Touchdowns and Tiaras: The Complete Boxed Set

by Sosie Frost

  “Maybe you haven’t been fucked right.”

  “Or maybe you’ve been doing it wrong.”

  “No one’s ever complained.”

  Piper glanced over the patio, the gardens, the house. “Then where’s Mrs. Hawthorne?”

  “Never wanted to find her. Why bother? I only need one thing.”

  “And what’s that?” she asked.

  “A good hit on the field. A good fuck when I get home.”

  “You’re not really a romantic, are you?”

  “Do you want romance?”

  I brushed a hand over her arms, encouraging them to drop away. Piper tensed, but she didn’t resist. She held my stare as I freed her chest.

  Jesus, she had the most perfect pair of tits.

  I lowered my voice. “You know just as well as I do that romance won’t get you off.”

  “You think you know me so well.”

  “You don’t tolerate bullshit,” I said. “Let’s get real. Who needs the flowers and the champagne when a woman’s just gonna get bent over anyway?”

  Piper’s quirked eyebrow was a little tease. “And if she wants to get on top?”

  “You offering?”

  “You intimidated?”

  “Not in the least.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because sex is like football. It’s a mind-game as well as a quick fight.”

  “A fight?” Piper’s breath caught as my fingers grazed her shoulder. “Why would you ever fight a lover?”

  “You tell me, beautiful…”

  My fingers dipped, tracing her curves under the water. Her breath quickened, and I grazed the soft swell of her breast. She shuddered. I took what I wanted.

  A kiss.

  Hard and fierce.

  Stolen from her lips as my hand sunk into the water and gripped her thigh.

  “You’re not fighting me now,” I murmured. “You know what you need. Same thing every woman wants from me. No romance. No flowers. No promise of a happily ever after.”

  My fingers drifted between her legs, to the waiting and ready softness of her slit. Even in the water she was hot and slick, begging for something more than a splash of bubbles and heat from the jets to satisfy her urges.

  “Don’t lie, beautiful.” I seized my victory with a flick of my fingers. Her hips bumped upwards, practically crushing her clit against my hand. “What is it you want most?”

  Piper shuddered. “Something you can’t offer me.”

  “I’m not picking out curtains and china patterns…I’m talking sex. Fast. Hard. You on your knees while I take what’s owed to me.”

  “Owed?”

  I grinned. “To the victor, the spoils. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To be taken. Fucked. You’ve fantasized about it.”

  Piper muffled her groan with a nibble of her lip. She trembled as I teased her, rubbing my fingers against her swollen little slit.

  “I haven’t thought about you at all,” she whispered.

  “Yes, you have. And I know what you imagined.”

  “What?”

  “The Beast.”

  “That’s not true.”

  I rubbed harder, fiercer. Her whimper of warning almost melted me into the water.

  “You want me because I’m nothing you’ve had before…” I bit her lip and tasted her moan. “Because I’m dangerous. Because you know my reputation. Say it.”

  Piper kissed me, but she’d forever deny the surrender. “You’re a monster.”

  “On the field and in the bed, beautiful. And you love it.”

  “I don’t.”

  I chuckled, slowing my circles on her clit. Her breathing sharpened. “You want a beast to ravish you. To fuck you on your hands and knees like an animal until you’re breathless and spent.”

  “Is that what gets you off?” Piper arched. “Do you like being so rough and dominating?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t know who else to be, beautiful. That’s who I am. I’m bigger, stronger, harder than any other son of a bitch in this world. You want me to apologize for getting hard thinking about it?”

  “Not if that’s what you want.”

  Goddamn this woman. I punished her for the mind-games, flicking my finger over that budded clit just to make her gasp.

  I fucked the way I fucked because that’s all I knew. It was good. It got the job done. No one ever complained.

  I never before wondered how it’d feel to do it…differently. To move within a woman without that muscle-raking ferocity. I never imagined how comforting it might have been to talk with her without guarding my words or hiding my pain.

  I never thought I’d find someone I could trust.

