The Jock and the Geek (Gone Geek Book 3)

by Sidney Bristol

  She leaned toward the nightstand, jerked the drawer open and set an unopened box on top of whatever book she was reading.

  He fucking loved her.

  “Get undressed. Now.”

  Older, bolder and bossy? He’d hit the jackpot.

  Oliver grinned and kissed her mouth. The frustrated sound she made was worth it.

  Sam was turned on. She thought about him enough to think about being prepared. That was hope if he ever saw it.

  He stripped in a hurry, not bothering with buttons, kicking off his shoes.

  Sam lay on the bed, watching him. He wanted to touch her, to feel her skin against his first. He crawled over her, her arms circling his waist, sliding down to cup his ass. She lifted her hips, grinding against him.

  “Sam,” he whispered.

  “Oliver.”

  “I’ve missed this.”

  “Me, too.”

  He sealed his lips over hers before they said anything else. His mind knew that things spoken under stressful times didn’t really count, but he wanted those words to be true. She rocked her hips against his, her legs curling around him, cradling him to her. He could feel her heat, the arousal.

  Her nails dug into his skin.

  He knew that signal.

  Oliver pushed up, grabbing blindly for the box. He tore into it, ripping off and open the first condom. In a matter of moments he had it on.

  Sam’s gaze never left him. He liked her watching, knowing she’d planned for this.

  He leaned forward, bracing himself on one hand and guiding his cock to her pussy.

  “You’re amazing, you know that?” He dipped his head.

  For a moment her body tightened. He held back. She shifted and the head of his cock slid into her. She whimpered. He groaned.

  Damn. She felt good.

  He eased in, her heels driving into his ass. Her hands slid around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper. He dropped his head, finding her mouth by feel. The needy, low sounds he swallowed were all he needed to know that he was doing something right.

  Their youthful couplings had tended toward fast, frenzied, and full of need. Now, he wanted to spend hours showing her how to feel.

  Oliver worked himself deeper, not the least bit hurried despite the steadily rising pitch of Sam’s moans.

  There.

  He slid all the way in, their bodies fitting together in a way that was better than before.

  “Oliver,” she said his name with frustration, teeth gritted. “I want…I want…”

  “What?”

  “Move.” She arched her back.

  “I am.” He worked his hips in a circle.

  “No,” she wailed and shifted under him.

  “What is it?”

  “I’m going to lose it if you don’t move.”

  From the crease of her brow he didn’t think “it” was her mind.

  He took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together and kissed her.

  Oliver flexed his hips, pulling out a bit and thrust harder. She whimpered and held tight to his hands, her calves tensing, urging him on. Damn, but she hugged him tight. Good wasn’t the right word for how her body felt around him. He pulled back and plunged deep, no hesitation. He stared down at her face, and she didn’t look away, didn’t hide her eyes like she might have once.

  He thrust, again and again, finding her rhythm, letting the heels against his thighs and ass set the pace. Her breasts slid against his chest. Her hands clenched his. He could see her need, the passion he’d tasted before clearly written in the lines of her face.

  “Oh—Oliver!” Her head tipped back and her body shuddered around him.

  Fuck.

  Her pussy clamped down, and coming became the most important thing in his life.

  He thrust, the motions jerky, her hold on him so tight he shifted her across the sheets with each move. He dropped his head to her shoulder, his lips against her neck.

  Almost.

  There.

  Oliver groaned, the release rolling up through his body so hard it robbed him of his senses.

  Better and better.

  They lay like that for what felt like ages. Her hands stroked his back.

  He didn’t want to leave this moment. As soon as they shifted, the world would intrude. What he wouldn’t give for it to just be him and Sam, forever.

  She sighed first, a subtle get on with it sound.

  He picked up his head, kissed her lips and eased out of her. Sam stretched, not the least bit concerned with her nudity. He pressed his mouth to hers once more, because he could, and she seemed to like it.

  “I’ll use the hall bath.” He squeezed her hand, grabbed his boxers from the pile and shuffled off to give her space.

