“Yeah, I think so.” I help her into the passenger’s seat, which she instantly leans all the way back and declares that she will be taking a fat nap on the way home.
She certainly wasn’t kidding. She keeps her eyes shut and smiles at me when I roll down the windows.
“You comfy?” I reach over and gently touch her leg.
“Mmm. Hey, Leo?”
I smile as the car accelerates. “Yes, Frankie?”
“I never wanted to have a pretend fiancé, but now that I do, well, you’re hot, and I’m really glad it’s you.”
I glance over at the beer-chugging football fanatic next to me in the car. “Me, too, kid.”
THIRTEEN — Leo
Frankie pops up from her nap as soon as I pull the Porsche into the garage and turn the engine off.
“Oh! We’re here already?” She wipes her hair out of her face. “I fell asleep.”
“You did?” I tease. “I guess that explains why you didn’t respond to anything I said the entire way home.” I walk over to her door and help her out of the car. “I was worried I’m just a terrible conversationalist.”
Frankie carries her black heels and walks away from the car, her bare feet padding along the floor of the garage. She stops, standing with her back against the door into the kitchen, and waits for me to catch up to her.
I give in to the magnetic pull between our bodies and lean into her, pressing my palms against the door behind her and keeping less than one hot inch between us.
“Is there a reason you’re blocking the way in?” I ask, my voice sounding raspier than I expected.
She sinks down a little and bites her lip, staring up at me. The heat building between us is becoming palpable. “You can get in if you want. I’m not stopping you.” She adds a slow smile.
Now she’s just fucking with me. And I really like it.
“Oh, is that so?” I reach around and put both my hands on her perfectly round ass and pick her up. I feel her breasts pressing against my chest as she quickly wraps her legs around me. We’re making out again, desire and need building with every second. I shift so I’m holding her body up with one hand, fumbling with the door handle with the other. Finally, the fucker swings open, and I carry her in without breaking the contact of our mouths.
We stumble in, my hand gently yanking on her hair, causing her to gasp and moan a little. God, I want more noise. I want to make her feel so good those moans become screams. She squeezes her legs tighter around me and slides her hips directly over my dick.
She lets out a gasp and lightly nibbles my bottom lip when she feels how hard I am.
“Bedroom,” she begs breathlessly.
“Whoa, let’s chill for a second.” I gently set her on the kitchen counter and meet her gaze, trying to gauge just how drunk she is before this goes any further. As much as I’m aching to slide her panties off and screw her right now on this granite countertop, I don’t want to make any stupid mistakes. Even more than that, I don’t want Frankie to do anything she’ll regret.
She throws her arms around my shoulders and presses her boobs against me. “We have to make it believable, right? That we’re engaged.” Drawing out the word, she lets her head fall back and giggles.
“You’re right, baby, we do.” Gripping her waist, I slide my hands up and down, letting my thumbs rub the sides of the breasts she so badly wants me to touch. “But I’m not sure if you should be making any big decisions at this particular moment.” The prospect of turning her down right now absolutely pains me.
“So, we have to practice.” She tugs at the waistband of my khakis. “Just for a minute.”
Just for a minute. Can’t hurt, right?
Frankie giggles and grabs my wrist, guiding my hand up to her collarbone and making me pull down the strap of her dress. She’s not wearing a bra, of course, because why not make this a little harder for me?
She lets go of my hand, and I let my fingers slide down and gently massage her flawless, abundant breast. I feel her nipple get hard under my thumb as I trace the curve of her skin. More blood races to my dick, the need to take my pants off and get inside her becoming practically unbearable. She inhales and tilts her head back, so desperately responsive to my touch. I want to touch her more, and everywhere.
I grit my teeth, knowing this can’t go much further. She’s not sober, and we have to spend the rest of the season pretending to be engaged. But, God, it’s next to impossible to feel like any of that actually matters when she’s digging her nails into my back and squeezing her sexy legs around me.
