by Natalie Wrye
“Nothing was better than last night.” His green eyes twinkle under the rising sunlight, showing their sparkling depths. His returning smile is similarly sparkling. “But I think I could give the last six hours a run for their money, if you give me…” He winces, seemingly thinking. “Six more minutes to convince you.”
“Six minutes?” I gape. “Is that all you need?”
“Six months straight of you in my bed wouldn’t be enough, kitten.” He stares at me pointedly. “And you know that. But if I recall, on the plane back to the city, you mentioned a meeting with Stephan. And I’ve gotta get ready myself. I have some training to do before tomorrow’s game back in Arizona. Before that, of course…” His voice deepens. “I’d like to make you come at least two more times. As much as the six minutes will allow, at least.”
This time, I spin the entire way around, escaping from Sevin’s spooning to meet his gaze. “Make it seven, and I’ll add in something extra.”
“Oh? What did you have in mind?”
I smile. “Only returning one of your many favors.” I slide beneath the sheets, heading southward. “I’m not only a receiver, Mr. Smith. I can be a giver. And right now, I want to give you a reason for the extra minute.”
He exhales. “As if I need one.” He chuckles. “But I won’t stop you, kitten. Give away.”
And that’s exactly what I do.
It’s been a long time. But I hope it’s like riding a bike.
Pressing my lips to the edge of Sevin’s semi-hard cock gives me more pleasure than any case brief, and within seconds, his beautiful pink erection comes alive, standing at attention in full salute.
The damn thing is beautiful.
Like the man it belongs to, it’s amazingly unreal.
Long and thick and magnificent, it turns to steel under my slight touch, and I can’t believe I can do this to Sevin. That I’m capable of making him this hard.
I wrap my tongue around his wide head, unsure of myself for a second. But the groan that leaves Sevin’s lips when I do it is all the affirmation I need.
Soon, I am licking and sucking and stroking with the fervor of a fever. The fever that Sevin has ignited inside my body in the last few days we’ve been together.
I’m more me. More confident than ever before.
Especially when Sevin’s hands sink into my hair.
“That’s it, baby. Oh, fuck, you feel so good.”
His utterances are an insta-turn-on.
I swirl my tongue along his underside, sucking with my mouth. My lips slide across the length of his cock, squeezing hard, and with each pull of my lips, with every extra ounce of pressure I apply as I stroke Sevin up and down with my wet tongue and mouth and hands, I witness the game-winning baseball player fall apart.
He pulls the sheets back, revealing his face and when I get the vision of him, lying there, attempting desperately to control himself, his eyes and teeth clenched, I pick up the pace, wanting him to fully lose control and release himself immediately into my mouth.
I get what I want.
Sevin climaxes under my touch.
I milk him with my lips, sucking him down. Even the taste of him is perfect, and I swallow with glee, loving that I’m not the only one at someone else’s mercy. Savoring the not-so-small fact that I drive the unattainable athlete just as crazy as he drives me.
It feels good to know it.
When he opens his eyes, his pine-colored irises are alight, shining with lust. He reaches for me, tugging me towards him, and seizes my mouth in a savage kiss, one that makes all of my effort more than worth it.
I smile in triumph when he pulls back, locking me with his stare. “You are a crazy woman, you know that?”
I shrug. “If the fur fits…”
“Remember when I said I wanted to bury myself inside you so deeply that I disappeared?”
I’m breathless when I reply. “Yes.”
“Well, I haven’t quite managed that yet, and now’s as good a time as any. We’ll call Stephan. Push back this meeting with Charlie’s mom until later tonight.” He kisses me quick and hard. “I’m going to call my trainer. Find a way out of this morning’s session.”
“What about tomorrow’s game?”
“Tomorrow’s game is tomorrow.” His gaze brightens in my direction. “But I need you all today and tonight.” He pauses. “How about spending as much time as possible in bed before Charlie wakes up, then spending the day all together and going to dinner tonight?”
“And afterwards?” My chest tightens, filled with tendrils of fear. “Are we just going to give up Charlie? Let Deborah take her back to New York or wherever?”
Sevin stares. “Not without a fight. Definitely not without her father. And I don’t need any paternity test to confirm it. I know. Charlie’s my daughter…no matter who Finley has been to her. And I’m not letting her go yet.”
The grip around my throat loosens with his words, and I tilt my head to him, my lips tugging upward as I gaze into his gorgeous face. “As long as the dinner is some type of noodle. I’m partial to Kung Pao.”
“Kitten.” Sevin sits up in bed. “You can eat whatever the hell you’d like. As long as you know that I’ll be eating whatever I like the second we get back.”
I perk up. “You’ve got a deal.”
The words are no sooner out of my mouth before the penthouse intercom buzzes, breaking my momentary nirvana. I glance around the spacious room.
