Perfect Spiral (A Playing Dirty Sports Romance Book 2)

by Lane Hart

  Or can it?

  “Callie, I’m really sorry, but it’s only been one month. We’ll keep trying and…and I’ll take you to the best fertility doctors in the world. We’ll do whatever it takes, okay? Whatever it takes for you to be a mother,” I assure her, but she doesn’t respond.

  “Come here,” I say, rolling Callie over and pulling her to my chest. She cries against me, soaking through the cotton of my shirt, and I ache for her, even though I have no idea how she’s feeling, how much it hurts after how long she’s been trying…

  I hate that I have to leave her, especially when she’s so upset, but Coach will bench me again if I’m late for warmups, and there’s nothing else I can do for her today.

  “I’ve got to go, but Kelsey will be here, and I’ll be back as soon as I can,” I tell Callie, kissing the top of her head before I slide out from under her.

  “Good luck and be careful,” she looks up with red-rimmed watery eyes to tell me.

  “I will,” I promise before I make my feet leave her.

  Kelsey’s in the living room, curled up on the sofa with Felix, who has made himself at home, watching television. “You mind staying here to look out for Callie today?” I ask her since they had all planned on coming to the stadium to meet my parents and watch the game. Of course I want them there, but I know Callie needs to sit this one out.

  “Sure,” Kelsey says with a nod. “Is she sick?”

  “No, she’s just…upset,” I tell her. “Take care of my boy, and I’ll see you all later.” With a scratch to Felix’s sleeping head and a quick kiss goodbye to Brady, I head out the door.

  On the drive over to the stadium, I try to get my mind focused on football, but all I can think about is seeing Callie look so devastated and not being able to do anything about it.

  But I told her the truth; I will do whatever it takes to get her pregnant.

  Callie

  My pity party comes to an end around noon because it’s more important for me to get a shower and watch Quinton’s game on television than continue to mope alone in his bed.

  “Hey, you okay?” Kelsey asks when I join her and Brady in the living room.

  “Yeah, he’ll make me better,” I tell her, stealing Brady from her arms to cuddle him for a little while. “Sorry I didn’t want to go to the game today. We’ll make it to the next one,” I promise Kelsey since I know she likes to go to the stadium.

  “It’s okay. I’m more comfortable here anyway,” she says.

  “Yeah, it’s not so bad. At least we can see what’s going on down on the field a little easier.”

  “Are you avoiding the tabloids?” Kelsey asks randomly, rubbing Felix, the traitor, who has taken up with her. Surprisingly, he even likes Quinton and hasn’t scratched him once, maybe because he knows he has to be a good boy around the baby.

  “Ah, yeah, for my own mental health, I’m staying off the internet. Why? Did they find a new way to make me look like shit?” I ask.

  “They found out your name and that you’re still technically married,” she informs me with a cringe. “Sorry, Callie.”

  “Those bastards. The divorce will be finalized in days!”

  “There’s an interview with your husband --- I mean ex-husband in one article,” she adds.

  “Awesome,” I mutter sarcastically. “What did that idiot say?”

  “Oh, that late one night Quinton threw him out of his house and told him to stay away from you,” she replies with a smile.

  “That is actually true, but that was before Quinton and I started…seeing each other,” I finish rather than say fucking each other.

  “I think it’s sweet that Quinton was standing up to that jerk for you,” she tells me. “He really likes you, you know.”

  “Who? Quinton?” I ask. “No, it’s not like that between us. We’re just…sleeping together. Casually.”

  “Uh-huh,” she mutters. “Whatever you say.”

  But for the next week, we won’t be sleeping together while I’m on my period. I know we technically could, but the cramps are just too painful to consider it.

  Will Quinton look for sex somewhere else in the meantime?

  Unlike John when we were married, Quinton’s sex drive is a force to be reckoned with. He wants sex often, usually once a day, if not more. And while I enjoy every second, I’m just not sure if I alone am enough for him.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Callie

  When I see the team’s bus pull up out front of the hotel in Cincinnati, I head over with the crowd that’s gathering to look for Quinton before his coach’s mandated isolation tonight.