Her back arches, and she puts both her hands on my ass and presses my cock against her, which is harder than the granite she’s sitting on. She rocks her hips into me, moaning as I touch her more.
“Let’s go to the bedroom.” Leaning into me, she begs for me to pick her up, which I do effortlessly.
I carry her out of the kitchen and reach the hallway and stop, trying to will some blood to come back to my brain to make this decision. If I turn left, I take her to the guest room. If I turn right, I can give in to all the sweet temptation that’s been taunting me for weeks now. But it could be a mistake.
“Pleeeeaase, bedroom!” She giggles and kisses my neck. Good Lord.
“Fuck,” I whisper, turning left and walking toward the guest room.
I carry her through the doorway. She tightens her legs around me, vigorously attempting to unbutton my shirt while still keeping her tongue intertwined with mine. I keep kissing her and purposely leave the door open, knowing it’ll force me to leave the room, no matter how badly I want to stay.
Every muscle in my body is tight with need as I ease her onto the bed and climb on top, unable to stop myself from rocking against her. I’ll just stay for a minute. She’s right. We could use a little practice. The rhythm intensifies as she finally manages to pull my shirt off.
“Are you fucking serious, Sterling?” she says, staring at my abs.
I stop and can’t help but laugh at her astonishment. I run my thumb across her rosy cheek. “All yours,” I whisper, completely lost in her wide eyes and tipsy smile.
Tracing lines between the muscles with her index finger, she stares up at me.
“We’re only pretending, remember?” she whispers.
I silently beg her to slide her hand a couple inches lower and unbutton my pants.
“Of course.” I kiss her hard again. “We have to make everyone believe it, though, right?”
She nods eagerly and shifts my hips against hers. “Uh-huh.” She skims her nails down my abs again, sending chills racing through me. “We really do have to make sure it’s good and believable. For your reputation.”
I lean into her a little harder and taste her lips again. “And your career.”
“Exactly,” she says through the kiss. She gets my zipper down and slips her hand into my pants, stroking my dick and sending explosive heat through my entire body. I want her so fucking bad. And she’s practically begging me. But she’s had a lot to drink. Her desperation feels better than I could ever imagine, but I have to be sure she would feel the same without the booze clouding her mind.
With more willpower than I knew I was capable of, I zip my pants shut and stand up.
“Nooo,” Frankie whines. “Stay.”
“You gotta get some rest, beautiful.” I kiss her forehead and tuck the blanket over her.
“Leo, I wish you would stay here, because I think you’re really hot and because I really like you,” she mumbles, letting her eyes shut slowly and snuggling against the pillow.
“Yeah.” I take a steadying breath as the realization hits me harder than the lust. “I really like you, too.” And that’s exactly why I have to go.
I kiss her lightly on the cheek and walk out of the guest room, pausing in the doorway to take one last look. The boyish, quirky, fascinating girl who downed a pitcher of beer and tried to rip my pants off in the kitchen is suddenly so calm and peaceful. I can’t hide a smile at the thought of how goddamn endearing she
is.
My dick is disappointed as hell, but I definitely made the right call.
FOURTEEN — Frankie
Christ, my head hurts. I open my eyes just a sliver, and the morning light pouring into this room causes my brain to pound even harder. Leo really needs to invest in some blackout curtains.
Leo.
I frantically turn over to make sure he’s not in my bed. Empty sheets. That’s a relief.
My memory floodgates fly open, and flashes of last night come racing through my mind. The bar, the whiskey, the Riders guys, and Leo. The elevator, the garage, the kitchen…oh good God. The kitchen.
Tebow bounds up to my pillow and starts licking my face. I scratch his ears in return.
“Your mom”—I look in the dog’s eyes very seriously—“is a slut.” I roll onto my back and yank a pillow over my head, not even remotely ready to face the world today. “A desperate, needy, kitchen counter slut.” I groan into the pillow. At least Tebow’s love is unconditional.
