Team Player

by Julianna Keyes

  She moaned and he kissed her and dropped his hand lower, covering her over her panties, the contact so combustible she almost came on the spot, and nearly cried when he stopped.

  “We have to get away from the window,” he said, breathing hard. “I’m used to crowds, but...not for this.”

  Gwen’s eyes flew open and she twisted her head to see. There was no one lurking outside, but she knew what he meant. With the curtains open and the late afternoon sun pouring in, anyone scrutinizing her horrible garden would find a much better show happening on the other side of the glass.

  “My room,” she said, nudging him so she could get up. “We’ll go—”

  “No need to stop,” Ty interrupted, standing and scooping her so her legs fit around his waist, their new natural habitat. “Just point the way.”

  She considered protesting about the weight, but it was obvious he not only didn’t mind, but didn’t care. And, when he settled her more tightly against him, quite liked it. She opened her mouth to give directions—straight down the hall and to the left and anywhere is fine, really—but he was already moving, so she gave a half-hearted wave of her hand and kissed him instead.

  He smiled against her lips, and with each step he bumped right between her legs. She was ready to explode by the time they reached her room and he lowered her onto the bed. Lying there, looking up at not just the sexiest man she’d ever been with, but, according to one magazine, one of the sexist men in the world, it was tempting to give herself a quick pinch to make sure it wasn’t actually a dream. And then, when he unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged out of it, she really did pinch herself, because there was no way that six-pack was real. Until he crawled up the length of the bed to straddle her hips, and what she was feeling was very much real.

  He hooked the tips of his fingers under the hem of her dress and slowly shimmied it up and over her head, leaving her in her best bra and underwear, the white lace contrasting against her tan. “Very pretty,” he murmured, tracing the edge of the fabric over trembling skin.

  “It’s new.”

  “Not the underwear, Gwen.”

  He shifted the fabric aside and bent to fasten his lips over her exposed nipple. She squirmed under his teasing mouth, his hands sliding under her back to undo the clasp and pull away the bra completely, then slipping lower to push down her panties. His hands lingered on her ass, and Gwen lifted her hips and let him pull off the scrap of fabric completely.

  When she was totally naked, he lifted his head and looked at her, her eyes, her lips, her chest, her belly, the patch of hair between her thighs. And when he met her stare again, his gaze was nothing but fire, his blue eyes so heated she started to sweat.

  “I have condoms,” she said, when he unbuckled his belt and tossed it aside.

  “Good. Me too.”

  “And, um, I, there’s...” She forgot what she was going to say when he pulled off his pants and knelt over her in the same designer boxer briefs he wore on a billboard in Times Square. And even here, within touching distance—within kissing distance—he was larger than life, his tan skin, the strong curve of his shoulders, the glint of his white teeth in the dim light. Her body gave an involuntary shudder when he removed the briefs and stroked his hand over his erection, filling his palm and making her shiver in anticipation.

  After an interminable minute he stretched out alongside her and kissed her again, one hand cupping the back of her head, his tongue doing things she didn’t even know were possible. She felt the bump of his knuckles against her stomach as he continued to touch himself, then he slipped a hand behind her thigh and lifted it over his, nestling his erection right between her legs. Her body automatically adjusted, just a millimeter this way and a millimeter that way, then he was there, his shaft slick with her wetness, gliding ever so gently along her most sensitive skin.

  Gwen trembled and he rolled so he covered her, reaching to the drawer she’d indicated held the condoms and retrieving one from the box. He didn’t miss a beat as he rolled it on and repositioned himself, back where she really, really needed him, and was really, really close to begging him to be. He kissed her for far too long and not nearly long enough, every inch of his body finding some new way to stimulate hers. His fingers glided through her hair and tickled over her ribs, then slipped between her legs, stroking inside carefully, and then, when she responded with a moan, more surely.

  And then finally, he shifted onto his knees and positioned himself at her entrance. Gwen’s entire body felt liquid at that point, and when he gave her a questioning look it was all she could do to breathe, “Yes.”