  Players start to filter in, causing the group of mostly young men and a lot of women to start screaming and flashes to go off as they snap pictures.

  And then there’s Quinton.

  He swaggers in looking edible in his three-piece gray suit, and the place goes crazy. The team’s security guys try to press the crowd back, but Quinton smiles as he signs hats and shirts and takes selfies with fans. I see at least three women slip their phone numbers into his pockets, copping a feel of his ass or dick before removing their hands.

  Sluts.

  When I got to the hotel, I needed to shower and to change after the flight. So instead of my casual jeans and tee, I put on a form-fitting black strapless dress that ends a little above my knees with a pair of sky-high heels.

  Now I’m officially a free woman since the divorce was finalized last week, which is empowering, and I guess I just wanted to look nice for Quinton since we haven’t had sex in a week, and I’ve missed it. I’ve missed him wanting me and can’t stand the thought of him finding what he needs with someone else.

  This past week Quinton was a perfect gentleman. Even though we were sleeping in the same bed, he never made a single move on me. The rest of our routine stayed the same --- breakfast before he would leave for practice, texting through the day, dinner and a bath for Brady at night before we put him to bed and the two of us snuggling on the couch to watch corny reality shows together.

  By last night when Quinton didn’t try and feel me up, I was starting to think he doesn’t want to have sex with me anymore. But he hasn’t kicked me out of his house or bed, and he invited me to travel to Cincinnati to watch his game. So here’s hoping that explosive heat between us hasn’t died down yet and that it just needs rekindling after a week off.

  Unable to wait any longer to find out, I stroll over to the crowd and march right up to him even though he’s talking to another woman.

  “Do you have plans tonight?” I hear the slutty brunette ask him while rubbing a hand over his chest.

  “I do, sorry,” he says with a small smile that I hope he’s just using to ease the sting of rejection because he’s a nice guy even if he is a world-renowned player.

  Quinton looks around the room; and when he sees me, his head does a double take before his eyes lock with mine and he flashes me his trademark smile. “And here she is,” he tells the woman before removing her hand from his chest and closing the space between us.

  “Hey,” I say with an amused grin.

  Quinton’s sparkling blue eyes take me in slowly from head to toe before meeting mine again. “You look…wow,” he says before he leans down and kisses me, right there in front of the crowd. In fact, I hear a collective gasp from the women who were probably all hoping to end up in his bed tonight.

  “I want you, but I can’t let you in my room,” he says against my ear when he pulls his lips away.

  “I can have you in mine,” I tell him, grabbing his tie to lead him to the elevator bank.

  “I’ve missed you,” he says, wrapping his arms around my waist and kissing my neck as we ride the elevator up to the eighth floor along with other hotel guests.

  “I’ve missed you too,” I tell him.

  We start kissing as soon as the room door shuts, and then my dress is quickly removed, along with my black thong. Spinning me around so that I’m facing the foot of the mattress, Quinton gr
owls, “Put your hands on the bed.”

  “What?” I ask him over my shoulder. “But missionary is better –” I start, but my words are cut off when he presses a palm in the center of my upper back, forcing me to bend forward and down.

  “This month we’re doing it my way. How I want it, when I want it, and as many times as I want it,” he leans over me to tell me as he fills his hands with my breasts and grinds his still covered dick against my ass. “Deal?” he asks while slipping a hand between my legs and working two fingers inside me.

  Trying to think at this moment is rather difficult, but I consider his request and say to hell with it. The other way clearly hasn’t worked to get pregnant, so let’s try something new.

  “Deal,” I tell him as my knees begin to go weak. I bring them up on the bed too but stay on my hands and knees in front of Quinton.

