His to Win (The Alpha Soccer Saga #1)

by Alison Ryan

  Worse tragedies have occurred, Ellie reminded herself.

  Suddenly, a knock at the door interrupted the beginnings of a wonderful daydream where Patrick misinterpreted her text as a plea for a night of passionate lovemaking on a bed covered in flower petals.

  Ellie glided to the door, looking twice through the peephole in disbelief. There, at her door, in the flesh, stood Patrick Sievert. Only scant moments after she’d sent the text inviting him to pay her a visit.

  How the fuck did he do that?

  ********

  After Patrick spoke to his agent, he considered the possible impact his disastrous interview could have had on Ellie. Calling her his girlfriend was absurd. All the time they’d ever spent together could be crammed into fewer than ten hours. He knew quite a bit about her, and she him, but he didn’t have any idea how she truly felt about him, what she expected or hoped of him, and beyond all that, Mad or not, he was the Monk. The last thing he needed, with a new club in a new league in a new city, was the complication of a relationship. But he’d jumped into the deep end, so it was sink or swim.

  He called the kit man at the club, Paddy Garvin, and asked if he could recommend a local florist.

  Patrick’s experience was that equipment managers were resourceful fellows; that they knew where to eat, who to see about certain things, they all had a bit of concierge in them. Paddy lived up to his profession’s reputation, sending Patrick to see Dolores at Parkhead Blooms.

  The shop was packed to the gills with all manner of sweet smelling flora, and rather than choose an arrangement, Patrick simply dashed off a card, handed Dolores his plastic, and told her Ellie’s name and that she was staying at the Marriott.

  “As much of this as will fit in her room, yeah? Whatever it’ll cost,” Patrick insisted.

  “A special bird, eh?” Dolores replied.

  “God willing,” Patrick answered, with a wink.

  His next stop was the Marriott, where he checked into a room as near to hers as he could, in the hope he could see the look on her face when she walked into her redecorated accommodations. No such luck, the nearest available room was two floors up, but he figured he could arrive at her door quickly enough if his effort had the desired effect.

  Patrick’s nerves robbed him of his appetite, and nothing on TV sufficiently distracted him. Pacing was the order of the day, checking his phone constantly for a message or call from Ellie.

  When it came, he was ready, scrambling down the stairwell and reaching her door moments after she’d hit send. Taking a deep breath and running a hand over his closely trimmed hair, he rapped three times on Ellie’s door.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  When Ellie pulled open the door to her room, an awkward silence filled the void. Truthfully, she wanted to tear his clothes off and have him, right there on the floor in the open doorway, but, barring that, she wasn’t entirely sure what to do.

  Patrick, for his part, looked down at the floor, suddenly bashful in the presence of the object of his desire. He looked up slowly, taking in both what he could see of the room and his first look at Ellie in anything but her work clothes.

  “Wow. So beautiful.”

  The three words he spoke were just above a whisper, and Ellie couldn’t be certain she’d heard them correctly.

  “Oh, yes, the flowers, oh my goodness, I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. Thank you so much!” Ellie replied, the words tripping over themselves as they rushed out of her mouth, their speaker overwhelmed by the moment and by the majestic man standing before her.

  “Not the flowers. You, Ellie. You’re so beautiful. They pale next to you.” Patrick took her hands in his as he spoke.

  He’d shoved all his chips into the center of the table, his commitment complete. He brought his hands to her face, cradling it as he kissed her. First her forehead, then softly on each eyelid. The slow descent toward her mouth was maddening, and Ellie’s lips had never before been more ready for anything. Her hands threw themselves around his neck, pulling him down into their first kiss.

  They each cocked their heads slightly to the right, synchronizing themselves perfectly. Her heart hammering in her chest, she whimpered in the face of his passion’s power, the kiss growing in intensity by the moment. The aroma of the flowers in the room, the strength in his shoulders, the roughness of his stubble against her cheek, it was all so overwhelming. She felt dizzy.