  But it’d be just as impossible to find someone who trusted me—mind, body, and soul—in return.

  But I wasn’t a fool. This was my place in life. Women got fucked, but they didn’t stay the night. The team paid my salary, but they tightened a leash around my neck. The fans wanted blood until their favorite players landed under me.

  The world encouraged me to become The Beast until they realized they’d created a monster.

  And monsters didn’t get to make love.

  I growled, low and deep, silencing Piper’s questions with a dark kiss. She surrendered to me, and I twisted my fingers over her, running a tight circle over her silken clit. She shivered, presenting her breasts, her curves, the surgical scar below her navel. It didn’t mar her. It made her more beautiful as the water trickled over her skin.

  I’d never held anyone so lovely. So gorgeous she was almost fragile. Precious.

  Mouth-watering.

  I flicked my tongue over hers as firmly as I stroked her slit. The shudder cast deep inside of her. She clutched at my arms, groaned into my mouth, and tensed.

  Already?

  Her body rocked against mine. Her whimper nearly sent me over the edge without a tug to my cock.

  Piper came hard enough to scream, but she hardly made more than a murmur. She shook, twisted, gasped in surprise. So innocent. So wanton.

  I wanted to force that crest again within her. Faster. Harder. Without a break or pause.

  Piper didn’t need air. She needed to come. Repeatedly. Endlessly.

  Because of me.

  I had to fuck this woman. Nothing else in the world mattered. Not the team. Not the trade. Not my entire goddamned career. I’d give it all up, ignore it, destroy it for a chance to sheath myself inside this woman and feel her coming around me.

  But Piper recovered quickly, hiding her face before diving for a towel.

  She was embarrassed? Christ, what did she have to be ashamed of? I’d never witnessed anything so beautiful in my entire life.

  Piper burst out of the water, accidentally using the most buoyant part of me as her launching pad. I grunted, grasping the edge of the tub so I wouldn’t drown. She covered herself with a towel. Not like it mattered. I couldn’t see anything past the blitzing stars blinding my vision.

  “I can’t do this,” Piper whispered.

  I gritted my teeth through the pain.

  “Not a problem.” I gasped. “Don’t think I can either.”

  “I’m sorry. Mr. Haw—Cole…I can’t get involved.”

  “Who said anything about getting involved?” I clutched myself, breathing deep as the agony dissipated and my balls bounced back. This woman was a walking advertisement for security systems and high-performance cups. “We were just fooling around.”

  “I can’t just fool around. I have to go.”

  “Go?” I groaned. “Where?”

  “Home.”

  “Why? I have a really nice home. You haven’t even seen the bed yet.”

  “And I won’t. Ever.” She grabbed all the clothes she could find…including mine. “I’m…I’m gonna change and get out of here. Please forget this ever happened.”

  “It’s a little hard to forget a beautiful woman coming on my hand.”

 
“Well try.” She tripped backwards. “I don’t even know what time it is. I’m late. This is really bad.”

  My cock punished me for letting her leave. It also ached for letting her foot get so close. I didn’t try to stand yet. “What’s wrong?”

  “I stayed too long. Way too long.”

  I laughed. “Why? Who’s waiting on you?”

  “My babysitter.”

  The words sucker-punched me.

  She bolted through the house, clattering the screen door off the track behind her. The screen crashed against the frame and slowly teetered. I didn’t flinch as it clattered onto the cement with a bang.

  I fell back against the hot tub in shock.

  Her babysitter?

  Piper had a kid?

  7

  Piper

  “Get your ass to the training facility—we’ve got a problem.”

  Dad’s voice mail was as chipper as always. Unfortunately, he was about to get a lot angrier.

  I didn’t have a babysitter.

  Hell, I hardly had a baby. My little ray of sunshine was one tummy rumble away from shape-shifting into a demon. She hadn’t eaten yet, didn’t want to take a nap, and her only goal in life was to plop down on the floor and use her blocks to put dents in my walls.

  What was worse? Missing an emergency meeting at the Monarch offices…or attending the meeting while towing a cranky baby on my hip?