I have no idea where most of my belongings are. My guess: They’re still in the living room.
But the buzzing doesn’t stop, and within seconds, Sevin reaches for his discarded jeans, picking them off the floor and placing them on. He kisses me quickly, heading out to the living room, his voice the poster child for impatience when he picks up the intercom, his words a hushed snap around the corner.
“It’s six o’clock in the morning. This better be important, Hank.”
I want to answer that it can’t possibly be. But I let Sevin talk.
The impatient tones turn into panicked ones, and though I can’t hear the entire conversation, I recognize the alarm in it. A few short seconds later, Sevin’s footsteps come marching around the corner.
The furrow in his dark brows deepens as he appears in the bedroom doorway, his face carved with confusion. But it’s not the tone of Sevin’s voice that scares me or his eerie silence right after. It’s the look of terror teeming in those dark green eyes.
He looks up.
“That was Hank buzzing in.”
I sit forward, gripping the sheets to my chest. “We made too much noise last night, didn’t we? Dammit.”
“No.” Sevin shakes his head, barely able to get the words out. His speech is gritty, his teeth grinding together. “He noticed someone leaving the building about an hour ago. He had just left the desk for a minute, he said.” Sevin exhales, a sharp huff that leaves his lungs in a rush. He pushes one hand through his hair. “A little girl.”
He steps forward, his body so hunched I fear he might fall forward. His eyes are pained when they clash with mine.
“And I just checked the spare bedroom. And she’s not there.”
“What…?” I choke on my own voice. “You mean, Charlie’s not…?”
“Charlie’s not there.” Sevin interrupts. “I think… I think that Charlie just ran away.”
Chapter 24
SEVIN
Sunday
I’ve never felt sheer terror in all of my life.
Until the second I realize Charlie is missing.
All bets are off the minute I start breathing again after my convo with Hank, and I call in my re-enforcements, my feet nearly boring a hole in the hardwood as I pace the length of my penthouse.
It’s time.
I know it’s time. It’s past time.
And maybe I waited too late.
It’s time to reveal my secret to all of the people who care about me. As in everything.
The press will spill it all, anyway.
Might as well beat them to the punch.
To be honest, beaten and punched is exactly how I feel right now. At least, until the women I care about come back.
Emily is the first. She retreats to my built-for-seven bathroom, quickly showering and dressing in her leftover clothes from Arizona, taking her discarded suitcase in with her. Twenty minutes later, she reappears, draped sexily in a pair of jeans and a white tight t-shirt, her hair loose—a departure from her more demure business skirt suits.
But as for the second, much tinier, much younger little woman?
Well, she’s still missing.
And even though I’m ecstatic seeing Emily’s gorgeous face, I kick myself with the knowledge that if this were any other day, I’d be able to sweep her into my arms, dig my hands into that shiny hair and kiss the hell out of her.
But this isn’t any normal day.
This is Hell.
And Emily can tell. She approaches me, wrapping her arms around me, as she pulls me in for a quick hug. Her lips brush the edge of my jaw.
“I’m so fucking sorry.”
I exhale, rubbing a hand over my forehead. “I know you are. I am, too. But there’s nothing for you to be sorry about, kitten. This wasn’t your fault.”
“Isn’t it?” Her voice is soft, and the guilt is written in her pretty face. Her hazel eyes fill with unshed tears, and she turns away, her small nose pointed towards the Chicago horizon outside of my living room windows. She sniffs. “If I weren’t here, distracting you…”
I extend a hand towards her, grabbing her wrist. “Don’t.”
“I should have been focused on doing my job. And I wasn’t.” Her footsteps are stilted as I tug her towards me. “I dropped the ball.”
“I dropped the ball,” I correct.
“But this wasn’t your job. I’m the professional here.” Her loose hair hangs in waves, and she threads her fingers through it, tugging at the roots. “You and Charlie and this case are my responsibility. Not yours.”
“Isn’t it, though?” My eyes narrow at her furrowed face, and I can’t hold back the rage that heats under my skin. “Charlie is my responsibility. She’s… I’m…” I can’t even say it.
Can’t even admit what I’ve known all along.
From the moment I saw Charlie’s face outside my penthouse apartment. From the second I took in her pine-green eyes and sandy hair and stone-faced resemblance.
Before she’d even revealed her stringent love of baseball, I’d known.
Known that she was mine.
My daughter.
There was no DNA test needed. Charlie Jett was my child. And more than anyone else on Earth, even Emily, it was my responsibility to get her back.
I’m still stuck, stumbling over my explanations to Emily when my penthouse door swings open.
Naomi bursts through the doorway, brown bob pinned off her shoulders, her eyes wide behind her usual spectacles, as she comes storming through, her head on a swivel.
“Where is she?” She demands. “Charlie!” She calls out. “Charlie!”
