Don't Worry Baby_A Bad Boy Secret Baby Romance
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“Well, that’s actually why I stopped by, part of the reason, to formally invite you and your friends to come watch some judo tomorrow, if you want to. I’m matched up with a Dutch guy, he’s really good, and if I advance I’ll be in the quarterfinals, and that’s within serious range of a medal.”
“Just like you dreamed,” Logan said into his ear as she nuzzled him. “You’re going to be the first Fijian to medal, Solomon. I know it.”
As the two lovers started to show their affection, Savannah cleared her throat.
“Is that my cue to make myself scarce?” Savannah asked, pointing to the door. “At school we had a system where we hung a t-shirt on the doorknob if we had a guy over. I don’t know how it works in the Village, but…”
Logan pulled away from Solomon for a moment, embarrassed. “I don’t want to be like that, Sav. I’d never ask you to leave.”
“If an Olympic judo champion came knocking on my door late at night, you can bet it would be like that, girl!” Savannah teased her friend. “I need to go out anyway, meet a hot Olympian of my own to snuggle at night. I’ll give you guys some space. See you in a little while, lovers!”
Logan hugged her best friend, whispering “Thank you” in her ear.
As the door shut behind Savannah, Logan turned to look at Solomon.
“We’re alone,” she said.
“We are,” he replied, slowly walking towards her. “We should take advantage of it.”
She knew she’d told him they should stay away from one another. They both needed to focus on what they’d come for; to win. But being around Solomon was more of a rush than anything else she’d ever experienced. And yes, they were at the Olympics. A possible once in a lifetime opportunity.
But they were also in Rio. A city that was driven by beauty, romance, and sex. When would she ever have this chance again?
So she fell into his arms. Outside of him, she thought of herself as strong, as a woman who needed nothing from anyone.
But with him, that was all gone. When it came to Solomon, all she needed was his touch. His mouth. His eyes imploring her to come for him as he worked her body with skilled hands.
They both became naked very quickly, both of them in peak condition, all muscles and firm skin. Logan couldn’t help but be amazed at how gorgeous Solomon Kano was. His legs were defined, long and lean. His shoulders were broad, his arms strong, his chest and pectorals wide and granite hard. His rippled abs tapered down to a V, something that drove her wild with desire.
He was physical perfection.
But more than that, he was like a spiritual connection to something outside of herself.
Solomon was proof of the divine.
He kneeled before her, his mouth tracing down her torso down to her sex where he stopped, making her moan. His hands were gentle around her thighs, avoiding the bruises, kissing them instead, lightly, and tenderly.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he said. “I can barely stand it.”
He picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing, making her squeal.
He lay her gently on her bed, hovering over her. He supported himself with his arms and as she looked down her body, she could see his cock was hard. Solomon was ready.
He entered her and the ecstasy of feeling his thrusts had her almost jumping out of her skin from pleasure. He was able to hit spots she didn’t know she had and she called out his name as she came for him, biting into his shoulder to keep from screaming out.
He made love to her for almost an hour, pulling orgasms from her as he whispered things into her ear, things she’d only dreamt of hearing from him.
“Logan,” he said after going down on her yet again. “I am addicted to the taste of you. I can’t get enough. Sometimes even on the mat, I think of it and get distracted. But then I use it as a way to win. I tell myself if I don’t get this throw, I can never taste Logan again. And that keeps me from ever losing. Because there’s nothing that could be worse than never having you again.” He pressed his tongue against her clit, making her buck, her hips rising.
“Solomon!” she called out. “Please fuck me. I want to come again, but with you inside me.”
She didn’t have to ask twice.
He started off gentle but Logan felt too good. He had to pound her, had to take what was his and mark her. And she was urging him on, begging him for it.
“I want you to come,” she cried out. “Inside me.”
She’d said the magic words. Solomon released, yelling out as he did, unable to contain what he was feeling.
As his thrusts slowed and their breathing became panting, he wrapped his arms around her, spent from how good it had all been. The first time had been out of this world.
But this time had been out of this universe.
Neither of them spoke for a while, just held each other as tight as possible. Not wanting to let go.
“I love you,” Solomon finally said. “And I will always love you, Logan.”
Logan hadn’t expected to cry. It wasn’t that she was sad he’d said it. She was so happy to hear it, so happy to know that this is what it was. Love. The one thing she wanted more than even victory or triumph here at the Games.
She’d been a moron to take a break from Solomon. Why had she thought that would be a good idea? She couldn’t even remember now.
If she left with only Solomon’s love, it would be enough.
He would always be enough.
Chapter 27 - Solomon
Solomon walked the Village early the next morning, his body too primed from making love to Logan to focus on much else. He’d told her he loved her, something he hadn’t expected to share with her in Rio. He wasn’t sure it was the right time. So much was at stake.
“I love you too,” she whispered in the darkness of her room. “So much, Solomon.”
And now he felt like he’d won. No matter what happened next.
* * *
The weather had turned dark and an early storm was coming. The morning air crackled with electricity, and lightning flashed across the sky somewhere out over the ocean.
