Player: A Secret Baby Sports Romance

by Aubrey Irons

  The guy across from him swings wildly at Logan, who ducks the fist and crashed his own into the guy’s ribs. Logan steps back for a second but his opponent rallies and sends an elbow crashing into his gut, doubling him over. I’m cupping my mouth with both my hands to keep from screaming as the guy starts to rain blows down onto Logan, even though he’s on his knees in the ring.

  This is where he goes; this is what he does. This is why I found him that night bleeding and broken in my elevator.

  I almost can’t watch this happen, and I’m just about to turn away when Logan suddenly springs to his feet. The whole vibe of the place changes in a heartbeat as Logan slams the guy over onto his back and just starts to wail on him. He looks ferocious and animalistic and just so raw in the way he lays into his opponent; that is, except for his face. Because his face is blank and neutral, as if he’s just going through a motion has has to do.

  The fight is over thirty seconds after that when the other guy goes limp on the ground beneath him. The crowd of men around them go wild as the bell sounds, and there’s a furious exchange of screaming and yelling and fists full of cash as some sort of referee raises Logan’s arm and two other men drag his unconscious opponent from the ring.

  A man wearing a bomber jacket with black hair and an olive complexion pushes his way through he crowd and approaches Logan. He’s grinning, but there’s something dark and something sinister in that smile. Logan glares at him as the man claps him on the back and mimes a few shadow-boxing punches. He’s chuckling as Logan just stands there glowering at him, his chest heaving and his skin shining with perspiration.

  The man says something and pokes him hard in the chest, and suddenly Logan just spits at the guy’s feet. There’s a sudden stillness between the two men, and I’m not sure what I’m expecting to happen next. But the man only laughs as he points a finger at Logan, prodding his chest again as he winks at him, before he turns and walks calmly away. I watch as Logan shakes his head and spits on the ground again before he walks out from my my viewpoint.

  “Jesus fucking Christ; Quinn?!” Logan hisses at me as he steps out of the side-door to the warehouse. I’m leaning against the side of his car, glaring at him; “What the fuck are you doing here?!”

  I take a step towards him as he rakes a hand through his sweat-slicked hair, still shirtless in the dim glow of the streetlight; “What the fuck am I doing here?” I’m shaking my head and staring at him “Are you fucking crazy, Logan? Do you have some sort death wish?!”

  “Lower your voice, Quinn,” He growls, his eyes darting to the side door. He grabs my arm; “Look, just get in the car-”

  “No! What the hell was that back th-”

  “Get in the fucking car, Quinn, before someone sees you.”

  I shoot him a last glaring look before I step into the car, jumping as he slams the door after me.

  “That’s what you’ve been doing!?” I hiss at him, staring at him like he’s completely insane as we roar back towards Manhattan; “I mean, you said you were boxing for fuck’s sake, but Jesus;” I shake my head at him, suddenly scared about what I’ve just witnessed; “I mean there aren’t even any gloves.”

  The wind buffets against his face and through his hair, and he grins and shrugs before he turns and spits blood out through the open car window; “Yeah, well, that is why they call it bareknuckle.”

  I stare at him; “It’s barbaric.”

  He shrugs again, looking both completely insane and absurdly attractive in this dirty, hot way as he sits there shirtless in the car; his muscles and tattoos still gleaming with his sweat; “Not gonna fight you on that, darlin.”

  OK, I know he’s this big macho ex-Marine or whatever, with all hardcore tough-as-nails crap that comes with that. But this is completely insane; he must know that.

  “This is totally nuts, you know that, right?” I reach out with a tissue from my pocket and dab at the blood on the side of his face; “You could die in there, Logan.” I say it quietly, keeping my eyes locked on his.

  “Is that your medical opinion, Doctor Arch-”

  “Yes.”

  His eyes narrow at my cutting him off, but he nods slowly as the streetlights streak across the windshield; “Well, not today.” And there’s that grin again; that armor coming right back up and shutting me out.

  “I saw you arguing with that guy, afterwards.”

