Sexy Bachelor

by Maggie Monroe

  “This is the longest three minutes of my life,” she sighed.

  “No shit.” I was horrified and excited.

  I had a messenger deliver a pregnancy test to the suite first thing this morning. Neither one of us needed the press spotting us in a drug store with one of these things.

  “I think it’s time,” she announced.

  I held my breath while she read the test. In an instant, I was terrified it would be negative. Getting her pregnant wasn’t the plan, but with the possibility this was a false alarm, I realized how much I wanted her to have my baby. How much I wanted this together.

  I tried to read her expression. “God, you’re killing me, Doc. What does it say?”

  She lowered the stick. Her blue eyes were clear and certain. “I’m pregnant.”

  I grinned. “I knew it.”

  She laughed. “I knew it too.”

  I wrapped her in my arms and kissed her on the forehead.

  She looked up at me. “Can we go back to bed now just for a little nap? It’s not even 6am.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, let’s get some more sleep.”

  ***

  With enough money, anyone can be bought off. I learned that when I made my first million. My agent had learned it too. Jenny Nichols took her money and changed her story before the next morning’s headlines. She reported that her source was a phony and she had x-rays to prove that Wes Blakefield’s injury had in fact been a sprain all along.

  Lennon and I read the headlines in bed.

  “I can’t believe this.” She scrolled through her tablet. “There’s not a single mention of an AFA investigation. Why aren’t they looking into it?”

  I smiled and kissed her on the forehead. “I told you we had nothing to worry about.”

  “Not really the point.”

  “Can’t you be happy we’re not being interrogated? It’s going to be old news.”

  I knew she was still mad I hadn’t done the honorable thing. And now that I was going to be a father, that would have to change. I wasn’t going to let my son or daughter grow up the way I did.

  I wouldn’t be the kind of father who pushed them regardless of the rules. That meant I was going to have to start following them.

  My hand snaked under the covers to Lennon’s flat belly. In a few months, her body would be different. I was going to love every second of it. The ice cream runs. The trips to the doctor. All of it. Normal dad stuff that other guys did.

  “You know you could still come forward. You don’t have to wait to get caught.”

  “I know that’s what you want me to do, but I’m not putting you through that stress. And before you say anything, that’s not just an excuse.” I stared at her hard. “You’d be interviewed. They’ll check all your previous prescriptions. Investigate your case histories. It could go on for months. You don’t deserve that. You did everything right, Doc.

  And you’re carrying our baby. So I need to know… can you live with this lie? Can you be with me, knowing what I did?”

  She closed her eyes. “I don’t want to say yes, but I can’t say no to you. But I have a condition.”

  “Name it.”

  “If you ever get hurt again. Ever. You heal like a man. You let your body work and heal for you. No substances. No broken rules. No lies to me or the AFA.”

  “See, this is why I need you.” I cupped my palm over her navel, feeling her quickly inhale at my touch.

  “What do you mean?”

  “To help me be a better man. To be a good father.”

  I saw the softness sweep over her. “Wes, you’re going to be an amazing father. I know it.”

  “You know, this baby is going to be here at the beginning of the season.” I eyed her.

  “Don’t look at me. You’re the one who knocked me up.”

  “True.” I rolled her on top of me and she giggled. “How are you feeling this morning?”

  “Not sick yet.” She smiled.

  “Don’t move,” I ordered. I scooted to the end of the bed until I was between her legs. My favorite place to be. She spread her thighs for me and tilted so my tongue could slide inside her.

  “Oh God, Wes.” She buried her face in the pillow while I sucked and lapped at her. I could make her come all day. As the vibrations slowed, I rolled out from under her, tilted her hips up, and eased myself into her wet heat. I loved taking her like this. Looking down at the roundness of her ass, while her tits rubbed against the sheets.

  “Tell me,” I commanded.

  “Fuck me until I’m yours,” she whimpered.

  “You are mine, Lennon. God, you’re mine.”

  She panted and wiggled as I pumped in and out of her. We both knew things were different. The sex was still fucking hot. But there was love between us now. And that love had made a baby.

  I didn’t know what was going to happen in two days at the Super Bowl, but I realized Lennon’s one mission had finally been accomplished. As I held her in my arms, I realized there was more to life than winning a game. There was more than adding points to the scoreboard. There was more than being carried off the field as a hero. Because in my arms, I already knew I had won everything.

  Epilogue

  Lennon

  One Year Later

  I closed the door and tiptoed down the hall, clutching the monitor in my hand. I watched it the entire way to the living room.

  “She’s asleep?” Wes asked.

  “For now.” I sighed.

  “Come here.” He folded me in his arms as I sank into the couch to join him.

  I thought pulling long shifts at the hospital was exhausting, but nothing compared to all-nighters with this little one.

  I had gone back to work part-time two weeks ago, and I was still trying to figure out how to balance the sleep deprivation. This was a completely different level. I was sure my patients wouldn’t be interested to know I was running on fumes.

  “Let me take that.” Wes wiggled the monitor from my hands. “She’s a pretty cute kid, Doc.”

  I smiled. “She is, isn’t she?”

