by Aria Cole
I’d clapped uproariously, so excited for Jenson. All the hard work and hours of practice time he put in had paid off in a big way. The crowd paused and shuffled around as Jenson’s team lingered on the field, the PA announcing all the players and their positions, before naming an MVP.
They’d saved the best for last. I shouldn’t have been surprised.
The announcer passed Jenson the mic after he’d congratulated him, asking for a few words. After thanking the fans and his teammates, saying he couldn’t score a single goal without their persistent support, his eyes turned to me, and my stomach dropped.
“Oh no.” I covered my mouth, my cheeks flaming. “He’s going to—”
“And to the very special girl from the other night.” Jenson’s eyes sparkled as he spoke, that cocky grin that took my breath away lifting one side of his face. “I found her. She even came to watch me play,” he boasted endearingly. “Seat 22.”
The overhead camera panned the crowd, then found my scarlet face. Taylor sat beside me with a big goofy grin and waved enthusiastically.
“There’s something for you under your seat, Bethany.”
His words froze my hammering heart.
“Look under your seat. Everyone is watching,” Taylor grunted out of the corner of her mouth through a smile.
I bent, dreading every single second of having thousands of pairs of eyes trained on me all thanks to him and his damn dogged persistence.
Didn’t he know he’d already won me? I’d never stood a chance long term against his beautiful smile and sweetness.
My hands felt around until they landed on a box.
Lifting it into my lap, I saw the small white rectangle was wrapped in a neon pink and glitter bow.
This wasn’t looking good.
“Open it.” His sexy tenor rumbled through the crowd, and it was actually a wonder every woman in that place didn’t melt into a hormonal puddle.
I pulled the ribbon, letting it fall, and lifted the lid slowly.
Please don’t be panties. Please don’t be panties.
“Chocolates.” I smiled brightly, relief pulsing through my system.
“What's this?” My sister lifted the corner of the tissue paper nestled beneath the chocolates. “Oh my God.” She covered her giggle.
My eyes shot down to inspect them closer.
Nestled beneath the decadent little chocolates was a pair of panties.
“Those are edible panties.” Taylor burst out into a full belly laugh.
She was right, and I was mortified.
“The man does gifts well, you gotta give him that.”
“There’s a note, too.” I lifted it and read.
Dinner. Just you and me, tonight. Say yes. J
A smile turned up my lips when I finished.
I knew what my answer would be. I knew what it would always be.
“What do you say, Bethany?” he asked over the sound system.
The crowd was cheering by now, chanting our names as I sat riveted, my eyes locked with his.
Damn if all his grand gestures hadn’t worn me down. His charm, his words, and his gentle spirit rocking my world.
I had a thousand and one reasons to tell him no, but none of them were good.
“Yes,” I whispered. I finally jumped out of my seat and did the one thing I’d been itching to do the entire game.
I ran to him.
All the way across the field I sprinted until he dropped the mic at his feet and opened his arms, hoisting me up to his waist and taking my lips in a long kiss. Every person in that stadium erupted in cheers, rising to their feet, while—as I was told later—the monitor zoomed in on our passionate lip lock and sent hearts floating around our heads on the giant screen.
Mortifying.
Thrilling.
The very best day of my life.
I had a feeling there would be so many more great days coming with Jenson around.
“Glad you said yes to dinner?” Jenson locked his hand in mine and pulled it over his bare chest, out bodies still heaving from orgasms as we lay in his bed hours later.
“You haven't fed me yet.” I laughed, then turned over, my hair falling over my shoulder and across his body while my eyes devoured his dark skin. “I'm feeling a little abused,” I wiggled, “in the best ways.”
Jenson shoved a hand through my hair and pulled me to him in a possessive kiss. “I'll feed you something alright.” He murmured and caused me to nearly burst out in laughter.
“I'm not sure if you're charming or corny.”
“Both.” He planted a kiss on my forehead. “I'm glad you're back. I can die a happy man if I can go to bed with you in my arms every night and bury myself between your sweet thighs every morning.”
“Such a charmer.” I teased before straddling his waist, his hands clutching at my hips as I pushed his impressive erection between my legs again.
“Why Bethany, you look almost insatiable.” He arched his hips and pulled me down to him in another kiss just as he slid his cock deep into my body. His mouth caught the errant moans falling out of my throat as his hands roamed my skin, lighting every nerve on fire.
“I'm glad you didn't stop.”
“Mm, stop what?” He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, his eyes focused on the place our bodies connected.
“Hounding me for that date.” I grinned and rocked against him, enjoying every long, thick inch of him buried inside me.
“Hounding?!” His barrel laugh sent vibrations rolling through my clit.
“I think I was starved for you Jenson Abbot, and I didn't even know it.” I grinned, covering his gorgeous smile in another kiss.
“So that means you'll stay?”
“Mm, I'll stay tonight.”
“And tomorrow?”
“You're a tough negotiator.” I grinned, my palms planted on his broad chest. “But I'll stay tomorrow too.”
“Exactly what I like to hear.” His hands fisted in my hair and pulled me to him, his teeth attacking my throat and soothing away the little nips with gentle laps of his tongue. “Now I just have to convince you into forever.”
