Playing To Win: An Elite Athlete Sport Romance Anthology

by Mignon Mykel

  I’m not about to let fear ruin…whatever this is with Wes. Not when things between us are going so well. I can’t remember the last time I felt such a strong physical and emotional connection to a guy. Probably never because I’ve been careful to choose guys who can’t hurt me. Guys who are sweet and safe and utterly boring.

  Basically, the complete opposite of Wes.

  “Are you sure?” he asks, brushing his fingers over the curve of my hip. A shiver races down my spine at his gentle touch and I curl my body into his, soaking up his warmth.

  “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.”

  I don’t know what will happen after tonight, but right here, right now? I want this. I want Wes.

  Wes, with his annoying smirk and needling barbs and gigantic freaking heart.

  He lowers his mouth to mine with renewed fervor and I reach for his belt, making quick work of the buckle. I can’t believe I’m about to have sex with Wes Kaplan. My eighteen-year-old self would never believe it.

  Of course, my eighteen-year-old self also wouldn’t have believed Wes would be sporting rock-hard abs and the kind of pecs that beg to be licked, so obviously she had a lot to learn.

  And you don’t?

  Whatever. I ignore the nagging voice. I have no idea what tomorrow will bring, but I’ll deal with it when the time comes. Tonight, the only thing I care about is orgasms.

  I unbutton Wes’s shorts and slide the zipper down. He’s wearing boxer briefs, but they’re little match for his erection. His cock springs forward and I stroke him from root to tip. Wes gives a groan of approval, so I do it again, this time matching my stroke to the thrust of my tongue in his mouth.

  Wes’s hips shift and he pumps into my hand. “You’d better stop that unless you want me to come in my shorts.”

  “That quick on the draw?” I ask, only half teasing because I want another orgasm, dammit.

  “Tonight, with you, yes,” he says, cupping my chin. “But next time, I promise to make it last.”

  “Next time?” I echo.

  “Next time,” he repeats with more force.

  I don’t push it because tonight I’m all about the here and now and I don’t want Wes’s sex-addled brain making promises he can’t keep.

  Even if I want to reach out and grab those promises with both hands.

  Nope. Better to focus on more practical matters. “Condom?”

  “In my wallet.” He kisses me one last time before climbing to his feet and fishing the leather bifold from his back pocket. He pulls out a foil packet and discards the wallet along with the rest of his clothes.

  I wiggle out of my underwear and toss them on the growing pile of clothing.

  The temperature is dropping, but apparently shrinkage isn’t a problem for Wes. I watch as he tears open the packet and rolls the condom over his length. He’s long and thick and utterly confident as he smiles down at me, totally unfazed by the fact that he’s standing butt-ass naked under the glow of the full moon.

  I glance down at myself. Not like I have much room to talk. I’m laid out like a Christmas feast.

  Wes drops to his knees and anticipation races up my spine as he settles between my legs. His cock nudges at my entrance as he braces himself above me and I know with certainty the sex will be incredible. How could it not be after what we’ve shared tonight? I’ve never opened up to anyone about my father before, but I trust Wes and I know he won’t do anything to hurt me.

  I reach up and touch his cheek, my fingers tracing the line of his square jaw beneath the scratchy five-o’clock shadow. His eyes are hooded as he claims my mouth, taking my bottom lip between his teeth and biting down gently. Need spikes low in my belly, and in answer, Wes seats himself to the hilt with a single thrust. I’m not sure if it’s me moaning or him as he fills me up, my body stretching to fit him.

  Our eyes lock and my heart squeezes at the rightness of the moment. Wes and I are total opposites—there’s no scenario where we make sense—but we fit together perfectly.

  And if we only have one night, at least it’s one I’ll never forget.

  Then we’re kissing and moving, a tangle of arms and legs as our hips crash together, our rhythm in perfect harmony as if we’ve done this dance before. Wes sinks into me over and over, his deep thrusts answering the pulsing desire between my legs as we race toward oblivion. And this time, when I spiral over the edge, every nerve in my body sizzling with pleasure, Wes is right there with me.

  Best. Orgasm. Ever.

