by Natalie Wrye
My brain can’t work when the thought of a naked Sevin is still in it. I tap my throat.
“Yes, that’s right. I knocked on your door.”
His green eyes glow. “Yes, you did.”
“I came up here because I wanted to talk.”
“Just you?” He glances behind him. “Where’s Kayla? Where’s… Charlie?” A ball of emotion seems to clog his throat.
“Both asleep.” I shrug. “The flight wore them both out.”
Sevin arches an eyebrow. “And what about you? Flight didn’t have the same effect?”
“Takes a lot more to wear me out.”
My response makes him smile, and I brush off the fact that what I said sounded like an invitation for him to do just that: Wear me out.
I shift on my feet. “We have a lot to go over…with this case and the potential tabloid blowback. Stephan wants to make sure everything is perfect.”
“Stephan. Right. Of course. I’m your job… Almost forgot.” His full lips frown for a second, but then he steps aside, giving me a clear shot to the inside of his hotel room. “So, come in. Let’s talk.”
The invitation is sweet. And yet I’m no longer sure I want to take it.
Straightening my backbone with as much fake confidence as I can muster, I walk me and my newest Armani skirt suit past Sevin, smelling his soapy fresh scent, reminding myself he’s just a client…and that this? This is just a job.
Just like he said.
Problem is: It’s a little harder to remember that when Sevin closes his hotel door, locking us in.
I take a seat on the far side of the suite, setting up shop at a small dining area table.
I lay out notes from the briefcase on my arm. “So, can I begin?”
“As you wish.” He motions. “Would you like a drink?”
“I don’t drink on the clock.”
“Ah, right. You equals employee. Me equals client. You’re right.”
He walks over to the wet bar, pouring himself a drink. He still hasn’t changed into his clothes and I watch his back muscles bunch, resisting the urge to wet my lips. I sit up straighter.
“I want to address what would happen in the worst case scenario: That is to say, if Deborah Jett actually does publish her story about your potential paternity to a blog or magazine.”
I feel my hands sweating but I keep going.
“In order to file an injunction against the magazine that publishes these rumors about you, I’d have to make you aware of what your options are.” I glance up to see Sevin nodding, a new glass of gin in his hand. I keep going.
“In this case, since the story about you would be in print, we may be able to pursue a case of libel, whereby a journalist or media outlet has published something false about you—a statement that has no merit. Are you staying with me here?”
I watch Sevin blink at me, blankly, his jaw ticking slowly. He puts down the glass. “I am.”
“Here in the U.S., the bar for proving libel or defamation is a lot higher for a celebrity like you as opposed to any regular person…” I shrug. “Like me.”
I lick my lips. “The publication will have had to demonstrate what is called a “reckless disregard for the truth”—either a lack of fact-checking, or printing the false story in spite of knowing the facts. So, not only would we have to prove that a false statement was published but that it was published with actual malice.”
I pause. “Am I being clear?”
“Crystal, actually.”
I notice Sevin’s shoulders tense, and something in me wants to stop. “Keep going?”
His jaw pulses. Pulse. Pulse. Pulse. “Yes, I need to hear this.”
“I’m not going to lie to you, Sevin. Winning a case like this, if Deborah does take it public, won’t be easy. And in terms of the PR?” I sigh, one hand smoothing my skirt as I sit straighter. “Look, I’m no expert here. But from what I’ve heard from our firm employee Ben, pursing something like this might not shine the best light in your favor. Since the bar for proof is so high for a public figure, it’s quite likely that we may not win.”
I inhale steadily. “And if we do—and that’s a big if—then a drawn-out court case can cause a slew of bad press, leaving you facing a very negative public opinion. And let’s face it: Your reputation isn’t exactly sterling silver.”
This makes him stand more upright, his large hand pushing the glass of gin away. “Meaning what exactly? Let’s get specific.”
I feel my stomach tighten, apprehension gripping my gut from the inside-out. I take a deep breath, meeting his eye. “Your departure from New York hasn’t exactly endeared you to all NYC fans who would have rather seen you stick out the rest of your career back in your hometown.”
“Plenty of other athletes request trades.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You’re not exactly the most media-friendly player on the team.”
“Because those blogging bastards never quit hounding me.”
“And the women…”
His jaw won’t stop clenching at that one. His green eyes narrow.
“I’ve done my research on you dating back to your college years…” I flip through his file. “And the number of women you’ve been connected to range from several Miss USA’s to pop singers. There was once even a rumor that you were exchanging more than pleasantries with the president’s wife…”
“She asked for gum at a press event,” he interjects, his pine-colored eyes hard. “That was it.”
“And last but not least…” I don’t stop. “There are the persisting stories about you and your college coach’s daughter.”
At this, Sevin’s mouth snaps shut, and I continue talking. “There was talk that you and university darling were perhaps once a ‘thing.’”
“A thing?” He scoffs, leaning forward. “Is that the legal term for it these days?”
“Sevin,” I warn. “I’m only telling you what’s been said about you…”
“Well, I’m sorry, but I have to admit: It sounds a hell of a lot like you being my judge and jury.” Crossing his large muscular arms, Sevin’s palm drops to the hotel wet bar with a thud that makes the surface shake. I glance up at him, my heart starting to beat hard.