  Neither option was pretty, but I had to meet them at the facility. The team scheduled a call with league president Frank Bennett about the wide receiver Cole had injured during the opening game. If I wasn’t there, it’d be a disaster for Cole.

  But things were already disastrous between us. I had no business representing Cole, not when I had no defense against him. I couldn’t excuse myself for my behavior in the hot tub. I trapped myself in his arms, his kiss, his touch…

  And I spent the last day trying to forget about the greatest orgasm of my life. Easier said than done.

  So I cleaned up Rose and prepared to take her to work with me. If nothing else, she let me put the little pink bows in her twin puffball pigtails—and I packed an extra three in her diaper bag for the moment she’d inevitably try to eat the ribbons. I fed her an apple for a snack, changed her, and snuggled Mr. Bunny Bumpybottom in the stroller with her.

  She wore a smile when we left the apartment. It lasted for one block before she was out cold in her car seat. As with any silence and toddler, this wasn’t a good quiet. She slept like her momma—dead to the world and then committed to its destruction when woken up before completely rested.

  I parked at the facility twenty minutes later. Rose grumbled and rubbed her face with her chubby little fists. She then swung them at me when I dared to remove her from the car seat.

  Point taken.

  I sang her a lullaby and raced into the team offices. Late. Dad and the Monarchs’ management were already in the conference room. I flashed my pass to the guard and stole one of the lollypops he kept in a dish by his station.

  Jackpot. Thank God for processed sugar. I shushed Rose’s excited squeals with the offered lollypop.

  “Mamamama.” She fussed as I refused to let her hold the stick, but the strawberry flavor appeased her. She blew a raspberry and immediately coated her lips and chin with sticky spit. At least the pink matched her bows.

  I knocked before entering and braced for Dad’s temper. Fortunately, the Monarch staff was already in a conference call. They only stared in confusion as my toddler waved hello.

  Four coaches and the Monarchs’ general manager huddled around a phone speaker in the middle of the conference table. None of them looked very happy. They visibly wrinkled and grayed as the caller spat, swore, and railed each of them out.

  Frank Bennett practically shouted through the phone. “—He’s a menace! He’ll kill someone before the season is over!”

  Coach Scott wasn’t normally a bundle of sunshine, but compared to President Bennett, he was a regular member of The Wiggles. He handled most of the conversation, but Rose spat out the lollypop and intervened on Cole’s behalf.

  “Brrr mamamama kitty!”

  Dad scowled. The coaches looked inconvenienced. Great.

  “Sorry.” I shushed her. “She must be an Ironfield Rivets fan.”

  At least Rose giggled. Frank still ranted over the call, and my baby prepared to unleash her own encore of babble. I offered her the lollypop again and bounced her on my hip with a prayer she’d stay quiet.

  “President Bennett…” Dad jumped into the conversation. “I can assure you. Hawthorne’s hit on that receiver was clean. He didn’t intentionally try to hurt the player. It didn’t even draw a penalty flag.”

  “Pierce Jarvis is out for the season,” Frank said.

  Coach Scott nodded. Most of his chins flapped in different directions. “These things happen when the guys run at full-speed during a game.”

  Frank wasn’t hearing it. The phone connection crackled as he yelled. “Why do these things keep happening to Cole Hawthorne? Answer me that and I won’t impose a fine of twenty-five thousand dollars on him.”

  “Twenty-five thousand?” Coach Scott repeated.

  “And you’ll be lucky if I don’t push for a suspension! I will not let this man prowl the field looking for his next victim every damn week.”

  “Frank, we’ve gotta be reasonable here,” Dad said. “These men…they’re flying at a different level. The game isn’t the same as it was thirty years ago. Hell, it’s not even the same as it was ten years ago. These guys are bigger and stronger than ever before. Don’t mistake enthusiasm for—”

  “Sadism?”

  The insult burned through me. “Cole’s not a sadist!”

  Shoot.

  I didn’t mean to speak.