  He nudged his way in, her body accepting him like it had been waiting for him her whole life. He moved like they had all the time in the world, savoring every inch, until there was nowhere else to go and they were joined as closely as possible. A satisfied breath slipped out and Ty looked down at her, his expression serious, until a tiny smile appeared, as contagious as a laugh, and then she was smiling too. He kissed her again, and moved over her and inside her like he’d been doing it for years, like he knew everything she’d like, and he liked all the same things. It didn’t take long before she felt the tremors start low in her belly, inner muscles clenching like they couldn’t bear to let him go whenever he withdrew.

  “Oh,” she moaned, twisting her head away to catch her breath. “I’m going to...”

  “Come?” he supplied, pressing a kiss to the soft spot beneath her ear.

  “Yes.”

  “Do it. Let me see.”

  She didn’t really have a choice at that point, not when he adjusted his hips to rub over her most sensitive skin on every stroke. The tension that had been lurking beneath the surface for so long bubbled over and Gwen arched her back and came with a cry. Her heels dug into the mattress, her nails dug into Ty, and he just stoked the fires even higher, drawing out the orgasm as long as possible.

  “You’re gorgeous,” he murmured, brushing his lips over hers. He reached down and caught her behind one knee, raising her leg higher so he could have better leverage, then thrust into her harder and deeper until his own orgasm claimed him. He dropped his head, his dark hair shielding his eyes, but Gwen felt him tremble as he came, heard the low groan rumble through his chest, and accepted his weight when he collapsed on her afterward.

  She ran her fingers over his back, feeling the shallow indentations from her nails, the sweat-damp hair at the nape of his neck. Eventually he rolled to the side and flopped onto his own pillow, then she and Tyler Ashe were lying side-by-side on her bed, waiting for their breathing to slow, and Gwen forgot all her reservations. If this was a dream, she no longer cared. Whatever happened after this—it was absolutely, positively, worth it.

  CHAPTER 12

  TY ARRIVED AT THE CLUBHOUSE early the next afternoon. He’d had a lot of great moments in his career, but try as he might, he couldn’t remember a day in recent history that had been quite as perfect as yesterday. Or today. Or both.

  Once they’d caught their breath after the first round, he and Gwen had returned to the living room to finish off two episodes of Baking Bonanza, then Gwen had tried to drag him back to bed for another round, but they’d only made it as far as the hallway. Then again in the kitchen. Then once more again in her bed. They’d drifted off in a sex-drugged haze and Ty hadn’t woken until four o’clock this morning. He knew he couldn’t be seen leaving her house at that hour, so he’d dressed quickly, woken Gwen to say goodbye, then called a cab to meet him a few blocks away.

  He’d gone home and slept like a baby. Now he was back at work, resisting the equally inane urges to whistle a cheerful tune, grin until his head exploded, and tell everyone what had happened.

  He was more likely to strip naked and whistle than gossip, but he managed to hold back on both counts, even when he spent an hour on the treadmill listening to Reed host an impromptu book discussion with Blanche and Girardi on the stationary bikes. He was supposed to have read at least five chapters of Reed’s suggested book last
night, but he’d found better things to do. And he hoped to continue finding better things to do. He and Gwen hadn’t exactly discussed a future or even a second date, but he had to believe she’d be up for something more. Because if last night was how they started—he couldn’t even imagine where they’d end up.

  He completed his run and his pre-game workout, then ducked into the showers to rinse off, keeping the water deliberately on the cool side and his thoughts on sandwiches, puppies, and airplanes—anything that wasn’t a gorgeous blonde who knew how to give as good as she got.

  He was still resisting the urge to whistle when he headed to his locker to change, frowning when his agent rose from the couches. Brodie typically didn’t make this many house calls.

  “Hey,” Ty said, pulling on a pair of sweats. “What brings you in?”

  Brodie glanced around the crowded clubhouse. “You got a second? Somewhere private?”

  “What’s going on? Is this because I didn’t read Reed’s book?”

  “What? Reed wrote a book?”

