Oh, God. Yes. But, “Not here.”
He stands, hauls me into his arms, and carries me into our room. When we get there, he takes his time stripping me, stroking me, licking me, until I’m quivering and aching for him.
“You want me, Ellie?”
Bastard. “You know, I do.”
He spreads his arms wide and offers himself to me. “Then get me naked, woman.”
Aaargh. He is the devil. As tall as he is, I have to stand on the bed to get his shirt off. Once his magnificent chest is bared, I climb down and unbutton his jeans, unzip his fly and pull. When the jeans and boxers come off, he kicks them to the side, and I’m left to gawk while he stands there in his glorious masculinity, his cock flying high and proud. Unable to withstand the temptation, I splay my hands across his hips and take him into my mouth.
He groans. “God, Ellie. You’re killing me.”
I don’t care. I want the taste of earthy, randy male in my mouth. He rests his hands on my head and sways back and forth with deep, shallow strokes as I suck, lick the life out of him. I dig my nails into his ass. When he grows even bigger, I know his orgasm is near.
“I’m coming, darling.”
That’s all the warning I get before his heat spurts into my mouth, so much that some spills out to dribble down my chin. Once I’ve licked every bit of his essence, I glance up. The look of ecstasy on his face is something I will treasure forever.
“Get on the bed.” He growls.
Without hesitation, I clamber backwards on the mattress, aiming for the center. But he doesn’t want me there. He grabs my legs and pulls me to the edge. Widening my thighs, his mouth clamps over me and suckles, teases, licks my pussy. I teased him, so now it’s his turn to torture me. As wound up as I am, it takes me no time to orgasm. Only then does he rise and push me deeper into the bed as he rises over me, like the god he is, and in one strong thrust spears me. He’s so big, he takes my breath away. But I wouldn’t have him any other way.
The next morning, I wake up, sore as hell. A hot shower eases some of the aches and pains from our lovemaking. Thankfully, neither Kaylee nor Brock are present as I make my walk of shame. But Mama is. She stands by the kitchen counter, drinking a cup of tea. “Morning.”
“Morning.”
“Sleep well?” Her knowing smile tells me she knows exactly how I spent my night.
“Yes.” My face flushes. Why, I don’t know. It’s not like I’m fooling around. I’m married to Brock, for heaven’s sake.
Thankfully, she takes pity on me. “You want some coffee? I just made a pot.”
“No, thanks.” Pride drives me to make a quick getaway. “I’ll grab some at work.” I thoroughly regret my decision on the long drive. Coffee would have made the ride easier.
I arrive at the office to find a message from a stranger on my office phone.
“Mrs. Parker. This is Horace Watkins. I’m calling about a very important matter regarding your daughter. Could you please return my call at 312-555-2400?”
Kaylee! Did something happen to her? In a panic, I hang up and dial Kaylee’s cell. She picks up on the first ring. “Mom?”
“Are you okay?” I sound alarmed, but it can’t be helped.
“Yeah. I’m fine. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, sweetheart. I just got a weird call.”
“About me?” Should have known she’d figure it out.
“Maybe.” I can’t say anymore since I don’t know why Mr. Watkins contacted me. “Let me call him and find out. Love you.”
“Oh, okay. Love you too.”
Darn it. Too late I realize I should have phoned the school, not her. But in my panic, I didn’t think things through. Taking a deep breath, I dial Horace Watkins’ number. A receptionist picks up. “Turner and Watkins Law Group. How may I direct your call?”
A law firm? “Yes, I’m returning Horace Watkins’ call. My name is Eleanor Adams, err. Parker.”
“Yes. He’s expecting your call. I’ll put you through.”
A couple of rings later, a man’s voice answers. “Mrs. Parker?”
“Yes.”
“Horace Watkins. Thank you for returning my call.”
Eager to hurry things along, I ask, “Your message said it concerned my daughter?”
“Yes. It’s good news, Mrs. Parker.” He must have picked up on my anxiety.