He thought back to another ocean storm, wind and rain crashing down on a small boat while he snuggled securely inside his mother’s womb. He of course had no memory of that tempest, but he’d heard many stories, tales of his mother’s courage, of her holding on, surviving long enough to see him rescued, of his birth and baptism in the elements.
He knew that every athlete at the Olympics had sacrificed and faced adversity to reach the pinnacle of their sport, but he wondered if any of them could relate to his journey. He swallowed hard reflecting on stories Gavin had told him about his father and paternal grandparents, and he hoped that they were proud of him, of what he’d accomplished and the goals he had yet to achieve. And he thought about how cool it would be to look up into the crowd at his match in the morning to see not only his Fijian relatives and whatever teammates Logan might bring with her, but to also see his mom and dad sitting there in the midst of it all, maybe with his own younger siblings. How he wished it could be.
His meandering walk brought him within sight of his own dorm when the rain began to fall, and rather than surrendering to instinct and running for cover, he stood and turned his face up to the storm erupting overhead and he spoke out loud to it.
“You had your chance. I kicked your ass!” A shattering peal of thunder shook the ground where he stood, but Solomon was unmoved and he unleashed a war cry of his own, right back at mother nature.
“Fuck you!”
The thunder, as if in response, rumbled quietly, and then the wind picked up, sending the rain swirling around Solomon’s face.
If thunder and lightning couldn’t beat him, what chance did a Dutchman have? He touched the Fijian flag insignia on the team t-shirt he wore, and then ran his fingers over the word on his forearm. “Kailoma.” He’d made his point. No use getting soaked to the bone. He jogged back to his room, pausing to lick his lips as he entered his
room, his tongue seeking one last taste of Logan.
Chapter 28 - Logan
Logan, with Savannah, Alyssa, and four of her other teammates in tow, slid into their seats at the Olympic judo venue. They noticed the twins sitting a few rows back on the opposite side of the mat, but neither group formally acknowledged the other. The schedule for the day had Adonis, brother to Allie and Angie DeCarlo, meeting a South African in the third bout of the session. Solomon fought fifth.
Savannah and Logan, novices though they were, talked their teammates through what they watched as best they could. The first bout went quickly, the second to an overtime period. Adonis, an American, took the mat next and Savannah noticed a television camera pointed at the soccer players in red, white, and blue, likely assuming they were there to cheer on their countryman.
“What should we do? Are we rooting for the twins’ brother?” Savannah asked Logan.
“It’s the patriotic thing to do, so yes, but more than that I want him to win so Solomon maybe gets a crack at him later on, maybe with a medal on the line,” Logan offered.
The girls did their best to seem enthused for the camera, but they all had reason to dislike the twins, and the little bit any of them knew about Adonis revolved around him being an arrogant jerk.
He won his match after a struggle, barely escaping being thrown for an ippon before recovering to score a pair of waza-ari, or “near perfect” throws, to win the match and advance.
Angie and Allie cheered wildly, but Savannah and Logan’s crew merely clapped politely for the victor.
They erupted, however, when Solomon appeared on the mat.
His focus was singular, staring down his opponent with a menacing glare from the moment he first lay eyes on him. Logan noticed a group nearby cheering for Solomon, one man in particular, Solomon’s uncle and the “father” who raised him, wearing a shirt that was half American flag, half Fijian.
When the referee signaled the bout to begin, Solomon’s aggression nearly overwhelmed his opposite number, causing the Dutchman to incur a penalty for backpedaling right off the mat. A series of lifts and twists followed, neither man willing to easily let his Olympic dream be crushed.
At one point Solomon staggered and nearly lost his balance, instinctively dropping a hand to catch himself, but yanking it back before it touched the mat, which could have been scored as a waza-ari. When his opponent waded in to finish him, however, Solomon sprung the trap, taking hold of the Dutchman’s wrist and rolling him across his shoulders for a clean, powerful throw. The bout was over, and Solomon dropped to a knee, emotionally drained, as his uncle, and coach, Gavin, pumped a fist in celebration.
Logan, Savannah, and the rest danced and embraced while Allie and Angie stared daggers through them. Reaching the Olympics was beyond anything Solomon or his family could have imagined in their wildest dreams. To be in the quarterfinals, within touching distance of a medal? Completely unfathomable.
His next opponent would be the Russian entry, one of the gold medal favorites. He was the shortest judoka in the weight class, stocky and powerful. Solomon had faced him twice in tournaments and hadn’t come close to moving him, much less throwing him. After their second meeting, Solomon recalled telling Gavin that he thought, “That guy’s feet must be nailed to the floor. There’s no way to move him. I’d have a better chance throwing a boulder.”
“Except a boulder doesn’t have a neck,” Gavin countered. “He does. Next time, find it and choke him out!”
Solomon changed back into his Team Fiji gear and came out to mingle with his family and his supporters from the USWNT. Since neither Logan nor Solomon were scheduled to compete the following day, they decided to meet up to take in some diving in the afternoon after Logan’s morning training session. Logan was still recovering from the physical match against France, and with lingering soreness in her right ankle she’d been informed that she wouldn’t start the final group match against Colombia, and if all went well she wouldn’t be asked to play at all.
