by Sosie Frost
I tossed Bast on the bed half a dozen times WWE style, then finally peeled off his marinara sauce stained shirt. I handed him his PJs. Sponge Bob. I could work with that.
“Get changed, little man. I’ll be back.”
The kid would get stuck in one pant leg in the time it took me to change, but at least that’d keep him busy. I rooted through my drawers until I found my own Sponge Bob pajama bottoms. I changed into the yellow pants and a t-shirt and returned to get him started on the night-time adventure.
“Brush your teeth?” I asked. Sebastian nodded. I knew better. “Open your mouth.”
He did, but the little liar had oregano in his teeth and spaghetti sauce on his neck. I marched him to the bathroom and handed him a spare toothbrush. He groaned as I tackled him with a warm washcloth.
“Let me break this down for you,” I said. “I’m trying to make a good impression with Elle. How about we make a deal? You brush your teeth, I read you a story, you go to sleep, and I’ll get you a donut in the morning on the way to kindergarten. Deal?”
Sebastian spoke with a mouth full of toothpaste, spraying the foam everywhere. “Can’t I stay up with you?”
That wouldn’t help the date go any smoother. “The sooner you sleep, the faster you get a donut.” I mussed his hair. “Besides, the better behaved and cuter you are, the more Elle will like me.”
His eyebrows furrowed. He pointed at me. “Twenty dollars.”
“You’re as bad as a mafia shake down, little man. How about doing this as a favor to me? You like me, right?”
“No.” He faked an attitude. “I love you, Lach.”
Good thing I never had to face him on the field, or he’d bring me to my knees every damn snap.
“Good. Spit out the toothpaste and I’ll read you a story.”
“Two chapters.” He threatened me with the toothbrush. “And you better make the voices.”
“Two chapters, funny voices, and my signing bonus if you promise to behave.”
“Okay.”
I regretted teaching him to haggle. He held out his hand, coated in peppermint toothpaste, and we shook on it.
He rinsed what teeth hadn’t fallen out of his head yet and hurried to the bed. I shifted his ass over so I could get in too.
“Don’t hog the bed, Bast.”
“Don’t call me Bast.”
“I’ll call you whatever I want, Bast. Scooch over.” I turned on my Kindle, loaded with a hundred or more kid’s books so I didn’t have to fill my house with Spot and Dog or Harry Potter and the Untimely Blue-Balls. “Where’d we leave off?”
He thought hard about it. “Harry was in trouble.”
I shook my head. “Got news for you, little man. Harry’s always in trouble.”
“But he’s big and tough like you. You’d never get caught by Voldemort.”
“True. I worry more about linebackers.”
“Not you!” Sebastian hopped up. “You’re the best football player ever. Everyone should be scared of you.”
“Oh, they are. Definitely.” I settled him back in bed. “Besides, I can’t let you down, can I?”
“You promised you’d be the best.”
“Yeah. That was the plan. Working so well, huh?”
“Yep.”
It was actually working better than he realized. A new contract meant a beautiful and safe home for him, the best schools, and a guaranteed college education. It also gave Mom an early retirement, something she deserved after working multiple jobs and sacrificing everything to get me to where I was. I only wished I could give her more after all the shit I put her through.
I read—two chapters including my squeaky Hermione voice and my spot-on Snape impression. He was out by the end of the second chapter, and I eased from of the bed as carefully as I could.
Elle waited for me in the kitchen. She’d loaded the dishwasher and now stared, sponge in hand, at the drying marinara sauce sprayed on the walls.
“You don’t have to clean up,” I said.
“I needed something to do.” She gave me a sly glance. “Sponge Bob?”
I glanced at my pants. “Sebastian likes to wear the same PJs as me. I’m kinda his idol.”
“You love it.”
“I do.”
“You’re reading him Harry Potter?” she asked.
“He likes it.”
“You started in the middle?”
I grabbed a towel and chair and tackled the mess on the ceiling. “Nah. We’ve been reading it all month.”
“But…I thought he and your mom just moved to Ironfield?”
“Yeah, they did. But I Skype with Bast every night—started doing that in college when I couldn’t make it home to help tuck him in.”
Her sponge dropped. “You must be the best big brother ever.”
Not really.
“I never did enough for them until now,” I said. “My first paycheck…it was all for them. The signing bonus got them the house and cars and everything, but it doesn’t come close to repaying my mom for everything she did.”
Elle didn’t look at me, her voice soft. “Where’s your dad?”
“Haven’t seen him for years. Left us on our own.”
“Have you tried to find him?”
“He doesn’t deserve a family. Fuck him. I got along fine without him.”
She nodded. “What about Sebastian? Does he miss his father?”
“No. He never knew him, and that’s fine. I’m there for him. I’ll watch over him, teach him what it means to be a real man.” The thought, the betrayal, wasn’t good first date conversation. I sighed. “I just want to make sure he’s happy. I’ll do everything I can to protect him.”
She slowed her scrubbing. “He’s really lucky to have you.”
“Well, he’s a good kid.”
She smirked. “Does he take after you?”
