by Frost, Sosie
“What about your interview?” I whispered.
“Hard to talk with my mouth full.”
He pushed me against the wall. I stilled as his kiss traveled lower.
The water pounded on the tiles, muffling my panted breaths. If I wasn’t careful, Lachlan might have dropped to his knees right then and there, in the middle of the showers, where anyone could see.
But he got off on that adrenaline rush—that risk. His cock hardened more, and his fist pumped that delicious length.
“What if someone walks in?” I shook my head.
“What if they don’t?”
“If we get caught—”
Lachlan interrupted, the sea-foam green of his eyes turbulent in the steamy mist. “I have to taste you, Red. I have to fuck you, again and again. I’ll prove how much I want you.”
“How?”
“Same way I did before.”
I perked an eyebrow. “I don’t remember what we did before.”
“Perfect…” His voice roughened. “I get to make my first impression twice. And, if you’re a good girl, maybe three or four times.”
“You’re awfully confident.”
“Give me thirty seconds.”
“Thirty seconds.”
“That’s all I’ll need to make you scream my name.”
“Twenty-nine.”
Lachlan frowned. “What?”
I bit my lip. “Twenty-eight seconds, Charming. You’re losing your window.”
“Fuck me.”
“Not in twenty-seven seconds.”
Speed was one of the perks of a professional football player.
Also accuracy.
Strength.
Dedication.
Lachlan sunk to his knees and had me pinned against the wall within moments. He dove at me, too hyper for a tease and too impatient for permission.
How could the worst idea of my life feel so good?
This was what I remembered most from our nights together. That tongue, lapping at me, coaxing a secret and desperate desire from my wanting slit. He was practiced, skilled, and utterly devoted. His hands gripped me tight, holding me in place, as he worshiped me in a desperate prayer.
He didn’t just like giving me pleasure.
He demanded it.
Lachlan had loved watching me struggle against my own pride and ravenous desire. This was no different. I’d never met a man so generous. Gifted.
Gluttonous.
His tongue twisted so quick and deliberately he must have knotted it over my clit, and yet his slurpy grunts of enthusiasm begged for more of my trembling body. He held my hips and sucked on me until my chest refused air and my mind dizzied without any concept of time, impropriety, or civilized behaviors. I lost myself in a haze of pleasure and confusion.
Too many memories returned now. All good. All wicked and wanton.
And yet…one frustrating moment was still hidden.
Something big.
Something important.
We had done something in Vegas so exciting that Lachlan had tossed me onto the bed in celebration. He’d spread my legs, taken his fill, and pounded me until I couldn’t see anything but the stars of my own near blackout pleasure.
This was just as good.
My knees wobbled.
Was he a man or made of magic? I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. I gasped in the heat, clutching at the wall, his hair, my breasts. My strength gave out, and I teetered, grasping the shower handle for support. It twisted, and a shock of cold water stung my back, my ass, my legs.
The sudden surprise ripped through me, zapping shivers and goose bumps and every last hesitation from my mind. I didn’t care who saw. Who heard. Who knew.
His tongue teased against my clit.
One. Two. Three quick swipes.
And I was gone.
I tensed. Lachlan caught me as I dissolved into the water itself.
I gasped his name as my body completely betrayed me. How could I give myself to him again? Sex with a stranger had been bad enough, but now Lachlan knew me. After three days of animalistic, remorseless fucking, he’d learned what I liked. Lachlan anticipated my body’s every desire.
And the bastard loved it. He gave me that playboy laugh, the carefree arrogance earned with dimples and a skilled tongue.
“I knew you’d want me again, Elle.” He made a show of licking his lips. “I knew you’d beg for me. That you’d give into it.”
“A mistake…” I whispered.
“It’s not a mistake to want me. Not when you know I’m the best you’ve ever had.” He grinned. “I thought it’d take a lot more chasing before I got to taste that pussy again.”
Wrong thing to say.
“That’s it, loverboy.” I kicked his knee. He sprawled backward, landing on his ass. “You are the cockiest man on the face of this earth.”
Just to make the point, he waved a hand over his package, rock-hard and waiting for me to go deep.
My threat might have sounded harsher if my voice hadn’t trembled. “One of these days, Lachlan Reed, you’re going to find out that you aren’t the center of the universe.”
“As long as I get to be the center of yours.”
How could a man so arrogant sound so…genuine? I crossed my arms, but that perked my breasts and left the parts of me he had so thoroughly delighted completely exposed.
“It won’t happen,” I said. “You are rude, crude, and you think you’re God’s gift to women. You’ve never struggled a day in your life.”
Lachlan looked down to his hardened cock. “I’m struggling right now.”
“Poor baby.”
“I’m not asking for another night of sex.” He stood, his voice soft. “I just want a chance, Red. There’s a lot we have to talk about—a lot of stuff I don’t think you remember.”
“I remember plenty, thank you.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.”
The shampoo was out of my hair, and the shower’s heat suffocated me with my own scorching desire. I stepped out of the water and faced him.
“It was fun,” I said. “But I rather stay out of trouble, especially the kind you cause.”
“If I can get with you, I’ll play by the rules.”
