Jock: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (19 page)

W
e’re not done
after the couch. Or after the shower, where he takes me up against the wall with his lips on my ear and his fingers teasing my clit.

Actually, we’re not done after the bed either, where he drags it out - turning me into a quivering, whimpering puddle before we crash together one last time.

After that, we sleep like the dead.

It’s light out when I wake up in his bed, nestled in his arms. And for a moment, there’s a flashback to that time back at the hotel in Denver - the time I told myself this was a one-time thing, and to just enjoy it for the moment before it was done and just a memory.

Yeah, so much for that idea.

Here in his bed, he feels warm. He doesn’t feel like a scandal, or a conflict of interest, or a breach of contract.

He just feels right.

One of his arms lazily slides over me as he grunts in his sleep. The stubble of his chin rasps against my shoulder as he draws me close.

I can feel his cock, half-hard against my ass, and I close my eyes as I ease back into it, feeling him pulse a little against me.

God, who
am
I?

It’s like he’s awoken some sort of sex goddess within me - apparently one with an insatiable appetite for him, because here I am after going three rounds last night and I still want more.

And I want it now.

I bite my lip as I reach back, my fingers circling around his cock. I stroke him softly, my pulse pounding in my ears as I feel him start to get harder and harder against me.

Feeling the thrill pulse through me, I reach down between my legs with my other hand.

I’m
so
wet.

My finger slides easily between my lips, slipping through my slick heat and finding my clit. I rub myself slowly as I stroke him, until he’s throbbing hard in hand.

And he’s still asleep.

I shift in his arms, feeling my heart jump up in my throat as I arch my back and push my hips back. I use my fingers to spread myself, easing back until I can feel his head nestled against my pussy.

I slowly push back.

Oh, fuck.

I close my eyes in sweet bliss as I slowly push back, taking a half inch at a time as I hold in the moan.

There’s something hot about the fact that he’s still sleeping. Something so wicked and dirty thinking about him waking with his cock already inside me.

Somehow, I don’t think he’ll be complaining.

I only make it another inch though before I suddenly feel him shift behind me. There’s a grunt and then suddenly, his arms are tightening around me as his lips move against my ear.

“Jesus Christ, you’re insatiable.”

“Sorry,” I pant, finally letting the moan out.

“Don’t be.”

He rocks his hips forward, and I cry out as he buries the last of his cock inside of me.

We start to move slowly, both of us on our sides as he slowly pumps in and out of my slick heat. His fingers move between my legs, rolling over my clit as he slowly rocks in time with my body, pumping in and out of me.

Suddenly, he’s rolling us over.

I moan as I find myself on my stomach with him on top of me, his weight on his arms on either side of me. He slides one hand down my spine and then pulls my ass back and up, my face still in the sheets as I feel him ease his cock into me again.

He starts to fuck me like that, pumping deep and slowly. He’s hovering above me like that with both hands on either side of my shoulders - taking me, claiming me. I reach back with my hands, whimpering and playing with my clit as he pushes me further and further towards that edge.

He rights himself into a kneeling position behind me as he starts to move faster. His hands grab my ass, holding me tight in his hands as he pumps in and out in perfect rhythm as I start to fall.

My fingers dance over my clit as I feel myself start to slide, and when he growls and grabs my hips as he pumps in deep, I lose it completely.

I come, crashing, gasping, and clawing at the sheets as I feel him throb as he empties his cum deep inside of me.

We collapse onto the bed.

“I’m not going to survive you,” he groans.

I giggle, rolling on top of him and kissing him.

“Just trying to keep you here.”

He smirks.

“Oh, right, it’s all for the team is it?”

“Oh, totally. Why on earth else would I be sleeping with you,” I say with a grin, watching the corners of his mouth curl up.

“Just going that extra mile, huh?”

“Oh, always.”

He perks a brow up. “So is this this how you keep
all
your players?”

I punch his arm as he laughs.

“No
, actually,” I say, needling him with my finger as he laughs and kisses me. “Dick.”

He wags his brows. “Hey, you know where to find it.”

My cheeks go red. After having him take me every which way
four
times over the last ten hours or so, here I am
blushing
at one dirty comment of his.

“Okay,” I sit up, letting my eyes trail over his impeccable body.

“I need coffee.”

He groans. “Absolutely.”

He starts to sit up, but I push him back into the bed as I lean down to peck his cheek.

“Sit tight, I’ll make it.”

Holden laughs as I slip from his bed.

“Okay now
this
is service. That’s it, I’m yours.”

I roll my eyes. “Right, cause fucking you four times wasn’t enough?”

He grins.

“Gotta have my coffee.”

I roll my eyes again as I pad nude through his condo, a huge grin across my face.

And that smile stays there through grinding the beans, filling the filter, and setting the water. It’s still there as I listen to the burbling of the coffee streaming down into the pot, all the way until I glance over at the big butcher-block kitchen island.