  Logan’s face tenses, but his lips stay closed.

  “You could've knocked him out, but you didn’t.”

  “My my, Doc, resorting to violence? Isn’t that against your oaths or something?”

  “Stop being cute; why didn’t you hit him?”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “What, is he paying you or something?”

  Logan barks out a laugh; “I’m a majority shareholder in a multi-billion dollar corporation, Quinn. I’m not exactly hurting in the finance department.”

  “OK, so why the hell would-” I stop, the answer suddenly as clear as day in front of me. Why would a man like Logan do anything anyone says, especially someone he clearly hates like the guy from the fight?

  “You’re doing this because they’re making you, aren’t you?” Logan doesn’t say a word, and I push on; “They aren’t paying you, so what, are they blackmailing you or something?” Instantly, I know I’ve hit a nerve as I see his face harden again as he stares out at the road in front of us; “I’m right, aren’t I.”

  “Sort of. No.” He sighs as he runs a hands through his hair; “It’s complicated.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Not to this.”

  “Try me.”

  Logan looks at me with a curious smirk on his face; “Let’s get a drink.”

  Yep; there he goes shutting me out again; “Fine” I say defeatedly, turning to look out my own window and shake my head.

  Logan turns a quick corner, and he suddenly pulls up at once of the nicest, most exclusive boutique hotels in the city.

  “Do you like scotch?”

  I blink at the posh, ultra-cosmopolitan bar on the ground floor of the hotel and turn to stare at him; “Are you serious? No offense, but have you seen how you look right now?” He looks like, well, he looks hot, but he also looks like he just went three rounds in a bareknuckle boxing match.

  ‘Cause, you know, he did.

  He’s also still not wearing a damn shirt, and I’m hardly more appropriately dressed for this kind of place, wearing cut-off denim shorts and a t-shirt. Logan just shrugs though; “Simple question, Archer. Scotch: yay or nay?”

  I sigh; “Fine, yay. Very yay.”

  “Great.” His grin widens, and he nods towards the glove compartment; “Pop that and grab it, and let’s go.”

  Inside is a bottle of scotch that probably cost the same as at least a month or two of my rent. I’m opening my mouth to ask what the heck we’re doing, but he’s already hopping out of the car and tossing tossing keys to a valet as he yanks a t-shirt on.

  “Fine”, I mutter as I snatch the bottle and step out; “Bringing your own booze to a bar? Little low-brow for a guy like you isn’t that Logan?”

  He grins and takes my arm as he steers us through the front doors of the hotel, past the lobby, and past the bar; “We aren't going to the bar, we’re going upstairs.”

  I balk at him “Uh, excuse me?”

  He rolls his eyes; “Quinn, get over yourself. We’re going all the way upstairs.” He nods to the front desk guy who seems to know him, and Logan palms the guy a fat wad of bills before steering me towards the elevators.

  “OK, so where are we-”

  “Quinn.”

  “What?” I snap.

  “Do me a favor.”

  “Wha-”

  “Stop talking for like, one whole minute, OK?”

  I open my mouth to say something back, but instead I snap it shut and shake my head, not wanting to give him the satisfaction as the elevator moves up. The doors open and we’re up on the roof-top lounge area, complete with
a pool and a bar and an utterly insane view of Manhattan. It’s also completely deserted.

  “Did you plan this or something?” I say, frowning at him.

  “What, paying off the night manager so that I could come up to the pool bar alone and drink scotch after my fight?’

  I look at him expectantly.

  “Uh, yeah, Quinn, I did.”

  I’m laughing in spite of myself, watching his face crack into a smile as I do so.

  “What, you think, that I did all this for you or something?” He grins; “I’m not telepathic, you know. It’s not like I knew you were going to follow me around like a stalker tonight.” I try to hide my grin, knowing he’s right, and he laughs; “You’re a welcomed addition though.”

  He reaches over the empty bar and grabs two glasses before we walk over to the pool’s edge. He’s kicking his shoes off, and I start to follow suit before I realize he’s pulling his t-shirt up over his washboard abs and over his head.

