The Daddy Series: Books 1 - 4 (The Daddy Series Boxset)

by B. B. Hamel

  I sigh, shaking my head. “I told you not to eat in the exam rooms,” I say.

  “I can’t eat anywhere else in peace,” he complains.

  “That’s your own fault.” I shut the door and hop up on the table. He puts his head against my leg. “Tired?”

  “Always,” he says.

  “Also your fault.”

  He gives me a look. “Anything that isn’t my fault?”

  “Nope.” I grin and kiss him softly.

  He sighs and puts his food down. “I’m glad you’re here. I have your test results back.”

  Excitement courses through me. “Really? That fast?”

  “That fast. I called in a favor, got it done right away.”

  I bite my lip. “I don’t know if I want to know.”

  “Sure you do.” He gets up and walks across the room.

  Aiden is gorgeous. The way he moves, the way he looks, everything about him is style and grace and masculinity. He’s strong and intense and smart. He’s still an asshole, but I think I’m starting to soften him.

  A little bit, at least.

  He grabs a clipboard and lifts it up, clearing his throat.

  “Well, Mrs. Hill, it looks as though you truly are pregnant.”

  I let out a shout and jump to my feet. He grins, dropping the clipboard, and lifts me into the air.

  I hug him tight, kissing him deep.

  “We need more kids around here,” he says softly. “I guess we’ll have to provide a few.”

  “I guess so.”

  Excitement runs through me. Pregnant, oh god, freaking pregnant.

  We talked about this early on. I wasn’t sure he’d want kids, since he’s older, but he definitely does. We didn’t rush into anything at first, but now, after a year of being married, we’re both ready.

  Children. A family. Our practice taking off.

  Nothing could be better.

  He kisses me slowly, holding me tight. “Wow,” I say softly. “I’m going to have a baby.”

  “I’m going to be a father.”

  “It’s weird, right?”

  “Really weird. But really good.”

  I look up at him. “I should be nervous, but I’m not.”

  “Good. You don’t need to be.”

  “You’ll take care of me.”

  He smirks. I know that look.

  It’s the look he always gives me. The look he gives me when he’s Daddy, when he’s tying me up, when he’s making my body feel like it’s burning down with pleasure.

  “That’s right,” he says, kissing me slowly.

  “Okay, okay, I don’t have time for this,” I say, pushing him away with a grin.

  “I know,” he says softly. “But work will end eventually.”

  I laugh. Excitement tinges my grin. “Yeah, eventually.”

  He kisses me one more time. “You know how excited I am, right?”

  “I know.”

  “We’re going to do this right. The practice, the baby… everything.”

  “I know we are.” I kiss him one more time. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  I squeeze his hand and turn to go.

  “By the way, your grandmother’s coming in today,” he says.

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “She’s doing fine. Just a checkup.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Aiden and my grandmother have gotten along really well lately, and her health is better than ever. I bet she could run a marathon.

  “See you later,” he says as I leave the exam room.

  I lean up against the wall in the hallway for a moment, catching my breath.

  I’m married to a brilliant doctor who’s older and makes me feel so incredible. We’re running a highly successful practice that’s actually helping people.

  And now I’m having his baby.

  I don’t know how my life ended up here. I was just some random girl, doing illustrations for an ad agency, and now I’m happier than I’ve ever been. I’m content, I’m fulfilled.

  I love my life. I love my husband.

  Things are perfect. Every time I think about what’s coming, I can’t help but smile.

  All because of Aiden. This is all because of him.

  I head back to work, although it’s not really work. It’s my life, it’s my world.

  My husband, my baby. I love him, and I know I’ll love my baby.

  I can’t wait for what’s next.

  THE END

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  Coach Daddy

  1

  Leah

  “Can you keep a secret?”

  I stand and stare at the handsome man sitting at his desk across from me, his blue eyes piercing into mine.

  Coach Wood is really freaking hot. I mean, I don’t normally gush over guys. That’s not really my thing. But this man is so stupidly attractive that I genuinely don’t understand how I’m even standing in the same room as him.

  Every girl on the training staff keeps talking about it. He looks like a model, older and more rugged and more muscular, but his face is like perfectly symmetrical. His eyes are the sort of blue that almost makes you uncomfortable, but in a good way.

  I have no clue how old he is, but he must be in his forties. I mean, he’s the head coach of an NFL team, so he can’t be young. It’s hard to say exactly just based on his looks, since he’s so handsome, he could pretty much be any age.

  I’d guess forties, though. Ever since I was hired by the Fargo Chainsaws and started a few days ago, I keep finding myself stealing glances at the coach, imagining his lips against my neck, his hands on my body, and now here I am alone with him in his office and he wants to know…

  If I can keep a secret?

  I clear my throat. “Uh, yeah, I think so.”

  “You think so?” He raises an eyebrow, a little smile coming to his lips.

  “I think so,” I repeat. “Depends on the secret.”