Yeah right. A man like him? “How can I be sure you’re not just another over-sexed, trouble-making superstar jock?”
“Maybe that’s why you like me?”
I walked away. Lachlan darted after me, taking my hand.
“Wait, Elle,” he said. “How can I prove that I deserve a chance…aside from using my tongue?”
I didn’t know if it were possible. “I’m looking for someone who knows the meaning of humility.”
“No problem, Red. I’m the humblest guy in the world!”
I poked his chest, wishing I hadn’t touched that hard pack of muscle. I hadn’t yet caught my breath, and I trembled so near his hands, his mouth, his straining cock.
“Anyone can be the loudest, the biggest, the baddest in the locker room,” I said.
“Not just anyone. Me.”
I rolled my eyes and slammed the shower off. He still didn’t understand.
“Do you know what separates the men from the boys?”
Lachlan nodded. “A weekend in Vegas with you.”
“Nope.” I grabbed my towel, rubbing the wetness from my arms as I walked back to the main locker room. “If you want me, you’ve gotta show me one thing.”
“I’m all ears.”
He was all cock, but I’d forgive it. I grinned and rounded the corner.
“Learn how to be modest—”
My words choked in my throat as the main doors opened.
The entirety of the team funneled into the locker room.
And I was completely and totally naked.
The team went silent, but the little voice in my head screamed a hell of a lot of words.
In a moment of panic, my towel dropped to the floor, crumpled in a tight ball with my pride, dignity, and every
bit of respect I’d cobbled together.
I wasn’t sure what was worse…my nudity or Lachlan appearing at my side with an obscenely throbbing erection.
Jack was the first to speak, his voice hoarse. “Damn, rookie. Put that away before you poke someone’s eye out.”
Oh God.
Jack tossed me a towel and motioned for the team to avert their eyes while I tucked the terrycloth around my curves.
“Jesus Christ.” Cole grunted, rifling through his locker. He pitched his towel at Lachlan’s head.
Lachlan hadn’t moved. I groaned as the towel missed him, fluttered down, and tee-peed over his erection. The team collectively lost their shit, and the locker room echoed with laughter.
What were the chances I could melt into a puddle of my own humiliation and escape to a regular nightmare—the kind with monsters or missed math tests?
Cole swore. “I am not gonna be the one to tell Piper about this.”
That made two of us.
No one had to know. Not agents. Not the press. Not the coaches—
“What the fuck is going on here?”
Fuck. Too late for the coaches.
Coach Thompson pushed linebackers and receivers out of his path, shoving his way to Lachlan. Jack shouted and pulled me back before Thompson launched Lachlan into Cole’s locker.
“What the hell are you doing?” He pointed a thick finger at Lachlan’s head. “Don’t fucking tell me we’ve gotta another goddamned assault case to cover up?”
Another?
“Whoa!” Lachlan raised his hands. “No! It’s okay. I can explain!”
“You!” Coach Thompson turned to me, venom in his words. “Get the hell out of the locker room. Out of the goddamned facility! You’re—”
“Wait!” Lachlan stood as the team shouted. “I didn’t force myself on her! Honest to God.”
I found my voice, squeaking between my heart and stomach, both frantically attempting to escape my mouth.
“He didn’t,” I said. “It was an accident. I didn’t know he was showering too. I had to clean-up—”
“So you’re just fucking around, rookie?” Coach Thompson pitched him into the lockers again. “On my time? With our money?”
“No! Look. Three months ago at the scouting combine, Elle and I hooked up.”
This delighted the team. The applause and cheers were not helping.
“Lachlan!” I snapped. “That’s not going to help!”
The coach agreed with me. “And you think that makes this okay?”
“You don’t understand.” Lachlan gave me an apologetic shrug. “See…we’re kinda—”
“You’ve got three seconds before I cut your ass off this team—”
“We got married!”
Silence except for my panicked, enraged, utterly humiliated squeal.
I shoved away from Jack and nearly crashed Lachlan into the locker myself.
“Are you insane? What are you talking about? We absolutely did not get—”
The memory blitzed me from the blindside.
I gasped, hands over my mouth.
No, no, no.
It wasn’t possible. No one would let someone who had that many shots of every kind of alcohol into a wedding chapel.
We’d drank to get rid of the hangover. Fucked to work off the buzz. And then…
Oh no.
What he said rang a bell. Wedding bells.
Lachlan wrapped an arm over my shoulders and faced the team with a brilliant smile.
“I guess I should have told you guys,” he said. “Elle is my wife.”
4
Lachlan
Elle looked great when she was pissed.
That was good for me. I was pretty sure she planned to pluck off my balls, grate them into dust, and spoon feed the remains to me.
I didn’t have to knock on her door. Elle waited for me. Luckily, she didn’t answer armed…just dangerous.
I smiled anyway. “Hi, honey. I’m home.”
The door slammed shut.
So an afternoon at practice wasn’t enough time to start laughing about this. Good to know.
I knocked again. “Don’t put me in the doghouse already. We’re still newlyweds.”
She shouted through the door. “And we’re about to have our first domestic disturbance call.”
