Jock: A Secret Baby Sports Romance(9)

By: Aubrey Irons



“Do you need the shower next?" she asks, all business.

She’s formal, looking me dead in the eye without a trace of the steam and heat from the night before.

I shove the thought aside as I grin at her.

"Yeah, I worked up a bit of a sweat last night,” I drawl, arching a brow at her and waiting for her to grin or blush or whatever.

She doesn’t.

She merely smiles professionally, like we’re making acquaintances in a board meeting, and steps aside.

“Well, shower is free if you want it.”

She brushes right past me, padding across the hotel room towards her suitcase lying open by the dresser.

I frown, reaching up to scratch my head as I watch her start to paw through her clothes. She stops and glances over her shoulder at me.

“Did you not want the shower? I need to get dressed, so if you don’t want it, I’ll just change in there.”

I grin hungrily at her, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning against the bathroom doorframe with my cock still bobbing in front of me.

“You can get changed right here if you want, sugar. Nothing I haven’t seen.”

There’s the hint of a blush on her face, but London says nothing, her face betraying nothing.

“Yes or no to the shower.”

Okay, what the fuck. “Cocky and crude” was working just fine last night, but it’s like this morning she’s woken up back to being immune to my bullshit. Well, or at least making a very good play at pretending to be immune to it. But either way, the fact remains that ten minutes after waking up, I’m not making that sweet pussy come all over my cock as I fuck her against the wall of the shower.

I’m just standing here like a douchebag with my cock out and a girl who clearly is not interested.

I frown as I clear my throat.

“I’ll just go grab that shower.”

I wash off quickly, my cock deflating and a frown etching into my face at the fact that I’m in here alone like a tool. Stepping out, I grab a towel before peeking out of the half-open bathroom door.

I grin.

London has her back to me, standing in front of the bedroom mirror pulling a straightening iron through her hair.

Huh, I had no idea it was curly.

She’s also standing there in creamy white, lacy-if-not-formal-looking lingerie. She puts the iron aside as she reaches for her makeup bag, and I can feel the blood pulse through me again as she leans forward into the mirror with her eyeliner, her panties pulling tight and high across that perfectly curved ass.

Goddamn, I want her again. I want to come up behind her and press right against the bureau. I want to pull those panties to the side, slip the head of my cock inside, and slowly fill her with every inch from behind.

And I want to watch her face in that mirror when she comes for me.

Except…

Except judging from the coolness I got earlier, that shit is not happening. In fact, I’m one hundred percent sure that door’s been somehow shut this morning, given her attitude earlier.

I slowly towel off, watching as she finishes her makeup, does another few touch-ups to her now straight hair with the iron, and then reaches for her clothes.

I frown, watching the last of my morning fantasy slip away as she starts to hide that slammin’ little body behind a staid, stuffy, all-business blouse and knee-length office skirt. She bends to zip the side of the skirt, and when she looks back up, she suddenly catches my eye in the mirror and jumps a little before she turns to me.

“What?”

I slowly wrap the towel around my hips and lean against the bathroom doorframe again.

“What?” I grin. “Well, first thing I'm gonna do with my new contract is buy you some clothes that don't have you looking like you work for the United Nations.”

London flashes a quick smile before she hides it away. She finishes zipping her skirt before she steps barefoot across the room towards me. I grin as she steps right up to me.

Finally.

I lean down, ready to scoop her into my arms and claim that sassy little mouth all over again with my own, when she suddenly just reaches up and taps me on the nose.

She fucking taps me on the nose, like a bad puppy or some shit.

"What contract?"

I frown, and she grins as she rolls her eyes.

“I’m kidding.”

Who IS this girl?

She’s getting to me, and throwing me off my usual swagger, and generally fucking with my ability to keep my usual even keel.

I shrug, playing it as cool as I can. “Yeah, the contract. Guess we never talked about that last night, huh.”

London blushes crimson.

Gotcha.

She quickly brushes it off though, taking a deep breath to clear the heat from her cheeks.