  He laughs. “Shut the door, please, Leah.”

  I hesitate, but I step further into his office and shut the door behind me. There are a few people still in the locker room, a few huge defensive lineman unwrapping their catcher’s-glove-sized hands.

  “It’s a secret about me,” he says. “The sort of thing that I don’t want getting around the office, you understand?”

  I nod, eyes a little wider than normal, trying to understand what’s happening here. “Okay,” I say. “I think I follow.”

  He sighs. “It’s nothing sinister. It’s just… as a head coach, I’m expected to be tough. These guys would eat me alive if they knew.”

  I stare at him, blinking a little. What the heck is he talking about? I mean, what could his secret possibly be?

  Coach Wood looks like the manliest man imaginable. He’s like the sort of man you’d see in a commercial for axes or something like that. Or maybe truck commercials. Yeah, he’d be changing a tire without his shirt on, sweat rolling down his perfectly sculpted pecs…

  Ahem. I can’t imagine what kind of secret he’d have that would make anyone think less of him.

  The man’s a specimen. A finely-tuned specimen.

  “I think I should just show you,” he says, suddenly standing up.

  “Okay,” I say stupidly.

  He comes around the desk, unbuckling his belt. “I don’t know if you’ll be abl
e to see it,” he says, “but believe me, it’s there.”

  I bite my lip, heart pounding. “Uh, is that necessary?” I ask him as he slips off his pants. He’s wearing black boxer briefs underneath, and I swear I can see the bulge of his cock.

  “It’s an old injury,” he says, almost as if I didn’t speak. “Got surgery on it a while ago, but it never really healed right.” He sighs, both hands on his right quad. “See what I mean?”

  I manage to tear my eyes away from his package long enough to notice the long surgical scar running down the length of his upper thigh. I blink, surprised at how ugly it looks. Whoever put in those stitches did a freaking horrible job.

  My mind suddenly snaps into place. He’s showing me an old injury, one that was fixed at some point, but clearly not fixed well. I start thinking like a trainer again. I’d guess a broken femur, maybe even shattered. I step closer to him, kneeling down to examine the scar.

  “I was young and dumb once,” he says, laughing softly. “Never imagined I’d be an old man in constant pain.”

  “You’re not old,” I murmur, staring at his leg. “Do you mind?” I ask as I reach for it.

  “Go ahead,” he says.

  I prod at the spot, touching the scarred skin. I’m in total professional mode, but there’s a voice in the back of my head that’s screaming right now.

  I’m kneeling in front of the most handsome man in the world, his pants down around his ankles, touching his bare thigh. His cock is seriously inches from my mouth.

  I glance at it. Shit, shit, I glance away. I can’t look at his dick when I’m this close to him. Concentrate, Leah, you idiot.

  I take a deep breath and move back. “Hurts?” I ask him.

  “Constantly.” He rubs it softly. “I was hoping you could help.”

  “I have some ideas,” I say. “But how did you get that, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  He pulls his pants up and buckles the belt. I wish he wouldn’t.

  “Motorcycle accident,” he says. “Mostly everything else has healed up by now, but I shattered my femur and they had to put me back together. Didn’t do a great job at it, though. Ended my career back then.”

  I nod, not surprised by the injury. I knew that he got hurt a while ago and couldn’t play football anymore, which is why he went into coaching. But I didn’t know it was from a motorcycle accident, or that he still had lingering pain from it.

  That’s the sort of thing football players don’t think about. Each and every one of them is beat to hell with multiple cuts, bruises, lacerations, you name it. They’re basically existing on painkillers and tape to hold them together all season long, season after season.

  But nobody complains. The guys that whine about the pain are called weak, picked on by the bigger, stronger players. It’s like a frat, except these men are professionals at hurting other people on the field.

  I can completely understand why Coach Wood wants to keep this from his players. They treat the staff almost the same way they treat each other, and respect has to be earned. At this level, all the players know what they’re doing, and they only listen to a coach when the coach can prove his worth.

  Limping around, complaining about an old injury is not going to get him very far.

  “Think you can help?” he prompts me from my thoughts.

  “Yes,” I say. “I think so. We’ll try some massage and some exercises at first and go from there.”

  He nods. “Very good. And listen, please, keep this between us. I don’t want word getting around that their new coach isn’t up for this.”

  “I promise, it’ll stay between the two of us.”

  He leans back against his desk, arms crossed. I stare into his eyes, not letting myself glance down at his package again. I was inches away from it, practically ready to open my mouth and taste him. It’s so crazy to be thinking about my boss like this, especially when I’ve only been working here for like a week.

  Then again, nobody’s been working here long. The Fargo Chainsaws are part of a new NFL expansion program, and it’s the latest team to get thrown together. The facility was only opened about two weeks before I was hired.

  “How often?” he asks.

  “Every day if we can,” I say, biting my lip. The thought of being close to him like this every day…

  “We’ll make it happen. Thanks again, Leah.”