  He could feel her legs growing unsteady beneath her and he guided her away from the still-open doorway, his leg extending to kick it closed. He eased her toward the wall, a hand at the small of her back keeping her upright, the kiss adjusting itself, allowing a moment’s breath, nothing more, as tips of tongues met and danced apart, daring each other to come forward once again.

  She’d never been kissed like this before, never even considered that she, Amanda Eleanor Peavey, could ever be worthy of such a kiss from anyone, let alone someone like Patrick.

  Lungs screaming for a deep breath, Patrick took her bottom lip between his teeth and gently tugged at it before pulling away, locking eyes with Ellie.

  Fuck, your eyes are gorgeous.

  The thought struck them both simultaneously. Patrick’s icy blues and Ellie’s rich, dark gaze.

  Patrick could wait no longer, he had to kiss her neck. It had tormented him since she sat down next to him on their flight from Atlanta. The skin looked so impossibly soft, so delicate. He kissed her lips lightly, a reassuring peck, then moved to her left cheek. Her cheek down the side of her neck, finding it even more delectable than he’d imagined. The side of her neck, across her throat, across to the other side. As far back around the right side of her neck as he could, to just below her ear.

  Through hooded eyelids, Ellie tried to focus, tried to find something physical to cling to. The temperature in the room kept climbing, surely the flowers had withered in the oppressive heat. He was relentless in his assault on her ability to form a coherent thought. Everything inside her was melting, her skin scalding, relief coming only in the form of his lips and hands. Where they touched her body, only pleasure.

  His left hand was on the small of her back, just at the top of her ass, the curve there, applying gentle pressure, pulling her into him. His right was just behind her left ear, in her hair, tilting her head back to allow him greater access to the treasure of her neck.

  Patrick couldn’t get enough of Ellie’s skin. The smell of her, the flavor. He never wanted to stop tasting her. Even kissing every inch of her body could never be enough. She was intoxicating. His cock grew angrily in his pants, struggling to be free, fighting to find the source of his arousal, to penetrate, to find its release.

  Ellie was experiencing a similar struggle. She was sure that despite a room filled with flowers, the scent of her own need was embarrassingly unmistakable. If she’d bothered to wear any panties beneath her dress, they’d be a sodden, ruined mess by now. As it was, she feared she might actually be dripping on the floor. Two desperate teenagers couldn’t be more hormonally charged.

  Finally, Patrick withdrew, chest heaving, hands on Ellie’s hips now, staring in wonderment at her.

  Ellie’s eyes were closed, lost in a flushed-face haze of bliss.

  She licked her lips, bit down on her bottom lip for a moment, and opened her eyes slowly, not wanting to ruin the moment by waking up.

  When she saw Patrick standing there grinning, she knew she wasn’t dreaming, that somehow she was really making out with this marble slab of masculinity.

  They embraced, a simple hug this time, cooling down. Being wrapped up in Patrick’s arms was even better than Ellie had hoped it could be. The rippling muscle was unlike anything she’d ever felt pressed so tightly around her.

  “Patrick . . .” Ellie was compelled to speak his name aloud. She wanted to shout it from the rooftops, to let all of Glasgow know that this beautiful man had filled her hotel room with flowers and kissed her until she nearly burst into flames.

  Patrick kissed her forehead and then li
ghtly on her lips. “Thank you, Ellie. I’ve wanted to kiss you since the first moment I saw you.”

  “Thank me? Have you looked around this room? Patrick, thank you. This is like something out of a movie. Actually better than a movie, if there were a scene like this in a movie, nobody would believe it!”

  Patrick gave her a squeeze and then took her hand, walking the room, taking in the collection of fragrant blossoms.

  “It really is something, isn’t it? They did quite the job.” The two lovers bent down to inhale deeply from various flowers, savoring their individual scents, never straying beyond arm’s length from each other. Patrick continued, “After that interview this afternoon, I’m sure you know the one.” Ellie nodded as Patrick spoke. “After the interview went completely pear-shaped, I didn’t know what to do. I feared you’d think I had a girlfriend, that everything we talked about was a lie. Or worse yet, that you’d think I was referring to you, which was totally presumptuous, as I didn’t know how you felt. I mean, of course I was referring to you, but it’s not at all the way I wanted you to find out how I felt about you, and if you weren’t interested, I’d come off looking like a wanker. But anyway, I’m talking too much. Come here, love.”

