by Sienna Blake
Adam had a hard time believing that would happen. But for now, he guessed he’d have to take the man at his word and make the best of things, even if it pissed him off to have Dyson practically living on top of him.
Also, that might be the most he’d heard Dyson say all at once since he’d met the man.
“You get settled in,” Adam finally replied. He no longer had the energy for this nonsense after such a hard game. He was running on empty. “Take whatever you want from the fridge too. Help yourself to anything. I don’t stand on ceremony.”
“Thank you.”
Adam waved the thanks away. “It’s nothing. Now, I’m going to go soak in my hot tub for a year and try and feel human again.”
CHAPTER FOUR
DYSON
Dyson was used to luxurious places. Mansions. Ballrooms. Fancy hotels. He’d been on yachts and private jets, but always as a bodyguard. As a shadow. As a protector who kept the politicians, the famous, and the wealthy safe.
This situation was a bit odd and new for him. He’d never had a principal tell him to raid the fridge at will or to take whatever he wanted. Most of the time, the person he was protecting essentially ignored him. That was fine. It made him more effective, so he could focus on keeping them safe.
But something told him this particular principal was going to be a challenge.
The quarterback kept him off-balance, kept him guessing. Dyson would admit that readily enough. Just when he thought he had Adam Collins’s number, the man surprised him.
After Adam disappeared into the back of the condo for his hot tub soak, Dyson took the opportunity to check the place out. It also gave him a chance to think. To reassess the situation.
He wasn’t pleased when they’d stepped through the door only to find Adam’s ex inside. He always researched a client before taking a job. He’d known Adam Collins was labeled a ladies’ man. A playboy. A heartbreaker. He’d also known the guy was dating Parks, a Razorbacks cheerleader.
It showed Dyson that Collins was a rule breaker when it suited him. If Missy Parks was a cheerleader, then the two of them had been breaking pro football league rules.
So Collins was another one of the rich and famous who believed the rules didn’t apply to him. It was disappointing to find that out.
He frowned, thinking it over, wondering why he should care. Why would Dyson feel disappointed that Collins was just like all the others?
Simple. Part of him was coming to like the guy, despite himself. But he didn’t like people who bent the rules for their own selfish reasons. He didn’t like liars. And he didn’t like hypocrites.
Most clients disappointed Dyson. But he’d been hoping that the quarterback of his favorite team would prove better.
Still, it wasn’t all bad. If Collins was between women, it made Dyson’s job easier. After he was introduced to this building’s security personnel and was in the system, he could better lockdown who could come and go. Or at least know beforehand who was looking to see Collins. So no more surprise visits from ex-girlfriends.
This condo was certainly nice, though. He could get used to this kind of life, but he knew he would never see this kind of money. The payment on this place must be twenty or thirty grand a month. That was staggering.
He walked through the great room, looking over the big windows with the impressive views of Dallas and the downtown area. It was late afternoon. The sky was bright blue, and the outside air clear and crisp.
Normally, he’d be concerned about so many big windows, but they were so high up that he didn’t need to worry about someone climbing up here. The lobby had a twenty-four-hour concierge and plenty of security. The building had plenty of cameras outside the condos. It would be difficult for some wing nut to get here through the lobby, especially since you needed a code for the elevators. The private garage had a gate that only opened if the car’s license plate was in the security system. But even if the crazy guy slipped inside when another resident was coming or going, he wouldn’t be able to use the elevator or stairs because you needed a mag card or a code.
Dyson wondered how often the codes were changed. Not often enough if Missy Parks had managed to get all the way up here on her own.
He walked through the kitchen. It was massive and filled with gleaming stainless steel. Two refrigerators. Touchless faucets. Huge gas grills. Double wall ovens. Everything was fancy and clean.
Curious, he opened each of the huge Subzero fridges. One was filled to the brim with food. Surprisingly, he saw a bunch of fresh vegetables and fruit inside, along with a lot of meat. Mostly chicken. Not a lot of junk food.
The other fridge was filled with energy drinks and bottled tea and a few bottles of beer. Expensive stuff, foreign and domestic. Nothing else but drinks.
He shut the door again. Must be nice to have an entire fridge to keep your drink supply cold.
Most people didn’t know this about Dyson, but he loved to cook. He’d sell his right testicle for a kitchen as nice as this one.
He wondered if Collins realized how good he had it. Maybe. Again, the guy was hard to read. It was clear that Collins didn’t want him here. Maybe Collins didn’t like him. That wouldn’t stop him from doing his job. Or maybe Collins was embarrassed about the ex-girlfriend and what she’d said. She had come on to Dyson there at the end, trying to shame Collins.
Dyson didn’t care about any of that. He had no problems with women, but they didn’t have any power over him either. Not like the way the gorgeous ones could lead straight guys around by the balls using pouts, smiles, unspoken promises, and a flash of cleavage or two.
Even though Dyson wasn’t interested, guys still got jealous. Maybe he should break one of his own rules. Maybe he should tell Collins that he was gay. For no other reason than to lay all his cards on the table and avoid any future trouble relating to women.
