by Sosie Frost
“But it’s been a few weeks.”
“A few weeks of mindless drills.” I sucked on her. “The same plays.” I licked. “With the same players. I can’t concentrate if I’m bored.” I looked at her, grinning, knowing full well how messy my mouth was. “Wait until I get on the field. You’ll see.”
She nodded, raising her hips. I blew across her heated slit.
“But I…” She bit her lip. “I was…”
“Worried about me?”
“What can I say, Charming? You got under my skin.”
“No. I got into your panties.”
And to prove it, I lunged for her again. My mouth sealed over her clit, and I earned every frantic breath and pleaded mew that ached from her throat. She gripped the couch, my hair, her own breasts.
I had her.
Of course I did.
She was so easy to get off—a little sucking, quick licking, and a grateful prayer that a woman like her would give me the honor of tasting her velvet slit. Her body convulsed and pussy slickened with a rewarded, honeyed sweet cream.
She came, and I grabbed her hips to pulled her closer to my mouth. I might have loved to watch her shiver and twitch, but I didn’t need to see her face. I had the best view in the house, and I thanked her with another quick flick of my tongue within her core.
Elle groaned. Her words slurred into a single cry of pleasure, and she pushed me off of her to breathe.
Silly girl. No one pulled a hunter off of his prey.
“God, Lachlan…” She sunk into the couch. “Are you sure you don’t want this to be our third date? I’d do anything you wanted to right now.”
“Oh, you’ll do that anyway.” I stroked her clit with a finger, laughing as she groaned. “But that date is going to be pure magic. I gotta make you fall in love with me after all.”
“And what will you do once you have me?”
“I won’t need to do anything. My life will be complete.”
She wiggled her hips, but I got her to smile. “I know it’s just a line, but I like hearing it.”
“It’s not a line. I mean every word of it.”
“Charming, you can’t say those things.”
“Even if they’re true?”
“Especially if they’re true. I have no defense against you.”
“You never needed one.”
She regained too much strength. One orgasm wearing off meant that it was time for another. And another after that. Then another. I wasn’t stopping until I had her weakened, shuddering, groaning, and completely and totally spent under me.
And then I’d do it again.
“You know…I’m glad you came over. I’m feeling better already.” She nibbled on her fingernail as I repositioned her hips. “Maybe we should have other unofficial dates? More often?”
I grinned, hunkering down between her legs.
“No need to plan anything yet, Red.” I nibbled her clit once more. “Tonight’s just getting started.”
13
Elle
I was going to be sick.
I wasn’t even stuck in the sun this time. The nerves knotted my stomach, and I raced for the nearest bathroom.
And…I missed the porcelain bullseye. That wasn’t pleasant. To my credit, I didn’t get sick on the field, even if Sean deserved some swift, chunky retribution. We had no need for another vomit spiral passing through the team. Ironfield did not have iron stomachs.
But I couldn’t blame Sean for heat stroke, not when it was just anxiety upsetting my tummy. The pressure was getting to me. I was the worst investigative reporter ever. At least when Lois Lane was in trouble it was because she was facing a crazy billionaire stuffing Kryptonite in his boxers, not heaving up the grilled chicken wrap she had for lunch.
I stared into the bathroom mirror. I looked sickly. Exhausted too. I hadn’t slept at all last night. Couldn’t, not after parsing the stolen emails that passed from Peter to Coach Thompson.
And now I had the full-story…every secret that would destroy the team.
They’d worked together to get the pictures. Coordinated their strategies and collected photographs during the other teams’ walk-throughs. Most were taken from the opponents’ practice fields—hidden camera and cell phone footage. It was an efficient and effective method. Coach Thompson knew everything about the opposing team before we played them.
And, as a result, the Rivets had dominated the league last year. Now I knew why.
For the past two weeks, I’d cataloged everything I could find. Linked all the illegal photos to the emailed orders passed from Coach Thompson to Peter. Recorded the dates of my conversations with them. I saved my own nudes too, though I was certain the instant I said anything, they’d leak onto the internet.
But I was expected to start my own intelligence on the Atwood Monarchs for the opening game of the season. I was out of time, and I had to do something.
Even if it sickened me.
I only wished someone could have helped me. I trusted no one with the information though…and the only person I might have considered telling had his own shit to deal with. Lachlan wasn’t having a good camp, and, thanks to Sports Nation and loudmouth Ainsley Ruport, everyone knew it.
I couldn’t burden him with this. Not until I had it figured out.
Not until I could figure out why I so desperately wanted to go to him for support. Comfort. A hug. A touch. Another night spent in his arms.
Wasn’t I already confused enough?
I splashed water on my face and rinsed my mouth. I couldn’t spend the afternoon pouting over some tossed cookies.
If I wanted to ensure the proper people were held accountable for the cheating, I had to do it by the book and in accordance with the team’s handbook.
Loathed as I was to follow the chain of command, I had to cover my ass and report the problems to my superiors. That meant going above Coach Thompson and our general manager and talking to the team’s current owner—Adam Richardson III.