“Well, let’s discuss it.”

“We could do other things.”

This girl is not special. She is just like any of the other hundreds before her, and just like any of the God knows how many will come after her. And I’ll be damned if I let her think she’s got the upper hand here. I know how she moaned and how she begged for it harder and deeper and faster last night. She might have her business face on this morning, and doing her best to pretend she’s not still thinking about last night, but I know that’s all bullshit.

And I’m determined to make sure she knows I know that.

I move against her suddenly, grinning as her breath catches and as her eyes dart up to mine. Her lips part slowly, her tongue darting out to wet them. And for a moment, I’m about to tear those fucking business clothes right off and remind her exactly how bad she wants this.

She takes a step back, shaking her head.

“I think we should discuss your contract,” she says quickly, smoothing her skirt down. “Seeing as I’m leaving in-” she glances at her silver wristwatch, “twenty minutes.”

I flash a cocky grin at her as I hook my thumbs into the edge of the towel, pulling it low towards the thickening bulge in the front of it.

“There’s a lot we could do in twenty minutes, sugar,” I growl out, holding her eyes and letting mine burn right into her.

London swallows thickly before she crosses her arms under her breasts and gives me a level look, shaking her head. “Let’s talk about your contract.”

I sigh. “Fine, the contract.”

“We can’t go higher.” She shrugs. “I’m just going to level with you. The preliminaries we already sent Randy are the highest it’s going to get, no matter how good your manager thinks he is.”

I nod, mulling it over.

Randy’s right, the offer is good, even if it’s a little lower than what I’m pulling in Denver. Especially since Randy’s also right about the re-negotiations here; after last season and the bullshit of the offseason, there’s no way I’m keeping the same figures I was getting last year.

And to top it off, there’s that pressing need to run. There’s the undeniable feeling that I’ve stayed too long in a place I’ve called home all my life. And now, it just feels more like a commitment than a place I can call my own.

I need to get out of this town, and this is exactly the opportunity I need.

I stare at the sassy little spitfire of a girl standing in front of me - the one who blew my fucking mind last night with that rocking little body riding me senseless. I let my eyes wander over her, feeling the rush from last night coursing through my veins and my thoughts.

I shake my head.

Cool out, man.

Because the “contract” we’re discussing and the move I’m considering is to go to Houston to play football, not for the prospect of fucking that tight, perfect pussy again.

London clears her throat, dragging my eyes from the curve of her hip in that skirt back up to her face.

“Randy needs to know that, before we start wasting each other’s time with the back and forth. The number in the preliminaries really are as high as we’ll go. I’m just being honest with you so we can skip the BS.”

I nod. “I’ll make sure he knows.”

London shrugs. “Still interesting in Houston, then?”

Houston. Playing for the Bulls. NOT that hot ass, those perfect tits, those cock-throbbingly pouty lips.

I clear my throat. “Yeah, still interested.”

She holds my eyes for another second.

“Well, okay then.” She smiles, still all business. “I’ll talk to my people, you talk to yours, and we’ll send some stuff later today.”

She turns and starts zipping up her suitcase.

“You want to make the announcement or should we?”

I frown, grinding my teeth and feeling my heart sink at the thought of telling this town I’m leaving.

“Me.”

London turns and nods slowly. “Well, okay then. I guess we’re done?”

It’s amazing to me that this formal, all business, all straight-laced, tough-negotiating “LJ Jacobs” is the same London Jacobs from last night. The businesswoman standing in front of me looking like she’s ready to head into a shareholder meeting is the same hot little cowgirl who rode my cock like a bull last night while she came like a hurricane.

“Done?” I flash a grin at her as I step towards her once more, my palm going to the wall behind her.

“We’ve still got fifteen minutes til you gotta leave, you know.”

London’s cheeks flush as her eyes burn something fierce for a second. But then she’s only smiling as she reaches up and pats my cheek.