Undecided, he walked through the formal dining room with its massive windows, huge table, and classy decor, all of it looking as if a meal had never been eaten in here. The chandeliers weren’t really to his taste. They looked like spiny sea urchins dangling from the ceiling with bulbs on the tips of their spines.
He passed back through the great room, noting all the high-tech gadgets of this smart-tech-enabled condo. He was still looking things over and thinking, planning, feeling things out.
That careful approach had served him well in the past. He had faith it would continue to do so.
Meanwhile, he was still considering whether or not to reveal to Collins that he was homosexual. It was a risk. Not only would he be revealing something intensely private about himself, but Collins could potentially freak out and kick him out. Some straight guys had the dumbest ideas about gay men. As if you could “catch” gayness. Or that Dyson would waste his time trying to “put the moves on” a straight guy.
Dyson had been with a couple of guys who were firmly in the closet when it came to the rest of society. Those relationships never lasted long. He would encourage them to at least tell their friends and family about who they were. When they didn’t, he would leave sooner or later.
Harsh, but he had to draw the line somewhere. He knew his dislike of liars and fake people made him seem judgmental and unfeeling sometimes. He knew his lack of empathy about it was a personal failing. But being honest was important for a man. Especially in a world that could be very hostile toward people like him. He didn’t think of himself as a hero, but he didn’t mind making a stand for what was right, either.
Yeah, yeah. But aren’t you being a hypocrite right now? Talking about liars and still keeping your own secrets.
Letting Collins believe he was straight was lying to him. Or it was hiding the truth. He didn’t need to run around waving a rainbow flag while wrapped in a gay pride banner, but if this could be an issue, Adam Collins had the right to know.
Dyson wasn’t afraid of the truth. He’d been in fights before where some bigoted bastard wanted to hurt him because of the way he was. That man learned to regret his
hateful actions very quickly. Dyson wasn’t a violent man by nature. Being on active deployment showed him too much of that. But he wasn’t a coward either. He would fight when fighting couldn’t be avoided.
Yeah. He should definitely be upfront about this with Collins. The sooner, the better. He should do it before he got settled in and comfortable. Just in case Collins didn’t want him living here because he was gay and he thought gay people had cooties or something stupid. Dyson would still do his job, just from the lobby or the street side, watching over Collins when he went out in public.
It wasn’t as ideal as this, but he would make it work.
Dyson made his way down the hall, intending to confront Collins and let him know before this went any further. The door to the master suite was open. He glanced inside, still staying in the hallway.
Whoever Collins’s interior decorator had been, he or she had been decently talented. He supposed that made sense since Collins could afford the best. The room was very masculine. The walls were off-white, the curtains a brown that matched the dark wood bed, dressers, and room accents. It was a corner room, so it had huge windows facing the downtown skyscrapers and the narrow stripe of water and greenery that was the Trinity River. The artwork on the walls was all football-related but tasteful. Stuff that looked expensive.
There was no sign of Collins. His sports bag sat near a huge walk-in closet. His clothing was dumped in a pile next to it.
The thought of the attractive quarterback strutting around bare-ass naked stirred an ache deep in Dyson’s groin. But he pushed that surge of lust aside with a barely audible growl of annoyance.
Now wasn’t the time for that kind of thinking. Hell, never was the time with this ladies’ man. And it was pretty damn selfish to hope the dude was bisexual.
He could hear the bubbles and the hum of hot tub jets. He knocked on the open bedroom door, still standing outside in the hallway. “Mr. Collins?”
“Yeah? What is it?” Collins called from deeper in the big master suite, from the master bath, which Dyson couldn’t see from here.
“I have something I’d like to talk to you about.” He should’ve backed off and put it off until later. Now he was committed, and he didn’t want to lie after all his bitching about liars. What a mess. Maybe he could yell the news from here.
There was a long pause. “Is it important?”
“Yes, sir.”
“All right. Come in. I’m in the hot tub.”
He cursed himself silently. He should’ve just let it go. Now it was going to be harder to concentrate.
Also, it would be the absolute worst time to tell Collins that Dyson was gay. When Collins was sitting naked in a hot tub.
Wonderful. His tactical thinking was in the trash right now. That’s how badly Collins had thrown him off his game.
Still, he walked into the master suite and headed for the open door to the master bath.
The master bath was as luxurious as he expected. Everything was marble with dark accents and gold. Big mirrors. A window looking out on the city, of course, although the shade was turned. The master bath was as big as Dyson’s living room. It had a huge walk-in shower with multiple shower spray heads. Two sinks with plenty of counter space and fancy no-touch faucets in gold. There was even a fern near the window. He hadn’t figured Collins for a plant guy.
The jet tub was in the corner of the master bath. The tub surface roiled with bubbles and white foam.
Collins was in the tub, leaning back on the seat with his arms spread wide. He had his eyes closed as the steam rose up all around him.
Damn, the quarterback was good-looking. It struck him hard right then.
It was irritating as hell. The guy seemed blessed with the best of everything. Fame, fortune, and looks. Collins even had a nice tan. Not too much, but enough that his skin wasn’t pale. His chest was broad and sculpted, without an ounce of fat. Dyson might be twenty or thirty pounds heavier, but he wasn’t nearly as cut as this guy. He was strong, but Collins had one of those bodies where the muscle seemed right up close to the skin.