“As long as it gets me make-up sex…or am I supposed to sleep on the couch?”
Nothing. Not even a profanity.
I sighed. “Come on, Red. Lighten up.”
“Lighten up?”
The door opened, nearly torn off its hinges. Elle let me inside, but I couldn’t see if she hid a baseball bat anywhere.
“Lighten-up?” Elle’s growl was pretty convincing. “We’re married, Lachlan!”
“And I still owe you a ring.”
“You owe me an annulment!”
I pointed to the entryway. “At least let me carry you through the threshold first.”
“How ‘bout I just shove the bridal bouquet up your—”
“Whoa!” I wagged a finger at her pouted lip and that sassy hand on her hip. “Let’s save the rough stuff for the bedroom.”
She groaned. “When are you going to take this seriously?”
“As soon as you realize that this is pretty funny.”
Elle failed to see the humor.
To be fair, she’d had a rough day, but not all of it was bad. Sure, she got puked on. And, yes, everyone had seen her naked. But that only meant she was significantly more popular with the team now than she had ever been. And, as I was now associated with the most perfect set of tits on the team, I gained a shit-ton of respect with the guys.
Elle paced her apartment, stopping to fold and unfold a blanket over her couch. I followed, keeping my back to a wall in case she launched any or all of her hundreds of knick-knacks at my head.
Did she live in an apartment, a museum, or a tourist trap?
Her home was like a pack-rat with meticulous OCD set-up camp in an artist’s loft. She had about fifty percent windows, but every available space on the wall was lined with framed photographs—forests and beaches, cities and parks, stadiums and particularly photogenic Ironfield plays from the last championship game. The photos bordered the room, but the shelves took up most of the space.
This girl had a collection of everything tacky and bizarre from cities around the country. One curio stashed city-sponsored snow globes, most purchased from places with a football team. Another cabinet housed music boxes. A third cabinet kept more delicate knick-knacks of carved figurines and pretty pottery.
She had…everything. All organized, dusted, and spread throughout her apartment. No copies of Catcher in the Rye. That was a relief. And Elle didn’t seem the crazy cat lady. Her only pets were contained within a salt-water tank. A handful of brightly colored fish swept across a beautiful hundred-gallon aquarium.
Well…the cute girls were always a little weird. At least Elle hadn’t hosted a TLC special from her living room yet.
Elle swept her hair into a pony tail, but a lock of red-streaked curls caressed her dark cheek. I got lucky. Not many men could say they had such a beautiful wife.
And angry.
She was very angry.
“Until this very moment, I thought I had already attended the worst wedding of my life,” Elle said. “My sister, Edda, got married six months ago, and I went home for the first time in years.”
She pointed me to the couch before I could poke through a china cabinet.
“I only agreed to go because my sister, Emily, begged me.”
“You didn’t want to go to your sister’s wedding?” I asked.
“My family isn’t like most families. No dancing. No alcohol. No dresses that reveal too much shoulder. No lesbians.”
“What?”
Elle sighed. “My father disapproved of the woman Edda wanted to marry—”
“Oh.”
“And so he picked a man he thought would be a smart match for her.�
��
“Can he…do that?”
“That wasn’t the worst part of the wedding. The salad dressing went rancid, and half of the wedding guests got violently sick. My sisters, Estée and Evie, had to keep Edda’s girlfriend from crashing the party. My sister, Erica, snuck in alcohol, accidentally got drunk, and nearly set fire to the bridal table with a prayer candle. And then my sister, Erin, my father’s favorite, announced her pregnancy during her toast as maid of honor.”
“God damn. How many sisters do you have?”
“That is not something a husband should ask his wife.”
“I didn’t ask if they were single.”
“I have six sisters—Edda, Emily, Estée, Evie, Erica, and Erin.”
“Wow.”
“The last time we were all together was during Edda’s wedding, and everyone agreed it was a disaster. But now, that seems like a fairy tale in comparison to the worst wedding I’ve been a part of. Wanna take a guess at which magical night it was?”
I had a good idea.
“My wedding was the worst—and I don’t remember any of it!”
“I remember some of it.” I examined a tiny swan figurine carved from quartz on her end table. Elle slapped it out of my reach. “If it helps, you looked beautiful.”
She groaned. “Was I even dressed?”
“You might have vowed never to wear panties again.”
“Oh God.”
Elle brushed her hand through her hair, lovely waves of dark, teased with a bright, playful red. She licked her full lips, but the frown lingered. No scowl should have marred that beauty. Too bad my wife wasn’t the type to let her husband kiss away those worries.
“Why didn’t you tell me we were married?” Elle asked.
“You had no idea we’d eloped?”
“Not until you spouted it off to the entire locker room.”
“Yeah, you earned me a lot of points with the guys.”
“I’m so glad you scored.”
“I’d love to score twice—”
Elle pointed a finger at me. “Forget it, Charming. I’m not going deep with you anymore.”
I leaned into the couch, winced, and tossed aside a—what the hell was it? An unsmoked, ivory pipe? This girl had too many treasures.
“You’re not looking at the big picture, Elle,” I said. “This is a marriage, not a curse.”