The one covered in paperwork.

I frown as I step towards it, knowing I’m being nosey, but also knowing when I see a sports-related legal contract when I see one.

And suddenly, the smile drops from my lips as my heart
sinks.

“Dissolution of Contract and Forfeiture of Dues and Earnings”

I don’t have to read the one next to it with the Rattlesnakes logo on the top to know
exactly
what’s going on here.

That
asshole
.

That
fucking
asshole.

My clothes are still strewn across the kitchen from last night, and I quickly put them on, my head reeling and my heart sinking through the floor.

This was a mistake.

All of it.

This was me thinking with my heart and going with “feelings” instead of just doing what I do best and sticking to the hard numbers. And the numbers say getting mixed up with Holden Cade was
exactly
the big mistake I could have told myself it’d be.

And yet I fell right into it.

Fine, let him leave.

I don’t say word as I slam the door to his apartment shut behind me.

A
fter a week
, I get the message.

Believe me, I get it.

A week after she storms out of my place, and a week after ignoring phone calls, texts, and even me being a total douche and knocking on her fucking office door, the message is pretty fucking clear.

She’s pissed. I mean, of course she’s pissed, after bending over backwards to get me to sign, only to have me go ahead and look into skipping out. Hell, I only had Randy get those papers together because I was curious. But “just curious” still meant they were sitting out on my kitchen counter for London to walk right into.

And the weird thing is, I’ve never felt bad about a girl leaving. In fact, it’s usually a good thing when one does. Hell, it’s usually exactly how I want things like this to end. Because the
girl
walking out leaves me feeling like the good guy, even if I’m the one that drove her away.

Guys are fucking weird, what can I say.

Except I don’t feel good right now.

In fact, I don’t actually know
what
to feel right now.

* * *

“
S
o
, how’s Texas, you big asshole.”

I hoot out a laugh as I pant, sucking in air after stopping mid-run to pick up the phone call from Max.

“Fucking
hot.
”

“You wearing cowboy hats and going line-dancing yet? Carrying a gun around in your pickup truck?”

“Dude, it’s
Houston.
It’s not exactly the wild west out here.”

Max chuckles his token rumbling laugh.

“Well listen, cowboy, what are you up to this weekend?”

“Eh, the usual I guess,” I lie.

The usual would be getting shit-housed drunk and seeing which particularly eager club girl would let me fuck her and her friend in the VIP booth. The usual would be me waking up hungover and hurting in a stranger’s bed ready to do the whole thing all over again.

Somehow, that’s changed recently.

In fact, I haven’t gone out
once
the last week or so. Hell, I’ve barely been drinking at all either, which is strangely a
healthy
feeling.

But it also means that in a brand new city, playing for a new team I haven’t met yet, and with the one person I
do
know basically wanting nothing to do with me now, I’ve just been
bored
.

“Well, if your dick and your liver can take a break for a few days, we were thinking about maybe coming down to check on you.”

I grin widely, my eyes lighting up.

“
We?
As in you and Hannah and the girls?” I say eagerly, not even bothering to keep the excitement out of my voice.

“Alright, Alright; simmer down,” Max mutters.

“We’re coming down to see Hannah’s sister. You’re just the day-trip, so don’t let it go to your head.”

I grin.

“Hannah’s sister lives in Florida.”

I know this, because I once tried to get her into bed at Max’s birthday party before Hannah promised me she’d cut my dick off if I touched her sister.

…The woman can be
extremely
convincing when she wants to be.

“Well, I- you know, she’s uh…”

Max starts to stumble over words as I start to laugh.

“Aww you big fucking softy. Did you miss me, buddy?”

“
No,
” Max huffs.

I chuckle as I grab a seat on a park bench.

“It’s okay, Max, I won’t tell everyone what a big emotional teddy bear you are - missing your good buddy Holden and all.”

Max growls. “It’s more to check in with you to make sure you’re not drinking yourself to death.”

“Max, you can just say you miss me, it’s okay,” I say as earnestly as possible with the big grin on my face. “You know, it takes a big man to admit how much he loves another-”

“I could always take the girls to Disneyworld instead, douchebag.”

I laugh, shaking my head.

“Dude, I’d love if you guys came. I’m fucking dying on the vine down here.”

“You going to behave?”

“My best behavior. Besides, Disneyworld is over-rated.”

Max laughs.

“Alright, we’ll see you Friday then. And Holden?”

I can almost
feel
the glare through the phone.

“Tone it down while we’re there, okay?”

“My
best
behavior.”

“
Y
ou’ve been
sour the last week.”

“No I haven’t.”

“Oh,
okay.
”

Serena rolls her eyes and looks back to her laptop.

I sigh loudly, enough that she grins, still looking at her work.