He couldn’t see anything lower than Collin’s pecs and muscular shoulders because of the bubbles. Even though he immediately looked. He couldn’t help it. The man was naked, and he looked damn good.
Luckily, Collins still had his eyes closed and didn’t notice or care.
Dyson felt his groin tighten with need, his cock growing thicker and heavier. He struggled to push all thoughts of the naked quarterback out of his mind. He didn’t want Collins to open his eyes to see Dyson looming over him with a raging hard-on.
No. He couldn’t do this now. It was exactly the wrong time. He couldn’t tell Collins that he was a homosexual while standing in the man’s bathroom, staring at him lounging nude in a hot tub.
What was wrong with him? What the hell had he been thinking?
Collins opened those blue eyes. He raised an eyebrow. “You said it was important?”
“Yeah. I want to talk about routines, so I can provide the best level of protection. I don’t have a partner to rotate off with, so I’ll need to match my sleep schedule with yours.”
Collins looked both amused and a little annoyed. “We couldn’t wait to talk about that?”
“Sorry, sir. You’re right. I didn’t mean to interrupt your bath.”
“This is a hot tub soak. Baths are something women take.”
Dyson bit back a smirk. He didn’t know Collins well enough to know when he was or wasn’t joking. He cleared his throat. “Of course. I shouldn’t have interrupted your hot tub recuperation with shoptalk.”
“Yeah, just give me a minute to relax. I’ve been going hard all day.”
“Sure thing,” he said sympathetically. The man had taken more than his fair share of hits. The Razorbacks needed a stronger offensive line. “I saw you take a few hits today.”
“Yeah, we missed a few blocks. I know what the coach will be hammering us over during the next practice.” He groaned and stretched. Dyson tried not to stare. “The fans don’t realize how punishing this sport is on your body. After games like these where I end up sacked a few times, I need the heat to help with the pain.”
Dyson nodded slowly. That was something he didn’t consider very often. Athletes pushed their bodies to the limit. A sport like football was even harder on the body, with two-hundred-plus pound men slamming into each other at full speed. Collins was right. Most people didn’t stop to appreciate it. They probably figured the pads and helmets were more than enough to keep the players safe.
But he realized something else interesting, even surprising. Collins didn’t blame his offensive line for letting the other team through to sack him. He said “we” instead of pinning the blame on the guards and tackles who were supposed to protect him. That was good team leadership. Dyson had met a few pro athletes who were relentlessly obsessed with themselves. Sometimes they even put themselves over the rest of the team.
Maybe Adam Collins wasn’t one of those kinds of jerks.
“All right then,” Dyson said. “I’ll stop bothering you. We can talk more later.”
“Yeah.” Adam leaned his head back on the edge of the tub again and closed his eyes. “Get yourself a beer and relax. I’m safe here.”
“Will you be in for the night?”
“Nah. There’s a team party later tonight down at one of the clubs. The Neon Marquee Nightclub. It’s a celebration thing. I try not to miss them.”
“What’s their security like?”
Adam chuckled. “You have a one-track mind, you know that?”
If this guy only knew that minutes before, Dyson had been ogling him as he relaxed in the steaming, bubbling water. One-track mind? Maybe. But not for what Collins assumed.
“What can I say? I’m dedicated to my job.”
“Fair enough. We’ll talk about it later.”
Dyson took that as his cue to get the hell out. Collins still had his head back and his eyes closed as the water bubbled and the hot tub hum
med around him. Dyson took one last look at the quarterback’s tempting body and left.
The offer of a beer was tempting, but he wouldn’t drink until he was off-duty for the day. Since they were heading out to a party later, he would definitely hold off.
He wandered back into the guest room, disappointed with himself and how things had gone. He’d meant to tell Collins the big reveal but had completely misjudged the situation like a dumbass rookie.
For now, he would have to wait. The problem was, the longer he waited, the more of an issue it could turn out to be. Especially since he’d been in such close confines with his principal already.
Especially since he couldn’t deny his attraction to the man he was supposed to protect.
He needed to keep his focus. He needed to stay professional.
So why did he have a feeling that was going to be harder than it looked?
CHAPTER FIVE
ADAM
The club was loud, but the team had a private room where the music was lower. This was a special events room with its own bartender and servers exclusively for the team. Women could come and go from the main club area, but there was a bouncer at the door vetting people.
Adam was sitting in an area with a huge L-shaped couch, drinking single malt Lagavulin scotch. Kenyan Lewis, the Razorback’s starting running back, was with him, along with Anthony Smith, one of their best wide receivers. Kenyan had his wife April there with him. They’d been married for a year now, and April was a real sweetheart. Anthony was between women, as he liked to explain to anyone in earshot. He was on the prowl for a honey.
Adam wasn’t on the prowl for anything. He was simply enjoying hanging with the team after a win. Not everybody was here, but a lot of them were. Quite a few of his teammates were out on the dance floor. John Beach, the kicker, was at the bar, ordering another round. Frank Lawrence, the big center from Notre Dame, was leading toasts to all the assistant coaches.