“Oh?”
“How much do you know about William Parker?”
The name strikes a chord, of course. “He’s my husband’s father.” That’s the extent of my knowledge.
“That’s right. He passed away several years ago.”
“Brock told me.”
“Before his death, he created a trust fund and made his son the sole beneficiary. The trust assets are mainly comprised of stock in Creighton Pharmaceutical as well as William Parker’s private fortune. The latter alone is quite valuable.” Doesn’t matter. Brock wants no part of it. “Do you follow the pharmaceutical industry, Mrs. Parker?”
“No. Not really.”
“Well, Creighton Pharmaceutical has done quite well. Its shares have quadrupled in value since its original offering.”
“That’s . . . great?” Where is he going with this? He must know Brock won’t touch the money in that trust, no matter how much it’s worth.
“Mr. Parker also made a provision for your husband’s children, should there be any.”
Now he has all my attention. “He did?”
“Yes. A certain amount was bequeathed to each child of your husband’s upon his or her birth, as well as certain milestones, such as high school and college graduations, and legal marriages.”
“Oh.”
Mr. Watkins clears his throat. “As we understand it, your child, Kaylee Adams, is Brock Parker’s daughter. Is that correct?”
“Yes. She is.” The entire world learned that fact at the Outlaws’ press conference, so it’s no surprise Mr. Watkins did as well.
“Glad to hear it.” He sounds almost relieved. “Her legacy has been accumulating since her birth, and she’s due quite a tidy sum.”
“How much?”
“Twenty million.”
I choke. “Dollars?”
A small chuckle on his part. “That’s right.”
That much money would set up Kaylee for life. She’d never have to worry about making ends meet. But there’s one thing I don’t understand. “Why are you calling me instead of Brock?”
“We’ve approached Mr. Parker, but he won’t accept the bequest.”
Brock did what? I don’t care how lousy his relationship was with his father. You don’t pass up that kind of money, not when it’s meant for Kaylee. “I’ll need to talk to him. Can I get back to you tomorrow?”
“Of course, Mrs. Parker. Once you do, let us know how you wish to proceed.”
Although my first inclination is to call Brock and ask him if he’s lost his mind, I can’t discuss this over the phone. The conversation is bound to be volatile. Kaylee can’t overhear it either. So there’s really only one place we can talk. The condo.
I check my watch. He’s in practice, which means he doesn’t have his phone close by. After I call Mama to make sure she can be home for Kaylee, I leave a message for Brock asking him to meet me at the condo after work.
That night, he strides into the place, sporting a grin a mile wide. He’s probably anticipating another sex romp. But he’s going to be very disappointed.
His gaze cuts to the kitchen where I have something on the stove. “You’re cooking dinner?”
The couple of times we’ve come to the condo since our wedding, food was the last thing on our minds. “Yes, a casserole. We need to talk.”
His gaze grows worried. “About what?”
I fold my arms across my chest. “I got a call today from Horace Watkins.”
His grin disappears. “He shouldn’t have phoned you. I told him I wanted no part of it.”
“You turned down $20,000,000 for Kaylee without consultin
g me?”
“Yes.”
I stomp toward him and smack his chest. “How dare you do such a thing?”
“I don’t want my father’s money. I didn’t need it all these years. And I certainly don’t need it now. I can provide for Kaylee. I can provide for you.”
“That’s not the point. That money can ensure her future, her children’s future. She doesn’t have to suffer through hard times.” I’m so angry I’m practically hyperventilating.
His voice softens. “Like you did?”
“Yes.”
He cups my face. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to make your life easier.”
“I’m not blaming you, Brock. It’s my fault. I should have told you.”
“Ellie, my father’s legacy. I don’t want it.”
