Happily Ever All-Star: A Secret Baby Romance

by Sosie Frost

  The only thing worse than throwing up? Watching someone else do it.

  Or, in this case, the entire organization.

  First the linebackers. Then the corners. The safety.

  It crossed into the special teams when our punter tried to do the right thing. Unfortunately, he projectiled his politeness beyond the garbage can on the sidelines.

  From there the bile bomb spread, barraging unsuspecting players in the early-afternoon heat until the only sound echoing over the field was Jack Carson’s bewildered bellow.

  “What the fuck just happened?”

  “Elle, I’m so sorry…” Sean collapsed into the grass.

  It was Cole who helped me up, surprisingly resilient. I held my arms out and pretended I wasn’t…dripping.

  Instead, I silently screamed in abject horror while I faced the team with a smile.

  This day could not possibly get any worse.

  Whistles blew, trainers burst onto the field, and I reevaluated the life choices which brought me to this moment. It had taken a long time for karma to find me after running away from home at sixteen, but here it was. Fate was one chunky come-uppance.

  “Elle?” Louisa was the team’s only female trainer, and she understood most of the difficulties women faced on the team. Usually. This was not one of those moments. She handed me a towel the size of a dishcloth. “Are you…ew.”

  “Yeah.”

  “There’s a lot of…”

  I didn’t want to look at myself, but I felt it on me. Tried not to smell it either.

  “Wow.” Louisa and the linebackers stared at me. “You should…go clean up.”

  “Yeah...”

  The team didn’t have enough water bottles on the field to fix this. Jumping in a tub full of hand-sanitizer wouldn’t fix this.

  “Why don’t you…go take a shower?” Louisa couldn’t even look at me. “I don’t think anyone’s in the locker room.”

  And it wouldn’t matter if they were.

  Nothing could be worse than quivering in the sick of a three-hundred-pound linebacker and his foolhardy choice to eat eight hard-boiled eggs for breakfast on one of the hottest days of the year.

  I hobbled off the field, ignoring the squish that followed me. It wasn’t the grass. Something soggy mushed in my shoe, but keeling over dead was preferable to fishing out whatever trespassed around my tootsies. The squeal of a baby stopped me.

  Leah Carson bounced her son, Sammy, on her hip as she took a phone call. Sam gave me a devilish grin, inherited from his father.

  She lowered her phone, too busy to look up. “Hey, Elle, do you have those pictures of Lachlan? We were going to give them to the Sports Nation producers for his interview today…” Her words choked. She stared in horror, her mouth gaping as she backed away. “What…what happened?”

  “We had a little incident on the field,” I said.

  “Is anyone left alive?”

  “It was touch and go for a while. I gotta…shower.” I faked a smile. “Hi, Sammy.”

  Even the baby kept his distance. Leah let me pass as Sammy attempted one of his daddy’s quarterback sneaks out of her arms.

  “We can…” She grimaced. “Meet up for the pictures later.”

  Yeah. Lachlan’s pictures. Leah’s PR firm could spin the hell out of a handsome, first-round draft choice signed to a championship team. That was easy. But I didn’t want to think what would happen if I gave her the other photographs, the ones so burned into my skull the league would subpoena my head for evidence. Leah was good, but even she couldn’t silence that potential scandal.

  Despite the eye-candy that filled the locker room, both the toweled and non-toweled varieties, I usually avoided the space. Muscles were nice. The occasional peek even better. But fifty-three alpha-male, testosterone-fueled, sweaty men did not make for a great picture.

  Or smell.

  Though I wasn’t exactly a bouquet of spring flowers myself.

  Thankfully, I was alone. The only other silver lining? A change of clothes in my office.

  I stripped off the shirt and shorts and plopped the soggy mess into the garbage can.

  Soap. I needed a cauldron of it. And shampoo. Hopefully conditioner.

  I didn’t have any toiletries…but Lachlan had plenty. My turn to haze the rookie, but at least when I stole his stuff, I wouldn’t refill it with mustard or hot sauce. I grabbed the soaps and took a step further into the locker room than I had ever gone.