  With that, Patrick pulled her into his arms and kissed her again, the two of them falling onto her bed, laughing and making out. Her hands for the first time explored his arms and chest, wishing his shirt would dissolve away and give her unfettered access to the muscly flesh beneath.

  Patrick’s hands likewise wandered over Ellie’s curves, coming to rest on a part that fascinated him. Just below the small of her back, the gentle slope where her ass began, was like a magnet.

  They lay together on the bed for the better part of an hour, intertwined, kissing, touching, laughing, softly whispering, neither sure how to proceed, what to do next, both reveling in the moment, enjoying it too much to ever want it to end, or change.

  Patrick’s cock throbbed angrily in his pants, and he feared that when he stood up that evidence of his lust for her would go beyond just a tent, but show in a stain on his pants.

  Ellie no longer cared that the fragrance of her arousal had conquered the smell of the flowers. There was no hiding it, nor did she care to. She wanted this gorgeous man to know what he was doing to her, how badly her body craved his, how completely she surrendered to him.

  Eventually they caught their breath and wound up lying on their sides, face-to-face, just smiling, and staring into each other’s eyes.

  “Ellie, you’re amazing. I can’t get enough of you. I want to kiss you and never stop.”

  “Please, by all means, let me do nothing to change your mind, Patrick,” Ellie replied, kissing the tip of his nose playfully.

  “I wish you didn’t have to work in the morning, but I haven’t given you the good news yet.”

  You’re going to have to go pretty far to tell me anything that will top this night, Ellie thought.

  “Tomorrow night, if you want to, you’ll stay at the Grand Central, the hotel where I’m staying. And the night after that. I’ve got a suite reserved for you there. It’s all paid for. And you’ll fly back Saturday afternoon rather than Friday. It’s all been arranged. Of course only if you say so, if you’re interested. You’d make me the happiest man in the UK if you said yes, but I don’t want to pressure you. I know we’ve just met,” Patrick explained in a hopeful tone.

  Ellie feigned indecision, scrunching up her face just long enough to give Patrick a moment’s doubt.

  “Do you mean if I said yes you’d be absolutely, positively, the happiest man in the entire United Kingdom?“

  Patrick nodded. “Indubitably, sweet Ellie.”

  “I’m willing to bet there’s a young shepherd in Wales somewhere who could give you a run for your money,” Ellie joked.

  Patrick rose up to a sitting position. “Certainly not! Although I have heard of a cobbler on the Isle of Wight who hasn’t stopped smiling since the early nineties. He might have me beat. But besides him, I’d be the happiest. Hands down, without question. If you said yes.”

  “In that case, how can I say anything but yes? The whole thing sounds amazing. Thank you, Patrick. Thank you for everything. For all of this,” her hand slowly spanned the room and then pointed at the silly smile on her face. “And for this.”

  Patrick kissed her once more and rose to leave. “I know you need some sleep, I don’t want to be what makes you late for work tomorrow. We can stay up late the next two nights. If you manage to pack, I can have your things sent to the Grand tomorrow morning, then when you finish work I can have you picked up.”

  Ellie stood and hugged her beau once more, hands lingering on his biceps.

  “Good night, Patrick.”

  “Sweet dreams, Ellie.”

  Patrick fairly staggered back to his room, his gait impaired by his erection. He took a lukewarm shower upon entering his room, deciding it was easier to collapse on the Marriott bed rather than go back to the Grand Central for the night.

  Ellie likewise concluded the evening with a shower and a check of her phone.

  Holy shit! How much did all that cost???

  From Meg. Followed a short while later with,

  Answer me, bitch! I need details!

  Unanswered, Meg continued to text every few minutes.

  If you’re with him right now, doing what I think you’re doing, I officially hate you.