  “No, he—” Ty sighed and headed for the doors. “Let’s find an empty room.” His sex-sated good mood faded with each step, and when they located a quiet office, he went inside and turned on the light.

  Brodie followed, closing the door and getting to the point. “There’s a sex tape,” he said.

  Ty blinked. “What? That’s—”

  “It’s anonymous. I don’t know who sent it or where they got it or when it’s from, but it’s definitely you. Someone sent me still images from the video a couple hours ago.”

  “But how...?” His mind was reeling. He’d been enjoying flashbacks from last night all morning, but not quite like this. “Is it the one from before? From ten years ago? Because we paid—”

  Brodie shook his head. “I know. And I don’t know. I think Legal has a copy of the full video in their system somewhere, but I never watched enough of it to compare, so I can’t say if it’s the same. There’re a few stills, dim lighting—we can’t see her face, but it’s definitely you.”

  Ty scraped his hand through his hair. “Did they say what they want?”

  “No. The entire email consisted of three still photos and the words ‘I’ll be in touch.’”

  “Can I see them?”

  Brodie passed over his phone and Ty scrolled through the three shots. They were grainy, but it was clearly him. Unfortunately he’d been too sickened to learn of the first video to actually watch it, so he also couldn’t say if these were from the same tape. The first picture was of his face, taken from the side, unaware of the camera; the next was him naked from the waist up, cock visible; and the last was him sleeping, half-covered by a white sheet.

  Gwen had white sheets, but then, so did half the country.

  Brodie shifted uncomfortably. “We’re trying to find the, uh, glamour model from before, to determine if she’s behind this now, and remind her she signed a contract never to release the video. And we’ll keep looking at other options, too. In the meantime, I wanted you to be aware. I know you canceled the shadow—”

  “I don’t want the shadow.”

  “But two weeks later, this happens. Do you have any guesses? Anyone you want us to talk to?”

  Ty hesitated. “No.”

  Brodie put away his phone. “All right, buddy. We’ll handle it. Have a good game.”

  His agent left the room, but Ty stayed behind. His whole body felt hot. Betrayal, confusion, hurt. He didn’t want to point fingers, but more than that, he didn’t want to believe. The fall from last night’s high was too fast, too brutal. Here he thought he’d been growing up, and after just two weeks without a babysitter he found himself in another potentially humiliating mess.

  He pulled open the door and stepped into the hallway. It was busy with players and coaches, trainers and staff, and there, twenty feet away, chatting with Strip, was Gwen. In a black blazer with tight navy pants and heels, her hair pulled back, she looked like she’d had ample time to put her armor back on to face the world. Ty, meanwhile, felt like she’d stripped away all his defenses, and Brodie’s news had scraped his exposed skin raw.

  She finished her conversation and headed his way, cheeks flushing when they made eye contact.

  “Hey,” she said. Anyone watching the exchange would see only a friendly interaction, but there was something in her eyes now, something only Ty could see. Something he really, really, wanted to be true.

  But he needed to think.

  He gave a brisk nod and didn’t slow.

  He caught a flicker of surprise cross her face before he passed, his chest too tight, a headache starting to pulse at the base of his skull. He made it to the clubhouse doors before he stopped and looked back. Gwen was still standing where he’d left her, like she was too dazed to keep moving.

  “Fuck,” he muttered, dragging a hand over the back of his neck and returning the way he’d come. Gwen had taken a few steps by the time he caught up, gently touching her elbow. “Can we talk?” he asked.

  Whatever had been in her eyes before was gone, replaced by hurt and anger. “Why?”

  “Just... In here.” He twisted the knob to the janitorial closet they’d been in before, where she’d reamed him out about the NDA.

  Her lips were compressed in a tight line, but she nodded stiffly and went inside. Ty closed the door and leaned against it, his hands in his pockets. He didn’t know if he was resisting the urge to kiss her or grab her phone.

  “I have to ask you about something,” he said finally.

  “What?” She bit out the word, one eyebrow arched, all traces of the warm, willing woman from yesterday gone. Just like that, they were all business again.