I gaze up at him, pleading. “So don’t take it for you. Accept it for Kaylee. Please.” He’s lived in the lap of luxury since birth. His parents may have been emotionally distant but they made sure he never wanted for anything. He was clothed, sheltered and fed. Although he empathizes with my situation, he’s got no idea what it means to be poor. “You don’t know how difficult it is to juggle bills; to choose between the rent and the electric bill, because you can’t pay both; to weep for joy at the grocery store because the spaghetti is on sale and you have two more dollars to spend on food.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Nor do you know how badly I felt when I had to deny Kaylee every time she asked for a toy.” I grit my teeth. “I swore by almighty God once I got a job, she would never want for a thing. And I’ve come through on that promise. She’s a happy, well-adjusted child.”
“Yes, she is.” He wipes the tears from my face.
“So if there’s any way I can help it, I’ll be damned if I let you keep that money from her. Don’t you see? That’s her ticket from poverty and want and need.”
He envelops me in his strong arms as I bawl my eyes out. “Hush, sweetheart.”
But I’m so wound up, it takes me several minutes to regain my composure.
He drops a kiss on my head. “Very well.”
I sniff one last time. “Really?”
“Yes. If it means that much to you.”
“Thank you.” I fling my arms around him and kiss him full on the mouth.
“How long ‘til that casserole is done?”
“About forty-five minutes.”
“Well, then.” He carries me to the den of sin where we spend the rest of the night making long and boisterous love.
Chapter 23
Brock
FOOTBALL SEASON ROLLS ALONG in a Chicago freezing tundra cold enough to freeze your nuts. We make the playoffs, but lose the conference championship game. Although disappointed, I have no regrets. I know I’ve done my best.
With the season over, I know what’s bound to come. Sure enough, a week after the loss, Coach calls me into his office. Ty Mathews’ doctor has cleared him to play. So come fall, he’ll return to his starting quarterback position. I’m too good to let go, so he’d like to offer me the backup position. I thank the coach for his honesty and tell him I’ll think about it. No sense burning your bridges unless you have a better one to cross. He nods in understanding. After the success I’ve had this year, he knows I can get a better deal.
He comes to his feet and holds out his hand. “You exceeded my expectations, Brock. I knew you had it in you, but I didn’t know if you would come through. You put my doubts to rest. I’d gladly have you on any team of mine.”
“Thanks, Coach. That means a lot to me.”
“Any plans for the off-season?”
I grin. “A honeymoon. Never got to go on one.”
“I’m guessing your wife had something to do with your performance these last few months.”
“That she did.” If it hadn’t been for Ellie, I don’t know if I would have kept to the straight and narrow. Any success I’ve had this year, I owe in large part to her.
I’d promised we’d travel to Fiji, but in the end, we choose Bora Bora in French Polynesia. Team commitments and Ellie’s work responsibilities do not allow us to leave right away. But by early March, our schedules clear up and soon we’re on our way. She’d never traveled out of the country, so the trip is one huge adventure for her. We snorkel with fishes, make love in secluded beach bungalows, swim naked in the Pacific blue waters, and eat several times our body weight. She can’t get over the variety of fresh fruits. After ten days in paradise, we’re reluctant to return home. But Ellie misses Kaylee, and to tell the truth, so do I.
We arrive home exhausted after the long flight but looking forward to whatever life will bring next. Still on Bora Bora time, I wake up the next morning groggy as hell. Ellie’s side of the bed is downright cold. At some point, she’d rolled off the mattress to go on a grocery run. Not sure whether to go for breakfast or lunch, I grab a banana and slap meat on some bread. But I need something more to get through the day. Caffeine. As I’m pouring a fresh cup of java, my phone rings. Marty.
“How was the honeymoon?”
“Wonderful.” I don’t offer more than that. Most of it was x-rated, after all.
“Glad you had a good time. I have news.”
“Oh?” I expect what’s coming, just not the specific details.
“The South Carolina Wolves want you as their starting quarterback.” NFL teams had to wait until mid-March to negotiate for an unrestricted free agent. So no surprise Marty didn’t hear from them until now.
The Wolves are an up-and-coming team. Not good enough to make the playoffs. Yet. Although they have a pretty decent defense, they need to build their offensive line. That’s where I would come in. “What’s their offer?”