Both of our offices have decent views, but if we’re being honest, mine’s way better. Serena’s looks out on the city, which is certainly cool at night, but during working hours, mine has the luxury of looking out over the empty and usually fairly quiet stadium itself.

Her bringing a laptop in here to do work is really nothing new.

In any case, she’s right: I have been sour. For some reason, I also haven’t told anyone about the paperwork on Holden’s kitchen counter.

Hell, I don’t even know how much reality there is to that either.

He’d hardly be the first player to try and play a shiny new signed contract as a bargaining chip for something bigger or better. In fact, I’ve dealt with other players on this very team who got traded or head-hunted, only to come back to the Bulls with their new pay-grade and try and re-sign.

I usually shut that down pretty quickly.

So, it does happen. Hell, it’s a business, and I of all people know that you’ve got to take the “personal” out of things when you’re dealing with million-dollar contracts and assessing someone’s ability to play for more than the next two seasons.

So why am I so pissed?

I know why, though, and I know it’s got very little to do with Holden and his manager doing the usual contract dance that comes with professional athletes and multi-million dollar contracts. It’s the fact I didn’t
know
about it.

And I’m not mad because he didn’t tell me - me, the co-owner of his current team and architect of his current contract. I’m mad because somewhere deep down, I’d
want
him to confide something like that in me.

Which is ridiculous.

Take the “personal” out of it.

It’s ridiculous and I know it. It makes me feel like some sort of stupid puppy-love girl with a crush. Or like I’m his girlfriend or something.

It’s an eye-rolling sentiment.

Right,
dating
Holden Cade.
Please.

Because as incredible and mind-blowing as the other night with him was, that’s all there will ever be between me and a man like that. Pure sex. Pure unfiltered, raw, toe-curling, body-shaking, I-think-I-might-die-it’s-so-good
sex
.

Not
a relationship, no matter how comfortable it felt being in his arms like that.

“Like puttin’ lipstick on a pig,” I think would be my dad’s Texas-flavored take on that idea.

And yet here I am keeping Holden’s possible move a big secret, like he
has
confided it in me. I’m keeping it a big secret from
my
fucking team; information that the board should probably know, considering Holden is our ticket back into relevancy.

Thinking of the board etches a scowl into my forehead.

Ugh.

In a few days, we’ll all reconvene for another vote, where I’ll see just how much “sway” Tom has, and whether I’ll be running my father’s organization or not. I’ve decided it’s best not to think about it for the sake of not losing my mind.

Serena coughs loudly.

“Hey, let’s go out tonight, you and me.”

I blink away the last of my stressful thoughts on Holden and my future here as I turn back to her and make a face.

“I’ve got work to-”

“Nope, uh-uh.” She wags a finger at me. “You me, a bottle or two of wine, and dancing. Who knows, we might even go crazy and talk to some boys.”

I grin.

“And
chill
about the board thing. You’re London
Jacobs,
girl. Your family
is
Bulls football. They’d be fucking idiots not to have you running things.”

“Yeah, well…” I trail off and turn to look out the window.

“Seriously, forget about Tom’s shit, at least until the board meeting.”

“It’s not just Tom you know.”

Serena scowls. She knows who I’m talking about.

“I’ve already told you, that woman’s had ‘scheming bitch’ written on her damn forehead since the first time I met her.”

I grin as I turn back to her.

It may be true, but something’s in the works here, and combined with the punch to the gut at Holden’s place a week before with those stupid contract papers, I’m barely hanging on.

“Thanks,” I mutter. “You’re right, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

It’s a lie. I’m not sure it’s going to be fine in the slightest bit.

There’s a cough by my open office door, and I look up to a pair of smoky green eyes, perfectly coifed blond hair, and chiseled-from-marble jaw-line.

“Ms. Jacobs?”

I blink. “Yes?”

The man grins an easy, practiced smile that looks like it’d be right at home in either a boardroom, on a yacht, or in a freaking magazine.

“Landon Reece,” he steps into the room towards my desk, his hand outstretched.

No, “steps” isn’t the right word.

The man
stalks
; moving more like an athlete than a suit, despite the insanely expensive-looking one he’s wearing.

I take his hand, feeling his strong grip as he shakes mine.

He flashes that smile again before darting a look at Serena.

“Uh, hi,” Serena smiles widely, biting her lip coyly as she takes his hand next.

“Serena Roth.”

“Pleasure, Ms. Roth,” Landon says, his voice like velvet before he turns back to me. “Is now a good time?”

I furrow my brow.

“I’m sorry, for?”

He laughs easily. “I guess I skipped that part.” He glances at Serena once more before his eyes move back to mine. “Maybe this would be more appropriate outside your office?”

I can feel the blush creep into my cheeks as Serena’s brows raise way up at me over his shoulder.