  “There’s a sex tape.”

  She froze. “What?”

  “Someone emailed it to my agent. This morning.”

  “When— Who— Why?”

  “Just tell me it’s not you.”

  Her eyebrows shot up so high they nearly hit the ceiling. “What? Tell you it’s not— It’s not me, Ty! Are you kidding? It better not be me! I didn’t make a tape. Why the hell would I do that?”

  “Money.”

  “You think—”

  “No.” He held up a hand defensively. He had seventy pounds on her, but he had little doubt she’d brain him with a jug of bleach if he didn’t act fast. “That’s— Whoever’s doing this, that has to be their motivation.”

  “Wouldn’t you know if it was from me?” she demanded.

  “Look, I trust you as much as I can trust—”

  “It’s not about trust, Ty!” She paused and lowered her voice. “It’s not about trust, you ass. Wouldn’t I be on the tape if it were my tape?”

  He shifted awkwardly, struggling to meet her eye. “They didn’t send the whole thing. Just a few stills. I’m the only one in them.”

  “And you can’t tell if it’s from last night? You make so many tapes you can’t—”

  Ty wiped a hand over his heated face. “Would you stop? I’m not accusing you. I just... I had to ask.”

  “Well, you have your answer,” she said tightly, her cheeks pink with indignation. “I would never do that. Not for any reason.”

  “Okay. I’m sorry.”

  Gwen wrapped her arms around her waist as though warding off a chill, and her nostrils flared as she pulled in a deep breath. “There was a tape from years ago,” she said. “I remember the story. Is it that one?”

  “We don’t know yet. We paid her off and she signed something, so it shouldn’t be.”

  It looked like she wanted to say something snarky, but she held back. “Allison handles this type of thing,” she said instead. “If anything comes up, she’ll deal with it.”

  Ty nodded. “I know.”

  “Okay, then.”

  The room was no bigger than six foot square, but it felt like there was a mile between them, one he didn’t know how to cross. “Gwen,” he said, when she made a move to leave. “Last night—”

  “I get it.” She shot
him a humorless smile. “You don’t do relationships. I’ve read your articles. I wouldn’t make a sex tape, and I wouldn’t dare ask you to commit.”

  “That’s not what I was about to say.”

  “Then what?”

  Ty hesitated before pulling open the door. “Nothing. Thanks for not making the tape.”

  She stepped into the hall, then paused and turned back. “You shouldn’t have to thank people for not fucking you over, Ty. That’s normal.”

  Then she strode off.

  Ty stared at a blank spot on the wall until a throat clearing made him notice Denzel Reed loitering a few feet away. He scowled.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Reed gestured to the hallway. “This is where we work, man. I’m supposed to be here. The real question is what were you doing in there—” He pointed to the tiny closet, “With her?” He shot a pointed look at Gwen’s retreating form, her spine so stiff it could crack with any step.

  Ty shook his head. “Nothing.”

  “That was not nothing. You both look like your heads are about to explode.”

  “You’re the most self-absorbed guy on the team. Suddenly you notice what other people are doing?”

  “Yeah. If they’re doing something they shouldn’t be doing.”

  “That’s not what we were doing.”

  Reed crossed his arms. “Look, man. It’s hard to find someone out there you can trust. Who doesn’t want your fame, your money, your baby. I’m speaking as the guy who pays five figures a month to a woman he knew for two hours, and now has a young adult reading group so he can try to get his daughter to speak to him. If you need someone you can talk to, you can talk to me.”

  Ty didn’t particularly want to talk to Reed, but he did need to talk to someone, and, pathetic as it was to admit, he had no one else.

  “Someone sent my agent a sex tape,” he muttered, ears burning. Trusting people wasn’t something he did easily, but if the truth was going to come out anyway, he might as well be the one to tell it. Sorta. “We don’t know who. Gwen’s in PR. She was talking to me about next steps. We didn’t talk at the lockers because I don’t want to hear about it from the guys.”