Plunge (Alpha Athletes #1) (4 page)

I
kept
my head down on the way back to the village, throwing my hoodie up even though it was scorching hot. The advantage of being inside the Olympic city was the privacy it gave all the athletes. No press. No fans. It was the one place we could all be ourselves. Out here I couldn’t hide. I knew I was one of the most recognizable faces of the games.

In the village, I didn’t have to worry about that bullshit. The other athletes weren’t star-struck. To them, I was just another bloke competing like them.

Some of the athletes were in the zone. They barely spoke to anyone, fearful it would interfere with their concentration before their event.

Then there were the so-called competitors who came to the Olympics to party. I don’t mean any kind of party. I’m talking about the kind you see in American movies, where epic fraternity bashes last for days.

Four years ago, I tried to claim my place on the podium in London. I did what was necessary to cut my time. I fucked when I needed to let off steam. I left the partying to the Germans or the Dutch. Those guys knew how to do it right.

That was one of the things about the village. There were women everywhere. Women who looked like supermodels and had the bodies of athletic goddesses. There were bowls of condoms in the lobbies and in the gym. I heard a report that Rio set a record for ordering the most condoms of any Olympics.

Everyone knew what happened in the village. It was accepted and most of us expected it. It didn’t matter if it was to celebrate a gold medal, or to forget a fourth place finish. There was no judgement.

But as I walked the few blocks toward the high rises, I knew I didn’t want to go back and fuck a soccer star or volleyball player. The only woman I wanted in Rio was Ava.

That kiss was still on my lips. I could feel her tight little ass in my palms. Hear the whimper she made in my ear. Shit. I wanted another taste. And I wanted her.

I knew I had fucked up in Sydney. And now it was costing me.

I waited in line at the security gate to enter the village.

The guard waved me through without making me pass the regular X-ray machine checkpoint. I nodded.

I wiped the sweat from the back of my neck. I glanced across the greenway. There was a volleyball being splashed around in one of the lounging pools. The place looked like something out of a travel brochure. There were palm trees and bright flowers. It didn’t look like the kind of place where the top athletes competed. It looked like a damn singles resort where people met to fuck.

“Blaine! Blaine, come on over. The water’s warm.” The French volleyball players waved and giggled.

“No, thanks,” I hollered. “Getting out of the sun.”

“Aww,” they pouted in unison.

I thought about diving in. I could swim to the other end and have my pick of the team. In less than an hour, one of those girls would be on her back in my bed, but I wasn’t interested. Maybe in London, but not now. I ducked inside and headed toward the elevator, pushing the button for the tenth floor.

I walked in my room, looking for a distraction from the feeling.

I felt caged. I felt trapped. The room was standard. I didn’t receive preferential treatment. I even had a damn roommate from the Australian team. He was out.

I sat on the edge of my bed. Jim was hanging out with the other coaches. I was ready to crawl out of my skin, but it wasn’t from swimming. It was Ava. I pushed off the bed. Like hell I was going to sit here while she was a few blocks away.

I grabbed my keys and slammed the door behind me.

* * *

5
weeks
ago

“
H
i there
, love.”

“You’re-you—” She spoke in between gasps.

The girl had practically fallen into my arms. I held her tightly against my body, enjoying the feel of her curves. Her long hair fell over her chest, hiding her breasts from my view.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” I wasn’t ready to let her go. She had gorgeous eyes. They sparkled with bits of blue like water.

I set her feet on the floor, giving her a second to regain her balance.

“Blaine Crews.” She straightened her skirt. “What are you doing in a pub?” She shook her head.

“Same as you. Boozing.” I grinned at her wickedly.

“I just saw you swim. Congratulations. It was incredible. Amazing, really.”

“Thanks.” I don’t know why I did it, but I leaned against the wall, planting my hand over her shoulder. She backed up and her blue eyes widened.

“I take it you’re a swim fan?” I asked. I always enjoyed talking swim.

“I’m covering it. Covering you. I mean, the sport. I’m here covering the trials.” She dropped her eyes to the floor. “Shit,” she whispered.

