by Teagan Kade
MAX
We’re late to dinner. I shouldn’t have slipped into the shower with Dawn while she was getting ready, but it’s been three weeks since I’ve seen her.
I’ve been so busy with the gym, Dawn with her spring collections given her recent show was such a success. Absence really does make the heart grow fonder… and my cock grow harder.
Dinner was wonderful, but when Dawn steps out onto the balcony of the Ghost Bar on the fifty-fifth floor of the Palms Ivory Tower, I’m blown away.
Honestly, given the see-through floor, I want to get off this thing as soon as possible, back to hard, safe ground. But George, the owner, promised us five minutes alone out here. It was too good to pass up. He’s a big boxing fan, saw me take down O’Neil in that infamous YouTube clip. I’ve had countless offers since to go into fighting, but I passed them all up. Those days are done.
Dawn leans on the railing and pulls me over. She looks incredible in a silky silver dress, but it’s her eyes that shine the brightest, even brighter than the city lights below. “We finally had a proper date.”
“Did I do okay?” I ask.
She places her hand on my chest. “You did more than okay, and boy am I going to make sure you know it when we get back to the suite.”
I turn into her slightly to hide my erection and run my hand up her side, the fabric of her dress starting to bunch in my hand.
She looks around. “Why are we the only ones out here?”
I look across to the people gathered inside, the staff standing by the door making sure we have the deck to ourselves. I look down at her nipples stiff against the front of her dress. I can’t wait to take them in my mouth. “Too cold out, maybe?”
Dawn’s eyebrows knit. “Seriously? It’s perfect out here.”
“Maybe I wanted some room.”
“For what?” she laughs.
I get down on one knee and take her hand. “For this.”
Her mouth drops and she stares down at me, looking over to the crowd pressed against the glass inside eager to watch me make a fool of myself.
I take out the chestnut box that has been burning a hole in my jacket pocket all night.
“Max?” Dawn queries.
“Dawn Anna Hayes,” I begin, the words I’ve practiced for so long running through my head. “I feel like everything in my life has led me to you—my choices, my heartbreaks, my regrets. Everything. But when we’re together, my past seems worth it, because if I had done one thing differently, I might never have met you.”
I open the box, the ring glinting in the moonlight. A tear falls upon stone.
“I got that off Pinterest,” I confess. “But I mean every word.”
“What are you doing on Pinterest?” she laughs, crying with joy.
I shake my head. “Getting sidetracked by cute cat pictures, apparently, and recipes for cupcakes, people make really good cupcakes on there, but I’m serious, Dawn. Sometimes the bad things that happen in our lives put us directly on the path to the very best, and that’s you. You’re the best thing to happen to me—period. So,” I pause, waiting.
“Say it,” she smiles.
“Dawn ‘Knock Out’ Hayes, will you marry me?”
Epilogue II
Dawn
ANOTHER YEAR LATER
I can’t believe it’s been two years since I met Max on that fateful night in Brooklyn. A lot’s happened since then. This has happened.
The surprising benefit of being pregnant is my new cleavage. Max’s hands glide back up my dress from behind to weigh and knead my heavy breasts. I close my eyes and mew against his face. “You should shave.”
“And you should stop being so sexy,” comes his husky reply.
I reach back and find his cock rock hard through his suit trousers. “You’re going to make me too horny.”
He kisses down the soft sweep of my neck across my bare shoulder. “Is that a problem?”
I laugh. “My fiancé walking into the biggest fashion awards show in the state with a giant hard-on? Yeah, I guess that’s a problem.”
“You don’t want those other girls to see what they’re missing out on?”
“I own your cock, mister. It’s my property.”
He looks down. “News to me, and it.”
I turn and we embrace. I drive my tongue deep into his mouth, enjoying its warm and welcoming embrace. I break away and watch myself in his fire-opal eyes. In them I see all our memories, the wild escapades we got up to, the near-death situations that seem so long ago now.
Honestly, I don’t know how we got through it. The police were looking for me. We made it through airports and casinos. We stole a car, drove another into a house for crying out loud. I think back to those times and my heart still stops. And let’s not start with the tiny daffodil he tattooed on my ass…
I’ll admit such excitement has been lacking somewhat of late with our new arrival and the hectic way it has upturned our lives, but we’re still as hot for each other as that first night at the Wild Horse.
Max works a hand down into the dampening crotch of my panties. “You’re wet.”
“You’re surprised?”
My cell buzzes across the vanity. I reach it just before it slides off the edge.