  I just put an ad up on Craigslist looking for a new best friend.

  There’s no way he’s a good kisser, he’s too pretty.

  I just hope you won’t forget all the little people.

  Say hello to Posh Spice for me.

  I’m keeping Maisie, she wouldn’t do well on a transatlantic flight.

  Ellie read through the text messages, giggling at Meg’s sense of humor.

  She replied with a single line before slipping into a deep sleep, filled with dreams of Patrick.

  He’s a FANTASTIC kisser.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  For the first time since she was a little girl waiting for Santa Claus to arrive, Ellie Peavey wished life came with a fast-forward button. Well, there was that awful root canal in college, but that was waiting for misery to end, not for something fantastic to begin.

  She packed her things and had them brought down to the bell desk, where they were to be picked up by someone from the Grand Central later that afternoon. She hadn’t a clue what to do with the flowers, but as always, Patrick had known just the right thing.

  “When you pack, take a vase or two, or however many you like, fill them with your favorites, and they’ll switch hotels with you. We’ll donate the rest. Have them sent to a care home. Sorry, a nursing home, over here they call them ‘care homes.’ Spread the smiles around, eh?”

  Ellie hated to let a single petal go, but she knew they’d be getting left behind one way or another, and Patrick’s solution was as perfect as he was.

  The concierge from the Grand Central relocated Ellie’s suitcase and what wound up being five vases stuffed full of assorted flowers into her new suite.

  ********

  As she walked into work, Ellie was greeted by Helen, the mousy blonde who’d become Ian’s partner in crime in the evenings after work was complete.

  “Somebody got laid last night! No wonder you didn’t want to come to the pub with us, girl!” Helen said, with a knowing smile.

  “Wha—no . . . I . . . what are you talking about, Helen?” Ellie replied.

  “Els, you’re glowing. I know that look. You got it good last night. Or you’re in love. And you haven’t been here nearly long enough to be in love. And who does that these days, anyway? So it must be the former. There’s nothing wrong with casual sex, don’t be embarrassed. As long as it’s good.” Helen laughed conspiratorially, rolling her eyes in the direction of an oblivious Ian.

  “Well, I didn’t have sex. But if you insist that I’m glowing, it must be love!”

  Ellie had an extra spring in her step. Saying
the word love out loud, while referencing Patrick, even without saying his name, made her feel happy, silly, and warm all over.

  Am I in love? Like, actual love? I’m totally in lust. And I love talking to him. And kissing him. And hearing his voice. And feeling his arms. And kissing him. And getting lost in his eyes. And kissing him. Ellie was lost in thought, and absent-mindedly squeezed her thighs together to just barely scratch the itch that had been boiling deep inside her since Patrick showed up at her door the night before.

  “I meant what I said last night, Eleanor. I’ll accept no excuses. You’re going down the pub with us tonight. El? Earth to Eleanor?” Ian’s brogue interrupted her daydream, signaling the start of Ellie’s last scheduled day abroad.

  ********

  A disheveled Patrick woke up in his clothes from the night before, atop the comforter in his room at the Marriott, delightedly still smelling faintly of Ellie. Or maybe it was the flowers. Or his hopeful imagination. Either way, he knew her scent, the passion of her kisses, the sound of her laughter, her adorable smile, and, best of all, he knew exactly how delicious she was. With a shudder of desire, he imagined what other parts of her must taste like.

  A car returned him to his hotel, where he did his morning stretching and showered before calling first his agent’s office to rearrange Ellie’s itinerary once more, then Paddy Garvin at the club to offer thanks for the florist recommendation, to inquire as to who gave the closest shave in Glasgow, and to find a restaurant for dinner. Romantic, but not too ostentatious.

  During the season, Patrick shaved irregularly. A few days’ growth lent to his rugged good looks, but beyond that, he felt his intimidation factor was intensified as his beard grew. During the off-season, however, one of his guilty pleasures was getting an old style straight razor shave. Nothing was as relaxing as reclining in the barber’s chair, hot towel draped over his face, amid the chatter of old men, inevitably discussing football.