  Damn, but it was kind of weird being in what had been her family home, in her bed. He shook his head and closed the door to the bathroom.

  He cleaned up, taking his time, giving Sam space.

  She’d likely want him to leave, for appearance’s sake, but he didn’t want to go. He wanted to stay wrapped around her. Like a shield.

  By the time he returned to the bedroom, Sam had the sheet pulled up and lay on her side, all the lights off. He hesitated in the doorway. If she could fall asleep this fast, he didn’t want to bother her.

  “Come hug me?” She patted the bed behind her.

  He didn’t need more urging than that.

  Oliver crawled up the bed and slid under the sheet, wrapping his arm around her waist.

  He pressed a kiss to the back of her neck. She was so damn amazing, and he was lucky to get to hold her. Still, they had a lot to manage and he couldn’t get caught up in what he wanted.

  “I can leave out the back, if you think that’s better?”

  She didn’t answer, just wrapped his arm around her a bit tighter.

  “Sam?”

  “What?”

  “You want me to stay for a bit, or go?”

  “I don’t know. You probably need to go. The last thing we need is to make Dad angrier. But…” She sighed. “I don’t want to think about optics right now. I don’t know. I don’t know.”

  “Okay. I’ll stay a bit longer and then leave out the back.”

  He’d go home and likely stay up all night, wondering about her, wanting to be here, but it was the right thing to do. Sam probably wanted her space anyway.

  For nearly twenty minutes they lay like that, fingers stroking skin, no words spoken, just the silent communion of their bodies. The bedside clock hit the hour, and he knew he had to go or sleep would take the choice away.

  Oliver propped himself up and kissed her shoulder.

  “I’m leaving,” he said. “Text me in the morning?”

  She rolled to her back, her hand splayed against his chest.

  “Don’t go,” she said, those two words slamming into him.

  He wasn’t strong enough to say no, so he laid back down and tucked her head under his chin, giving into what he’d wanted for so long.

  10.

  Samantha held her head up and strode into the restaurant. She focused on the woman’s face at the back corner booth.

  Bless her.

  Kaily smiled and waved, oblivious to the stares, the dirty looks, the whispered comments.

  News was spreading about Sam and Oliver’s indiscretion. As much as she wanted to hole up at home and hide, she couldn’t. It was imperative for her plan to work that she get out. Act normal.

  Few enough of Sam’s friends had reached out since the splash this morning. Tomorrow it would only get worse. Kaily was one of Sam’s oldest friends. She’d sort of inherited Kaily from Rashae, who’d met her at one con or another.

  Sam reached the table. Kaily stood and hugged Sam tight.

  “How are you?” she whispered.

  “Okay.”

  “Sit.”

  They situated themselves in the booth, looking out at everyone watching them.

  “Say everything with a smile.” Kaily picked up her water glass.
“What you can’t smile about, hide.”

  Sam stared at Kaily’s sad eyes. She was so used to seeing Kaily at home or in small, casual settings. When was the last time they’d gone out?

  “Do you need to talk, or should I?” Kaily asked.

  “I don’t know.” Sam lifted her shoulders and picked up her glass.

  “Atta girl.” Kaily sipped from hers then set it down. “How’s Rashae doing? I haven’t heard from her lately.”

  “Good. Working double time, as she does.”

  “She is good at that. I should call her.”

  “She’d like to hear from you.”

  “You look sad, Sam. Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Not here.”

  “All right then, so how about we order a salad, make some small talk, and then go for a walk or a drive?”

  “That…sounds lovely.”

  For an hour they chatted, made small talk, gossiped about who wound up where, but never once touched on Sam’s problems. Similarly, Kaily offered no insight as to her familiarity with scandal.

  Sam knew Kaily’s family had money, but she’d only ever mentioned her mother. She’d gone to college, majoring in business. She worked for a management company that took care of the day to day dealings of the condo owners and renters. Come to think of it, Kaily hardly spoke about work. Sam had always assumed it was matter of the career supporting her lifestyle. Now, she had to wonder what her friend was hiding.