The morning workout was light, just enough for the coaches to keep the squad sharp and ready. Logan participated in some passing drills and skill work, but completely non-contact. Coach Pressley addressed the team before excusing them until dinner.
“We have a match tomorrow, so we’re in ‘business mode’ until then. If you want to attend any events this afternoon, make sure they’re indoors, stay out of the sun and stay hydrated. We’ll reconvene for dinner and some Colombia film tonight, then early bedtime. And just a thought, for those of you who have suddenly become judo fans, it might be nice to see you cheering as hard for the Americans as you are for the Samoans, or Fijians, or whomever else you go to watch. If you forget what our team colors are, just look at Leah’s head. Dismissed!”
The team laughed nervously, never certain if their coach was joking or serious, but the reference to Leah Beierle’s hair was unmistakably an attempt at humor on her part.
Logan showered, changed, and met Solomon, his Fijian teammate Markus, the swimmer, and a few members or their extended families to attend a session of platform diving.
Logan was introduced to everyone and received a hug and a warm “bula” from all. Markus, the self-proclaimed ladies’ man, was disappointed that Logan was traveling solo.
“No Savannah? No Jada? Tara? What a rip off!” he exclaimed.
“Please forgive him, Logan, he doesn’t get out of the pool much,” Solomon offered on his friend’s behalf.
“Hey, it’s cool, I’m just impressed he knows so many of my teammate’s names. He must be quite a fan,” Logan winked at Markus.
“I’m a fan of beautiful women, and if they’re good at sports, all the better! If Solomon’s sport wasn’t judo, I’d be hitting on you, too.”
Solomon shot him a glare.
“But I’m handsome, not stupid,” Markus backed up an exaggerated two steps and put his hands up in surrender.
Logan and the Fijian contingent had a marvelous time watching the diving, and Logan enjoyed the friendly banter between the islanders and the attention she received being the only girl in the group.
Everything was terrific until Logan’s phone buzzed with a text message from Coach Pressley:
Look up, Lowery. See the blue sky?
Logan replied, unsure what her coach was getting at:
Yes, not a cloud in sight.
Coach replied:
Where I come from, if you can look straight up and see the sky, that means you’re OUTdoors. But since I specifically told the team to stay indoors, that must not be you at diving, right?
“Shit.” Logan muttered to herself.
“What’s the matter, babe?” Solomon asked.
Logan leaned forward and looked behind her group, then scanned the sections nearby. “Nothing. Somehow coach knows I’m here, and she said after practice this morning that we should stay indoors, out of the sun. I should probably go. No, I should definitely go. Shit, shit, shit.”
“I thought you were hurt. You’re not even playing tomorrow, are you?” Markus interjected, having overheard the conversation.
“No, I’m not supposed to, but even if I was, I wouldn’t be now. Solomon, I have dinner with the team and film and stuff tonight, I don’t think I can see you tonight. But tomorrow after we play and you have your match, in the afternoon we’ll definitely get together, okay?”
Solomon started to get up to leave with Logan, to walk her home, but she waved him off. “Stay with your friends and cousins! I’m totally fine! I promise!”
Reluctantly, Solomon rejoined his group as everyone said goodbye to Logan and wished her and her team luck in the match against Colombia. Markus asked her to say hello to several of her teammates on his behalf, which she assured him she’d do.
Dinner with her team was fun, everyone swapping stories about athletes and celebrities they’d seen and events they’d watched. The energy was overwhelmingly positive, and Logan didn’t receive the dressing down she expected from the coaching staff.
Trainers met with players carrying injuries, checking Logan’s flexibility and pain level, advising her to follow the old R.I.C.E. adage that evening – rest, ice, compression, and elevation. They made sure she had everything she’d need and cut her loose to return to her dorm.
As Alyssa, Savannah, Tara, and Logan climbed the steps to their room, they rounded the corner to find a certain judoka waiting for them, leaning on the wall near their door.
“See, if you feed, errrr, kiss a stray once, they just keep coming back,” Savannah teased Logan.
“Funny you should say that, because a kiss is exactly what I’m after,” Solomon replied. “You know, for luck.”
Tara ushered Savannah and Alyssa down the hallway. “Let’s see what Leah and Mack are up to,” she suggested.
As the trio turned to walk the other direction, Savannah called out to Logan. “Remember, t-shirt on the doorknob.”
Everyone except Logan laughed. She turned bright red and gave Solomon a quick kiss. “You’re going to get me into so much trouble. Come on in.”
Logan unlocked the door and ushered Solomon inside. “You can’t stay long. I’m on the shit list already, and our head coach is doing bed checks personally tonight.
Solomon bent down and kissed Logan on the forehead before wrapping her up in a hug. “I just missed you. We can hang out for a little while. How’s your ankle?”
Logan sat down on the bed and kicked off her shoes. She twirled her foot and flexed the muscles in her leg, the bruising having turned a dark, nasty purple. “The bruising isn’t a big deal; it looks worse than it is. My ankle is just tender. I’d be playing if it was a semifinal or something. I’m supposed to wrap and ice it tonight before I go to bed. You can help me if you want.”