  Until today, the showers were a No-Elle land—especially when it was my butt that was bare.

  I clutched a towel and crossed the tiled floor, past the first two dozen shower heads and behind the partial wall that offered another row of showers. Good enough to hide in. I hunkered down, turned on the water, and used half of Lachlan’s soap to lather up.

  Dumb move.

  Scent was a strong memory, and I had a lot to remember from my weekend with Lachlan. His spicy, regal tease was just as potent out of the bottle as it was blended with his skin.

  I should have stolen Jack’s stuff.

  Within seconds, I immersed myself with Lachlan. The bubbles were a poor substitute for his hands, mouth, and other parts of him that I’d fantasized about ever since that incredible weekend.

  So not the thoughts to have naked in the middle of the Rivets’ locker room.

  Especially as the second shampooing dripped soap into my eyes just as the doors opened.

  Uh-oh. Someone banged through the lockers.

  I wasn’t alone or nearly sanitized enough.

  I rinsed the soap off, but my hair transformed into one big tangle of suds. I spun and hid against the wall. The damn shampoo stung my eyes. I couldn’t see which player headed straight for the showers.

  I groped for my towel and shouted into the steam.

  “Hey…could I have another minute? I’m…kinda a walking horror show right now.”

  That laugh.

  Of course it’d be him.

  I didn’t need the cat-call whistle. Lachlan’s amused chuckle echoed off the walls. I might have flailed and attempted to smack him, but missing would have entertained him too much.

  “So you’re the one who took my stuff…”

  I peeked open my eyes just as Lachlan tossed his towel away.

  Holy shit.

  He grinned at me. I was lucky my gaze stayed on his dimples.

  “I never thought I’d be jealous of soap,” he said. “I’d trade places with those bubbles any day.”

  He flipped on the water beside me, winked, and ducked under the stream.

  Naked.

  He was naked.

  And I struggled to catch my breath in the sudden heat.

  Impressive didn’t begin to describe his body. Muscle on top of muscle. Lachlan decorated his perfect form with tattoos on his biceps and one very sneaky, very sexy tribal pattern that curled below his belt and twisted around the part of him that didn’t need any more attention.

  That tattoo had been a surprise when I’d found it. The team probably gave him hell for it, but I assumed Lachlan’s only fear in the locker room was tripping over his massive cock. It defied gravity. He glanced at me, enjoyed what he saw, and somehow moved heaven and earth to raise that monstrosity until it nearly hit his bellybutton.

  Staring was bad, but so was guiltily twisting away for peeking.

  I didn’t bother reaching for my towel. If he wasn’t covering up, then I wasn’t hiding.

  “What the hell are you doing in here?” My demands still sounded shocked. “Shouldn’t you be on the field?”

  Lachlan winked. “I’ll get your back if you get mine.”

  Oh, for the love of God.

  I angled away from him, huffing as I beat the shampoo from my hair as quickly as possible without appearing like I was intentionally drowning myself.

  Might have been a preferable situation.

  I wouldn’t let him get me angry. “Can you please give me a minute to finish?”

  That was a no.


  “This is the team’s locker room.” Lachlan was loving this. “Maybe you should respect my privacy…or at least offer to soap me up.”

  “Not a chance. Sean went full Exorcist on me. I’m not leaving until I am squeaky clean.”

  Lachlan made no apologies for his receiver which happened to go long. “Funny. Having you here makes me feel very dirty.”

  “You’re always dirty.”

  “You’d know best.”

  “And maybe I prefer to forget?”

  “Ain’t gonna happen, Red. You’ll never forget me, not after all that kissing, licking, touching, and fucking we did.”

  I silently groaned. “You hardly leave a girl anything to her imagination.”

  “If you can imagine it, I can make it happen. I love a challenge.”

  “Okay…I’m imagining you…” I twisted my hair in my hands, ringing out the suds. “Staying quiet. Keeping your eyes ahead. Remaining professional about this particular shower.”