  They left the restaurant, pausing out on the sidewalk while Kaily peered into her bag.

  “A gift.” She handed over a large, hard case with a pair of sleek sunglasses, the kind that Jackie O might have worn.

  “Thank you,” Sam said slowly.

  “Put them on and walk with me?”

  Sam did as Kaily asked and fell into line with her friend.

  “DC is a funny town. It’s progressive and conservative all at once.” Kaily tipped her chin up.

  “I suppose so.”

  “You’re lucky, you know?”

  “I am?”

  “Yes, you are.” Kaily peered at her, half her face hidden behind the sunglasses. “So many people in politics are hiding something, some secret, a scandal. This is your family’s first. Some advice?”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “Be wary of the people who call to check on you, the ones who offer themselves as a sympathetic shoulder. Even me. We’re all looking to get ahead in this world.”

  Sam stopped on the sidewalk. Kaily stopped and faced her.

  “What happened to you, Kaily?”

  “I was born.” She shrugged as if that made all the sense in the world. “Shit. Glasses on.”

  Sam glanced over her shoulder. She knew the determined stare and quick-step of a journalist out for a story. She pulled the sunglasses out of the case and slipped them on, falling into step with Kaily.

  “Ms. Grant? Ms. Grant, a moment of your time?” The man held out his phone, no doubt looking to record her words.

  “Do you want to talk to him?” Kaily asked.

  Sam shook her head. Being seen was one thing, making an off the cuff statement was another.

  “Just keep walking.” Kaily grasped Sam’s hand and stepped between her and the reporter. Her voice was so kind, so unlike the cryptic, cool words she’d spoken. “She doesn’t want to make a comment at this time, thank you.”

  “Please? Ma’am, just one question?” The man kept stride with them.

  “No comment, thank you,” Sam said, mimicking Kaily’s tone.

  “Here.” Kaily stepped in front of the man and held up her arm.

  An oncoming taxi slowed to a stop. Kaily nudged Sam at the car and followed her in. Sam stared out the window at a duo of camera-wielding journalists hot on their heels.

  She’d had no idea things would get this big. This out of control. Well, she’d known they could. Anything her father did was of note, but she wasn’t ready.

  Kaily gave the driver the address of Sam’s brownstone. Usually, she’d just take the metro, but perhaps this time around it was better to be cautious.

  “Do you have a plan?” Kaily asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Stick to it. Commit to your plan and never look back. If you second-guess yourself…” Kaily shook her head.

  Sam stared at the woman, realizing that perhaps she’d never really known her.

  Oliver slipped his suit jacket off. It was balls hot outside. Why couldn’t they have taken pictures in the morning? Or evening? The middle of the afternoon was miserable between the heat and humidity.

  He breathed a sigh of relief as a breeze cooled the back of his soaked shirt.

  “You look like you’re dying.” Samantha peered up at him.

  “You try wearing wool in this weather, and see how you feel.” Of course she’d liked his brown suit with the tiny tan plaid lines the best. It was only his warmest suit, the one he never wore, except in the dead of winter.

  “Sorry. You look great though.”

  “Thanks.” He glanced around. The photographer’s assistant was the only other person still around, and he was turning toward the parking lot. “We need to do anything else?”

  “Nope. You can go back to saving the world.” She smiled, but it was a tight expression.

  “What’s wrong?” He reached for her, pushing a wayward strand of hair out of her face, then pulling her in for a quick squeeze.

  “I had lunch with Kaily. It was…weird.”

  “Let’s take a walk before I head out.” He gestured toward the path leading away from the parking lot. “Kaily?”

  “She was one of Rashae’s friends. I don’t think you know her. She’s the assistant manager of a condo building.”

  “Kaily Douglas?” Oliver blinked at Sam.

  “Yes,” she said slowly. “How do you know Kaily?”

  Oh, shit.

  Oliver scrubbed a hand across his face.