  Dad motioned for me to be quiet, but Rose loved to mimic her momma. She squealed, pointing a chubby finger at the men around the table.

  “Yayayaya.”

  I shushed her, but the attention still focused on me. I cleared my throat.

  “He’s passionate about the game. He plays hard. He doesn’t intend to hurt anyone.”

  To punctuate my point, Rose grabbed the lollypop and threw it.

  My gregarious daughter meant to share the tasty treat with the room. To the Monarchs’ coaching staff, it appeared my baby was little more than a Sunday hooligan throwing her beer on the field after a bad call.

  Coach Scott peeled the sticky lollypop from his sleeve with a frown. “President Bennett, no suspension is needed. We’ll talk with Hawthorne. Hopefully…” He eyed my father. “This problem will resolve itself shortly.”

  Dad nodded. “We’re working on it.”

  “Work on it faster.” Coach Scott sighed. “The team can’t have this bad publicity.”

  “The team?” Frank Bennett scoffed. “We’re protecting the league, gentleman…and lady…and…small child. This association is meant to foster a wholesome image. A monster like Hawthorne is doing nothing but encouraging violence and threatening players.”

  “What would be a good compromise?” Dad asked. “Should this happen again—”

  “It won’t happen again,” Frank said, his voice popping with subdued rage. “If he hurts anyone else, if he even looks at another player wrong…he’s gone.”

  My stomach pitted. Rose watched my expression, her little lip pouting.

  “Uh-oh,” she said.

  Yeah. Big uh-oh. Cole wasn’t changing his play style, and the team was done protecting him. What were we supposed to do now?

  Dad gestured for me to follow him outside while Coach Scott finished the call. I faked a smile and let Rose wave buh-bye to the rest of the staff before slipping out. She held her arms out to Dad, but he hadn’t held her in weeks. She hadn’t given up trying.

  The door closed behind us. He wasted no time. “Why is she here?”

  “I couldn’t find a babysitter after hours.”

  “Find one.” He gritted his teeth. Rose’s pout finally broke h
im down. He squeezed her little fingers to pacify her. “You have to go see Hawthorne. Now.”

  “Now?”

  “Get him to agree to this trade.”

  “But—”

  “The team isn’t going to put up with his bull—”

  “—Language—”

  He grunted. “Another bad hit, another unnecessary roughness call, anything, and he’s cut. The Monarchs don’t want the league pressure anymore. Get his consent to be traded before we lose him.”

  “He doesn’t want to go,” I said.

  “Do you? You’re my daughter, Piper, and I love you, but—”

  Did he? I was starting to question it. I stormed away, trying to ignore his voice.

  “Do this trade for me?” Dad asked.

  No. I wasn’t doing this for him or for me. My only priority was taking care of Rose.

  But keeping the job and getting fired were equally terrible prospects. I needed the money. My budget was already paper thin, especially when Mrs. Potter took up so much of my monthly income. I could change it though. If Dad made me a real agent, I’d take on my own clients and make a bigger salary…

  But then it’d begin. Long hours. Cross-country travel multiple times a week. I’d never see my daughter, never have time to sleep.

  Never go on a date.

  That had never been a concern—until I found myself in the arms of the wrong man.

  I shouldn’t have returned to Cole’s house, not after what happened in the hot tub and certainly not with Rose babbling in my back seat. But he wasn’t answering his cell, and we had to discuss the fine.

  Rose fussed as I carried her up the path. She kicked and wiggled until I finally let her toddle toward the mansion. She raced under the portico, and I hurried behind her, taking her hand before she pounded against the door.

  “Wowee!” She stomped on the marble. At least the ridiculously expensive but adorable Mary Janes and frilly socks still covered her feet. “Mamamamama.”

  “I know.” I swallowed. “Won’t he be excited to see us?”

  And surprised. Probably surprised. Especially since my baby hadn’t come up any conversation...

  We’d been too busy kissing and stripping and touching and—

  I knocked on the door. Rose did too, slapping the hardwood with a tiny hand. I took a deep breath.