Probably too much. “He’s better than me.”
“I can’t believe you’re this sweet.”
I grinned. “So sweet I’m sticky.”
Elle flicked her towel at me. “You take nothing seriously in this world except family.”
“I know, right? I’m so charmingly full of contradictions.”
She whipped the towel again. I caught it with a vicious tug and pulled her close.
“I wanted to take you out to eat tonight…give you a romantic dinner you’d never forget.” I ran my hands over her curves, hidden under the bulk of my borrowed clothes. She still got me hard, even more than if she wore a teddy sewn together with lace, silk, and pure imagination. “Will you give me another chance?”
“This was date number one.” She poked my chest. “And don’t try to change my mind.”
“Do you want to get rid of me that quickly?”
“No. What better way to get to know my husband than right here?”
“Why here?”
“This is like playing house. After tonight, now I know what it’d be like if we were really married.”
I’d nibble that quirky little smile from her lips. “We are married, Red.”
“And now we’ve had our first meal at home.”
“I can show you what our first night in bed would be like too.”
She shook her head. “Don’t blow it now.”
“Will you blow anything?”
“I’ll bite if you keep it up.”
I growled. “Oh, it’s up, Red. You have no idea.”
She giggled. I hoisted her onto the counter, and her legs moved apart, letting me press against her. Like I belonged there.
Maybe I did.
Just had to prove it to her.
My hands fell to her waist. I held her close, but not nearly close enough. Her lips parted, and she teased me instead of offering a kiss. Her hair fell over her shoulders, the red streaks bright against the black of my jersey. I leaned in, kissing the dark hollow of her neck.
“Christ, Red,” I said. “If you only knew the dirty things I’d do to you.”
“I�
�m sure it involves a Kama Sutra manual, some lube, and a great deal of gentleness.”
Naughty girl. “Been there, done that. Guess what I really want.”
“Will I be surprised or horrified?”
“Pleased.”
“You realize in some states, there’s laws prohibiting the things we did in Vegas.”
“I’m not talking about fucking you.” My fingers teased to her thighs. “Though I plan to do that. A lot.”
“Then what do you want?”
“I want to know what you’re like with your clothes on.”
“That might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Oh, I can be very…” I pressed a kiss against the satin skin of her neck. “Very.” I nipped. “Sweet.”
She shivered, and her soft little hum of delight was just the beginning of a sexy purr.
Her legs spread wide, letting me close. The loaner boxers played in my favor. A hint of perfect, caramel skin peeked from the fly. I teased my hands over her bare legs, savoring the heat of her body and the curve of her hip. She knew where I aimed, but she didn’t push me away. Not yet.
Hopefully not ever again.
My fingers dipped against her, sneaking through the unbuttoned seam.
God, she was slick. Hot. She shuddered, but the pleasure was as much mine as hers.
“You’re trying so hard…” Elle’s lips parted, and a shaky whimper puffed out. “These dates. Your pick-up lines. You actually want me to fall in love with you.”
“That’s the plan.”
“What’s in it for you?”
“I’ll have you.”
I teased her, finding that little button that revved her to the breaking point. She was so easy to get going. I was skilled, but I knew her. I felt her. Every breath, every tremor. It wasn’t just a memorization of her body. I understood what she liked. I could give her everything she wanted.
Elle wetted, bucked, and sighed a beautiful murmur of excitement as I flicked my finger quicker against her perfect clit.
“You’re not the marriage type, Charming.” Elle’s fingers dug into my arms. I’d have done anything to rip away the jersey. Those tits probably heaved with every little sigh and groan. “Do you really want to settle down with someone?”
“You and me? We’re not exactly conventional, Elle.” I stole her close for a kiss. “Maybe this is exactly what I want. No thinking. No talking. Just a beautiful woman, a wild night of passion, and you wanting me as much as I want you.”
“We’re talking marriage.”
“You want it too.”
“I don’t.”
“I think you do.” I teased her, my finger slipping inside her clenching pussy. “Because I think you remember more about Vegas than you’re letting on.”
She bit her lip as I pushed my finger through her tightness. She needed so much more than this. Something bigger. Harder. I’d fuck this woman wild and fast and take her with every ounce of strength I possessed.
Then I’d let her get on top to return the favor.
“Do you know why we really got married?” I asked.
“Alcohol?”
“It wasn’t because we were drunk or bored.” I sucked against her ear. “It was fate.”
Her head fell back. She fought the pleasure.
“I don’t believe in fate or fairy tales, Lachlan.”
“That’s a shame, Red. I could give you the Once Upon A Time of your dreams.”
“Yeah, but are you the type to stick around for the Happily Ever After?”
I curled my finger, pressing that secret spot deep inside her. Every part of her was soft. She clenched against me, tensing hard. Tight. Gripping me with such fucking intensity I swore I could feel it in my cock—
“Can I have a drink of water?”
Sebastian.
Elle gasped, pushing me away. I spun around, hiding the offending hand behind my back. Fortunately, Sebastian had a bad habit of shouting his demands from the hall. Elle had a second to hop from the counter, but she nearly crashed to the floor.