Fortunately, I didn’t need an appointment. His reception still owed me a favor for doing her wedding photography after her hired crew cancelled the day before the wedding. She waved me into his office with a smile.
Adam was a young man, hardly into his thirties. Third generation money—the kind that hadn’t worked to earn the fortune, just spent it.
“Elle!” Adam knew me by name, but he still owed me for the work I did when he listed his house on the market. “God, you get sexier every day.”
Ah. Professionalism.
I stepped into his office, but I didn’t sit, even though the leather looked awfully comfy, especially to someone who just couldn’t shake her stomach bug.
“Thanks for seeing me,” I said. “I was hoping I could talk with you.”
“Gee, Elle. I’m kinda swamped today.” Adam rubbed his chin. “But if you wanted to meet tonight…”
Vomiting was more preferable. “This won’t take very long.”
“I don’t know what you’re used to, but nothing is really short with me.”
Oh god. That just meant his itty-bitty was definitely a teeny-weeny.
This would be the only time I’d admit the truth with a straight face. “Sorry. I’m…married.”
“Oh right. I heard about that.” He licked his lips. “Wish I could have been there to see the locker room reaction.”
All he had to do was ask Coach Thompson for the pictures . “So, I was concerned with something. I wanted to bring it to your attention.”
“I’m all ears, Elle.”
That was good, cause his eyes certainly didn’t stay on mine. They lingered on my chest. Probably shouldn’t have picked this particular tunic with my leggings, but it was the only shirt that sufficiently contained the girls. I’d caught more men today than just Adam staring at my breasts.
That included Lachlan, but at least he had stopped grabbing them during practice.
Adam gestured for me to continue.
How was I supposed to explain
this?
“I just wanted to…make sure the whole organization was on the same page,” I said.
“Okay.”
“I was recently approached and asked to utilize my talents in an…unconventional manner.”
“I don’t understand.”
Now or never. I dug my fingers into the back of the leather chair. “I was asked to visit another team’s practice…to gather a bit of reconnaissance on the team.”
“And?”
“I was instructed to take photographs of offensive and defensive strategies for the teams we’d face in the upcoming season. Formations. Defensive installments. Trick plays. Anything in particular they’d be practicing during their final walk-throughs.”
“Oh.” Adam shrugged. “Yeah. That.”
My stomach twisted. “That?”
“Sure. Coach Thompson and I worked on that a year or two ago.”
Oh no.
I swallowed the biley panic rising in my throat. “So you knew?”
“Yeah. It’s not a big deal. Look, Elle.” Adam took too much pleasure in saying my name. “The league is tough. Everyone does what they have to do to survive. Just do as Peter tells you, enjoy your new raise, and everything will be fine.”
“But—”
“Elle, you’re a woman. You blend in better. You’re beautiful and a great photographer—plus you understand the game inside and out. Who better to help the team?”
That wasn’t it.
That wasn’t it at all.
They could say that it was some sort of twisted football honeypot, but I wasn’t an idiot.
Peter had handled everything until this season. But something had changed.
They were afraid of getting discovered. And they needed someone who could take the blame in case the league found out.
Who better to take the fall than the only other person on the team with access to the photography equipment, office, players? Someone who had intricate knowledge of the league?
Christ, they’d probably frame me for the team’s blackmail photos too.
Jesus. What had they done to me?
It didn’t matter. This went beyond protecting the players now. I had to take care of myself.
And they’d forever regret fucking with me.
“Okay.” I forced a smile. “Just so we’re clear.”
“No problems here, Elle. You’re doing a great job.”
“Thank you.”
“And if you ever decide the married life isn’t for you…” He winked. “You don’t need an appointment to see me.”
Ew. He had all the tact of Lachlan but none of the charm.
I turned from the office, but I didn’t make it to the doorway. Adam’s next visitor shadowed the room.
Coach Thompson crossed his arms, glaring at me with a cold stare I thought he only reserved for Lachlan.
“Elle.” He growled my name. “Little far from the field, aren’t you?”
My stomach heaved. “Just heading there now, Coach.”
“Everything okay, Adam?”
Adam practically licked his lips as he stared at me. “Oh yeah. We’re fine.”
Coach Thompson leered, baring his teeth in a wolf’s smile. “Good. I’d hate to think we’d have any problems with our little Elle.”
“Nope. All good. See you out there, big guy.”
Big guy? I should have slapped him on the ass as I left too. That might have been more suave.
The bile surged again. I hurried from the office, skipping the exit to the field and ducking back into the safety of the women’s bathroom.
My new home away from home.
I heaved again but nothing else wanted to come up. That didn’t mean my scrappy little stomach didn’t try its damnedest.
I was totally and utterly screwed.
“Are you okay?”
I recognized Louisa’s voice.
Great. I flushed away the rest of my pride. No way the best trainer on the team would let me out of the bathroom without an interrogation about my health.
I retreated from the safety of the stall, flinching as the door swung and smacked my ass. Louisa awaited my response with crossed arms.
