by Sosie Frost
Probably too much. “He’s better than me.”
“I can’t believe you’re this sweet.”
I grinned. “So sweet I’m sticky.”
Elle flicked her towel at me. “You take nothing seriously in this world except family.”
“I know, right? I’m so charmingly full of contradictions.”
She whipped the towel again. I caught it with a vicious tug and pulled her close.
“I wanted to take you out to eat tonight…give you a romantic dinner you’d never forget.” I ran my hands over her curves, hidden under the bulk of my borrowed clothes. She still got me hard, even more than if she wore a teddy sewn together with lace, silk, and pure imagination. “Will you give me another chance?”
“This was date number one.” She poked my chest. “And don’t try to change my mind.”
“Do you want to get rid of me that quickly?”
“No. What better way to get to know my husband than right here?”
“Why here?”
“This is like playing house. After tonight, now I know what it’d be like if we were really married.”
I’d nibble that quirky little smile from her lips. “We are married, Red.”
“And now we’ve had our first meal at home.”
“I can show you what our first night in bed would be like too.”
She shook her head. “Don’t blow it now.”
“Will you blow anything?”
“I’ll bite if you keep it up.”
I growled. “Oh, it’s up, Red. You have no idea.”
She giggled. I hoisted her onto the counter, and her legs moved apart, letting me press against her. Like I belonged there.
Maybe I did.
Just had to prove it to her.
My hands fell to her waist. I held her close, but not nearly close enough. Her lips parted, and she teased me instead of offering a kiss. Her hair fell over her shoulders, the red streaks bright against the black of my jersey. I leaned in, kissing the dark hollow of her neck.
“Christ, Red,” I said. “If you only knew the dirty things I’d do to you.”
“I’m sure it involves a Kama Sutra manual, some lube, and a great deal of gentleness.”
Naughty girl. “Been there, done that. Guess what I really want.”
“Will I be surprised or horrified?”
“Pleased.”
“You realize in some states, there’s laws prohibiting the things we did in Vegas.”
“I’m not talking about fucking you.” My fingers teased to her thighs. “Though I plan to do that. A lot.”
“Then what do you want?”
“I want to know what you’re like with your clothes on.”
“That might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Oh, I can be very…” I pressed a kiss against the satin skin of her neck. “Very.” I nipped. “Sweet.”
She shivered, and her soft little hum of delight was just the beginning of a sexy purr.
Her legs spread wide, letting me close. The loaner boxers played in my favor. A hint of perfect, caramel skin peeked from the fly. I teased my hands over her bare legs, savoring the heat of her body and the curve of her hip. She knew where I aimed, but she didn’t push me away. Not yet.
Hopefully not ever again.
My fingers dipped against her, sneaking through the unbuttoned seam.
God, she was slick. Hot. She shuddered, but the pleasure was as much mine as hers.
“You’re trying so hard…” Elle’s lips parted, and a shaky whimper puffed out. “These dates. Your pick-up lines. You actually want me to fall in love with you.”
“That’s the plan.”
“What’s in it for you?”
“I’ll have you.”
I teased her, finding that little button that revved her to the breaking point. She was so easy to get going. I was skilled, but I knew her. I felt her. Every breath, every tremor. It wasn’t just a memorization of her body. I understood what she liked. I could give her everything she wanted.
Elle wetted, bucked, and sighed a beautiful murmur of excitement as I flicked my finger quicker against her perfect clit.
“You’re not the marriage type, Charming.” Elle’s fingers dug into my arms. I’d have done anything to rip away the jersey. Those tits probably heaved with every little sigh and groan. “Do you really want to settle down with someone?”
“You and me? We’re not exactly conventional, Elle.” I stole her close for a kiss. “Maybe this is exactly what I want. No thinking. No talking. Just a beautiful woman, a wild night of passion, and you wanting me as much as I want you.”
“We’re talking marriage.”
“You want it too.”
“I don’t.”
“I think you do.” I teased her, my finger slipping inside her clenching pussy. “Because I think you remember more about Vegas than you’re letting on.”
She bit her lip as I pushed my finger through her tightness. She needed so much more than this. Something bigger. Harder. I’d fuck this woman wild and fast and take her with every ounce of strength I possessed.
Then I’d let her get on top to return the favor.
“Do you know why we really got married?” I asked.
“Alcohol?”
“It wasn’t because we were drunk or bored.” I sucked against her ear. “It was fate.”
Her head fell back. She fought the pleasure.
“I don’t believe in fate or fairy tales, Lachlan.”
“That’s a shame, Red. I could give you the Once Upon A Time of your dreams.”
“Yeah, but are you the type to stick around for the Happily Ever After?”
I curled my finger, pressing that secret spot deep inside her. Every part of her was soft. She clenched against me, tensing hard. Tight. Gripping me with such fucking intensity I swore I could feel it in my cock—
“Can I have a drink of water?”
Sebastian.
Elle gasped, pushing me away. I spun around, hiding the offending hand behind my back. Fortunately, Sebastian had a bad habit of shouting his demands from the hall. Elle had a second to hop from the counter, but she nearly crashed to the floor.
