Behind him is a whole gang of other guys in suits - most likely lawyers, team managers, and probably a board member or two.
Hey, no pressure, right?
But I’m only skimming over them before my eyes suddenly land on the blue-eyed, auburn-haired girl standing coolly and almost sullenly behind them all.
Fuck, she looks good.
I don’t want her to look good. I want her to have somehow gotten atrociously unattractive in the last week - maybe been afflicted by some sort of skin disorder or something.
No such luck. Because London Jacobs looks fucking good.
Archie is sticking his hand out, and I’m gripping it and shaking it, I think. But I’m hardly concentrating on what he’s saying, or even on the words coming out of my own mouth, because she’s right there, holding my gaze and commanding all of my goddamn attention.
Shit, this isn’t good.
That cowgirl hat is back on her head, and she's wearing a low-cut, V-neck blouse, tight black pants that make her ass look mouthwateringly good, and a huge, smug grin on her face.
She dressed up for this; she dressed up for me.
I like that.
I like that she looks fucking good, and I like that she did it for me, even if it’s most likely just to tease.
I’m going around the group, mechanically shaking hands and smiling at the more eager guys who’re “super stoked” I’m considering the Bulls. But then I get to London, and there’s a moment where we both just freeze - neither of us knowing how or when to put our hands out.
Hell, the last time we touched, it was my teeth on her neck, my hands on her ass, and my cock balls deep in that sweet pussy as she came like a hurricane.
…It’s a stark contrast to a shaken hand at a business introduction in the middle of an airport.
She puts her hand out first, suddenly forcing a smile to her face. My hand slides into hers, and there’s one more frozen second where we both lock eyes - the lingering electricity from our previous encounter sizzling through that touch.
But London only shakes my hand formally and quickly before she yanks her hand back, her fingers curling as the hand drops to her side.
“Well, son,” Archie pats me on the shoulder, beaming that big Texan smile at me.
“Let’s show you the stadium, shall we?”
* * *
We ride in different cars back to the stadium.
I get the distinct impression that it’s no accident.
On the way over, I chat with some of the suits, talking stats and records and season predictions. I’m usually great with “shop talk” like this, especially in a group of guys who’re all looking up at me like I’m the alpha dog in the room. Shit, I’m in my damn element in situations like that.
This time though, I’m just distracted.
Goddamnit.
This isn’t me. This isn’t how I fucking act when it comes to chicks. Sure, the situation is more complicated than most, but if anything, I should be reveling in the awkwardness of this, not getting all introverted and weird like some sort of pussy.
And so I make a pact with myself to change my damn tune right there in the car from the airport. No more pussyfooting around, and no more getting all tongue-tied around some chick I fucked once.
Hell, that ain’t me, and it sure as shit ain’t gonna be me when it comes to London Jacobs.
19
Holden
Back at the Bulls stadium, there’s a whole big to-do and photo op with me, Archie and a bunch of the team board members.
London pointedly stands to the side, checking her phone and making notes on a very official looking clipboard.
They even get some shots of me giving a thumbs up as I sign a contract against Archie’s back - all staged, of course, but this shit will be all over ESPN by tomorrow. At this point, of course, I’ve already broken it to my Rattlesnakes teammates that I’m most likely going to be leaving.
Definitely not some of the more fun conversations I’ve ever had.
“So!” Archie claps his hands together, grinning at me after we’re done with the photos. “You probably want to get a look at the facilities, don’t you?”
I only have time to nod before he’s turning towards his daughter, still posted to the side pretending I’m not here.
“London, honey!”
She looks up, and this time, I make good on my self-promise not to get all tripped up around her like some sort of teenager. This time, I wink at her salaciously over her dad’s shoulder when she glances up.
She glares at me.
“London, why don’t you show Holden around the place? Give him a once-over of the facilities?”
I can see her mouth sour and her face stiffen.
“Sir, I would love that,” I say eagerly, smirking at her.
She glares daggers at me, and I can tell she wants to say something, but she holds it back and just shrugs.
“Sure, Dad,” she says, smiling at her father.
She moves past him and brushes past me, elbowing my arm sharply.
“Let me show you the facilities, Mr. Cade,” she says brusquely.
“Yes ma’am,” I say, tipping an imaginary hat before I fall into step behind her.
I follow her as we make our way into the hallways of the lower-depths of the stadium, watching that tight ass of hers with every damn step. We stop at a door, and it’s not until she coughs loudly that I look up and grin, realizing she’s just caught me.
She frowns. “Were you just staring at my ass?”
“Yep.” I shrug casually, grinning at her.
Her little scowl deepens. “Don’t.”
“I’ll try.”
London arches a brow. “You will?”
I chuckle. “Not really.”
She groans as she turns and yanks the door open.
“Fine, whatever. These are the locker rooms.”
They’re a piece of shit. Well, no, they’re a-state-of-the-art facility, but compared to Denver and the budget we had there, these are crap. But really, that's not at all what I’m thinking about once I follow her inside and let the door shut behind us.