  “Uh, what are you doing?”

  He tosses his shirt aside; “Uh, swimming, darlin. It’s a pool, that’s what you do in them.”

  “Cute.”

  “Oh, you’re coming in too, you know.”

  I raise an eyebrow at him as he starts to unbuckle his belt; “Yeah I don’t think so.”

  “Nope, you have to,” He shrugs nonchalantly, which is hard to pull off when his face looks like the cat that just caught the canary; “Post-victory tradition; jump in the damn pool.”

  “I don’t have a suit.” It’s a lame excuse, since he clearly didn’t bring one either.

  “Neither do I.” He’s stripping his jeans off, and I’m blushing but not really trying to look away as he stands there in tight, grey boxer-briefs that cling to every inch of him; and I do mean every inch. It’s almost not even fair. I mean the guy’s a billionaire already; does he have to look like some kind of Greek warrior too? He tosses his pants onto a lounge chair and looks at me expectantly, standing there with that incredible body, with his insanely ripped abs and those twin grooves of his hips leading down…

  Ooooo-kay. Yeah, I am definitely not getting in a pool with Logan Dempsey looking like that.

  “Archer, you’ve got about 10 seconds to start stripping before I toss you in just like that.”

  We lock eyes, and I know he’s crazy enough to be serious. He’s also not going to get this one over on me, and so instead I just shrug and start unbuttoning my shorts. He smirks, looking pleased with himself.

  “You didn’t think I would, huh?”

  “No, not really actually.”

  “Shows what you know then.” I’m hoping my voice comes off as flippant and confident instead of the bundle of nerves I feel like inside. I’m pushing all the thoughts out of my head though of how crazy it is that I’m pulling my t-shirt up over my head and letting him see me in my black bra and panties. I’m actually relieved for a second that I actually managed to wear a matching pair, though I’m kind of wishing I wasn’t wearing a damn thong.

  Whatever, I think; It’s not like he hasn’t seen it all before.

  Yeah, not really a comforting thought, actually.

  But a minute later, we’re both standing in chest-high water clinking glasses, and I’m doing my damnedest not think about the fact that I’m barely a foot away from a practically naked Logan Dempsey in just my underwear.

  15

  Logan

  Ok, there’s playing with fire, and then there’s just sticking your whole fuckin hand in the flames.

  Late-night underwear pool-hopping with Quinn Archer is so, so much the latter.

  I’m kind of going out of my mind here, and I know I’m pushing this whole “innocent flirtation” thing way too far. I’m dancing on that edge; I’m testing myself here, and I also think I’m about to lose. Why the hell is she up here? Why did I bring her, and why on Earth did she even say yes? She’s a smart woman, obviously, but I’d have thought she was smart enough to see right through my bullshit and just flat-out turn me down on this. I mean the whole point was to push her buttons until she backed down and I’d just drive her home; the plan never actually went further than that. Certainly not to the point where I’m standing two feet away from her in a pool when she’s just wearing that fucking black lacy bra and thong panties hugging all her curves in all the right places.

  Luckily, the water surface is enough to maybe conceal the fact that my rock-hard erection is threatening to tear a hole in my briefs.

  Damn, this is like the mistake I just can’t let go of. If I was a smarter man - maybe if I were Bryce or something - I’d walk away right now. Erection be damned, I’d step out of this pool, call a driver for Quinn, and then leave. I’d find somewhere else to live that wasn’t ten feet up from where she sleeps, find a new team member for the outreach program, and just severe ties.

  Of course, looking at her now with just the tips of her dark auburn hair getting wet in the pool, the tops of her breasts glistening with drops of water in the low light, and that unintentionally coy smile, I know that none of that is happening. Not in a million fucking years.

  So instead, we sit on this submerged bench seat against the side of the pool in the shallow end, sipping scotch and just staring out over the neon forest of Manhattan.

  “It’s pretty up here.” She takes a small sip of her drink, and I’m not even able to look away from the perfectly unintentionally sexy way her lips linger on the edge of the glass as she swallows.