  Wes

  The only thing more beautiful than a Colorado sunrise is the serene look on Sky’s face when she lets her guard down. Lucky bastard that I am, I get to wake up to both. The sun is just cresting the Flatirons and the sky is awash in vibrant shades of pink, orange, and purple that will soon give way to the clear blue skies of summer. Sky is curled up next to me, her head resting in the crook of my shoulder with her golden locks splayed out over my arm. She’s wearing my sweatshirt again—even in summer the nights can get chilly—and the blanket is wrapped around her like a tortilla.

  I should wake her, but it’s early and there’s plenty of sunrise left to see. Selfishly, I just want to watch her sleep. Not in a creepy way. At least, I don’t think so. It’s just that she’s so goddamn beautiful I don’t know how I missed it before. I really was oblivious, because there’s no pair of glasses that can hide those big blue eyes or distract from the smattering of cinnamon freckles that dot her nose.

  It’s probably just as well.

  We were kids back then and I didn’t know shit about women. Still don’t, if I’m being honest. But for Sky? I’ll learn. Last night was incredible, but it’s more than just sex with Sky. We have a connection I’ve never felt with any other woman and I want to explore it. I meant it when I told her I was willing to put in the work, because for the first time in my life, I understand what my mom meant about putting my life on hold for climbing. I’ve got another year of training before the Summer Games and I’m not about to take my foot off the gas, not when so many others would be happy to take my spot on the team, but I can’t expect Sky to sit around and wait. If I don’t take my shot now, I’ll miss it.

  My chest aches at the thought.

  Unacceptable.

  One way or another, I’m going to make Sky my girl. If I’ve got to write bad poetry and stand outside her window with an old-school boom box, I’ll do it. There’s nothing I won’t do for this girl.

  Next to me, Sky stirs and her eyes flutter open.

  “Morning, gorgeous.”

  “Morning,” she mumbles, rubbing sleep from her eyes. She blinks and bolts upright. “Shit! What time is it? I’m going to be late for work. I’m never late for work.”

  I laugh quietly. I can’t help it. She’s so cute when she’s being responsible. “It’s not even six yet. You’ve got plenty of time.”

  She relaxes, just barely. “We should get back. I have a meeting at ten.”

  I snake an arm around her waist and pull her back down. “Just five more minutes.” I need way more than five minutes with this woman, but I’ll take what I can get. “Watch the sunrise with me.”

  Sky nods and settles back into the blanket, draping one leg over mine. The press of her curvy body is a distraction I hadn’t anticipated and now the sunrise is the last thing on my mind.

  “It’s beautiful,” she says quietly, gazing out at the horizon. “I can’t remember the last time I saw a sunrise. I should do this more often.”

  “You should,” I agree, rubbing small circles on her back with my thumb. I don’t know what it is about this girl, but I can’t keep my hands off her. “There’s nothing like watching nature wake up to put things in perspective.”

  “Who knew you were such a philosopher?” she teases, poking me in the chest.

  “I’m full of surprises,” I return, capturing her wrist and pulling her in for a kiss. It’s slow and languid, nothing like the ravenous exchanges from last night, but somehow this is better. More int
entional. More feeling than frenzy.

  Sky’s lips are soft and pliant and I’m pretty sure I could do this for hours, because it’s my new favorite way to start the day.

  Unfortunately, Miss Responsible has other ideas.

  “Come on,” she says, pulling away and patting my chest. “We really do need to get back. I can’t be late.”

  “The COC doesn’t open until eight-thirty,” I protest, trying to tug her back down. Sky’s having none of it though. She dodges and scrambles to her feet, victory flashing in her eyes. “Fine. At least have breakfast at the diner with me? I’m starving,” I say, rubbing my stomach and laying it on thick.

  Sky rolls her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitches and I know I’ve won this round.

  Twenty minutes later, we’re seated at the diner, sipping coffee like a real honest to God couple. I’ve never had breakfast with a woman before. Unless you count my mom, which I don’t. It’s a new experience and I’m digging it. I usually eat alone, but there’s something to be said for good company.