I felt a sudden jolt of disappointment. She wasn’t a fan. She was a reporter. I didn’t like to talk to the press. I thought about making an exception for this pretty girl, though.

“Ahh, one of the American reporters.” Those blokes were as bad as mozzies hanging around the place, but she seemed harmless.

“Actually, not anymore.”

I cocked my head to the side. “What do you mean by that, love?”

“You don’t want to hear my stupid sad story. I’m sorry. You’re probably celebrating with friends. This is a huge night for you. I’ll let you get back to your group.”

I looked over my shoulder. “No one there. I’m all ears.”

“You’re here alone?” I could tell she didn’t believe me.

“All alone.” I leaned in closer. It wasn’t entirely true. I rarely went anywhere when I wasn’t swarmed by fans.

I never had to pay for another drink for the rest of my life if I didn’t want to.

She wiped at her cheeks and that was when I noticed they glistened. She had been crying when I bumped into her. Shit.

“I’m at a disadvantage. You know who I am. I think it’s only fair you tell me your name.”

“Ava. Ava Gold.”

“Are you here with someone, Ava Gold?” I asked.

She shook her head. “No. I traveled by myself for work.”

I felt good. The kind of good after a victory. It wasn’t a small victory. I had just set a world record in the 200-meter freestyle and butterfly. It was an incredible rush. My body surged with powerful adrenaline. I felt like a fucking rock star. And I needed an outlet for all the energy coursing through me.

Over my shoulder was a crowd of rowdy fans who wanted to celebrate with me. But in front of me was a stranger. A beautiful, sexy woman with tears in her eyes and all alone in my country.

“If we keep walking through that door, it’ll take us out the back and no one will know we left.” I smiled, brushing an auburn curl from her forehead.

“And?”

“And I think we both know where things could go from there.”

“You’re serious?”

“Love, I just set the fucking world record in two different strokes. I couldn’t be more serious.”

“Well, I just lost my job. So I don’t know that this is the best time to… to start something.” She had a funny way with her expressions. I liked it. I liked how the words sounded on her tongue.

“Sorry to hear about your job. Want to talk about it?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

I ran a finger along her arm, taking my time to trace the skin from her shoulder and across her bicep, and linger at her wrist. She shivered under my touch.

“Why don’t you tell me about your night and I’ll tell you about mine?” I suggested.

“I know about you, Blaine Crews.”

I chuckled. “And what do you think you know?”

She twisted her lips together. “Your reputation has made it to the United States. Your reputation with women,” she added.

“I hope it’s a good one.” I waggled my eyebrows. I knew what the press reported about me.

“You seriously don’t care what people think about you? That you’re known as the swimming Casanova?”

“Don’t give a shit.” I pressed my thumb into her wrist. “I like women. I like beautiful, sexy,
smart
women.”

I saw her chest rise with a deep breath.

“And this is normal for you? You pick up women outside the ladies’ room?”

“This might be a first for me, but you sort of fell into my arms.”

“I didn’t fall. You ran into me and knocked me over.” Her brows knitted together. It was cute and feisty.

“I also caught you, didn’t I?”

“How do I know you didn’t knock me over on purpose?” She folded her arms over her chest, pressing her breasts together.

“You don’t.”

She tried to smile, but a tear slipped from her lashes. Damn it. A crying woman was usually something I tried to avoid, but she was so fucking beautiful I was running out of reasons to turn around and walk away.

There was only one way this was going to go.

“Come on.” I grabbed her hand in mine and led her toward the back exit. “You’re upset. You need a shoulder to cry on.”

“I didn’t say yes.”

“But you didn’t say no.”

I pushed through the swinging door and we emerged into the parking lot. The lights from the arena lit up the sky. It hadn’t sunk in yet that less than two hours ago, I had broken the world record in that building while my entire country watched.

I was a star. I was their hero. I was Blaine Crews.

M
y laptop seemed as discouraged
by the heat as I was. It sputtered and clicked when I turned it on. I wanted to try to get as much of Blaine’s story together as I could. I looked at my phone. I had a few hours before Vic wanted everything on the server.