  While Quinton keeps fucking me with his fingers, I hear his zipper go down. Then his fingers are gone, and he’s plunging inside me without warning, making me cry out at the sudden fullness. His big hands gripping my hips hold me in place as he stands at the foot of the bed and slams into me over and over again, causing the headboard to slam violently against the wall.

  “God, that’s good,” he groans from behind me. “I jerked off in the shower…every night last week…thinking about you…you in the blue and yellow…fuck!”

  “Why…why did you do that?” I ask him, looking over my shoulder to watch him take me hard and fast. “I would’ve…I would’ve sucked you off if you’d asked.”

  “Fuck, Callie. Now you tell me?” he replies with a chuckle before he grabs my face to turn it so he can kiss me as he keeps up his punishing thrusts. After that, our muffled moans are almost as loud as the wet slaps of our bodies and the rhythmic thumping of the headboard against the wall.

  Slipping a hand underneath me, Quinton strums my clit with his fingertips to send me over the edge, screaming; then he quickly follows.

  He doesn’t pull out before he flips me over, lifting my legs to his shoulders and starts fucking me again.

  My orgasm never stops, it just spikes again and again until I’m nothing but a panting, writhing mess in the hotel sheets.

  Quinton collapses next to me, still dressed with only his pants undone. That’s no good. I want to snuggle against him, feel his warm, smooth skin against mine. I reach for the buttons on his vest and start undoing those first.

  “I have to go, Callie,” he says, sounding truly remorseful. It still sucks that he’s leaving, but I try to keep the disappointment off my face.

  “Well, thanks for the sperm donation,” I tell him since that’s the reason we’re doing this. He likes to fuck me, and I want him to get me pregnant.

  “Fuck, woman. Don’t be like that,” he grumbles as he sits up and buttons his vest and zips up his pants again. “I wish I could stay with you all night. Without the sex.”

  “But the sex is pretty good,” I remark.

  “It is,” he agrees, leaning down to kiss my lips. “The best I’ve ever had.”

  That nonsense only makes me snort as I try to push him away with my palms on his chest. It’s about as successful as pushing over a brick building. He doesn’t move an inch. “I’m sure that’s what you tell all the girls.”

  “You know,” he starts, reaching up to rub his scruffy chin thoughtfully. “I’ve been with a lot of women, and I mean a helluva lot of women, but I don’t actually remember a single one before you.”

  My breath catches in surprise at hearing him say something so sad yet…sweet. But I refuse to allow myself to think for even a second that he won’t forget about me once he moves on to the next woman and the one after that… He only remembers me now because I’m the present.

  “None of them had faces or names worth remembering if they even told me what it was,” he says. “But they knew mine. All they knew was my face and my name, so it didn’t matter if I was a sleazy asshole or not. They had one goal in mind --- to try and get a piece of me.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say since I’m not sure how else to respond. And yeah, I feel a little guilty because of how, in my own way, I’m using him too.

  “With you, Callie, I know you don’t give a shit about my money or fame, but no matter how hard I try, I’m still not sure if you really see me as more than a means to an end.”

  “I see you,” I tell him, blinking back the tears. “I see what a great father you are to Brady and how much you love what you do, how everyone looks up to you and how strong and determined you are. Those are the reasons I asked this monumental favor from you. If I just wanted a baby, I could’ve gone to a sperm bank. But I wanted your baby and you to be in its life.”

  “So, I’m not just a sperm donor?” he asks, and I shake my head. “Then what am I, Callie?”

  “I-I dunno,” I reply. “I guess we’re friends.”

  “Friends?” Quinton huffs. “We’re a helluva lot more than friends.”

  “Dating?”

  “You sleep in my bed every night, and we’ve never been on a date,” he replies. “Which is sort of fucked up because we’re doing this all in reverse, so I’ll try to work on that. Now try again.”

  “We’re exclusive?” I offer.

  “Yeah, for nearly four weeks now. That’s about three weeks longer than any other relationship I’ve ever had,” he informs me.

  “Boyfriend just sounds ridiculous when referring to a man as giant as you,” I tell him with another snort.