“That’s not fair to say.”
“Isn’t it?” His dark hair falls forward as he stares at me, arms crossing, his deep voice lowering to an accusatory rumble. “It wouldn’t be a stretch, Miss Armand, to say that you’ve judged me the moment you met me. Hell, even before… Maybe that’s why you’re not so great with people.”
“That’s not true,” I retort. But my voice is trembling, my breath leaving my lips in ragged breaths. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh come off it. I may not be the world’s most clairvoyant man, but it’s clear as hell that you have something to prove. To who or what I have no idea. And I have no idea, Emily…” He throws his hands in the air, letting them fall. “I have no idea who or what hurt you, but it wasn’t me.”
“I think it’s time you turn that finger around and point back at yourself, Mr. Smith. You are hardly the most trusting man in the world, don’t you think? For all the women you’ve been connected to in the press, you’ve never once gone public with a woman.” I count on my fingers. “Not a wife. Not a fiancée. Not even as much as a girlfriend.”
My anger throws my professionalism out the window, and even though I’m doing my best at playing serious-faced lawyer in my sensible high heels and Armani, my emotion gets the best of me.
“My thoughts?” I throw at him. “There’s a reason. A reason why you won’t so much as let yourself get comfortable with a damn hallway cat.” I stand up, cross my own arms, forgetting that this is supposed to be a business meeting. That I’m practically yelling a client. And that the client is nearly naked. “I’m not the only one ‘not so great with people.’”
My nerves join my anger, taking a flying leap out the window with it.
Because this is me doing my job.
> This is me proving myself as part of my crisis management firm. This is what it takes.
It takes truth.
And I’m not going to be afraid of it any longer.
Yes, I admit to myself: I am attracted to Sevin. But that doesn’t stop me from telling him, my client, exactly what he needs to hear.
I level an important question at him. The most important one, actually.
“Do you want to take a paternity test?”
He stiffens. “Take a paternity test?” He scoffs. “To prove my paternity to a mysterious woman who dropped her kid off on my doorstep for a million dollars? A woman who I wouldn’t trust with an imaginary goldfish for a pet? That woman?” He closes his eyes, opening them with a fire blazing behind them. “You said it yourself. I’m not so great with caring about people.” The blaze in his green stare sears my skin. “What do you think a man like that would do?”
I wet my bottom lip, my eyes flickering up to his, as I blow out a breath. “You want me to be honest?”
A hint of humor hits his bright irises. “You’ve been honest so far. Don’t stop.”
I hold his hot gaze, battling the war inside my body that keeps me stuck to the spot. I take a step closer. “I think you’re a man capable of doing whatever you want, Sevin. A man capable of more.”
I risk another step. “Fighting a paternity suit isn’t all you’re up against. You have to fight your case in the court of public opinion. No matter what you say or do, you will always be wrong in someone’s eyes. Whether or not you are Charlie’s father, there’s a fight that you have to fight, and that’s whether or not you want to be the man the papers will paint you as…”
Another step brings me nearer.
“Or whether or not you want to be the man you know you can be.”
I shrug, my stomach tightening as Sevin’s eyes settle on my face. “Question is: Which man do you want to be? Do you want to be that man who doesn’t know how to care about people? You’ll have to figure that out on your own before you ever take anyone’s paternity test.”
I inhale, and the tension between Sevin and I draws tighter than a string. Drawing me to him. I finally exhale. “Because once you do, Sevin, there’s no going back. There’s no going back to the man you once were.”
The question carries with it a ring of truth that sucker-punches even me. And the raw energy between the two of us standing there, mere feet apart, thickens enough to make the room sway.
I swear the hotel suite actually moves.
Especially when Sevin picks up his glass of gin, giving it a single swallow, his naked damp chest heaving.
I watch him, even as he sets the glass on the bar, pushing it away once more.
And I can do nothing but watch further as he crosses the length of the room, his green eyes hotly on me, his arms raising as he grabs me and kisses me, pushing the last thing—my sense—out of the window too.
Chapter 10
EMILY
Thursday night
His kiss is every bit as incredible as I thought it’d be. And I can’t get my brain to slow down.
To remember that he’s a client. A client that could make or break the case I’m currently on.
But I don’t care.
I don’t care about anything that’s not Sevin’s lips or hands or tongue.
My backside pressed against the hotel suite’s dining room table, I let him sink his mouth onto mine, and it may be the best thing I’ve ever felt in my life.
Every thought in my brain is fried the second our lips meet, and I instantly wrap myself around the walking, talking wall of muscle, my fingers reaching up to dig into his naked broad shoulders.
He is one large contradiction standing before me. Soft and hard. Sensual. Rough. Infuriating and yet so damn soothing to my senses that I feel myself melt right on the spot.
For a man who claims to be good at nothing but baseball, he is a certified professional in weakening my knees with one eager kiss that erases all thought.
Deepening it with the ferocity that probably makes him unstoppable on the baseball field, he slides his tongue to smooth against mine, and I grab onto whatever brain cells are still left in my mind.
