Jock: A Secret Baby Sports Romance(7)

By: Aubrey Irons



She nods. “Right, that.”

Karen brings the bill back over, but this time I’m not even hearing her gushing as I just stare at London with a mix of stunned confusion and amusement.

She signs the check and stands, swaying slightly as she clears her throat.

Good, she is drunk.

And I don’t mean that in a creepy predator way, I mean “good” as in “good, thank God she’s drunk because I’m wasted, and if a girl that small wasn’t drunk by now, I’d be fucking worried.”

She still hasn’t met my eyes since that first stunned look post kiss. Truth be told, I’m not even sure what the hell I’d do or say even if she did.

I don’t kiss women - by which I mean, not in that goofy, over-the-candle-lit dinner table, Disney movie way.

I fuck women. No romance, no strings, no goddamn candlelight fucking.

This is new.

London clears her throat as she wobbles a little bit on her heels. She slips her wallet back into her purse and slings it over her shoulder.

“So, goodnight,” she says abruptly, all business, all ball-breaker LJ Jacobs.

I rake my fingers across my jaw.

“Yeah, goodnight.”

“We’ll speak-” she breaks to hiccup once, her cheeks going bright pink as I grin.

“We’ll speak tomorrow.”

She’s talking in a daze, clearly as drunk as I am. Hell, probably more so, considering she’s half my size.

“Yeah, sounds, uh, sounds good.”

I’m stuttering, like I’ve never stuttered in front of a girl before.

The fuck was in that bourbon.

“Okay, so…” she trails off again, this time she looks up, her eyes catching mine for just a second before she looks away again.

“See ya.”

She turns, and I’m watching her walk away in a daze, letting the distance grow between us that I know has to grow between us after the shit that just happened. But it’s the jingle of her car keys that snaps me right out of that daze.

Fuck, no.

I know the last thing I should be doing after the crap I just pulled is chasing her, but she's wasted. She’s drunk as hell, and playing with car keys, and Brandon’s ghost sure as shit won’t let me let her walk away and get into a car.

Not like this.

I’m out the front door of the restaurant before I know it, jogging to where she’s walking on unsteady feet towards the parking lot.

Her breath catches loudly as I grab her arm and pull her around. Her eyes go wide, and her hands jolt up to my chest as she looks up into my face.

“I thought we said no more of that,” she says quickly, breathlessly.

I swallow all the crazy shit I want to say and all the crazy shit I want to do in that moment, hiding it all with a token grin.

“I actually came out to tell you you're in no shape to drive."

She blinks, her mouth opening slightly in surprise before her brows knit together in a scowl.

She suddenly pushes me back with her hands against my chest, stepping away from me.

“I’m fine,” she says quickly, her face flushed as she takes a deep breath of air.

“Yeah, no,” I shake my head as I shrug. “You’re not.”

She glares at me. “Hey, maybe you can’t handle your whiskey, but I-”

She hiccups the world’s most perfectly comically timed hiccup.

“Goddamnit,” she mutters, her shoulders slumping before she looks back at me. “Okay, fine, you’re right.”

“I know.”

She half-smirks at me.

“So,” I step towards her against every fucking warning bell in my head. “So what if we got you a cab home instead.”

She sucks her bottom lip, raking her teeth across it as she eyes me, as if mulling it over.

“Okay, fine.”

“Atta girl, sugar.”

“Don’t push it.” She arches a brow at me, swaying on my feet myself.

I chuckle.

“Where are you staying?”

“The Delmar, downtown. You know it?

I snort a laugh. “Yeah, I know it. Let’s go.”

London bristles. “Uh, let’s go?”

I’m already turning, raising a hand to the valet to hail a cab for us.

“Yeah, let’s. I know the Delmar because it’s across the fucking street from my condo.”

She blushes a little at what I know she thinks I was insinuating.

“Plus I should make sure you don’t puke all over some poor guy’s cab.”

She rolls her eyes. “I can hold my liquor just-”

She hiccups again, and we both immediately start cracking up.