She trembled on wobbly legs and leaned against the sink as Sebastian wandered bleary-eyed into the kitchen.
He was lucky he was cute.
My greeting was a little too forced. “He-e-e-y, little man.”
The island counter helped to hide my erection, but not by much. I needed Elle to get the glass of water.
Sebastian took two sips. “I have to go to the bathroom. Can I sleep with you tonight?”
I reminded myself how much I loved the kid.
Elle tucked her hair behind her ear, clearing her throat. “I should get going. My dress is probably dried now.”
“You don’t have to—”
“No, you should take care of your brother.”
Sebastian tugged on my arm. “Please, Lach?”
Not the warm body I expected to fight me for the covers all night. I sighed.
“Sure…” I pointed at him. “As long as you go to the bathroom before getting in the bed. Go. I’ll meet you there.”
He took off running down the hall. Elle split to find her dress in the laundry room.
A cold shower wasn’t going to do shit. I debated tossing an entire tray of ice cubes down my pants.
Elle returned to me, snug in her dress which seemed relatively spaghetti-free. She handed me the borrowed clothes. I let her keep the jersey.
“So…” She hid her smile. “I suppose you’ve earned that second date.”
“I knew you’d see it my way, Red.”
“But there’s no promises. You might have to work awfully hard to make me love you by the end of the third date.”
I tugged her close, leaving a soft, promising kiss on her parted lips.
“That’s my little secret, Elle,” I whispered. “You’ve already fallen for me.”
9
Elle
I needed to stop stealing things from Peter’s office.
I cursed the damned flash drive to copy the computer’s emails quicker. This was Trouble with a capital T. The same emphasis as Theft. And Terminated.
I checked my phone. Peter usually arrived at eight. I had about fifteen minutes before he’d poke his head in to the facility. But the laptop was stuck. It gave me an estimated one minute to copy the files over, but it had displayed the same message for the last three.
This was sick. All of it. The photos. The cheating. For two weeks, I’d laid awake in bed, bombarded by two realizations.
First, I was married.
Second, I was now accessory to a scandal that would destroy the careers and reputations of the men on the team. Players I liked. My friends. Some close enough to be my family.
And husbands, apparently.
Footsteps echoed in the hall. I panicked and minimized the file transfer, covering the screen with the team’s Instagram instead.
Mine was the only job that demanded I photographed ridiculously attractive men. And I loved it. Every second of it.
But it was crashing around me.
If anyone saw me stealing files from the computers, everything would end.
And if anyone outside the organization knew why I was trying to find evidence?
Anarchy.
The league would punish us with lost draft choices. Forfeited championships. Suspended players and coaches.
And men like Lachlan would never get the chance they deserved in the league.
It wasn’t just his family—Fiona and Sebastian—who benefited from his professional play. Leah’s PR firm represented half of the team. Piper’s two clients were Rivets. Scoring their contracts gave her enough respect to open her own agency if she wanted. Players, families, businesses—everyone had a stake in the Rivets’ success.
Including me.
The emails were copied. Step One: Completed. Now, if I had to go to the league or the media, I could search the correspondence and build a case so that the pictures wouldn’t my word against theirs.
I checked the time agai
n. I still had about five minutes before I needed to clear out. I poked a little deeper into Peter’s files.
I found a password-protected drive. Good thing I knew the name of every cat Peter ever owned. Whiskers wasn’t exactly a secure password.
I opened the drive.
I wished I hadn’t. The images turned my stomach.
Every player had a folder—Bryon, Caleb, Orlando.
Pictures of parties. Women. Drugs. Public intoxication. Some images that were a little too dark and questionable for comfort.
My cursor hovered over Jack’s folder, and hated that I looked inside. I knew what I’d find—Jack’s first three seasons in the league rolled one scandal into another. The pictures were old, and Jack had been on his best behavior since marrying Leah, but the media would still publish the images as if they were taken last week. I couldn’t imagine Leah trying to spin her own husband’s past sexual encounters.
I scrolled through the folders. My heart lurched as I read my own name.
“What the hell…”
I shouldn’t have opened it.
I should have walked away.
I should have resigned right then and there.
Instead, I copied every last image onto my flash drive and prepared for war.
I had only three pictures, but they were enough. Someone on the team had managed to snap a picture of me in the locker room from two weeks ago—naked. A good photo. My face and body were completely exposed.
The series of pictures had it all. Me naked. Lachlan beside me. His erection. Trying to cover it with a towel. The coaches probably confiscated a player’s phone to delete the images—but not before sending it to themselves.
Great. Was I going to be blackmailed…or was it insurance so that no one spoke out of turn if they learned about the cheating?
The Rivets weren’t just spying on other teams. They had intel on their own players.
And they’d use those horrible photographs to silence anyone who might have stopped them.
More footsteps. I panicked, struggling to close the folders of damning pictures. The computer sputtered and froze. I leapt to my feet and turned off the monitor as Freddie, our videographer, rolled through the door. He chugged his coffee and collapsed in a heap of his own equipment.
