. “Sounds reasonable.” It all sounded reasonable to the nth degree. Why hadn’t they just agreed on these rules before?

Because she hadn’t known what it would be like. She hadn’t known she could trust him to accept her as she was. Hadn’t known she could trust herself to rise above the battle.

“I gave you an ultimatum,” she reminded him, wondering what his reaction would be now, after they’d had sex. After ground rules.

“You did.”

“Tomorrow’s the Draft.” As if either of them needed a reminder. There had been a giant ticking clock over the relationship since she’d stormed into his conference room.

“It is.”

Spencer pulled back to see his face, needing to see more when his answers were so vague. The usual ferocity in his face had transformed into something equally determined, yet quieter, more steadfast. “I’m not backing down,” she reminded him.

“I don’t want you to,” Liam sighed. “It’s who you are. It’s who we are.” He was so matter of fact. He amazed her.

A dry laugh escaped Spencer. Not many men would be ok with their competition. Not many men would want her to keep going. But Liam was competitive and driven, and he loved the same in her. It was a revelation.

They could do this.

She offered her hand and he took it, pumping a semi-aggressive handshake. “See you on the field,” she said.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Working a room came naturally to Spencer. After all, it had been part of her job description since she was old enough to say, “Yes ma’am,” “Thank you sir,” and “Vote for Hightower.” The room of NFL movers and shakers had nothing on the crafty faces of the Republican National Convention. A pretty smile, a friendly hug, “Oh, yes, do you know so-and-so?” “Oh, Franklin, you’re too kind.”

“A lifesaver, that’s what this one is,” Franklin crowed. A modest smile. An introduction. Cowboys, Jets, Packers. But do you know? Chargers, 49ers, Dolphins. And those are just the owners Spencer hadn’t spent her life knowing. Besides Franklin Mahoney, she had one other unsuspecting ally. Lamar Williams, Jr. Classmate at Harvard. Heir to one of the largest sports dynasties in the country. She let him buy her a drink.

“What are you up to at the Draft?” Lamar asked. “I didn’t realize you were into football.”

“I’m from Texas, Lamar. Aren’t we all into football?”

Lamar cocked his head. “That’s what I hear.”

“I have a client,” Spencer decided to reveal. He had bought her a drink, after all.

“Of course you do.” Lamar regarded all the hustle and bustle in the room, obviously speculating. “I just wish I’d thought to hire you first. What are you looking for? Dirt?” Lamar narrowed his eyes. “No. I bet you already know the dirt.”

“All the bodies, and where they’re buried.” Spencer winked.

Lamar chuckled. “Do my scouts know what you know?” When Spencer just gave him a cryptic smile, Lamar just laughed louder.

“I’ll tell you what. Since we’re friends. I’ll give you one on the house.”

That got Lamar’s attention. “What do you want from me?”

Spencer shrugged and took a sip of her drink. “Nothing. For now…” Her lashes fluttered suggestively. “Like I said, everyone’s into football in Texas. Someday, you’ll owe me a favor.”

When Lamar nodded, Spencer leaned in, like she was about to share some juicy gossip. “Tell me who you’re looking at.”

“First round…” Lamar gave her a name.

Spencer twisted her face.

“What?” Lamar asked. “My scouts said he had the best pre-Draft assessments of the wide receivers.”

“He was arrested for drunk driving last month in Houston.”

Lamar waved his hand. “This is the NFL. Who hasn’t had some kind of arrest?”

Spencer took another sip. “Sure… But why take a chance on someone who’s going to be nothing but a legal and PR nightmare? He could miss games… Marketing can’t deal with a constant pain like that and the sponsors… Who’s your big sponsor again?”

“Anheiser-Busch,” was Lamar’s reluctant answer.

Spencer raised her hands, palms up, as if she were weighing two equal options. “Beer money…drunk driving…” Then she shrugged. “But if he has good stats…”

Lamar sighed and stabbed the ice cubes in his now empty highball with his cocktail stirrer. “So what should I do?”

Spencer pretended to give it some thought. “Isn’t there a player…he’s been doing all that community service on TV? What’s his name again?”

“Troy Duncan?” Lamar asked.

Spencer snapped her fingers. “That’s him. He sounds like he’d be a good bet.”

“Wasn’t there something about him and some women? In
Scandals Magazine
?”

“Oh, Lamar, you know you can’t trust those tabloids.”

Five minutes later, Lamar had left to find his scouts. His place was quickly filled by the coach from the team scheduled for the second pick of the Draft. He had formerly coached at the University of Texas, so they soon found much to talk about, and the conversation drifted around to the Big 12 recruits. “It must be so hard to find a good Draft pick,” Spencer sighed. “I mean, especially with the pot smoking being such an epidemic in the conference.”

