Wicked Player (A Rough Riders Novel Book 3)

by Stacey Lynn

  “Come this way.” Penny had her hand wrapped around my forearm and as she spoke, she pulled me to the wing almost set to open. The bright teal walls still smelled like fresh paint, but it was the Rough Riders logo that she stepped in front of.

  “You’re not happy I brought that reporter into the room. Why?”

  I’d rather shove a toothpick into my eye than tell Penny why Miss Hayes wasn’t wanted in that room. “That time was for Brandon and me. Not some reporter who followed me out of the press conference.”

  Penny rolled her eyes. She had that mom look down. It was so much like my own mom’s when I was a kid and doing or saying something stupid I was fighting a smile despite still being pissed.

  “Come on. You had to know you run out of there in the middle of speaking and they were going to lose their minds. That was news in the making.”

  She was teasing me, but it didn’t sit well. I hadn’t actually considered the response I’d get when I practically hurdled the podium as soon as I saw the nurse.

  Mostly because I didn’t know her, but she’d looked panicked, and that panic sent my blood rushing.

  “Besides,” Penny continued, not caring one iota I was most likely glaring at her. “Brandon loves her. Seriously, I think he has a crush on her. She’s cute, right?”

  She tugged on my arm playfully.

  “Penny.” My tone was warning. Also a bit rough. Besides, she was more than cute.

  “Well, you know I’m a sucker for giving Brandon what he wants, but that’s not why I invited her into the room when I caught her blushing while she peeked through the window?”

  “She was what?”

  “Well, she was blushing. And I have a feeling it wasn’t because she was sweet on Brandon.”

  Blushing. Had she had the same visceral reaction to me I’d had to her?

  I shook the thought out of my head. Thinking of the reporter led to a hard dick and I was standing two feet from a woman who was close enough to me to be my sister.

  “Besides,” Penny kept talking, “this is what she’s here for, isn’t it? I mean, I’m assuming she was at the press conference so she’s covering you and the wing opening. So it makes sense she talks to one of your favorite patients.”

  “Brandon is not a story.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Gage.” Her usual friendly expression vanished and in its place was the look of a mama bear. A woman who would fight and die and bleed so her son didn’t have to. “Brandon is the exact reason for the story. Him and kids like him and their families. He is exactly why you’ve done all of this and people should see who you’re helping. I want them to. More, he’ll want to do it.”

  My teeth fused together and I turned to the window. It was October but unseasonably warm with no hint the weather would be cooling anytime soon. The colored leaves on the tops of the trees swayed back and forth in the breeze. I was feeling anything but gentle and calm.

  Spending more time around this woman was not a good idea.

  It was the absolute worst idea. But I was as much of a sucker for giving Brandon anything he wanted, too.

  “Fine. Whatever Brandon wants.”

  She nudged me in the arm with her shoulder. I barely felt the impact and grinned down at her. “That’s the spirit,” she teased. “Let’s get back so you can talk to her, too.”

  She all but dragged my hand and I allowed her to pull me back down the hallway, on the way thinking how right Penny was.

  The whole freaking reason I’d wanted to create the center she’d just taken me to was for Brandon and kids like him and their families. And who better than to share his story, share what it would mean to him, than one of the bravest kids I knew?

  “One more picture.” Brandon yawned. We’d been back in the room for thirty minutes and he’d been awake for almost an hour. He was fading quickly but smiling. Next to him, Elizabeth was still sitting on the bed. He was propped up on pillows and morphine to keep his pain away along with stronger antibiotics through his PIC line to kick his current infection.

  “You’re tired honey,” Penny said, but she was still holding her phone and Elizabeth’s.

  Mine was firmly pocketed in my back pocket. I had enough photos of Brandon and a few other kids I’d met and bonded with, but no way was I getting it out. I didn’t need the photo memory of the pesky little reporter who was distracting me more and more with every passing minute we were crammed together on Brandon’s bed.