  Lachlan faced me, his excitement so obvious the pointing almost felt rude. “One fantasy at a time. This one is mine.”

  “Of course it is.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll act out yours next time.”

  Now I would drown. “Next time? No thanks…I’ll pass.”

  “Red, I’m a tight-end. I’m used to getting blocked.” He winked. “But I always win in the end.”

  My kingdom for a toilet to flush and scald his ass. “Good thing I’m not a game to win.”

  “No, Elle.” Lachlan’s voice lowered. “You’re the prize.”

  The warm flutter inside me was not welcomed. I angled away from him, hiding as much as I could without looking like I was hiding.

  Most men might have turned as well. Not Lachlan. He took in the sight while offering his own show, cocky and carefree, as usual.

  “Did you just…follow me in here to hit on me?” I asked.

  “Think that little of me?”

  Now I did glance down. Briefly. Nothing little there.

  “I have an interview in a few minutes, gotta look my best.” His smile was too damn proud. “Pass the soap?”

  I shook my head. “I’m almost done. You can wait. In fact, you should wait on the other side of the wall.”

  “I’ve seen you naked before.”

  “But you shouldn’t be seeing me naked now.”

  Lachlan shook his head. “Don’t be shy.”

  “Don’t be a pervert.”

  “Don’t be a prude.”

  “Don’t be a jerk.”

  “Don’t be embarrassed.” He didn’t know when to quit. It might have been some of his charm, but it made him entirely infuriating. “You look really good wet.”

  I reached over, adjusting his shower to spray ice cold. “Maybe you should focus on your interview?”

  Lachlan leapt away before the icy water struck him. “You think I can focus? Hell, you’re lucky I’m still on my feet.”

  “Then maybe you should sit, dog.”

  “Leash me up, make me beg. Bark. Come.”

  “You really do have a one track mind.”

  He shrugged. “Only around you.”

  “So why is it that you’re focusing on my tight end?”

  Wrong question.

  Lachlan dropped the soap and edged a little too close, encroaching into my shower. He leaned against the wall, one arm up, muscles tensed. That troublemaker between his legs poised for the attack.

  “Do you have any self-control?” I asked.

  “Not around you.”

  I held my breath and squared my shoulders. I stood tall, but not nearly tall enough. Lachlan towered over me—strong, fierce, and totally naked. The water struck his body, raining against bulging and pitted muscles, tattoos and hardened skin. It dripped from his cock. Thick. Hard.

  Pulsing.

  “You’re not a very subtle man,” I said.

  He liked that I noticed. “I don’t have to be. I’ll let you in on a little secret, Red. I want you.”

  I glanced down. “Obviously.”

  “No. You. Just you.”

  “You mean you don’t hit on your teammates in the shower?”

  Lachlan winked. “Jack doesn’t like it.”

  “I’m siding with Jack on this one.”

  He shook his head. “You can pretend, but you feel the same things for me.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “I’ve wanted you every minute of every day since you walked out of that hotel room.” His voice lowered, deep and rasping. “I was crazy to let you go, and I’ll be damned if you’ll get away this time. You’re the most beautiful and amazing woman I’ve ever met.”

  And telling him that he was the sexiest and wildest man I’d ever been with wouldn’t have helped me resist those dimples. I swallowed, hard, tensing as he drew near.

  “Every minute with you is an adrenaline rush—and it’s not just the thrill of the chase,” he said. “I don’t care what I have to do or how long it takes…I’m gonna make you mine again.”

  I pressed against the wall, surrounded by muscle, dimples, his desire.

  The reckless heat inside my core pooled too low, too fast, too demanding. The shower stung hard—fat, hot drops that delighted me with every prickle of the water.

  If only it were cold.

  Something to dull this ache.

  Something to distract me from his lips, the shadow of his abs, the danger below.

  We couldn’t be here, doing this, showering together, being so damn close in the middle of the locker room. If anyone saw…if anyone knew…

  It wouldn’t be as bad as the photos I stole, but it’d be more of a scandal than either of us could handle.