  He nodded. “A year ago we were at the Super Bowl and now look at us.”

  “Yeah, we have a four-month old who runs our lives.”

  Wes laughed. His broad chest shaking as he held me closer.

  I traced my fingers over his wide knuckles, drawing strength from his hands. I circled over the Super Bowl ring he wore on his right hand. It was ornate, encrusted with diamonds and the team name with champs engraved under a dark blue stone.

  I thought about what Wes had put himself through to get that ring. The lies, the deceit, the injections. The center stone was smooth under my fingertips.

  “How upset are you that we’re not in Miami for the game tonight?” I looked into his green eyes, knowing I’d be able to read anything that wasn’t the full truth.

  His fingers laced through the back of my head. “I’m not giving up on another Super Bowl. But, this wasn’t the season.”

  I twisted my lips together. “You didn’t answer the question.”

  “We made it to the playoffs. Besides, I get to watch the game with you tonight.”

  I studied the crease in his brow. I knew I was pushing him. He was upset he wasn’t there. He wanted to defend his championship status. More than anything I think he wanted to prove to both of us he could win without cheating.

  But I had come to realize that over the past year. Wes was the kind of man who wanted to win, but something he had changed. The first time he held Charlotte I could see it. He wanted to be a different kind of man. He wanted to be a father she could be proud of. She was his chance to start a new chapter in his life. One that included honesty.

  “What time are your parents coming over for the game?” I asked.

  It was my idea to invite them. We spent every Sunday together in Wes’s box. It seemed fitting we would watch the Super Bowl together. They couldn’t get enough of Charlotte.

  Wes looked at his watch. “We still have two hou
rs.” He waggled his eyebrows. “And the baby’s asleep.”

  I was exhausted to the deepest parts of my bones. My muscles were weary. I could barely keep my eyes open. But with one look Wes had awakened every nerve in my body. The hammering in my chest made my breathing quicken.

  “But you have to be very quiet, Doc.” He pressed a finger to my lips.

  I nodded. “I can do that.”

  “Are you sure?” He smiled wickedly. “Because I don’t plan on gentle fucking.”

  My knees shook, and there was a quivering in my core that was already spiraling. Yes, that’s what I needed. I needed him to take me to bed and remind me I was his. That despite the whirlwind we had been swept up in this past year, I was still his.

  “God, yes,” I whispered in his ear.

  He lifted me from the couch as his mouth descended on my lips. I sucked greedily, wanting him to know that I wanted everything he could give me.

  He laid me on the bed, stripping my jeans over my hips. His eyes flickered with lust.

  “God, you’re fucking beautiful.”

  I sighed as he peeled the lacy panties off next. I quickly wiggled out of my Wranglers T-shirt.

  He planted his hands on either side of me. I looked from one hand to the next. The Super Bowl ring dominated his right hand, but on the left was a simple gold band. A band I had slipped on his finger a year ago.

  Everything between us had been unconventional. My patient had become my lover. My lover had become the man who helped me discover there was more to me than medicine. And then I got pregnant.

  After Wes won the Super Bowl in San Diego there wasn’t hesitation. I wanted to raise our baby together as a family. When he asked me to marry him, I knew we both wanted the same things. We wanted a life together. A life we could spend balancing each other out. A life we could spend making each other happy. A life that would be filled with this kind of unquenchable passion.

  I looked up at my husband. The man who had made me question everything, and yet at the same time realize that all we needed was to trust each other.

  I heard his zipper and I smiled. “Say it, Doc.”

  I stretched my arms overhead, feeling the desire wash over me. “Make me yours.”

  “Always mine,” he growled.

  I bucked off the bed as he pushed inside me. Our bodies knew what to do. We had memorized each other. But as Wes rocked into me and my orgasm peaked, I whispered all the dirty things he wanted to hear. And he fucked me the way I wanted. Like the woman he had fallen in love with.

  ***

  I stepped out of the shower, the droplets sliding over my body. What I wanted to do was curl up under the covers and sleep for ten hours. But Bud and Gloria would be here any minute for the game.

  I called to Wes. He was making faces at Charlotte. “Is the food out?”

  “Yep.” He swished the baby back and forth.

  “She’s still not a football, you know.” I giggled. I loved watching him with her. He made silly faces and sang songs. Most of them were fight songs from college, but they seemed to make her laugh.

  “Doesn’t mean she can’t learn.”

  While I was showering he had gotten her up from her nap and dressed her in a Wranglers onesie. I’d be lucky if he ever let her wear pink. We hadn’t started talking baby number two yet, but it was only a matter of time. If only for Charlotte’s sake, I needed to give this man a son.

  “We’ll let you get dressed. I’m going to out the pre-game on.”

  “All right.” I toweled off my hair.

  By the time I was dressed and made it to the living room my in-laws had arrived. Gloria was holding Charlotte and Bud was making a fish face at her.

  The good thing about grandparents was it freed up our hands. Wes was grumbling at the TV. They were showing last year’s Super Bowl highlights and questioning why the Wranglers hadn’t made it to defend their title.

  I sat next to him on the couch and wrapped an arm around the hard muscles in his shoulders.