Max’s working my clit through my panties. I try to slap him away as I answer in a breathy, “Hello?”
It’s Noel, wishing me well. I can hear her new man in the background trying to lure her back to bed. She tells me he’s the carbon copy of Ben Stiller. She actually met the real thing at one of my shows a few months back, could barely speak she was so star-struck.
I thank her and hang up, smiling with the cell in my hand.
“Who was it?” Max asks, reaching between my legs again.
I swat it away. “You want to do it right here backstage, where anyone could see us, in public?”
He laughs against my ear. “Clearly, you’ve forgotten about our quickie at the top of the Eiffel Tower.”
He is, of course, referring to the Eiffel Tower at Paris Las Vegas. I’ve never gotten off so quick in my life when we heard that gaggle of German tourists approaching.
“And then there was time in the back of the cab in New York, the studio, that movie… what was it called?”
“Wonder Woman.”
“That you were.”
I push him away. “Stop it, you. You’ve made your point, but you and your throbbing manhood can wait until later, got it?”
He does look good in a suit. The bowtie’s a bit much, but it still takes everything I have not to sweep us under the curtain and go hell for leather. If there’s anything that being pregnant has done, it’s made me ultra-horny. I don’t think a second passes by where I’m not dreaming about doing it.
Yep. Sprinkle sandwiches and sex at all hours of the day. That is what I will take away from this pregnancy thing.
And that’s when it happens.
“Argh,” he grunts, looking down at his shoes between us. “I think someone spilled their champagne on my shoes out there.”
I lift his chin up. “Honey, that ain’t champagne.”
Whoever said giving birth was a beautiful, transcendent experience clearly hasn’t had to push a pumpkin out of their vagina while a throng of people in scrubs look up your baby chute.
I’m pushing and I’m thinking about everything I’ve hated about being pregnant—the lack of ankles, forced to adopt the swagger of a penguin in leg irons, the All You Can Eat night belly. I’m cursing it all — cursing anyone in sight, actually, Max included — squeezing Max’s giant hand so hard I’m sure I can hear his bones breaking. And then, finally, he’s out.
When they place him in my arms, when his impossibly soft cheek is pressed against my skin, I forget all the negatives of the last nine months. I look at Max, smiling like he’s just won the Super Bowl. I look between him and what we’ve made and I’m insanely, bring-on-the-waterworks happy.
As carefully as I can, I hand the bundle over to Max. He cradles h
is son awkwardly, like a bowl of noodles he’s about to spill. The baby grips his thumb, and Max, the toughest, hardest guy I know, is crying. I’m crying, the midwife’s crying — probably with relief it’s over — everyone’s crying. They’re going to have to mop the floor after we leave.
There are two boys in my life and I couldn’t be happier. I see Max, a man changed — the most honest, loving, generous man I know, my husband and light, my life. I see our baby boy, already so curious about the world, so full of promise.
If you had told me back in that alleyway two years ago that we would be here, now, doing this, I wouldn’t have believed you, but sometimes reality’s crazy like that.
I’m debt-free.
I have two, count them, boys in my life.
I’m scared.
I’m excited.
But most importantly, I’m alive—alive like never before.
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READ ON FOR DRILLED!
About Teagan Kade:
Teagan Kade thinks talking about yourself in the third person is silly, just like her collection of snow globes and rare manga. When she’s not being silly, she’s hanging out with her own Brock and two children in the south of Australia, dreaming of new characters and torturous ways they can get themselves into trouble. Teagan loves hearing from her readers, all of whom are as dear to her heart as salted caramel cookies. Shoot her an email at: [email protected]. She doesn’t bite.
Loaded: A Bad Boy Sports Romance
He’s got the biggest bat on campus… and he knows how to use it.
Asher Slade, AKA ‘Slugger’. Hellcats captain, shameless womanizer, and grade A as*hole.
I can’t stand his kind, so imagine my joy when I’m tasked with babysitting Sir C*ck-A-Lot during his college-imposed community service. He thinks I’m easy, that I’m going to fall to my knees the same way his opponents do.
But he’s wrong.
I have dreams. I’m going places. The last thing I need is a walking hard-on getting in my way. Problem is, I’m already picturing him… between my sheets, my legs, his dirty mouth doing dirty things.
I should be running a mile, so why can’t I stop thinking about those coral eyes and cut body?
I’m not going to fall for him.
Promise.
So why does it feel like my bases are already loaded?