A tiny little hatchback of a cab pulls up, and I open the door for her, my eyes lingering in spite of myself at the way her dress slides up high on her thigh as she climbs in. I slide into the backseat after her, swearing loudly at the stupidly small car as I immediately bang my knees against the seat in front of me. The cab guy immediately apologizes and slides it forward, but it’s still almost comical how much of the backseat my broad six-foot two-inch frame fills up.

London giggles at the way I’m hunched over cartoonishly in the seat, my head pressing into the low ceiling.

“You're a big guy," she says as if this is news to her.

"Huge.”

She blushes.

We pull away from the restaurant, and London closes her eyes as we weave through the city streets. I turn towards her at a stoplight, my gaze trailing slowly across her face, from her closed eyes to those full, soft lips. Streetlights fade trails across her skin, her eyelids fluttering and cheeks still flushed red from the whiskey.

Or maybe from me kissing her like that.

And I know I’m on a collision path here, but I’m powerless to stop it. I know I should just get out at the next light and just walk from there or get another cab, regardless of how close her hotel is to my condo. Because every second I stay in this car with her, on the way to her hotel, is another step closer to the mistake I’m pretty sure I’m not going to be able to say no to.

Because despite her being the most inappropriate girl on the planet for me to be thinking these sort of thoughts about - or maybe because she is - my cock is pulsing hard for her.

The cab makes a sharp turn, and as her eyes flutter open at the sudden movement, she turns and locks them with mine.

And she knows.

She knows the way I’m looking at her, and she knows damn well the way she’s looking at me back.

This might be a train wreck waiting to happen, but right there in that moment we both know we’re powerless to stop it, even if we wanted to.

And I’m pretty sure we don’t.





10





London




I close my eyes in the car because I know if I don’t, I won’t be able to keep them off of him. And I know there’s only one place that lingering looks in the dark and the unspoken friction of that backseat go. But I can still feel his gaze on me - I can feel it teasing and tingling across my skin like silk as I bite my lip and let the car take us into the night.

I drank too much. I drank too much and revealed too much, and let the control I usually have on these types of things slip completely away.

And it felt good.

I know I should be screaming with regrets right now. I know I should be fleeing this cab and this man sitting next to me, and burying my face in my hands in the horrible shame of what just happened back there at the restaurant.

But regret is the last thing I’m feeling right then. Instead, there’s only this teasing, sliding sensation creeping through my body. There’s a hunger inside - a wicked, inappropriate and yet undeniable hunger that comes roaring through me like a runaway train. It’s the whiskey floating through my veins, the heat of his gaze sensually moving over my skin, and the feeling that I never want this car ride to end.

But it does, of course.

The cab comes to a stop, but I keep my eyes closed, as if not quite ready to leave the fantasy of this ride. Holden says nothing, but I can hear his door opening, and a moment later, the one on my side gently opens.

I open my eyes.

“Mornin, darlin’.”

I blink, not even caring how dopey the blush on my face probably looks at his words.

Because I’ve already made up my mind.

"Can you walk?" he asks.

I nod, stepping out. Immediately, I stumble, and we both laugh, but as his hand slips around my waist, my laughter trails into something more resembling a gasp.

God his hand feels good there hooked around my waist and resting on my hip.

“It’s my heels,” I mumble.

Holden grins. “Yeah it’s got nothing at all to do with the bottle of whiskey we just put down.”

“Not in the slight-” I hiccup again, rolling my eyes at my own horrible timing as he laughs.

I eye him with a half-cocked brow. “Okay, you can help me inside, but only if you admit I just drank your ass under the table.”

Holden snorts, but I can see damn well how uneasy he is on his feet, and the way his cheeks are as red and flushed as mine.

His eyes lock onto mine for a second, burning with something fierce and something not quite spoken yet.

“Oh, I get to walk you inside, do I? Is that my reward, making sure you don’t fall on your face?”

I grin at him. “Hey, take it or leave it, buddy.”

He snorts again as his hand tightens tantalizingly on my hip for a second, making my stomach flip-flop.

“Alright, let’s go, pipsqueak.”

I turn and balk at him with mock indignation.

“Did you just call me pipsqueak?”