  I should probably be sent to hell with the ideas I had for what I could do with her on a bed while we took picture after picture, sometimes the three of us, sometimes the two of them.

  But hot damn, the woman was sexy and sweet and when Penny and I came back to the room, Brandon’s cheeks had actually been pink. The first sign of healthy color he’d shown in awhile.

  I figured because even though he was sick and a little kid, Brandon still had man’s blood running through him and not a single man on this planet could be around Elizabeth and not get hot in at least one place.

  Still, the fact I’d been hiding a hardening dick for the last thirty minutes had crossed the point of painful twenty minutes ago.

  “I can come back another day,” Elizabeth said. She covered Brandon’s hand with hers.

  “No.” His eyes drooped and popped open. Hell, he’d fall asleep while talking if we didn’t get out of there.

  “Let’s do that,” I said. I’d been close to Elizabeth but seeing Brandon struggle, I moved in closer. She was right in front of me. Her shoulder to my chest. I caught a whiff of her flowery scent and squeezed my eyes closed. Good God. Just the smell of her turned me on.

  “Another day, Brandon. We’ll be here a lot this week and next.”

  He yawned again and his head fell forward. Nodding, he whispered, “Just one more. Of you two then.”

  His voice went raspy and I barely heard him, but as I registered his words, the woman in front of me stiffened. She shook her head and all that hair swished back and forth, brushing along the back of my hand.

  Goddamn. I’d just had it wrapped around my fist and the more I was around her, two things had become clear.

  She truly had no idea who I was.

  But…she really fucking liked what she saw whenever she looked at me.

  I could practically smell her arousal.

  “Okay, Brandon,” Elizabeth said. She leaned in and kissed his cheek. The pink had faded, but at her lips on his skin, he cracked a huge smile. “Only one though, and then I’ll let you get some rest.”

  She slid off the bed, her whole back brushing my chest. I was so close, she almost stumbled back toward the bed and I wrapped my hands around her tiny waist to keep her on her feet.

  “Oh.” Her hands went to mine at her stomach and at that first touch of her, flesh on flesh, the same heated spark I felt last night shot right to my chest and mainlined to my dick.

  “Sorry,” she said and threw her hands off me.

  And shit. I was a goner. “No worries,” I whispered along the top of her head. “Just didn’t want you falling on him.” I pulled us a step back and with my hand still wrapped around her, because I was a fucking idiot, I gestured toward Penny.

  She stood on the other side of the room, smirking.

  “Take the picture, Penny.” My voice was a growl.

  Penny laughed, snapped a few photos on her phone and then Elizabeth’s.

  I dropped my hand from Elizabeth’s waist and stepped back.

  “I’ll see y’all later. I figure by now Patrick and Karen have both lost their minds at my disappearance.”

  “I’ll see you later,” Elizabeth said. She wasn’t looking at me, but at the bed where Brandon’s head had fallen back. His lips were parted and his chest rose in even breaths.

  Damn. The kid had fallen asleep in seconds.

  “Right,” I said to Elizabeth and then to Penny, “I’ll check in tomorrow.”

  “You got it, hotshot.”

  I turned and hightailed it out of the roo
m, not saying goodbye to Elizabeth.

  Being around her longer could be dangerous. And stupid. It was making me think of stupid things like how I wanted that hair draped all over my body while she rode me hard and fast.

  Or maybe how I wanted to see those sexy as hell eyes of her light up while she came instead of hiding behind black satin.

  Yeah. Seeing Elizabeth again was going to be pure hell.

  Eight

  Elizabeth

  "Come on," Amanda pleaded from her side of the four-top table. "You have to tell me what he was like. And did he smell good? These are important things girls all over the area need to know."

  The woman was mad. Batshit crazy should have been her middle name. There was no way I was telling her how incredibly delicious Gage Bryant smelled, especially when he stood behind me and wrapped his strong arm around my stomach. I stumbled, not from the surprise of him touching me, but from the overwhelming arousal that shot through my body as his fingers brushed against my stomach. Even through the pink dress shirt I wore his hand still branded me like a hot iron. It had been hard enough to maintain any façade of professional composure with him in the room much less with him touching me. More than once during the photos, I caught Penny smiling, looking like she was fighting bursting into giggles. We were circling each other and had to look ridiculous.