  I called his bluff. “You can’t want me that badly, Charming.”

  His smile was cute. “I do.”

  “It’s not going to happen. We need a little restraint.”

  “I just need to touch you again.”

  “But that would make this worse.”

  “True…” His voice lowered, something husky but playful. “Better let me kiss you too.”

  I saw where this was heading, and I wished it hadn’t twisted me in all the right places.

  “Still a bad idea,” I said.

  “Yeah. You’re right.” He leaned too close, whispering in my ear. “What can I do to change your mind?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You sure?” His words warmed. “What if I promise to be good—just have a little taste?”

  There wasn’t enough soap in the locker room to un-dirty this man. “Why would I let you do that?”

  “A good deed is its own reward.” Lachlan’s breathing became a growl. “Because I want to bury my face in that slit, haul you against the wall, and drink every drop of your pleasure.”

  My mouth dried.

  It shouldn’t have tempted me.

  “But you’ve already done that,” I said. “Didn’t get your fill in Vegas?”

  “I didn’t fill nearly enough of you. Let me do it again.”

  I shook my head, amazed by his confidence. “Is this how it always is with you? You make a demand, and, because you’re Lachlan Reed, you get whatever you want? Is anything ever denied to you?”

  “Nope.” At least he was honest. “It’s great, isn’t it?”

  Lachlan’s smile dizzied me. I ignored the goose bumps chasing his stare. The shiver felt good, but I ducked into the shower to banish it.

  “You know how much fun we could have together,” he said.

  “Too much fun.”

  “Never enough.”

  His fingers brushed my chin. I shouldn’t have let him tip my head back. I shouldn’t have fluttered my eyes closed.

  I shouldn’t have let his lips touch mine.

  I never believed in fairy tales, and it wasn’t my finger about to get pinched by a prick. But a kiss like his? That sweetness was pure magic.

  Every nibble of his mouth wove secret shivers through me, in me, around me. The shudder bou
nd me to him, shackles of desire that trapped me within the prince’s charms. I parted my lips to gasp. A good and bad idea. Lachlan flicked his tongue over mine, drawing a quiet whimper from me.

  He liked that. His kiss traced over my chin, my neck. He bit, and I sucked in a breath before I revealed just how many naughty memories resurfaced because of his teasing.

  Most of Vegas remained a hazy, steamy blur, but his hands, touch, kiss was familiar enough.

  “What about your interview?” I whispered.

  “Hard to talk with my mouth full.”

  He pushed me against the wall. I stilled as his kiss traveled lower.

  The water pounded on the tiles, muffling my panted breaths. If I wasn’t careful, Lachlan might have dropped to his knees right then and there, in the middle of the showers, where anyone could see.

  But he got off on that adrenaline rush—that risk. His cock hardened more, and his fist pumped that delicious length.

  “What if someone walks in?” I shook my head.

  “What if they don’t?”

  “If we get caught—”

  Lachlan interrupted, the sea-foam green of his eyes turbulent in the steamy mist. “I have to taste you, Red. I have to fuck you, again and again. I’ll prove how much I want you.”

  “How?”

  “Same way I did before.”

  I perked an eyebrow. “I don’t remember what we did before.”

  “Perfect…” His voice roughened. “I get to make my first impression twice. And, if you’re a good girl, maybe three or four times.”

  “You’re awfully confident.”

  “Give me thirty seconds.”

  “Thirty seconds.”

  “That’s all I’ll need to make you scream my name.”

  “Twenty-nine.”

  Lachlan frowned. “What?”

  I bit my lip. “Twenty-eight seconds, Charming. You’re losing your window.”

  “Fuck me.”

  “Not in twenty-seven seconds.”

  Speed was one of the perks of a professional football player.

  Also accuracy.

  Strength.

  Dedication.

  Lachlan sunk to his knees and had me pinned against the wall within moments. He dove at me, too hyper for a tease and too impatient for permission.