Because right now, I’m alone with London Jacobs, with every single filthy thought I’ve had about her over the last week roaring through my head as I drink her in with my eyes.
Fuck, don’t do this.
But I’m not listening to reason, not right now. There’s blood pounding in my ears, and something primal inside roaring at the nearness of her.
“So, what do you-” She turns and stops short, seeing the fierce look in my eyes, her own going wide. She takes a shaky breath, swallowing thickly.
“What do you think?” she asks quietly, gesturing around us at the locker room.
“Don’t think you want to know what I think, sugar,” I say evenly.
She arches a brow. “Oh?”
“Nope.”
She smirks and crosses her arms across that v-neck blouse, which only serves to push those perfect tits up a little more.
“And why is that?”
I grin wider at her. “It’d probably just fluster you.”
She’s not drinking right now. We’re not a bottle deep in whiskey and she’s not letting her hair down now, like she did before. She’s all business in that blouse and those office-attire pants, her hair pulled up high and tight in a little bun.
She’s not on her back right now with her legs wrapped around my thighs.
She’s not moaning my name and saying the words “harder” and “faster”, scratching at my back while I give her every fucking inch.
Her face is flushed red, but she swallows again and straightens herself up.
“I don’t fluster easily,” she says icily.
“Bullshit.”
London rolls her eyes. “You really think I can do the work I do and work with the kind of people I work with if I got flustered anytime some cocky jock wanted to say something crude?”
“Actually I was thinking I wanted to push
you up against those lockers behind you, push those pants and your panties down to your knees, wrap your hair around my fist, and fuck you like I know you’ve been dying to be fucked ever since the other night.”
The words come before I can stop them, but at that point, I doubt I could if I wanted to.
London goes silent, her face goes crimson, and her soft lips form an o-shape.
I smirk.
“That’s what I was thinking.”
She’s blinking quickly, and her tongue darts out to wet her lips.
“So, not flustered, huh?”
I grin as I take a step towards her.
She quickly shakes her head side to side. “Nope.”
I keep moving into her until she’s pressed up against the lockers behind her, her breath catching in her chest.
“Still not?”
She shakes her head. “Hardly.”
My hands go to her waist, sliding up her blouse, and just trailing across the side-swell of her tits. She gasps slightly, but she doesn’t do or say anything. I move them back down her arms to her wrists, knocking the clipboard from her hands and shoving them up above her head as I lean in close.
“How about now,” I growl into her ear.
“Flustered?” She shrugs, but her eyes are wide and darting across my face. “Not in the slightest.”
I move one hand down over her neck, over the swell of her breast, and over her stomach. Her chest is heaving, her breath panting. I walk my fingers down further to the waist of her pants, and that’s when she whimpers.
“We’re not doing this,” she all but whimpers, her eyes darting across mine.
“Cause you don’t want to?”
“Because we shouldn’t.”
“So you do want to,” I growl.
“I didn’t say that,” she says quietly, her eyes flashing fire.
“So say it.”
She says nothing.
“So you’re not flustered or anything at all right now, right?
London swallows again, saying nothing and just shaking her head.
“Cool as a fucking cucumber, huh?”
She nods. “Mhmm. I told you, you can’t flust-”
“Darlin’,” I lean down to her face, my lips inches away from hers, and my hands still pinning hers above her head.
“I haven’t even started yet.”
My lips brush just over hers, and then it’s like a damn ocean crashing down on us.
London mashes her lips to mine, and then it’s all over. I growl as I mold my body against hers, pushing her back against the lockers. I let go of her hands, bringing mine down to grab her waist as her arms wrap around my neck. She moans as I cup her tight ass, my cock throbbing hard against her as she whimpers into my mouth.
We’re writhing against each other, as I reach down and pull her shirt out from where it’s tucked into those business pants. My hand moves to her jaw, cupping it as I kiss her fiercely before sliding up into her hair. I’m twisting it and pulling it out of its neatly tied up little bun as she moans into my mouth, before suddenly she’s pulling away with a sharp gasp.
“Stop.” She pulls away completely, her eyes flashing as she shakes her head. “No, we’re not doing this.”
“We already did, sugar.” I grin, feeling my pulse roar with pure want for her.
London shakes her head.
“That was before.”
“Before…what?” I raise a brow. “You got a rule against this down in Texas? Cause I gotta tell you that might be a deal break-”
“Before you came down to sign onto my team, Holden!” she hisses.
“I haven’t yet.”
“You’re going to though.”
I move against her. “I’m willing to put it off another hour,” I husk into her ear, hearing her breath catch.
She swallows, blinking like she’s thinking about it. But then she frowns and shakes her head slowly.
“There are a lot of girls in Houston, Holden.” She glares at me. “Pick one that isn’t your boss.”
I snort. “Oh is that what you are?”
“It’s what I will be.”
I grin as I move against her again. “Well that makes things interesting, now doesn’t it?”