“You know, I was
just
leaving, Mr. Reece.” She smiles at him as she grabs her laptop and heads for the door. She stops just outside it and pantomimes a phone to her ear while gesturing wildly at me with her eyebrows.

I quickly turn my attention back to the blonde man in front of me.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Reece?”

He smiles as he turns and closes my office door before facing me again.

“I work for the Denver Rattlesnakes.”

Oh
.

“I see,” I raise a brow at him. I smile thinly as I take a seat, the mystery of his visit dissipating in the room.

Yeah, this has happened before too. Former teams of traded players looking to make an under-the-table deal to get them back.

“Look, Mr. Reece,” I clasp my hands on my desk, instantly slipping into “all business LJ” mode, as Serena calls it. “I appreciate you coming all the way down here to talk, but honestly, we’re quite happy with Mr. Cade’s contract and we’re looking forward to seeing how he performs on the field this season.”

Landon chuckles, taking a seat across from me and steeling his fingers under his chin.

“I’m not actually here to talk about Holden Cade, Ms. Jacobs.” He leans back in his chair, his eyes twinkling as they pierce into mine. “I’m here to talk about
you
.”

I raise a brow.

“Pardon?”

Landon grins at me, his whole body exuding confidence and poise.

“As I said, maybe this would be best to discuss outside your office.”

He stands suddenly, his body seemingly uncoiling from his seat in his smoky grey tailored suit. He takes a card from his breast pocket and places it on the desk in front of me.

“Tonight, say, eight o’clock at Chez Toulouse?”

My brow shoots up.

Dinner?

Landon grins broadly.

“I think you’ll want to hear what I have to say.” He turns without another word and moves to the door. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Jacobs.”

And then he’s gone, leaving me even more confused than I was earlier.

I sit there another minute, fingering the edges of his business card and chewing on my lip, when the sound of faint laughter pulls me out of it.

I furrow my brow as I turn towards the wall of windows overlooking the field.

The unmistakable sound of children’s giggling comes again, and this time, I stand and move towards one of the half-open windows and look out curiously.

The first thing I see are two little tow-headed blonde girls giggling out on the field. And though they’re far enough away that I can’t be
sure
, there’s something about the matching outfits, matching pigtails, and matching size that makes me think they’re twins.

I furrow my brow, smiling as I see a gorgeous blonde woman who must be their mom come in after them.

Maybe one of the player’s wives I don’t remember?

But it’s a weird thought, because I
know
my team, and their families.

The huge man with the black beard that follows them out though I definitely
also
know.

Max Sheffield, of the Denver Rattlesnakes.

First Landon Reece, now Max Sheffield?

What, did they get a group rate down here or something?

And right after Max, who else but Holden comes jogging out onto the empty field. I narrow my eye at him, thinking again about the papers, and then getting angry with myself all over again or even
being
angry about that.

So, the player turned out to be a big player;
shocker.

What, did I think I was going to have a meaningful relationship with the most notorious, most arrogant
jock
of a guy in pro football?

Of course not.

What we had was casual - just sex between two consenting adults. Well,
very
hot, mind-blowing, I’m-not-sure-how-it-gets-better-than-that sex.

I scowl, shaking my head.

Out on the field, Holden roars as he starts chasing after the two little girls, who giggle and squeal as they run from him. He catches them, scooping them up in his big arms and laughing as they hug him, the sound of laughter echoing around the empty stadium.

I have to smile at that.

The big, tough, macho bad boy, reduced to a grinning doofus by two little girls. It pulls at something deep inside of me, and for a moment I suddenly feel like an asshole.

Because here I am judging him based on who people say he is. It’s exactly what I hate when people do it to me - when they just assume I’m “Archie’s daughter” or “just a girl trying to play a man’s game.” It’s me having to come into situations like that and prove that I’m more than that.

And maybe Holden’s the same way.

Maybe’s he’s more than the reputation - more than the party animal, skirt-chasing jock that everyone says he is.

Maybe he’s more than a player.

Maybe he’s-

I stop as out on the field, the cheer team comes out for their pre-season practice. Bouncing, perky young women in booty shorts and tight tank tops, who of course all go to
mush
when they see the legendary Holden Cade out there playing with those kids.

Can’t say I blame them.

But then I’m scowling as Holden sets the kids down and runs his hand through his hair. And even though I can’t
see it
from up here, I know damn well he’s flashing that stupid smile of his.

Two of the cheer girls run up to him, giggling and throwing their arms around him. And then he’s scooping
them
up, twirling them around and roaring with laughter.

Yeah, so much for that no judging thing.

Because whatever I
want
him to be, this
is
what he actually is.

A player.

A man-whore.

A self-aggrandizing, arrogant prick of a jock.

…Exactly what I thought he was.

I glare at him as I pick up my phone.

“Hey,” I say as Serena answers the phone. “I gotta bail on our plans tonight.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I’ve got dinner with Landon Reece.”