Click HERE
Striker: A Bad Boy Sports Romance
She’s the perfect score. I’m a dirty player. It’s complicated.
JENSEN
Scarlet's always been a stunner. There was a time we could have been together, but then came the soccer, the fans, the fame... I lost her to my twin brother, Josh.
But Josh is a cheating bastard. I can't stand by and watch Scarlet suffer, not when she should’ve been mine all along.
SCARLET
I've been dating Josh for years. I've tried to steer clear of his twin brother, Jensen, but I’ve always felt a pull towards him, a pull I have to resist.
But when Josh betrays me, Jensen’s arms are suddenly wide open. It would be so easy…
My heart’s torn—I just don’t know in which direction.
Click HERE
Dirty Brawler: A Bad Boy Sports Romance
I fight hard, but I play harder…
SHAUN
I’m in it to win it—always. You don’t take home Olympic gold coming second, but lately it’s been scandal after scandal.
That’s why I called in a PR lifeline. I didn’t expect it to be a leggy brunette with a mouth to match…
She’s out of my league, but that’s sure as hell not going to stop me trying.
Tori Ellis might have her defenses up, but I’m going to fight tooth and nail until she’s mine.
TORI
I’m a professional. I don’t mix business and pleasure.
But when bad boy boxer Shaun Nichols enlists my services, resisting him becomes a full-time job.
He’s got an image problem and a temper to match, a list of problems a mile long.
It should be easy keeping him at a distance, so why do I feel like I’m on the ropes?
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Slammed: A Bad Boy Sports Romance
My purity ring was perfectly fine until Nate ‘King’ Compton showed up.
The star recruit of the Panthers, inked up and out of control—He’s the campus troublemaker I know I should avoid, but I can’t. Problem is, I’ve been given the ‘privilege’ of improving his GPA… provided I can find a brain in all that muscle.
I don’t do bad boys. I do order and control, and he’s chaos. He’s the antithesis of my perfect princess world in every way. Still, there’s something deeper under those Caribbean eyes and cut body, a darkness we both share. I’m going to get to the bottom of it if it kills me, and given the way my heart hammers out of my chest every time he’s around, it just might.
Game on.
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Throttle: A Bad Boy Sports Romance
I only know one position—on top.
ANDY
I do whatever it takes to win. That’s why I’m a Formula One champion. And I’m going for the prize again this year, no matter what my team says. But I’ll play their game—so long as it benefits me.
Now there’s a beautiful woman traveling with me to make sure I wear the team sponsor’s outfits and smile at all the right moments. I’m going to make Sara smile, all right. But not about what I’m wearing.
In fact, clothes won’t be involved at all.
SARA
Working PR for a fashion house and traveling the world? I’m not complaining. Even if it means putting up with a womanizer like Andy.
Yes, he’s sexy as hell. But I’m nothing to him—just another score, someone to warm his sheets for a night and then be forgotten. He’s going to learn I’m not that easy.
At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
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Royally Wrong: A British Bad Boy Romance
Fifth in line to the throne. Off the rails. Drop dead-freakin’-gorgeous.
I should never have taken this assignment. Prince Panty-Dropper Spencer and his ‘Big Ben’ are too far gone. Even my journalistic wonders aren’t enough to pull him from the public blacklist. He’s a playboy, an arrogant, cocky as*hole in the extreme and the kind of overt man candy that goes against every one of my golden rules.
But I want him all the same, crave his cursed touch. I won’t have a job to go back to if I leave empty-handed, which means we’re going to have to get real close, access all areas. He’s a prick, yes, but I can’t stop thinking about his hard muscles, his slack smile, the complete confidence he has in himself. He might be Britain’s biggest player, but if he wants me, he’s damn well going to have to work for it.
London’s calling alright. Question is, can I handle what’s on the line?
Click HERE
DRILLED: A BAD BOY SPORTS ROMANCE
Drilled
A Bad Boy Sports Romance
Teagan Kade
Published by Teagan Kade
Edited by Sennah Tate
Copyright © 2016 by Teagan Kade
Copyright
Copyright © 2016 by Teagan Kade
Published by Teagan Kade
Edited by Sennah Tate
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopyin
g, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Also by Teagan Kade:
DIRTY BRAWLER
WRECKED
SLAMMED
STROKER
STRIKER
THROTTLE
ROYALLY WRONG
HITCHED
CHASING STORM
To Bobby, for showing me there’s more to American Football than shoulder pads and jock straps.
Chapter 1
Sam