“Not high enough. But I can get them to where you want them to be.”
“You sure?”
“Positive. I assume you want me to start negotiations.”
“Yes.” It would be nice to play in Charleston. I’ve missed the South’s hospitality and easy spirit. But I can’t put the cart before the horse. Not only might the deal fall through, but I need to discuss things with Ellie.
“I’ll get the ball rolling then. I’ll keep you posted.”
“Thanks.”
If I know Marty, and I do, the negotiations won’t take long. The Wolves need me. If they don’t make a high enough offer, some other team will. There were enough grumblings during the season about teams wanting me. So wherever I land, I’ll win. The problem will be convincing Ellie to come with me. I had promised our marriage would be temporary. But I never intended it as such. I want her forever.
It’s going to be difficult to pry her away from Chicago, though. She’s planted deep roots here. This house, the first one she’s owned. She won’t give that up easily. Her job. And then there’s Kaylee. Next year she’ll attend the best public high school in the state. But that’s not a factor. I can certainly afford private school tuition for her.
I grab the yellow pad Ellie keeps on the coffee table to jot down some ideas—warmer climate, friendlier neighbors. Educational options I’ll need to research. Charleston’s bound to have some great schools. The job issue can be easily resolved. After all, enough college teams in the South play ball. She could easily work from there recruiting players and such.
My stomach grumbles reminding me it still hasn’t been fed. I drop the pad back on the coffee table, so I can chow down on my food. That’s when I notice a small FedEx envelope from her agency addressed to Ellie with a check peeking out from the edge. Huh. Why would they be FedExing that to her? She normally gets her salary deposited into her bank account. Curious, I take it out. The check’s for $20,000. In the memo portion it says “For extraordinary services rendered.”
What services? As far as I know, Ellie spent the last few months doing background research on college players and working on endorsement deals. Nothing out of the ordinary. She’d done nothing special. Except for one thing.
Me.
My mind travels back to the night I foun
d her in the condo. She’d explained things so glibly. The movers parading my bed posts through the lobby, dropping a box of my toys. All true since the turd knew about it. She never explained the extent of her discussion with Marty. What if he asked her to do more than unpack my things? I’ve seen Marty in action. He’s a shark, about as cutthroat as they come. There’s nothing he won’t do for his clients.
And when he’d called about the trade, he’d warned me. No partying, no screwing around. I can only imagine what he thought when Ellie told him about the furniture fuck up. He probably saw his commission go up in smoke. He’s not the kind to allow that to happen. No, he would have done something about it. And that something would have included Ellie, because he knows how eager she is to succeed. What if he’d asked her to keep me in line? And in return, she would get a big, fat, bonus check.
Acid churns in my stomach. Money means a great deal to her. Look at the way she’d snapped at me when I turned down my father’s blood money. If Marty had asked her to go beyond the line of duty, she would have done everything he’d asked and more.
The sound of her car pulling into the driveway reaches me. Kaylee’s still at school so we’re alone for now. Good. We’ll need privacy for what’s about to go down.
Ellie rushes in, breathless from carrying totes filled with food. Sporting the gorgeous tan she got in Bora Bora, she’s beautiful enough to make a grown man weep.
“You need any help?” I fight to keep my tone light.
“Do you mind? There are more bags in the car.”
“Of course not.”
Once the groceries are put away, she pulls out a baking pan and pours some pungent liquid over chicken. “I’m making that dish you like, the one with the spicy sauce.”
Anything to keep me happy, right? “Can you stop that for a few minutes? We need to talk.”
Some other person would ask ‘What about?’ Not her, though. “Sure. Let me put this in the fridge to marinate.” After washing her hands, she walks toward me, wearing a happy grin. “What’s up?”
I wait until she’s seated next to me on the couch. “Marty called. The South Carolina Wolves want me as their starting quarterback.”
Roughing the Player (Chicago Outlaws Book 2) Page 17