  “I agree,” Quinton says with a smile. “But you’re getting warmer. And you better not say fuck buddies or future baby daddy because that shit won’t fly either.”

  Nodding, I try to think of another term to explain what Quinton is becoming to me and what I hope I am to him.

  “Significant other?” I ask hesitantly.

  “Significant other,” he repeats, trying it out. “I like it. Tomorrow I’ll have my manager announce it to the press,” he says before getting to his feet to leave.

  “No, Quinton. That’s not really necessary,” I tell him. When I start to stand up, he pushes me by my shoulders back down on the bed and walks around the mattress to grab two pillows. Bringing them over, Quinton lifts my hips and slips the pillows underneath.

  “I think it is necessary,” he replies, stealing a quick kiss. “Especially if we’re gonna announce we’re expecting sometime soon.”

  “Right,” I agree, unable to help my smile at his confidence and the fact that he remembered I needed to lift my hips after sex.

  “I’ll call you later,” he says, pulling out a key card from his pocket. “And here’s the key to my room for tomorrow night, twelfth floor, room twelve-ten. Call my room if you need anything.”

  “Okay,” I agree, taking the offered card from his hand and knowing it’s also a symbolic gesture. He’s giving me access to his room at all hours of the day, even if I’m not allowed in, to prove to me that he doesn’t have anything, or anyone, to hide from me. “Good luck tomorrow,” I tell him.

  “Thanks. Can’t wait to see you after we win, baby,” he says with a wink before he walks out the door.

  Quinton

  We didn’t win Sunday.

  It wasn’t even a close game.

  The Cincinnati Cougars tore us up in a thirty-five to six loss.

  The bus is silent on the way back to the hotel as we all think about how shitty we played individually and as a team. The offensive line didn’t hold, so I was sacked three times in the first quarter. Thanks to the pressure the defense put on me, I didn’t throw worth a shit, completing only sixteen out of thirty-six passes with one interception. Davis, our running back, fumbled the ball twice. Kohen is the only one who did anything right, taking over his starting position again by kicking two field goals.

  In a post-game interview I was required to attend, one of the reporters asked me if I was playing badly because of all the drama in my personal life. With a great deal of restraint, I didn’t tell the guy to go fuck himself. Instead, I told him
that football players are just like everyone else in the world. We have lives, families, and drama but that we put that aside when we step out on the field.

  Sometimes shit doesn’t go our way, and we lose.

  I fucking hate losing.

  Dragging my ass up to my room, the only thing I’m looking forward to is seeing Callie. And unlike most nights after we lose and I feel the urge to bury myself in some random woman to forget the game, tonight I know Callie can offer me more than that. She’s not just a temporary solution.

  I slide my key card through the door and push it open. Inside the room, I toss my duffle bag down and then fall over face down on the bed next to her.

  “You okay?” she asks, combing her fingers soothingly through my hair that’s still damp from my shower.

  I nod in response because I know she means physically, because she worries about me getting another concussion.

  “Do you want anything to eat?”

  “No, thanks,” I mutter into the linens.

  “Anything I can do for you?” she asks.

  “Just be here,” I tell her, reaching over to grab her and pull her to me like a life-size teddy bear.

  “Done,” she says, pressing a kiss to my cheek.

  We lay there in silence for half an hour or so before I finally roll to my back, tired of dwelling on the loss and ready to start thinking about next week’s game and how to win.

  Sensing that I’m ready to leave the pity party, Callie says, “I have something that might cheer you up.”

  “Oh really?” I ask, rolling to my side toward her. Just because I wasn’t in the mood earlier doesn’t mean I’m not now.

  “Yeah, Kelsey sent me a photo,” she says before leaning over me to get her phone off the nightstand, which presses her breasts into my face. Nuzzling my face in her shirt, I’m definitely getting more interested in sex.

  Callie laughs and pushes me playfully away. “Let me show you this, and then we can get naked.”