Epilogue
Jenson
I powered down the makeshift field, pretending to run as fast as my feet could carry me as I raced my pint-sized opponent.
“Run, baby, run!” Bethany cheered from the sidelines for me.
Or was it for him?
It was hard telling these days. She was wrapped around the other guy’s finger.
Just as I was about to call my timeout because this game wasn’t going my way, Brock lifted his little foot and kicked with all his might, landing a goal squarely between the goal posts.
“Yay! That’s my boy!” Bethany ran out into the lawn and scooped the little guy in her arms, showering him with kisses. “You’re going to be a soccer star just like Daddy someday, huh?”
I stood watching her hold my boy, all three years old and three squirmy feet of him. He was long and lean. I could already tell he was taking after me.
I smiled widely as I approached, circling Bethany and Brock with both of my arms and planting a kiss at the curve of her neck.
“You look beautiful.”
“Stop.” That same familiar blush creeped up her cheeks.
“Five years married and this little guy later and I can still make you blush.” I spread a palm around her protruding belly.
“You never cease to amaze me, that’s for sure.” Bethany covered my hand with hers while she held our son in her other arm.
Just then Brock started squirming. “Let’s play again!”
Bethany set him down, and he powered off across the lawn, kicking the soccer ball as he went. He was all boy that was for sure.
“What about Juliette?” My wife looked up, her eyes sparkling with love and tenderness.
“I love Juliette.” I grinned, feeling my heart grow wider and deeper for the little person I hadn’t even met yet. If she was anything like her mom, she would be a
beautiful, smart, independent little thing.
The very first moment I’d met Bethany, she’d given me a gift, and I hadn’t even known it. She’d taught me what passion was, what striving for love was, instead of always striving for the game.
I’d been thrilled when all the studying had finally paid off, and she’d graduated with honors to move on to get her sports medicine degree. She’d been assisting the team these last few years, and it’d been a dream having my little family travel with me, cheering me on from the sidelines. But now with the little princess on the way and the little guy in school, I wanted roots. I wanted to settle down.
I wanted the hectic schedule to end so I could focus on what matters most: my family.
“I see that faraway look in your eyes, Jenson Abbott. Don’t even think about it.” She tapped me on the chin and planted a kiss there. “Over my dead body you’re retiring. We’ll make this work. We can hire a tutor for Brock, and you know Taylor loves tagging along for away games to play nanny.”
“It doesn’t help when she and Luc are sneaking off every damn time I look around,” I grunted.
“You sound like an old man.” Bethany wrapped her arms around my waist and pulled me close. “You’re not ready to retire. You love soccer.”
“The only thing I love more is you and our family.”
“And you’re lucky enough to have us both.” She pressed up on her tiptoes and took my lips in a long, sweet kiss.
It’d taken me a while to bend Bethany, but once she’d come around, there’d been no looking back for us.
From the start, she’d stolen my heart, and she’d owned every beat of it ever since.
THE END.
Flip the page for an excerpt of Dani Wyatt’s Where She Belongs!
WHERE SHE BELONGS
Dani Wyatt
Chapter 1
Decker
“It was just a handjob.” Claudia rolls her eyes like this is a joke. “That’s barely even anything. I didn’t even kiss him, for chrissake.”
She’s looking everywhere but at me as if avoiding my eyes is going to change the outcome for her. “You know the rules,” I say.
Believe it or not, it hurts me every time this happens. I want to help them all, but in the end, they have to help themselves too. I can’t do it for them.
“I’m great at handjobs. I got him off in like twenty seconds. I mean,” Claudia attempts to look pitiful, “it’s almost like shaking someone’s hand. Would you fire Allister for shaking hands with one of the guys?”
Allister, my right hand man, pipes up. “Congratulations on your skill set. And no, it is not like shaking hands.” His sarcastic answer doesn’t hide his own disappointment. His voice has always been low, but when he’s disappointed it takes on extra weight, extra gravity. It’s a bit like if a bass drum was suddenly able to speak.
He’s more pissed off this time than usual, and he hates firing girls as much as I do. It’s because he’s the one that talked me into hiring her – even when I expressed my doubts that she would take the opportunity seriously. Looks like I was right, but I don’t take any pleasure in that.
It’s too bright in here. The light and the situation drives ball-peen hammers into my temples and I rub them with my middle finger.
I look at the file open on my desk, then glance around the room. I can’t make an exception for her. The rules are the rules, that’s why we’re all in here. It’s my job to deliver the bad news.
I’m momentarily distracted by the surroundings of my office. They’re far from interesting. White gloss, cool air. Actually, the temperature in here is fine, but it feels cold. My office at the back of the club needs some warming up and organizing. I despise disorder.
The white gloss paint is there because that’s what I like. Clean, pure and without blemish. Neatly stacked pillars of white boxes, labeled with their contents and color coded by unpacking priority, line one wall. My new office furniture was delivered last week – at least it got me out from behind the folding banquet table which had been my temporary desk for a month. The place needs artwork and some other touches, but I just haven’t had the time.