  I don’t know how he knows my name, but I’m not complaining. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Coach Wood.”

  He grins at me. “Call me Cole.”

  “Okay, Cole.” I roll the name around my tongue, feeling it out.

  “See you tomorrow.”

  He goes around his desk and I leave his office, my mind buzzing, confusion and desire warring inside of me.

  He’s probably twenty years older than me. He’s my boss. He’s the head of a new NFL team.

  He wants me down on my knees, massaging his thigh, inches from his big cock.

  I don’t know how I ended up in this situation, but work just got a lot more interesting.

  2

  Cole

  I walk through the hallway of the stadium, my new home office, and I can’t help but smile.

  This was years in the making. I went from an assistant high school coach, to head of a Division 3 college program, to now running one of the new NFL expansion teams. We’re based out of Fargo, North Dakota, which isn’t exactly where I ever wanted to live, but it’s still amazing.

  My own NFL team. I worked fucking hard for this, but it’s still a miracle. I never expected to be here, but here I am.

  I walk past the weight room, the swimming pool, the whirl pools, the equipment room, and any number of storage closets and offices. It takes a lot to run a successful NFL team, and fortunately our owner understands what’s necessary.

  We have everything, the best of everything. I couldn’t ask for anything else…

  Except maybe not to be based out of Fargo, North Dakota.

  I rub my thigh absently as I go. The injury always bothered me, but this last year it’s gotten a lot worse. I think maybe because of the stress of this new venture, or maybe because I’m on my feet a lot more. Either way, it’s painful.

  I keep myself from limping. A couple of linebackers come walking down the hall, heading toward the pool room. I nod at them and they nod back, a sign of respect.

  Respect which is earned, not freely given. If I walked around here like an old man, they wouldn’t give a shit about me.

  “Coach,” a familiar voice says.

  I turn and spot Robby coming toward me, his hat pulled down low over his face, his glasses pushed snug up his nose. He’s staring at a clipboard with some papers on top of it, probably full of numbers.

  “What’s up, Robby?”

  “Sean’s drilling outside. Are you heading out?”

  Sean is our quarterback, the heart of our team. He’s a tall guy, pale, red hair, square jaw. All-American-looking kind of kid. Smart, solid arm, but not the best runner in the world.

  “Not now,” I say.

  “He’s putting up some respectable numbers today, his yards-per-throw alone is just—”

  “Thanks, Robby,” I say with a sigh. “I’ll see you out there.”

  He nods and hurries away. Robby’s my assistant and he’s been with me for a long time. He’s been my right hand ever since I took over at Monray College, and I had to bring him with me when we got moved up to the NFL.

  He’s a numbers guy, basically obsessed with numbers. I need that, to be honest. Keeps me honest.

  I coach from the heart. I go by what I see and what I think. Previous experience tells me what I need to know.

  But Robby keeps me in check. It’s annoying sometimes, but necessary.

  I hurry on. I should be out on the field, watching Sean toss the ball, but I don’t feel like it right now.

  I can hear voices coming from the training room. I recognize Felix, one of our wide receivers. I think he’s going to be our star, but it’
s too early to say for sure.

  He’s laughing, saying something else, followed by more laughter. I linger in the hall and look inside.

  Leah’s there, pulling his arm back, stretching his shoulder. Felix is laughing with another receiver, a kid named Alan. I can’t hear what they’re laughing about, but it doesn’t matter.

  I’m too busy staring at Leah.

  The girl is beautiful, striking in a way I’d basically forgotten about. Long, thick, dark hair, bright green eyes, long lashes, pale skin. She looks like she belongs in a Disney movie or something. Her eyes are big and round, her body is full in all the right places, and she’s probably eight inches shorter than me.

  I’ve given up a lot over the years. I don’t have a family and I haven’t had a girlfriend in a long time. I’ve been married to my job, to the great sport of football. I’ve spent my whole life coaching, getting better as a coach, improving myself. Certain things have fallen by the wayside.

  I used to clean up as a younger man, especially in my playing days. I’d go from woman to woman, a new one every night. But I’ve slowed down over the years as my priorities have shifted.

  Leah’s the first woman I’ve ever noticed. Hell, she’s more like a girl. She’s twenty-one, almost twenty years younger than me. She could be my daughter.

  I don’t care, though. I can feel that old stirring inside of me. Desire, lust.

  Better coaches than me have gone down for this. The NFL frowns at any sort of improper behavior in its coaches. Any whiff of scandal, and you’re out. They don’t mess around.

  Wanting this girl could be a problem.

  I rub my thigh and sigh. I have bigger issues, though.

  I walk to the training room door and pull it open. The players both look up. “Excuse me, boys,” I say. “I need Leah there for a second.”

  She looks a little surprised.

  “Anything you want, Coach,” Felix says. “Just so long as you keep throwing me that ball.”

  “We’ll see, son,” I say, grinning at him. Felix is as outgoing as he is talented, and it’s hard not to like him.