I wish I could just hide in this room, potentially forever, but my dire need for coffee and aspirin fuels me to drag my body out of the sheets and pull some pajama pants on. The house seems pretty quiet. Maybe Leo isn’t home. Maybe he had an early practice or workout or something. Or he’s still sleeping, in which case I can slip out and go somewhere for the day before he wakes up.
Clinging to the hope that I can at least postpone having to look him in the eyes after the events of last night, I quietly open the bedroom door and tiptoe down the hall toward the kitchen. I hear the clink of silverware. Shit. But Leo doesn’t cook. The chef, maybe? He has a chef, right? I haven’t seen one yet, but there’s a decent possibility.
My heart beats faster as I get closer to the kitchen. Coffee. Advil. Food, I repeat to myself like it’s a freaking Hindu mantra giving me the courage to walk around this corner. I peek into the kitchen to find…
Fucking sweatpants. Damn it.
“Good morning, sunshine. I thought you might want some breakfast.” Leo Sterling is making me breakfast? Is there an ESPN reporter in the living room or something?
I try to hide my face, which probably resembles a corpse’s, by pushing some tangled hair in front of it. “You’re cooking?” I mumble, making a beeline for the coffee machine and refusing to meet his eyes.
Leo hops in front of me. “Don’t make any coffee.”
“No…but…please,” I whine incoherently.
“It’s already done.” Leo puts his massive hands on both of my shoulders and gently turns me toward the kitchen table, which is set for a meal, complete with red SOLO cups of orange juice, paper towels as napkins (he tried), and two mugs of steaming coffee.
He grins at me. “Nothing like a good hangover breakfast. And the coffee is black. I remembered how you like it.”
My heart involuntarily fills with joy from the sweet gesture. “Leo, this is…” I glance around the room. “Are there hidden cameras in here or something?”
He lets out a sarcastically offended gasp. “What? I can’t do something nice for my fake fiancée who I know probably feels pretty shitty right about now?”
I smile and raise my eyebrows at him. “Can we please just pretend none of that happened?”
Leo shrugs and throws his hands up in the air. “None of what happened? I genuinely have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Ha-ha. Very funny.” I roll my eyes and take a sip of the coffee.
“Hold on a sec…” Leo puts his palms flat on the kitchen countertop and stares down at it intently. “I’m getting something.”
I cover my eyes with my fingers and cringe. I can’t help but laugh at him.
He turns and pushes himself up so he’s sitting on the countertop and spreads his knees widely apart. “Now this is ringing a bell.”
I try to control my giggles. He is somehow managing to make fun of me and completely ease my embarrassment at the same time.
“No, that’s not right.” He jumps down and theatrically scratches his head. “Oh! Of course. It was you who was up on the countertop.”
I smile, take a big slurp of coffee, and slump down into a seat at the table. “Cram it. I was trashed.”
Leo slides into the chair next to me. “You were…something. That’s for damn sure.”
I swirl the coffee around in my cup. “Drunk me can get a little…enthusiastic.”
“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” He nudges me and flicks his brows.
“Shut up.”
“Like some sort of lion or tiger. Grrr.” He makes his hand into a claw and swipes it at me. I quickly shove it away, still laughing in embarrassment. “Let me eat my shame breakfast in peace, please?”
“Okay, okay,” he says with a mouthful of toast. “I’ll drop it.”
“Thank you.” I perk my chin up to take another sip of coffee. “Breakfast looks great.”
Leo wipes a napkin across his mouth. “Seriously, though, one more question.”
“Oh my God, can you be done with it now?” I drop my head back and let out an exaggerated groan.
“I mean, I just had no idea you were that into me.” He winks. “I know the abs are really something to see, but damn.”
I roll my eyes. “Please stop flattering yourself. I’m into athletes. Cocky, douchey, break-my-heart-into-a-million-pieces athletes. It’s been my downfall since high school.”
Leo looks at me seriously, with a surprising amount of concern in his eyes. “What do you mean, your downfall?”