The coach chuckled. “Everyone knows, if you have a choice, you go with the pot smokers. They’re a lot less trouble than the guys who have dabbled with the harder stuff.”

“I can see that,” Spencer conceded. “But my background is politics. And with marijuana legalization being such a hot political topic these days, I would just hate for one of my players to get all outspoken about it. The conservative groups would have a field day.” The coach’s brow furrowed.

“We had an issue like that last season. With gay marriage.”

Spencer made a sympathetic noise. “That must have been rough. Too bad they can’t all just be squeaky clean Boy Scouts, right? That would solve so many problems.” The coach nodded, deep in thought and a few minutes later, excused himself to make a phone call.

…

Liam held up a hand to the Frito Lay guy. He couldn’t chat about Chester Cheetah now.

“Talk to me,” he said to the OPM intern on the other end of his phone line.

“She’s here.”

“And?” Frustration welled. “What’s she doing?”

“Nothing really. Just talking to owners, coaches, scouts.”

Liam cursed. “Is she with Mahoney?”

“She was. He left about twenty minutes ago with his offensive coordinator.”

“What about Zablowski? Did she talk to him?”

“Yeah.”

“Is he still there?”

“No, I think he left, too. He was on his phone. He probably had an important call.”

“Anyone from Pittsburgh?”

There was an unnecessarily long pause. Interns were freaking useless. Finally, an answer. “She’s with him now. Just a junior scout, though. They look like they’re exchanging numbers. No.” A new pause left Liam’s right hand clenching into a useless fist. “She’s showing him something on her phone. Now they’re laughing.”

Liam cursed creatively this time as his imagination took over. Spencer, huddled with the NFL owners, laughing at Dalynn’s pictures, possible kiddie porn charges waved off by guys with money enough to buy themselves a sheriff or two. And all the while he was here, staring at a poster of a day-glo jungle cat in wraparounds.

He needed to be everywhere, all at once. Because clearly, interns were not capable of doing the job of keeping Spencer Hightower on lockdown.

Not like he was any more capable of that task.
Still.

Then the dumbass intern had the nerve to complain about the assignment. Frito Lay was lucky he had the self-control to not punch an advertisement for baked cheese snacks.

“Do you remember what I said to you about researching the competition?” Liam asked the useless pair of eyes he’d posted on the one person he wanted to see today.

“Yeah.”

“Welcome to research, buddy.” There was a loud roar around Liam as an All-Star client was being introduced to a hall of very hungry potato chip lovers. “Gotta go babysit. Stay with her. I want a report every thirty minutes.”

Liam checked his watch. If Spencer was doing what he was pretty sure she was doing, a report wouldn’t help him in the slightest.

…

A Buccaneer, a Patriot, and a Cowboy walked into a bar…

Franklin Mahoney was on his way over to her. For the ten thousandth time, she smiled sweetly at an old man. She’d learned the power of that act from a very early age. Coming from a pretty girl? No man could resist.

Franklin Mahoney was no exception. “You must be bored out of your mind,” Franklin was the very picture of a concerned gentleman. “I’m so sorry I had to leave earlier.”

“That’s fine. Just had some very interesting conversations about the Draft. I never knew it was so complicated to select football players! And so political! My father would be out of his league here!”

Franklin chuckled. “It is. It is.”

“But you have the first pick, right?” Spencer asked. “So all the talk shouldn’t matter to you! What a great situation to be in.”

Franklin may have been pushing eighty, but he was sharp and his hearing was just fine. “What talk? What have you heard?”

Spencer took a sip of her drink. She had switched to club soda with a twist about four conversations ago. She couldn’t afford to let alcohol affect her game. “I keep hearing the name Troy Duncan…”

“The quarterback from Dallas State?” Mahoney clarified. “The one with the three thousand yards last season?”

“Oh, gosh, I don’t know about all that. But what I do know is, if what I’m hearing about this man’s character and work ethic are true? Well, you can’t buy yourself that kind of good publicity. In my line of work, that’s what we call a good investment.”

Mahoney stared at her with a glint in his eye. “You didn’t steer me wrong with the Stadium. All those folks told me, go ahead, Franklin, just buy the land, you can do what you want with it. But you. You were the only one who recognized what the neighborhood was going to do. What the press was going to do.”

“Franklin…” Spencer sat back in her chair. “Like I said, I don’t know anything about football. You have lots of people on the payroll who can tell you about touchdowns and interceptions.”

As canny as ever, Mahoney shook a finger at her. “So why are you here, Ms. Hightower? If you don’t know so much about football?”

Spencer leaned over the table and spoke in a confidential tone. “Just between you and me?” Franklin nodded, sealing the conspiracy. Spencer glanced around. “I have a pregnant client, and the presumed father is here.”

Chuckling, Mahoney sat back. “With you on the case? I feel sorry for that poor bastard. But around here, he’s just part of the club.”