  We talk about everything from the Indie Week stats to my hardest climbs and I discover Sky’s never been climbing before, something I intend to rectify the first chance I get. She’s a bit reluctant at first, but the promise of orgasms has her agreeing to at least consider the idea.

  The waitress brings our food—the daily special for me and an egg-white omelet for Sky—before disappearing back to the kitchen. I’m halfway through my bacon and eyeing up Sky’s when she leans forward and whispers, “People are staring.”

  “No one is staring.” It’s not exactly true, but I’m not about to let a bunch of small-town busybodies ruin our breakfast. “And if they are, they’re probably staring at me, trying to figure out how such a skinny dude can put away all this food.”

  Sky notices me eyeing her bacon and slides it onto my plate. “More like they can’t believe you’re slumming it with me.”

  Anger coils low in my gut at the possibility, but I draw a steadying breath and tamp it down. Getting angry won’t help Sky and it sure as hell won’t change this town’s perception of her family. Only Sky can do that.

  “Doubtful. If anyone at this table is out of their league, it’s me,” I say, setting my fork down. “Look at you. You’re a twenty-three-year-old director at the COC, you single-handedly organized Indie Week, and, in case I haven’t mentioned it yet, you’re wicked hot.”

  Sky blushes, just like I knew she would, totally flustered by the compliments.

  “I’m going to ignore the stares and finish my breakfast,” I say, reaching across the table and settling a hand over hers. “If I’m not bothered by their stares, you shouldn’t be either.”

  That at least is the truth. I don’t give a damn what anyone in this town thinks.

  She nods and pushes her plate away. “You’re right.”

  “Hmm?”

  “I said you’re right,” she repeats a bit louder before realizing I heard her clearly the first time. She balls up her napkin and throws it at me, but I bat it away like a ninja.

  “So what’s on the agenda for you today?” Sky asks, wrapping her fingers around her coffee mug.

  “I’m doing an interview with The Daily Caller this morning and then I’m training with a couple of guys at the gym.” I shrug. “Typical day.”

  She laughs—the earlier stares forgotten—and it’s music to my ears. “Your typical day includes a presser?”

  I roll my eyes to cover the embarrassment, but the tips of my ears are burning and I have no doubt she’s noticed. “It’s hardly a presser. Just a small-town puff piece.”

  Sky snorts. “Don’t downplay it. Every interview is an opportunity to sell your brand,” she says, totally matter-of-fact. “You should be proud of yourself.” She pauses and shakes her head. “It’s just that I keep forgetting you’re a hotshot athlete.”

  “How about we stick with professional climber for now?” I wink. “At least until I win the gold.”

  “You say potato, I say French fries.” Sky grins and her eyes light up. “What can I say? It’s the marketer in me.” She tilts her head thoughtfully and looks out the window at Main Street. It’s early and most of the mom-and-pop shops are still closed, but there are a few people on the sidewalks, jogging and walking dogs. “You know, I was serious before. About the COC doing a marketing campaign when you medal at the Summer Games. Main Street would look pretty damn good with your face hanging from the light posts.”

  “I mean, you’re not wrong,” I say with a smirk, though in truth, I haven’t given the conversation much thought. Marketing and publicity aren’t exactly in my wheelhouse. Thankfully, Team Paxl handles all that stuff for its athletes.

  “Be serious. Hometown hero is a good marketing angle. The brand awareness and name recognition would be great for when you decide to open your own gym.”

  “Maybe,” I agree, raking a hand through my hair. “But that’s a long way off. Hell, I don’t even know if Beaumont is endgame for me. I love the town, but I’d have a much larger client base closer to Boulder.”

  Skylar

  My mouth drops open and I snap it closed. It never occurred to me that Wes might not stay in Beaumont long-term. Which is stupid. Just because I can’t leave this town behind doesn’t mean everyone feels the same sense of misplaced obligation.

  Hell, if it weren’t for my dad, I’d probably leave too.

  And my life experiences are nothing compared to Wes’s. He’s traveled the world and climbed some of the most iconic and beautiful locations in the world. Of course he’d want to move on to bigger and better things once he gets his gold medal. After all, what is there to keep him in Beaumont?