  “Next season you’ll be there again.”

  His furrowed brow lightened. “Fuck right.” He covered his mouth and looked around. His parents were too busy with Charlotte to have heard him.

  I eyed him. “One day our daughter’s first word is going to be fuck and I’m going to punch you.”

  “Sorry.” He reached for the remote and turned up the volume. According to the countdown clock we were still twenty minutes from the coin toss. This was going to be a long night.

  Thank God, I didn’t schedule any morning patients at the hospital.

  Wes picked up his phone when it started buzzing. “Stubbs, can you believe this shit?”

  I eyed him with a death stare. He stood and walked to the bedroom where the game was also on full blast.

  There was only so much I could expect to change in the man. I knew who I married. And I fucking loved him. Dirty mouth. Dirty thoughts. The dirty things he did to me in bed. I smiled. And then there was the man who changed diapers at 3 a.m. The man who watched over me during my entire pregnancy. The man who would die before he’d let anything happen to our little girl. I couldn’t have one without the other.

  I listened to Gloria and Bud blow bubbles at Charlotte and curled my legs behind me on the couch.

  I had moved to San Antonio focused on medicine. Focused on finding a new life for myself. And in this room I had it all. A new family and a man I would love the rest of my life.

  ###

  DIRTY GAME

  Prologue

  This was the last place I should be. The absolute last place. I’d woken up this morning in hot and dusty Dallas, and now here I was standing outside of the Dock House while boats rocked in their slips.

  My heel made a hollow sound as it hit the parking lot pavement. I slammed the car door behind me and inhaled, taking in this place and all the memories we had made.

  The wind whipped through my hair. I hesitated. This was all wrong. I shouldn’t be here, but I had to know. I had to see him again.

  I pushed open the door, my heart in my throat, my palms dewy with perspiration, my breath fevered.

  Was any of it real, or had it all just been a flash of summer heat?

  1

  Blake

  I had been called a brooder, and at times much worse. I liked beer, an occasional dip, and I loved to fuck. At twenty-six, I valued my time and space more than the warmth of someone sharing my pillow. I didn’t have time for relationships.

  And what quarterback did? I didn’t need a girl to get in my head or under my skin. One climbing into my bed was an entirely different story.

  I closed the locker under where Wiley was engraved into the wood.

  “You headed out?”

  I turned to see one of the conditioning trainers behind me.

  “Yeah.”

  He shook his head. “You’re the only guy on the team who isn’t going to Cabo or Rio. You know that, right?”

  “Fuck.” I laughed. “I don’t need that shit. I get enough of it during the season. The last thing I want is the fucking press following me around.”

  “Going to your fishing hole?”

  That’s what the guys around here called it anyway. They didn’t know shit about where I was from. I was ok with that. I kept my personal life personal. I never took them. Never even invited them.

  “Something like that.” I pressed my lips together.

  Jones strolled through the locker room. “Dude, you’re not going to Cabo with us?”

  “Not this time.”

  I got enough of these fuckers during the season. I only had one break a year. And I wasn’t going to waste it in the spotlight.

  “Too bad. The girls are hot as fuck down there.”

  “So I hear,” I answered.

  “We’ll miss you.” Jones slapped me on the back.

  The trainer bumped my fist. “Keep up the stretching and don’t tweak that knee.”

  It had been giving me problems since spring training. One twist
the wrong way and I had been on the ground gripping my leg. The last thing I wanted was for any of the guys to see me down. There was no room for weakness on the field.

  I had put off having surgery, but I was working through a vicious therapy regimen.

  “Got it.” I lifted my bag to my shoulder. “See you guys way too soon.”

  I walked out of the locker room ready for my time off to start.

  It was only a month until practice resumed. It wasn’t like I had months to travel the world and party my ass off like these other mother fuckers.

  My job required meetings. Strategy. Planning. While they were drinking their asses onto the floor I was watching tape. I was writing plays and studying the competition. I dealt with the Sports Now speculation. I had to meet with rookies. QBs never slept.

  So I took my month off. And I made sure nothing interfered with it. Nothing.

  ***

  I carried my 6’5” frame with confident strides across the sandy parking lot, and threw a six-pack of beer into a cooler. Beads of perspiration started a slow trickle down my forehead. If I didn’t get on the water soon, the fish would be running from the sun just like I was. Damn it. This Fourth of July was hotter than hell.

  I didn’t practice in fucking heat like this. That’s why we had an air conditioned facility. But I wasn’t in Orlando. I was back home for most of the summer. If there was one place that didn’t give a fuck that I was an A-rated American Football Association QB, it was this island. This tiny piece of land where I grew up.

  I guided my truck under the water oaks, keeping the shoreline in sight. The road seemed to follow the curvature of the small coastline where years of ebbing and tiding had crept up on the pavement. I couldn’t tell you a spot on the island where you couldn’t see the water. As far as I was concerned, if it did exist, it wasn’t worth mentioning.

  This was my place. The only town on this planet that didn’t bother me for pictures or autographs. I could do exactly what I was doing today—go fucking fishing with my cousin without worrying about a mob of fans.