I swallow a bite of pancakes and sigh. “I’ll tell you if you really want to know. But I hope you’re ready for some emotional baggage. Like, heavy baggage. The kind that’s too big to fit in the overhead compartment. The kind that some nasty airport person tells you that you have to check. And they’re trying to be nice about it, but you know they’re looking at you and thinking, ‘What the fuck does she have in there?’”
Leo raises his eyebrows and smiles at me slowly. “That is some serious baggage. But lucky for you, I get free checked bags because I fly first class. So, hit me with it, Monroe. What’s your sob story?”
I draw in a slow breath. “I was in love with someone. We met in college, at UF. We were together for three years, and I was positive he was the one. He was a tight end for the Gators, a very typical athlete. In some ways, you remind me of him. He was just arrogant enough to be painfully sexy. But he adored me. He had his pick of beautiful Florida sorority girls, and he picked me, the furthest thing from a sorority girl. Our life together was pretty much planned out.”
I look away, remembering those days when I thought he’d be…my life and run a hand through my hair.
“So, what happened?” Leo fixes his gaze on me, the depth of his brown eyes convincing me I could tell him just about anything and he would keep me safe.
“He, um, slept with a cheerleader. Four times.”
“Jesus.” A flash of anger comes over Leo’s face. “What a dick.”
“Yeah. Well, from that moment on, I swore to myself: No more athletes. As much as they…” I wave a hand toward Leo. “You all, collectively speaking, intrigue and excite and thrill me, it’s a recipe for a lot of pain. I decided then and there that if you know one, you know them all. They can’t be trusted, not with those egos. I’m not going through that again.”
Leo looks down at his cup of coffee. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. You don’t deserve that, but I understand the trust thing. That’s gotta hurt like a bitch.”
I smile, trying to lighten up this conversation. “Yeah, well, now I just gotta get the message across to drunk me.” I nudge Leo playfully.
He half smiles at me, but something in his expression is sad. Disappointed, even.
I examine his demeanor and blurt out the question that’s been burning in my mind all morning. “So, why didn’t you sleep with me last night?”
It’s no secret he thinks I’m hot. The attraction is seriously electric, and this man is not exactly accustomed to not gettin
g laid. I practically threw myself at him. Was I really that obnoxiously drunk? There’s no way.
“Frankie, it’s not like I didn’t want to.” He flicks his eyebrows up and down. “I really wanted to. But you were pretty drunk. I didn’t want to take advantage of you.”
I snort, trying to hide the warm and fuzzy feeling of appreciation that fills my chest when he says that. “You’re telling me you’ve never hooked up with a drunk girl before?”
He fixes his eyes on me, his gaze steady and reassuring. “No, that’s not really what I’m saying. But this is definitely not a hookup situation. Plus, you’re not exactly just some girl I met at a bar.”
Excitement, hope, and fear shoot through my mind and body at once. Why is he being so goddamn nice to me? My stomach drops, like I’m on a roller coaster, at the prospect of him feeling something for me. No, Frankie. He’s a playboy. He has a master’s degree in making poor innocent girls feel special so they’ll get between his sheets. I shut my eyes and try to swallow the onslaught of emotions.
He wraps his solid arms around me. “C’mon, fiancée, it’s hug time. You need it.”
I smile and let myself melt a little in his warm embrace.
“You know what they say?” He angles his face directly in front of mine.
“What do they say, Leo?”
“Everyone has to have one really bad heartbreak.” He pulls me closer.
“Not you,” I say, barely above a whisper.
“I’ve just never wanted to commit before,” he says slowly, his voice steady and low.
I let the sentence ripple through me and remind myself of everything I just told Leo. No athletes, no lust, no pain.
But what did he mean by…before? Before what?
FIFTEEN — Frankie
The past couple of weeks have been a whirlwind. Long, wild game days, press interviews, aggressive and stressful phone calls from Ryan Kingsley to check up on the “happy couple.” The season is picking up, and Leo is constantly at practice, workouts, and training sessions. He’s had a few away games that I didn’t attend, and I missed him those long weekends.
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