She trembled on wobbly legs and leaned against the sink as Sebastian wandered bleary-eyed into the kitchen.
He was lucky he was cute.
My greeting was a little too forced. “He-e-e-y, little man.”
The island counter helped to hide my erection, but not by much. I needed Elle to get the glass of water.
Sebastian took two sips. “I have to go to the bathroom. Can I sleep with you tonight?”
I reminded myself how much I loved the kid.
Elle tucked her hair behind her ear, clearing her throat. “I should get going. My dress is probably dried now.”
“You don’t have to—”
“No, you should take care of your brother.”
Sebastian tugged on my arm. “Please, Lach?”
Not the warm body I expected to fight me for the covers all night. I sighed.
“Sure…” I pointed at him. “As long as you go to the bathroom before getting in the bed. Go. I’ll meet you there.”
He took off running down the hall. Elle split to find her dress in the laundry room.
A cold shower wasn’t going to do shit. I debated tossing an entire tray of ice cubes down my pants.
Elle returned to me, snug in her dress which seemed relatively spaghetti-free. She handed me the borrowed clothes. I let her keep the jersey.
“So…” She hid her smile. “I suppose you’ve earned that second date.”
“I knew you’d see it my way, Red.”
“But there’s no promises. You might have to work awfully hard to make me love you by the end of the third date.”
I tugged her close, leaving a soft, promising kiss on her parted lips.
“That’s my little secret, Elle,” I whispered. “You’ve already fallen for me.”
9
Elle
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I needed to stop stealing things from Peter’s office.
I cursed the damned flash drive to copy the computer’s emails quicker. This was Trouble with a capital T. The same emphasis as Theft. And Terminated.
I checked my phone. Peter usually arrived at eight. I had about fifteen minutes before he’d poke his head in to the facility. But the laptop was stuck. It gave me an estimated one minute to copy the files over, but it had displayed the same message for the last three.
This was sick. All of it. The photos. The cheating. For two weeks, I’d laid awake in bed, bombarded by two realizations.
First, I was married.
Second, I was now accessory to a scandal that would destroy the careers and reputations of the men on the team. Players I liked. My friends. Some close enough to be my family.
And husbands, apparently.
Footsteps echoed in the hall. I panicked and minimized the file transfer, covering the screen with the team’s Instagram instead.
Mine was the only job that demanded I photographed ridiculously attractive men. And I loved it. Every second of it.
But it was crashing around me.
If anyone saw me stealing files from the computers, everything would end.
And if anyone outside the organization knew why I was trying to find evidence?
Anarchy.
The league would punish us with lost draft choices. Forfeited championships. Suspended players and coaches.
And men like Lachlan would never get the chance they deserved in the league.
It wasn’t just his family—Fiona and Sebastian—who benefited from his professional play. Leah’s PR firm represented half of the team. Piper’s two clients were Rivets. Scoring their contracts gave her enough respect to open her own agency if she wanted. Players, families, businesses—everyone had a stake in the Rivets’ success.
Including me.
The emails were copied. Step One: Completed. Now, if I had to go to the league or the media, I could search the correspondence and build a case so that the pictures wouldn’t my word against theirs.
I checked the time again. I still had about five minutes before I needed to clear out. I poked a little deeper into Peter’s files.
I found a password-protected drive. Good thing I knew the name of every cat Peter ever owned. Whiskers wasn’t exactly a secure password.
I opened the drive.
I wished I hadn’t. The images turned my stomach.
Every player had a folder—Bryon, Caleb, Orlando.
Pictures of parties. Women. Drugs. Public intoxication. Some images that were a little too dark and questionable for comfort.
My cursor hovered over Jack’s folder, and hated that I looked inside. I knew what I’d find—Jack’s first three seasons in the league rolled one scandal into another. The pictures were old, and Jack had been on his best behavior since marrying Leah, but the media would still publish the images as if they were taken last week. I couldn’t imagine Leah trying to spin her own husband’s past sexual encounters.
I scrolled through the folders. My heart lurched as I read my own name.
“What the hell…”
I shouldn’t have opened it.
I should have walked away.
I should have resigned right then and there.
Instead, I copied every last image onto my flash drive and prepared for war.
I had only three pictures, but they were enough. Someone on the team had managed to snap a picture of me in the locker room from two weeks ago—naked. A good photo. My face and body were completely exposed.
The series of pictures had it all. Me naked. Lachlan beside me. His erection. Trying to cover it with a towel. The coaches probably confiscated a player’s phone to delete the images—but not before sending it to themselves.
Great. Was I going to be blackmailed…or was it insurance so that no one spoke out of turn if they learned about the cheating?
The Rivets weren’t just spying on other teams. They had intel on their own players.
And they’d use those horrible photographs to silence anyone who might have stopped them.
More footsteps. I panicked, struggling to close the folders of damning pictures. The computer sputtered and froze. I leapt to my feet and turned off the monitor as Freddie, our videographer, rolled through the door. He chugged his coffee and collapsed in a heap of his own equipment.
“Hey, Elle, you’re early,” he said.