  “I like coming up here.”

  “After fights?”

  I nod; “Yeah, actually. It clears my head,” I say, as if my head is any fucking way clear right now with her sitting so close that I can almost feel her skin against mine.

  But it’s true. I come up here after the fights because win or lose, it puts things in perspective for me. When I’m up here, surrounded by the trappings of wealth and power that I wield now, it forces me to remember where I am in life. That might sound absurd, or like some sort of douchebag “rich-guy problems” bullshit, but it’s something I’ve found I need. Because again, win or lose, I have to remind myself why I fight, and I fight because this life that William Archer gave me is precious. I came from nothing, and I was nothing before saw something in us and dragged us out of that hole. I might truly hate being beholden to Javier and the fighting, But I know I owe William even more. There was the promise made to stand tall under the responsibilities and the trust he gave me, and owing up to that debt means more to me than anything.

  And so, I fight.

  “Listen, sorry about snapping at you back there at the warehouse. I just-” I take a sip of the scotch and then clear my throat; “I just wasn’t expecting to see you.”

  She fidgets with her glass; “Sorry I followed and spied on you like a stalker.”

  “I’d say it worked out OK,” I say, chancing a grin at her.

  “Well, I think we’ve had quite enough encounters without me following you around looking for more.” Quinn says quickly, her cheeks blushing adorably as she takes a big sip of her drink.

  “Oh?” I smirk at her; “And what kind of encounter were you looking for tonight, darlin?”

  She stammers as her face goes bright red and she opens her mouth and closes it again quickly about three times before she just looks away; “That’s- that’s not what I meant.”

  I grin at her; “Yeah but you’re dying to mean it.”

  The voice in my head is screaming about how terrible an idea it is to be flirting with her like this; how I need to get up and just walk the fuck away right now. But she turns and looks into my eyes, and as her pouty lips just part, her tongue slips out to wet them. I can see her chest rising and falling with her every breath, and it’s almost too much for me to take before I end up ripping her panties off right here and driving my cock inside her.

  I need her to roll her eyes, or smack me, or just walk away from me right now. I need a hit of reality right in the face for me to simmer the fuck down and just know how bad of an idea this
is; how dangerous it is to play with this particular fire named Quinn Archer.

  But instead, she does the exact fucking opposite. Instead, those big lashes of hers blink as she looks up into my face, her eyes wide and her teeth just gently biting at her lower lip as the flush from the pool and booze creeps over the tops of her breasts. And then she opens those pink, pouty lips; “Maybe.”

  Yeah, fuck; I’m done.

  My hand goes to her hair, and I grab a handful of it as I roughly bring her crashing against my lips. She moans out this sexy-as-fuck cooing sound as I growl into her mouth; our breaths intermingling as our tongues slide together and our lips crush against the other hard enough to bruise.

  She’s moaning into me, her hands running over my chest and dropping down over my abs. I grip the handful of hair tighter in my fist, loving the way she gasps into my kiss as I do. My other hand traces over her hip there and teases at the elastic of her panties. She drops her hand down into my lap, the boldness of the act from a girl like Quinn surprising me momentarily, but it’s only that much hotter because of it. Her fingers grasp at my cock through my briefs, pulling at me like she needs me, and I feel like I could explode right here and now.

  She gasps out loud as I yank her head back, exposing her neck to my lips and my teeth as I nibble and not so gently suck my way down to her collarbone. I’m pulling at the straps of her bra, slipping them off her shoulders as she shudders and presses against me; her hand still stroking my cock through the fabric.

  “Fuck, Logan.” She gasps; “We- we can’t-”

  “Yes,” I hiss out; “Yes we fucking can.” My hand slides down to grab her perfect curvy ass, and she whimpers, and that’s it for me.

  I slide my hand around right between her thighs, and she moans as I push her panties aside to trace my fingertips over her lips. I push two of them deep inside, curling up against her as she cries out and bites my shoulder, and I suddenly want much more.