  What was more frustrating was that if I had to guess, it appeared Gage was struggling with the same thing. But he couldn't be.

  I had definitely angered him when he found out I followed him out of the press conference. That anger at some point had shifted to something else, and I didn't know if it was because he was trying his best to be cordial for Brandon’s sake, or if it was something else.

  It also didn’t matter. He was a story and that was it. I just had to stop thinking of how attractive he was.

  "There's nothing I can tell you that you don't already know. Gage is hot, he's much taller and bigger in person than I expected him to be, and under all of that he seems like a really decent guy." And when he touched me I got so turned on I couldn’t help but imagine him as the man from Velvet.

  And doing that had disaster written all over it. Gage Bryant was the subject of a story.

  My job. That was all.

  Across from me, Amanda crossed her arms and pouted. “You're no fun. And I think you're breaking about a dozen rules of the girl’s club."

  “What are those rules?" I asked. I took a sip of my white wine and sat back against the booth.

  "The rule," she said dramatically, leaning forward, splaying out her hand along the table. “Is that it is required to spill every detail about any celebrity sighting, especially one as private as Gage Bryant. Really, it’s disappointing I have to explain this to you."

  “You’re a nut. There's nothing to tell. I'm trying to be professional."

  “Ugh.” She rolled her eyes and reached for her wine, shaking her head. “You and your ethics. You’re a disappointment to the profession.”

  I wadded up a napkin and tossed it at her face. “You’re weird.”

  “And I’m horny as heck just thinking about you getting to spend this much time around the guy. I mean, he’s an enigma. He barely updates his social media. He’s rarely caught out around town. It seems like he doesn’t have a personal life at all because the only time we see him is at volunteer or team events. Don’t you think that’s strange?”

  “What, that he wants his privacy?”

  “No, silly. That in the four years he’s been here, there’s never been a single word of him dating someone. I mean, look at Beaux Hale or Oliver Powell. They’re in the news all the time with their wives, and they were before they were married. Powell could hardly step out of the hotel he always used to stay at with a woman on his arm and not have it hit the Raleigh Rich and Famous blogs.”

  “So you think it’s strange he’s a football player and he isn’t a player off the field?” Amanda’s logic was a curious thing.

  “Well, yeah.”

  I waved her off. “It doesn’t matter. My job isn’t to uncover some hidden secret about his love life, and after meeting Brandon today and spending time with him, I really need to focus on the story.” I hadn’t been able to get the little boy out of my head since yesterday. It was the only reason I agreed to go out for a drink with Amanda even though I was short on time. I still needed to get dressed for a fundraising dinner in a few hours, but I figured a quick bite and a glass of wine would calm my nerves, get me relaxed so I could focus.

  Because yeah…after spending an afternoon around Gage, I was totally distracted. Mostly because I wanted to know every single thing about him, relevant to the story, and most definitely, not.

  “See.” She pointed her finger at me and twirled it in a circle. “You’re so professional it’s sickening.”

  “Can I remind you that you’re the one who told me yesterday morning not to go digging too hard in the direction you’re talking about?”

  “Well, yeah, but you’re smart. You can dig out his secrets without having to dig too hard. Men love you. You smile your sweet little innocent smile, flip your hair, and tilt your head and men are always eating out of your hands. Mostly because they see you doing that and they want to be eatin’ you somewhere else.”

  I had taken a sip of my drink while she spoke and ended up choking. Wine burned my nose and I covered my mouth, reaching for a napkin. “You’re gross,” I said. Oh God, wine in the nose burned like the dickens, as my mom always said.

  “I’m honest,” she declared with a mischievous grin. “And remember my words next time you’re talking to Gage, would ya?”