  We aren’t a couple. The sex was amazing, but I knew last night might be just that, one night. I can’t—won’t—go foisting expectations on him. It wouldn’t be fair. To either of us.

  “Sky?”

  The sound of Wes’s voice brings me back to the diner. “Hmm?”

  “If you’re done, we should probably head out.” He gives me that adorably lazy grin. “Don’t want you to be late.”

  “Right.” I nod jerkily. “And you’ve got your interview.”

  Wes must sense my unease because for the second time this morning, he reaches across the table and takes my hand, his long, calloused fingers twining with my own. “I know this probably breaks like a billion rules of dating,” he says, ducking his head, “but can I see you tonight?”

  Warmth floods my chest and just like that, my anxiety is gone. It’s one date and there are no guarantees, but when are there ever any guarantees in life? You’ve got to take the moments you’re given and make the most of them, which is exactly what I intend to do.

  “I hear there’s a pretty cool basket weaving class at Studio 550,” I say, batting my lashes. “We could check it out, unless of course you’d rather try Sushi on Main? They’ve got a killer Rainbow Roll.”

  Wes groans good-naturedly—making it clear he’s not into basket weaving or sushi—and says, “Ladies choice.”

  He pays the bill and drops me off at the yoga studio with a scorching kiss to hold me over until our date. I collect dad’s truck and, with the engine running, roll down the window to wave as Wes pulls away. That’s when I see them. Two older women stand out front of Queen of Tarts, both clutching their pearls in one hand and a white bakery bag in the other.

  Talk about a walking cliché.

  “Isn’t that Maggie Kaplan’s son?” one of them asks, not even bothering to whisper.

  “It most certainly is,” the other replies, lips pinched in disapproval. “And with that Jones girl. You mark my words. That one’s going to be trouble, just like her daddy.”

  Christ. The woman doesn’t even know my name, but she’s damn confident in her assessment of me. Shame burns my cheeks as I throw the truck in gear, my pleasant mood dissipating like fog at sunrise. First the stares at the diner, now this?

  It doesn’t matter what they think. If Wes doesn’t care, neither shoul
d you.

  Right. These pearl clutching gossips don’t get to have an opinion on me or my relationship with Wes. Besides, it’s not like their small-minded comments can hurt me. I’ve heard it all before.

  Determined to ignore the petty gossip, I head home and hustle through my morning routine. Against all odds, I sail through the front door of the COC at eight twenty-nine. Right on time.

  I grab a cup of coffee from the tiny kitchenette and busy myself at my desk, making the final preparations for my meeting with Maggie. Problem is, my mind keeps drifting to Wes. So not good. Of all the things I shouldn’t be thinking about when I sit down across from my boss, her son and his lickable abs top the list.

  Focus!

  Right. I just need to get through the morning and then I can spend the afternoon thinking all the dirty thoughts because, yeah, after last night, my brain has totally jumped the track. Sex with Wes was like nothing I’ve ever experienced. Not that I have much experience, but even I know that first times are usually awkward and self-conscious. But it wasn’t like that with Wes. I felt safe. Cherished. Completely at ease.

  Much as I hate to admit it, maybe it was a good thing he went with me to pick up my dad. The experience may have been embarrassing as hell, but it also gave me the opportunity to see another side of Wes. One that’s serious and compassionate and trustworthy.

  There’s a knock at my office door.

  My head pops up like a damn prairie dog and there stands Maggie Kaplan in a sharp navy suit and practical heels. She has the same dark hair and eyes as Wes, but her face is softer somehow. Maybe it’s the chin because it sure as hell isn’t the all-business eyes, which are showing the beginnings of crow’s feet.

  “My nine o’clock canceled,” she says, folding her arms across her chest. “Can we move your Indie Week update to nine?”

  It may sound like a question, but we both know it’s not. If I say no, she’ll think I’m unprepared. “Sure. No problem.”

  I only need a few minutes to save and print updated copies of the presentation. That should leave more than enough time to squeeze in a quick trip to the bathroom before I enter the dragon’s lair.