She glares at me as she pushes me back. “It makes things impossible.”
“Hey, I’m not looking to date you, sugar.”
Her eyes narrow fiercely at me. “Oh fuck you,” she hisses. “I’d never date you.”
I shrug. “Perfect. Hey, I’m ready to keep it as just fucking whenever you want.”
I move my hips against her, letting her feel how fucking hard my cock is against her thigh. London’s eyes dart to mine as she rakes her teeth distractingly across her bottom lip.
“I’m not some groupie slut you know.”
I lean in close before she can stop me, and she gasps quietly and haltingly as I take her earlobe gently between my teeth, my breath hot against her neck.
“Yeah,” I growl. “But I’m wondering just how bad you want me to make you my little slut,” I rasp into her ear.
London fucking moans.
Or, at least I think she does, because right after that, she slaps me.
Fucking hard.
Oops.
“Watch your fucking mouth!” she hisses, jabbing a finger at my chest.
Yeah, she’s pissed.
London scowls at me once more before she pushes me aside and storms past me.
“Tour’s over, asshole. Let’s go.”
Well, there’s the line, and here I am about ten steps past it.
…Story of my fucking life.
20
London
Well hell.
How did I just let that happen again, exactly?
I’m sucking in breaths of air as I furiously tuck my blouse back into my pants, feeling my face burning hot and a wicked, sinful pulse throb between my legs.
How did I let that happen? Well, because he’s right, that’s how.
Because that night and the man I spent it with is all I’ve been thinking about for the last week, usually at wildly inappropriate times.
That’s why I let it happen.
I run my fingers through my hair as I turn to see him still standing back by the row of lockers, his arms crossed over his chest and a grin on his face. Damnit, why does he look so fucking calm and not at all flustered like I’m sure I look?
I glare at him, doing my best to fix my hair and tuck it back into its work-place bun.
“Let’s go.”
“Aww, no more tour?” Holden makes a fake pout face. “But I haven’t seen all the facilities.”
“You’ve seen enough,” I mutter.
“That’s debatable.” He grins. “But I can say I like what I’ve seen so far.”
The heat blooms traitorously into my face before I remember that I’m angry at him and force myself to glare at him again.
“My little slut.”
Jesus fucking Christ, who the hell does this prick think he is? And who even talks to women like that? I turn away from him, finally fixing my hair up into a messier bun than I’d normally ever leave the house with, but it’ll have to do. I smooth the front of my blouse and making sure it’s tucked all the way back in before I take another breath.
This isn’t me. I don’t go to pieces or get tongue tied like this. I’m in charge, always.
…So how come I’m not around him, at all?
“Tour is definitely over,” I say firmly, reaching down and snatching my clipboard off the floor from where it was knocked. I give Holden one last cold look before I turn, yank the door to the locker room open, and walk right into Serena.
“Hi!” I blurt the word quickly, stumbling backwards and almost into Holden as he exits the locker room after me.
“Hi yourself?” Serena raises a single eyebrow at me, a suspicious little grin creeping at the corners of her mouth as my face goes bright red. I quickly clear my throat, praying that the flush clears with it.
<
br /> “So what’s up?” I say, far too eagerly, nodding afterwards as though she’s already answered me, even though she’s still just smiling curiously.
“Uh, nothing much.” Serena raises a brow again as she subtly nods at my hair. My face goes bright crimson again with heat as I meekly reach up and push at the bun.
“Yeah, it’s so windy out today. It’s killing my hair.”
“Oh, yeah,” Serena nods, a serious look on her face. “Here, try this.”
She reaches into her bag and passes me a comb.
“Real freaking windy in that locker room, huh?” she mutters under her breath as she passes it to me.
I swallow thickly.
“I was just showing Holden here the facilities.”
Serena smiles, wagging her eyebrows at me as she looks past me.
“Well of course you were.” She gives me another quick knowing look before she puts her hand out. “Welcome to the Bulls, Mr. Cade.”
I glare at her.
“Holden, this is my secretary, Serena.”
She gives me a look and an eye-roll.
“Actually, Serena handles publicity around here.”
“Well, among other things,” Serena says in a purring tone, shooting Holden a look that gets my blood roaring.
Ugh, WHY would I possibly care about that?
I push those thoughts away as reach up to toy with my hair again.
“Anyways, we’re just finishing up a tour of the place.”
Serena nods. “Well, if you’re done, your dad and your agent,” she points at Holden, “wanted to see both of you up in the board room.”
* * *
I let Serena walk ahead with Holden, scowling at his back as we approach the board room.
“Oh, sweetness!”
I cringe at the grating sound of Joanne’s voice.
“Hate” is a strong word, and so I don’t hate my dad’s second wife, I just don’t really like her much. She and my dad met about ten years ago, and while it’s great that he finally found someone to settle down with after the shitty way my mom left when I was little, there’s something to be said about his taste in women.
Jock: A Secret Baby Sports Romance Page 11