Holden grins, his arm never leaving my waist. “I’m like literally twice your size. So, yeah, I did.”

I stick my tongue out at him, grinning drunkenly and feeling the flush of the moment and the booze flood through me.

“I think we already established you’re a big guy.”

“Not yet we haven’t.”

I stiffen, swallowing quickly and blinking rapidly at his smirking, totally smug face. I bite my lip, dragging my teeth across it as my eyes search his.

No. Bad. Stop thinking thoughts like that, you idiot.

But it’s impossible not to think thoughts like that around a man like him on a night like this. Everything about him screams that he’s a terrible mistake waiting to happen, like a giant, flashing red no-smoking sign.

And yet I can’t walk away. I know right there on the front steps of the hotel that there’s no scenario here where I slip away from his grasp and firmly tell him goodnight.

Not a chance.

And so instead, we find ourselves giggling and half-tripping our way up the three steps to the hotel lobby. Holden holds the door for us both, grandly gesturing me through.

“So, this is you then.”

I curtsy dramatically, doing my best not to giggle again as I stroll through the door into the lobby. I make it all of one step without his arm around my waist before my heel catches something and I start to sprawl forward.

Strong arms catch me, pulling me up and tight against him.

Shit.

I can feel the raw power in those arms, and the pulsing heat of his skin against mine as we stand there, tight against each other with our eyes dancing over the other’s.

He grins slowly. “Alright, you failed that test.”

I gasp in mock indignation, and slap at his arm.

It lingers, my fingers feeling an electric pull between us as they slide over the thick muscles of his arm beneath his shirt.

“What floor are you?” he asks in that deep, velvet tone. “I’ll walk you up.”

Yes, please.

But I stop for a second, my lip catching between my teeth again and my eyes darting across his with the last shred of my self-control of the situation.

“You’re not as smooth as you think you are, mister.”

He leans forward suddenly, and my eyes flutter shut as I feel his breath hot against the crook of my neck.

“Yes I am,” he growls into my ear.

I melt.

I absolutely melt against him as my knees go weak, my breath hitches in my chest, and my stomach jumps into my throat. His hands move around me, sliding over my body as his teeth graze across my earlobe.

He’s right - he is.

He’s exactly as smooth as he thinks he is, because it’s working. Because I want him. Because my body is on fire for this crude, cocky jock, even though I know it’s the worst idea ever.

The elevator ride up is a blur, with neither of us saying a thing. The doors open on my floor and we both exit in silence.

His arm never leaves my waist.

We arrive at my door, and I know it’s my last chance to stop this. I’m barely holding on to my rationalization anymore, but it’s as if this is my last chance to get off this ride before it’s too late to do so.

I look at the floor and take in a deep, slow breath of air before I force myself to look up at his face, as if it’s the last test of my will.

I look up, and he’s looking at me with such heat in his gaze that I already know it’s over.

Test failed, spectacularly.

“So, thank you for getting me here safely," I say heavily, my breath coming quick as I start to lose myself in those dangerously alluring eyes. I slide my card into the key-lock and push the door open slightly before I turn back to him.

His hand is still resting on my hip as I face him, feeling like I’m on the edge of a cliff. I blink once, feeling the floor sway beneath my feet as I glance over my shoulder at the room and then back to his face.

“But I'm not completely safe yet. It's still a long walk to my bed."

Holden’s jaw tightens, as does his hand on my hip, making me shiver deliciously.

“Careful, sugar,” he growls. “Kissin’ me is one thing, but I’m not sure we-”

“I’m a big girl,” I whisper, silencing whatever he was about to say.

His eyes flash, and his other hand comes up to join the first at my waist. He pulls me into him, and I gasp quietly as my palms go against his rock-hard chest.

“And I’m a big boy.”

“I thought that was yet to be decided?”

There’s exactly one more second of frozen silence before we crash together, hard.

I’m moaning loudly right there in the open doorway of my hotel room, as if finally letting out what I’ve been bottling inside. Holden growls into my mouth, his tongue pushing past my parting lips to claim mine as his arms scoop me into him.

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