“I’m okay.” I splashed some water on my face and toweled it off. “It’s just stress. That’s all.”
“How far along are you?”
I crumpled the paper towel. “How far from where?”
“I mean, how many weeks?”
“Weeks from what?”
Louisa wasn’t amused, but I had no idea what I’d done. She tilted her head.
“How many weeks are you?” She drew the word out. “In the pregnancy?”
“In the preg—in the what?”
“You’re pregnant.”
“I am?”
“You’re not?”
My voice shrilled, echoing off the bathroom walls hard enough to smack me upside the head. “I’m not pregnant.”
Louisa laughed. “Are you kidding? You’ve been sick for three weeks.”
“So was half the team. We’ve got a cold.”
“No. They have a cold. You have a baby.” She counted off on her fingers. “You’re sick. You’re exhausted. Your breasts have swelled.”
“Thanks for noticing?”
“Is your period late?”
“No, my period is not…”
Uh-oh.
I whipped out my phone.
No, no, no.
I checked the date and did a bit of mental math in my head. “Okay, wait. This is ridiculous. I’m not…I can’t be…Lachlan and I haven’t really…”
I counted the days.
The river!
No way.
I gripped the sink. Louisa offered me a smile.
“I’ve seen it a lot lately,” she said. “All these new girls floating around the Rivets’ players. Girlfriends and wives. First Leah Carson. Then Piper Hawthorne. I mean...it’s an epidemic! I don’t know what it is about these football players. This team is just built to breed.”
She gestured for me to follow, though I had no idea how I willed my feet to move. I followed her to her office as she rifled in her desk for a stack of pregnancy tests.
“Just thought it was prudent to keep some around,” Louisa said. “No fertile woman is safe around this field. If it was my decision, I’d make the guys put on a condom under their cups.”
“This isn’t happening.”
“Go.” She sorted through stray bits of equipment, tape, ice packs, and other bits and ends from her first aid kit. “You’ll wanna know.”
“Will I?”
“First comes love, then comes marriage.”
Yeah right. Maybe if the orders were reversed.
I was under no obligation to love Lachlan until that third date, and I sure as hell didn’t have the space in my apartment around the shelves and other breakables for a baby carriage.
Taking the test might have been without a doubt, the single most humiliating moment of my life, but the two minutes it took for the test to register positive was a trial by fire.
Pregnant.
I was pregnant.
I wasn’t ready for two whammies in the day.
First team-wide espionage and a corporate controversy. Now a baby?
Lachlan Reed’s baby.
I wasn’t entirely sure he could tie his shoes without tourniqueting a finger. And now I was carrying his child?
Louisa didn’t seem surprised. She moved a chair behind me before I plunked down on the floor.
“Congratulations,” she said. “New husband. New baby. How’s that for a Happily Ever After?”
How was it?
How about un-freaking-believable?
No one told me I had even started a Once Upon A Time!
14
Lachlan
“You look weird.”
Sebastian sat on the bathroom counter, getting comfortable in my tux’s jacket.
Apparently, he took the role of fashion police seriously. Or maybe he was just a
ball buster. At least I was raising him right.
He pushed the sleeves up to his elbows. It didn’t help. The jacket cocooned him. I batted his arm away before he dragged the sleeve through a line of toothpaste.
“The truth is, you look weird.” I finished shaving and rinsed the razor. “We just don’t talk about it.”
“Na-uh. You said I’m cuter than you.”
“I’m just sparing your feelings, little man.” I studied him and faked gagging. “Yep. You’re grotesque. Remember the Hunchback of Notre Dame?”
“Quizzytomato?”
“Yeah. That one. He’s got a better shot at the gypsy than you.”
“Okay, well…you’d only get the goat.”
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re a b-a-a-a-a-a-d boy, Bast?”
“It’s Sebastian.”
“Okay, Seba-a-a-a-a-a-stian.”
I hauled him off the sink and stole my suit jacket back. He followed me to the bedroom, jumping on my bed as I attempted to straighten my bow tie.
“Why are you wearing that?” he asked.
“Cause I was invited to our quarterback’s charity gala. Gotta dress up.”
“Why?”
Good question. “It’s a fancy party.”
“That stinks.”
“Nah. Wearing a tux impresses girls. They like it.”
“Ew. Why do you want to impress girls so much?”
“When you’re older, you’ll spend most of your day trying to impress a girl.”
“Not me.” He shook his head.
“Even you.”
“No way!” Sebastian jumped higher and nearly flew off the bed. I caught him before he impaled himself in my drywall. “When I’m older, girls are gonna impress me.”
Oh, the naivety of youth.
“You think that, little man, but trust me…” I fit the jacket over my shoulders and surveyed the damage in the mirror. At least it covered the bruises from training camp. I almost looked respectable. “One day you’re gonna find a girl you like, and you’ll turn into a complete idiot because of it.” I pointed at him. “So, for God’s sake, make sure she’s the perfect girl.”
“Why?”
So he didn’t end up like me—ignoring calls from a crazy ex-girlfriend who thought she had a right to make any demands of me.