“Oh, sugar,” she winks at me, “I think you’d need more than fifteen minutes with me.”

And without another word, she grabs the handle of her suitcase, turns, and strolls towards the hotel room door.

She turns with her hand on the knob.

“Check-out is at eleven, but you’re welcome to stay here until then.”

She places that cowgirl hat of hers atop her head as she turns. And then she’s gone, and I’m standing alone in a towel in her damn hotel room, watching the door click shut.

Where the fuck did this girl come from, and what the fuck just happened?





12





London




Breathe.

It’s not until I’m through security at the Denver airport that I remember to do so.

I take a seat in the waiting area by my gate, feeling shaky, feeling electrified, and buzzing with the flushed thrill of the night before.

What the HELL just happened?

I’ve never been this unprofessional, not once. Hell, even before the hotel room, everything about my dealings with Holden Cade so far have been so wildly inappropriate that I don’t even know what to make of it. Talking about the contract and negotiating directly with a prospect? What was I even thinking? It should never have been Holden at that dinner last night to begin with, it should have been his manager and me discussing the terms.

But there I went and said yes to dinner with him, and as much as I want to vehemently deny it, I know it’s because one look at those smoky eyes and one flash of that stupidly charming grin had me saying yes like some sort of trained puppy.

Ugh.

And then I doubled down on stupid decisions. Because apparently taking a one-on-one business dinner with a prospect that I was already having wildly inappropriate thoughts about wasn’t enough. I had to introduce alcohol to the mix.

Nice job, girl. Well done.

I groan as I slump in my chair, pulling my hat down low over my eyes and blowing a thin stream of air out through my lips. I want to tell myself that the whole thing was about the deal - about making damn sure we got the trade. That’s all.

Except that’s not true, and I damn well know it. This was about not knowing how to, or even remotely wanting to say no to a man like Holden. This was seeing that train coming from a hundred miles away and standing firmly in the middle of the tracks.

Because I’m insane, apparently, not to mention seemingly perfectly okay jeopardizing the formidable reputation I’ve built for myself over the years.

Oh so you slept with him to make the deal?

I groan as the thought hits me again. I don’t want to think about what that makes me.

In any case, he’s interested. He’s going to make the move; I can feel it.

…Either that or it’s just my traitorous body remembering how he felt. I can feel the warm creep of a forbidden, wicked feeling starting in my stomach and spreading through my body as my mind flashes back the events of the night before.

His mouth, his fingers, moving over my skin and making it ache and burn for him.

The size of him.

How he felt. How his lips tasted.

I shiver, blushing and re-crossing my legs at the sudden tingle of heat and wetness between them.

That’s enough of that.

I shake my head, sitting up straight now and taking a deep, shaky breath.

Last night happened, but that doesn’t mean I can’t put it behind me and just move on. Holden wants this trade as much as we do, and the events of last night will in no way shape or form change that.

Besides, I think with a shrug, straightening my hat and taking my phone out of my bag; I’m allowed to have some fun once in a while.

I thumb my phone screen on, and I’m immediately greeted by a string of texts from my friend Serena I haven’t seen yet.

Serena also works for the Bulls on the publicity side of things. She’s my literal opposite: model-tall where I’m short, envy-inducing long, silken dark hair where my frizzy auburn locks frustrate, and olive skin to my freckled tone. The woman should be in a magazine selling lingerie, not in an office managing ad space for a pro football team. But her dad was a defensive coach and a friend of my father, and Serena and I click so well because she’s another daddy’s girl turned tomboy football nut, just like me.

I glance up to the board and notice my flight’s being slightly delayed in boarding, so I hit “call” instead of bothering to read all her late-night texts from when I was…occupied.

“So how’d it go?”

My face instantly flushes at the sound of her voice, however innocuous the question. Because as close as we are, I’m not breathing a word about what happened last night to her.

I swallow thickly. “Oh, you know, fine.”

Serena sighs. “I love how you can make taking a business dinner with a guy like Holden Cade sound boring.”

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