I take a step back, meeting his eyes which are hooded with enough desire to make me crumple to the floor. I lick my lips, searching for sense.
“We can’t do this.”
“Do what exactly?” His words are a raspy groan as his lips hover over mine.
“This. Kiss. We can’t kiss.”
“Who says?”
“Common sense, Sevin. You are my client.”
“And your neighbor and an asshole according to my assistant and probably a lot of other things.” He holds onto my face. “But the most important thing I am right now is a man who will literally implode if I take my hands off you.”
Good grief. That common sense is sure slipping out of my fingers. I hold on for dear life.
“I could get in trouble,” I say as his lips trail softly to my neck, his hands drifting to my hips.
“With who? Our doorman Hank? I’ll kick his ass.”
I sigh, whimpering as his wet mouth lowers. “With Stephan. My boss, Sevin.”
“You’re a grown woman, kitten,” he whispers against my skin. “And I’m an adult. We can do what we want, you know.”
I don’t even know what I want.
I’ve never wanted anything outside of my career. Not really.
I’d wanted Jason at some point. But then again, Jason had never kissed me, touched me, stroked me like this.
And the more Sevin moves his mouth against my neck and collarbone, the more his slightly calloused hands caress my lower back and hips, the more difficult it is to remember wanting anything outside of him.
I make a final attempt. “Sevin, it’s hard to talk when you’re doing this.”
“Then maybe you should think less about talking…” His fingers roam lower. “And more about this.”
“This what?”
“This.”
And then his fingers find their mark.
His hand finds its way under my business skirt and he begins skimming the cotton across my pantyline. The move makes me gasp, and I won’t even allow myself to think about what will happen if the half-naked athlete moves his hands any lower.
I’m already wet just from a simple stroke across my hip bone.
Sevin lifts his mouth from my skin to look at me.
“What do you want, Emily?”
He pecks my lips with a sensuous short kiss. “Less Led Zeppelin playing on those late work nights? I’ll keep the music down.”
Another kiss.
“More alone time in the elevator? I’ll tell that mean old Mrs. Headley to take a hike.”
He reconnects his mouth to mine, and I swoon.
“Or do you want something a little more immediate?”
His fingers toy with the edge of my underwear, and it is like a straight shot to my sex. I know I am soaking poor Bugs Bunny, whose face is imprinted on my crotch, but I don’t care.
I don’t care about anything other than what Sevin is doing to me right now. His hand dips one inch lower, and I bite my bottom lip, meeting his hot green gaze.
“I’m guessing that’s a yes to my question?” He asks, even as his hand lowers to stroke my damp slit, sliding across the drenched fabric.
I nod, coming apart as my fingers dig deep indentations into his broad shoulders. My eyes flutter closed.
The sensation of Sevin stroking two fingers across my sex, slowly and deliberately, is enough to make me come, and I steady myself against that same dining room table, legs quivering as, at last, Sevin slips his hand beneath my panties, meeting me skin to skin.
I can’t stop the moan that leaves my mouth.
He cups my mound, curling just two fingers over my slippery center, and just when I think I can’t take enough sensation, his head lowers, bending to cover one blouse-covered nipple with his hot mouth.
I come instantly, soa
king his fingers like the inexperienced lover that I am.
His name is a rough moan on my mouth, and I am powerless to stop him as he keeps sliding those two talented fingers along my heat, his teeth tugging around my sensitive nub.
“God, Sevin…” I breathe, wanting more.
I’m suddenly greedy for his touch, my body arching into his.
But the sound of a knock on the door interrupts any more I have to say, and, shocked right back to reality, I pull out of Sevin’s embrace, my fingers flying to my skirt as I adjust.
“Shit, shit, shit,” I mutter over and over. “Were you expecting anybody?”
“Absolutely fucking not.” His deepened voice is a growl. “And I’ll get rid of them right now.” He glances at me, his dark hair falling over his face, like a sexy angel. “Don’t you move from that spot. Please. Don’t move.”
But before I can answer, he’s already heading towards the door in large steps, one hand on his towel as he unlocks the door, shoving the heavy wood aside.
I can’t see who’s in the doorway. But I can hear him. Clear as day.
“Glad to see you’re out of the shower,” the deep voice rumbles from the doorway. “Now we can really get this party started. You remember Daphne, don’t you?” The voice drops even lower. “Because she sure as hell remembers you.”
“Hi, Sevin,” I hear, a sugary sweet southern voice chipping in. “It’s good to see you again.” The woman drawls. “Really good. And what lucky timing.” I hear the voice come closer. “A couple of the other bunnies and I are in town for another event with the Milwaukee Bruisers. Thought you might want to pick up where we left off…”
My stomach swirls at the woman’s words, and I clutch my stomach to settle it.
This is it. This is him.
This is the Sevin that I remember. This is the man man living above me, with more women than a Sheryl Crow concert.
I slide my skirt further down my hips, feeling my face enflame as Sevin speaks up.
“Yeah, Saw, now’s not a good time.”
“What? It’s not like you couldn’t use the company…”
I close the distance, stepping towards the doorway so that I can gaze over Sevin’s shoulder.