First I wanted to record my notes from our interview, and then I was going to head to the aquatics center. I needed to see for myself what was going on at the swim facility. If I was lucky I might be able to interview someone who worked in the building. Maybe there would be another swimmer trying to get in the pool who would be willing to give me a few quotes.

It would be difficult to get a statement from an Olympic representative, but I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t give them a chance to comment. I looked at my watch. I needed to get over there.

I pulled a bottle of water from my bag. I had stocked up on snacks and water at one of the markets on the block.

I wanted to crawl under the covers and shake the remnants of jet lag along with the encounter with Blaine, but I had work to do. I needed this job. I had to power through until this story was on the server.

I felt the adrenaline awaken my senses as I pieced together the details into a narrative that explained what Blaine experienced this morning. What if this was only the first account? What if more of the venues weren’t ready for athletes?

I could comb the city, unearthing the deficiencies, exposing the Olympics for what they were. What Blaine had done for me was huge, but I didn’t want to be indebted to him for giving me a one-of-a-kind exclusive that no one in the press corps had. Part of me knew people would pay big money for the kind of access I had to him.

I piled my hair on top of my head, fastening it with a clip. The wispy ends fell around my face. I brushed one aside and remembered Blaine’s fingers grazing my skin. I closed my eyes for a second. And let myself remember.

* * *

5
weeks
ago

W
e stood
in the parking lot looking at the lights swirling around us. Sydney was a beautiful city.

As Blaine clutched my hand, I realized how strong and wide his hands were. They made mine feel small and sheltered.

He towered over me, and I wondered how distraught I was to walk out here with him. But was he a stranger? Everyone in the world knew who he was. I had been covering his story since I arrived in Sydney.

I did know things about him. I knew he didn’t have a family cheering for him in the stands. I knew he was twenty-seven. I knew he had eaten more calories per day than I did in a week.

I had interviewed hundreds of players, but none of them had the effect on me that Blaine did. I reminded myself this wasn’t an interview. I didn’t know what it was. Only that I was standing outside with one of the most revered athletes in the world and his fingers were threaded through mine as if somehow, for just this moment, I was his.

He leaned close and I could smell the fresh soap on his skin. He must have showered after the meet and run across the street to get a celebratory pint.

I liked the clean scent. I was surprised by how many things I liked about him.

I didn’t know how I fit into his night. Why was I staring into his eyes when he could be sharing his victory with anyone else?

The night air felt good on my face. I took a deep breath.

“Feel better?” he asked.

I was afraid to speak. Afraid that it was all a dream. That he would turn away, walk back into the pub, and act like we had never met. Or that I would snap back into reality and realize I was committing the cardinal sin of my career—fraternizing with an athlete. My job at
Sports Now
was over, but I had carved out a career in sports reporting. One night with a notorious playboy and I risked stamping a career-ending reputation on my resume.

I nodded. “Thank you. I can breathe out here.”

“It sucks being sacked, love.”

There was that word again. I knew it had its own meaning here, but every time he said it I melted a little inside.

“It’s okay if you want to go back inside. I’m fine. Really. Thanks for making sure I was okay.” The last thing I wanted was to be thrown a pity party by Blaine Crews.

“You don’t think I’m going to leave a pretty girl out here, do you?”

“Maybe she doesn’t need to be rescued,” I said coyly. “Besides, I don’t know anything about you.”

“Why don’t we change that?” I could see his smirk through the darkness. He was charming and sexy, but oozing with cockiness. It was easy to see where the label came from.

His hand snaked around my waist, dragging me toward him. My nose filled with the clean scent of his skin and the beer on his breath. His mouth moved against mine before I knew what had struck.

Instinct and primal need swept through me when I felt his tongue glide across mine. Damn, he was a good kisser. His hands cupped my face as we sank deeper into the kiss. If I wanted to breathe, I couldn’t. If I wanted to speak, there weren’t any words. There was only Blaine, me, and a raging fire that had sprung free the instant he touched me.