My voice shrilled. “Couldn’t sleep.”
“Oh yeah, I remember those newlywed nights.” He winked at me. “Savor the precious months.”
“Haha. Very funny.”
“Where’ve you been? Haven’t seen you since Monday.”
“Had to go out of town.” I hoped Peter had covered for me with the staff while I was in Gainesville. “Family stuff.”
“Well, good thing you’re here. Peter’s looking for you.”
My stomach curdled. I shook my coffee cup and pretended it was empty. “Can you do me a favor? Get me a new coffee? I’m going to need another pick-me-up.”
Freddie laughed as he left the office. “Sure thing, Elle, but this is really something your husband should do for you…”
The door closed. I dove at the computer, pulling off as many files and images as I could grab in a minute.
Including the pictures of me.
I didn’t have any time now. I had to move into phase two of my plan.
Delay.
And I hated to do it.
I rushed to the women’s bathroom on the opposite end of the facility, far enough from the locker room, weight room, and cafeteria that none of the guys or female members of the staff would find me. I locked the door behind me and pulled my camera from the bag.
I kissed it, silly as that was.
“I’m so sorry I have to do this.” I whispered to her. It?
I took a breath and bashed my camera into the bathroom wall.
The plastic crinkled, and the lens shattered.
I didn’t stop. Once. Twice. Three times I crashed my pride and joy into the tile.
And, when it was done, I swore it was my own heart that fractured into dozens of pieces.
I grabbed every last shard and tucked it into the bag. Nothing I could do about it now. I’d lived through worse, traveling alone as a teenager through bad neighborhoods with less than scrupulous people. I wasn’t afraid of a fight, and it wasn’t the first camera that had been stolen or broken.
Just the first one I destroyed with my own hands.
But I’d make it right. I’d survive.
And I’d ensure the right people were punished for the Rivets’ cheating—not the innocent players who had no idea how corrupt the team was.
I rushed to the field and found Peter. He followed me to the tunnel where we could talk alone. I didn’t have to fake the emotion—I was fucking upset. Frustrated and violated and absolutely gutted with the loss of my best camera, my right hand.
I would have felt a hell of a lot better if I had a nude shot of him to wave around.
“Elle…” Peter asked. “You okay? How was the trip to Gainesville?”
“I have some bad news.”
“Did you go to the camp?”
I had traveled to Gainesville, snapping a couple pictures on my own. I even bought a little plastic alligator that doubled as a whistle to commemorate my stay.
But I hadn’t gone to the Cougars’ camp. Zane de la Cruz was safe—at least, until he had to face Cole Hawthorne.
“I did.” I lied.
“And?”
“Look, there was a problem.”
That wasn’t what Peter wanted to hear. “I trusted you.”
“I had an accident with my camera.” I rubbed my forehead. “I was outside taking pictures, and…someone grabbed it.”
He didn’t believe me, or he didn’t want to believe me. “It was stolen?”
“I chased him down, but there was nothing I could do.”
His voi
ce rose, a little too angrily for someone not berating a rookie. “You should have tried harder! Elle, I gave you this job because I believed you could handle it. You might not understand how important this is, but it’s easier for you to just do as I say than deal with any consequences—”
I opened my bag and revealed the destroyed contents. “I chased the thief down the street. He dropped the camera, but I couldn’t get to it. A truck ran it over.”
That silenced him. It was a horrifying enough image for someone sporting ten grand in camera equipment at any given time. Peter picked up the largest chunk with a sigh.
“And the SD card?” he asked.
Jackass. “My camera is destroyed!”
“But what about the pictures?”
“I lost the SD card. It’s somewhere in a gutter in Gainesville now.”
“Goddamn it, Elle. How could you let this happen?”
“It’s not like I wanted my camera to get run over.” Or my career. “Look, this is risky enough. Maybe its karma or something? We shouldn’t be doing this, Peter. What if someone found me out?”
“Don’t let anyone find out.” His gaze hardened, the familiar blues now cold and calculating. “This is important, Elle. Fortunately, you should have enough money from your promotion to buy some new equipment.”
“Peter—”
“Maybe even your own eight hundred millimeter lens.”
My mouth dried. “That’s a twenty-thousand-dollar lens.”
“You’re doing twenty-thousand-dollar work.” He returned the hunk of camera to my bag. “With every risk comes a reward.”
“Elle!”
We both jumped. Lachlan jogged up the tunnel with a grin and a wink. The guys practiced in full-pads today, and Peter was smart to step-off when Lachlan got near. He might have grinned like a fool with dimples that’d charm the devil, but he was still a monster in his gear. My goofball was more than capable of cracking Peter in two if he had a reason.
Lachlan dropped his helmet and grabbed my bag. “You know your camera’s broken?”
“Thanks, Charming. I’m well-aware.”
“What happened?”
Peter cleared his throat. “She was mugged.”
“Mugged?” Lachlan’s voice rose. I so didn’t need this lie getting out to the team. I couldn’t be the naked, sultry vixen and damsel in distress. Their heads would explode. “Jesus, Elle!”