Seems that’s a theme with me because my house looks the same way and I’ve lived there for five years.
I listen as Allister heaves a deep breath in and out.
Allister is my General Manager. He’s also my best friend. If you saw him on the street, you’d probably cross to the other side. But he’s one of the best people I know. Heart of gold and the size of Texas.
He’s shaking his bald head, running a hand back and forth over it while he stares at Claudia. It’s unusual for him to step in, to try to persuade me to take on a girl against my better judgement. But I guess he took pity on her – early twenties, brunette, streetwise attitude. Maybe she reminded him of someone, I don’t know. I didn’t push it.
As for her, she’s glaring back and forth between us like she can’t understand what she’s done wrong. And that is exactly her problem.
But this is my club and I have to work damned hard to keep it.
It’s one in a chain that I own. Monarch night clubs. They are a mash-up of trendy, urban bar with a side order of gentleman’s club. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not seedy at all. I’ve made my name in this industry by keeping the seedy element away and that’s the way I intend it to stay. Which is why I have to be strict with the girls. Today it’s a handjob, tomorrow a blowjob. Once you start down that road there’s no turning back.
I suppose “gentleman’s club” isn’t really the right label. I mean, I do have dancers, but they don’t take their clothes off. They don’t wear a whole lot to begin with, but they also don’t take anything off.
They dance, and they do it well enough that they don’t need to show their bodies. Are they sexy? Yep. Do the men in the clubs wish they were dropping clothing? Of course. But while they work for me it’s not happening.
My clubs have a fine dining area, a dance floor with a bar. Classy, trendy. And then there is the ‘back wall’ as it’s come to be known. The dancers are not center stage, but they are a huge draw. Somehow, I’ve managed to create a club where women and men feel comfortable coming in, but there is still an atmosphere of the upscale gentleman’s club – without the slimy element.
Monarch V is the jewel in my so-called crown of successful nightclubs, and I am obsessed with how everything is presented, from the staff to the decor. But my office could use some warming up. I love what I do, but it’s beginning to wear on me. I’m also an obsessive planner, and my plan is to work another few years, then turn everything over to Allister and see if life has anything else in store for me. I’m not old, but I’m not young either, and as much as growing this business and helping out all these girls has been my reason for getting out of bed every day for a long damn time, there has to be more, I’m just not sure what that ‘more’ is.
It took the better part of a year to get this particular club up to the zoning standards the surrounding high-brow community demanded. But, in the end, it will be worth it. Having a club on this side of town, and in this prime location, will pay off in spades. On weekends, the queue is already lined around the block and we’ve only been live a little over a month.
Guess all the pearls and bowties that live around here are just as eager for a little fun as anyone else. I see the same folks that sat on their pious high horses in the local government planning meetings, the ones who were giving me shit about putting in the club, drinking and whooping it up here every night of the week.
Fucking hypocrites.
But their money is as green as I need it to be, so whatever. Their two-faced bullshit is between them and God.
“So, I’m done?” Claudia juts a hip out and finally settles her vitriol on me. “You’re firing me? This is total bullshit. One handjob and one joint, that’s all it was. And now you’re firing me? I didn’t even smoke it here, for chrissake. You can’t tell me what I can do on my own time. This place is turning into the damn Westlake B
aptist Church.”
I’m holding her file in front of me. “Yep, you’re done. The rules are clear. You signed the contract: You go to school. You don’t take drugs, and you don’t drink. You certainly don’t touch the customers. You fucked up.” I close up her file, shaking my head. “I don’t fire people, Claudia, they fire themselves. Get your stuff out of your locker; we’ll send you a month’s pay to give you time to get on your feet. Allister will walk you out. I wish you the best.” I lean back in my chair. My temples are still pounding and my stomach is curling over on itself.
I entwine my fingers as I rest them on my mid-section. My stomach lets out a low rumble, reminding me that once again I’ve put the girls and the club before my own basic human needs.
It’s already one in the morning and I don’t remember eating anything since I’d arrived here at noon.
“You can suck my ass!” Claudia gives me one final single-finger salute before she trudges out the office door, Allister rolling his eyes at me as he walks behind her.
As much as I try, I can’t save them all – that’s what I have to keep reminding myself.
The irony is I don’t even care much for nightclubs. I don’t drink and never went in for strip clubs at all. Just didn’t do a damn thing for me. But, these places evolved after I retired from the Marines. Sixteen years of service and I’m damn proud of it, but it was time to move on. These clubs are the way I make a living – and a very good one at that. And, at the same time, I have some unique rules for my staff and try to give back where I can.
The low vibration of the bass from the club floor comes through the open office door. I’m usually gone by midnight, but between dealing with Claudia and sticking around to interview a few new dancers, I’m beat. Tuesday nights, the club is quiet and we do our Men’s Only night. We also do a thing called, ‘Open Tryout Night.’ Similar to open mic night at comedy clubs or the like, but we let girls who aspire to dance or work here come in, strut their stuff and show us what they’ve got. So I usually stick around to see if there are any worthy applicants coming through the door.