  “How’d Rashae meet Kaily?” Talk about weird fucking coincidences.

  “At a convention when they were in high school. Did you two date?”

  “No.” Oliver shook his head.

  “Then how do you know her? Kaily’s always kept to herself.”

  “It’s not…” Oliver sighed. The things he knew courtesy of his father. “She manages a building called Luxe Place. Or will manage it. It’s where the Washington elite keep their mistresses.”

  “What?” Sam stared at him, eyes wide.

  “I met Kaily…shit. When I was in junior high. My dad’s mistresses lived there. Kaily lived in four twenty-four. Sometimes we’d hang out or whatever.”

  “Are—what—I…”

  “Kaily’s not like her mom. Kaily’s a nice girl. She’s smart. But I got the impression that whoever her father was, it put rules on her life. Luxe has always been managed by the illegitimate children of Washington’s indulged.”

  “I never knew…”

  “You’ve worked for good people. And it’s not like Luxe is what it used to be. The building used to be a brothel. A high-end brothel, but still a brothel. It was torn down, rebuilt as a pleasure palace sort of place. Torn down, rebuilt. Torn down, and rebuilt again as Luxe…twenty years ago? It was still pretty new when I visited. What’s that face for?”

  “Some things Kaily said… They make sense now… She always wanted to come over to my place whenever possible and not hers.”

  “Because Kaily’s smart.”

  “I never knew. Why wouldn’t she tell me?”

  “Her job, her security in life, is dependent on keeping other people’s secrets. Like my dad’s. Whoever manages Luxe knows where all the bodies are buried.”

  “Seriously?”

  “No.” Oliver chuckled and reached for Sam’s hand. It was too pretty of a day to keep talking about the seedy dealings of people he wanted to forget.

  “She suggested that maybe we try to leave for a few days.” Sam squeezed his hand.

  “That would be nice.” He tipped his hea
d back, inhaling the sweet scent of freshly-cut grass. “Any ideas?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Look into it. I’ll talk to your dad.”

  “Is it a good idea to talk to Kaily? Should I be seen with her?”

  “Most of people don’t know who she is or what living in Luxe means. And not everyone who lives there is a mistress these days. She’s probably someone who needs a friend. Tell her I said hi. I haven’t seen her in years. How’s she doing?”

  “Good, I guess. We were hanging out once a week when I was working, since it’s not that far to her building from downtown.” Sam stared up at him. “How did I not know?”

  “Because Luxe is Luxe. It’s private and secure. That’s what living there, keeping a mistress there, means.”

  “Should I tell Kaily I know?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What if she’s embarrassed?”

  “If she’s anything like what I remember, she’ll probably do that thing where she presses her lips together and sighs.”

  “She does that.” Sam chuckled. “She always tips her chin down and stares at me, like, ‘Really Sam?’”

  They approached a basketball court nestled into the park’s rolling hills. A forgotten ball sat under a bench, as though seeking shelter from the afternoon sun.

  “Want to shoot some hoops?” He let go of Sam’s hand and snagged the ball.

  Bouncing it on the concrete, the rhythmic splat, splat, splat, calmed him. He always thought better when he could do something. Run. Play ball.

  “Sounds like it needs some air,” Sam said.

  “Yeah, it’s a little flat.” He tossed his jacket onto the bench.

  Oliver dribbled the ball to the half court line. Sam watched him from the bench, pretty as can be in her pale yellow dress. It had faux flowers all over the skirt, giving it a textured, ruffled, frilly look.

  A lot of what happened between them counted on Sam’s plan going well. If disaster struck, if this whole thing was exposed as the lie it started as, would she leave him?

  She wasn’t the shy, demure young woman she’d been. Mistaking Sam’s quietness for anything other than a brilliant mind studying the field was stupidity.

  He wasn’t the cocky bastard of his youth, either. Life had put him on his ass enough times that he recognized opportunity now for what it was. A one in a million chance. And this one was with Sam. Everything had to count, even these moments.