  Yeah. Because thinking of him eating me somewhere other than the palm of my hand would keep me on task.

  And there was no way in hell I was telling Amanda I’d been fantasizing him doing that very same thing since yesterday.

  “Oh God.” My hand pressed to my stomach over my perfectly fitted and tight black dress. One shoulder and arm was completely bare. The line of fabric cut a sharp diagonal line to my other arm where that sleeve was loose and sheer. At my waist, it cinched together and was skintight over my hips and down to the floor. My ankles wobbled on my heels, even though the silver, ultra-scrappy heels were ones I’d had for years and worn dozens of times. This was, by far, the fanciest I’d ever had to dress for an event and it wasn’t only that making me feel like puking.

  It was because as soon as I’d left dinner with Amanda earlier, I’d gone straight home and before I got ready, I’d reached into my nightstand, grabbed my vibrator, and proceeded to take care of myself not once, but twice.

  And both times I’d fantasized Gage and his dark eyes and his inky hair and his firm muscles and rigid abs above me, beneath me, holding me down, slipping me around.

  During it, I’d imagined him being that guy, doing all of those delicious things, while a black strip of satin covered my eyes.

  The man, John, from last night, had said he wanted to see me again, and more than once since I’d taken care of myself, I’d not only checked my phone for messages from Tristan, hoping he requested me tonight, but I’d also resisted texting Tristan and setting it up myself.

  That wasn’t how it worked. Not in the beginning.

  My job was to sit back, anticipate his request, and in the meantime, apparently, I was also going to drive myself insane.

  But God, I’d have loved to know that after I had to spend another few hours with Gage, that I could go somewhere else and have someone take that edge off, clearing my mind of all physical reactions to the mysterious football player.

  The Hills Hotel was the richest and most elegant hotel in Raleigh. It was a place I'd never been but had always wanted to see the inside of. As I entered the lavish lobby with its travertine tiled floor and modern artwork and sculptures hanging from the ceiling, my already wobbly legs shook more harshly. This place was so far outside my comfort zone we weren’t even in the same zip code. I made my way through the security line where they checked ever
y handbag.

  "Have a lovely evening ma'am," the security guard said to me.

  "Thank you."

  I headed toward the elevator and as the door opened, I stepped in and off to the side. I was immediately accompanied by two couples. I didn’t have to be a football fan to recognize them. I was in the elevator with Beaux Hale, quarterback of the Raleigh Rough Riders, his wife Paige, his sister Shannon, and her husband, Oliver Powell. I also didn't have to be a fan of football to have my breath stolen by the masculinity and testosterone pulsing off of them in radiant waves. Goodness. Were all football players built like they stepped out of a marble statue mold?

  Conversation was quiet as the elevator doors closed behind us. I assumed part of that quietness was due to the badge pinned to a lanyard draped around my neck. The network’s rainbow-colored logo along with PRESS stamped in the middle generally made more famous people immediately zip their lips.

  I faced the doors as we rose to the fourteenth floor where tonight's festivities included a dinner and dancing in the restaurant at the top. We would eat, drink, and be merry while we slowly turned in the circulating restaurant. On any other night, it would feel like a fantasy come true. Tonight however my nerves were ragged. The drink I had earlier had well worn out its usefulness. I was no longer relaxed and prepared.

  No, the very thought of spending several more hours in the room, regardless of how large and cavernous, with Gage seemed to be an impossible task. At the very least, it would test the limits of the professionalism I so boldly proclaimed to Amanda.

  "Your dress is lovely."

  That came from a soft and sweet feminine voice. I lifted my gaze to the gold reflective doors and caught the cute blonde, Paige Hale, smiling politely behind me and off to my side.

  "Thank you." She was dressed in a buttery yellow gown. The dress dipped low between her breasts and slid gently down the curve of her hips brushing the floor. With her hair swept up with grand curls piled on her head, others flowing just past her shoulders, she looked like she could be a Disney princess. "Yours is lovely, too. It looks great with your tan."