“Nome.” Her name is stern on my lips. “I already told you: She’s not here. Hank showed us the videotape.” I swallow roughly, the gulp going down like sandpaper. “She took off.”
“Dammit.” Her perpetually red nails gather under her bottom lip, ready to be bitten into oblivion.
My assistant’s clearly been around me too much. Because her movements mimic mine as she stalks back and forth, her feet pitter-pattering quickly across the dark cherry hardwood floors.
She glances up at me. “Deborah is on her way here. You know that, right?”
“Yes, I was aware the first thousand times you told me before, Nome. I didn’t expect this.”
Emily steps forward. “It was my fault, really, Naomi. I, uh…” Her gaze peruses my body before flitting back to my nervous assistant. “I distracted Sevin last night.” Her voice lowers. “And this morning.”
“Oh.” Naomi’s eyes circle like teacup saucers, and just like the organized machine she is, she starts spouting solutions, her passionate mind working a way out of this issue. “Okay, okay, let’s brainstorm here. This is Chicago. It’s a big city. A new one for Charlie. There’s only so many places an eight-year old could go.”
“Yeah,” I sigh. “Like anywhere. You don’t know what’s she capable of, Nome. That grasshopper is one tough cookie.”
“Tough enough to handle the Windy City?”
I stare. “Tougher. She can do anything she puts her mind to. Whatever she’s putting her mind to right now. I’m sure our grasshopper is on some mission.” I straighten, sticking my hands on my hips. “I just have no idea what that mission is.”
“Huh.” Naomi huffs, beginning her torture on one perfect nail. “Like father, like daughter.”
I want to respond to that. But then the apartment door opens again, and in comes Sawyer, messy dark strands all over his head, his beard full-blown as he scratches it, his stare flitting everywhere around the penthouse.
“Where is he? Who the fuck do I have to kill?”
“Oh, look,” Naomi comments dryly, one finger fiddling with her glasses. “It’s the infamous Neanderthal coming to save the day.”
“Sawyer,” I interject before my teammate can start swinging on furniture. “Calm down. Charlie wasn’t kidnapped.” I blow out a breath, struggling to keep the words from shaking. “She ran away.”
Sawyer’s eyes bulge out of his chiseled face. “She ran away?”
“Or rather snuck away. Slipped out the door and down the stairs before taking off.”
Sawyer’s brow knits, forming a “V” on his face. “So why haven’t we called the cops?”
Naomi jumps in. “Because we’re not freaking crazy, Caveman. Even Chicago PD is on the paparazzi’s payroll. One whiff of this and the press will go to town on Sevin, Charlie and the whole sordid blackmail ordeal.”
Sawyer leans against the wall, sizing Naomi up. “You mean you think that crazy Deborah chick will still pursue this insane case against Sevin? Jeez, this woman has balls the size of the Millennium Park bean.” He crosses his arms. “Sevin called me this morning. Told me everything. And if I had been back in the penthouse instead of spending the night in some jersey-chaser’s pink, fluffed mattress, I might have been able to talk reason into him. Seriously. I’m more experienced with groupies than Sterling will ever be.”
“Ah, and you just wanted to dispense some advice, Mr. Groupie Guru?” Naomi questions.
“Of course.” He turns to me. “I mean, we all know this Deborah woman’s claims are complete bullshit…” The room falls silent. “Well, aren’t they?”
His accusations hit the floor with a dull thud, as no one says anything. Blue eyes disbelieving, his stare falls on every sullen face around him, his frown deepening.
I don’t know how to break it to him. How to confess.
How to tell one of my best friends since college that the nights of partying with Playboy Bunnies would soon be replaced by Bugs Bunny ones. And that the toys I’d be talking about in the near future would be the PG-kind.
I step forward. “Um, Saw…”
The second baseman raises his hand, his blue eyes squeezing in pain as he backs away. “Oh, no. No, no, no. Don’t tell me, Sterling. Tell me it isn’t true.” He opens his eyes again, and this time his stare is softer, almost tender on the gentle giant. “Are you—Are you trying to say that you’re actually a father, Sevin?”
Those few seconds before I answer are the longest of my life. I take a breath tainted with fire. It burns my chest going down. But I’m stronger than the fire.
I know that now. Because of Emily.
Because of Charlie.
I lift my chin, my stare steady. “Yeah, Saw. I am. I’m a father.”
It’s my first time saying the words. It’s my first time admitting it to myself.
There’s no doubt anymore in my mind…
Charlie is mine. My daughter.
Sawyer pauses, his gaze perusing mine then Naomi’s and Emily’s before swinging back. His eyebrows arch over his forehead. And then he walks forward, arms outstretched.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me, man?” He beckons. “Give me a goddamned hug, for fuck’s sake.”
I snort on a small laugh, wrapping my arms for a bro-hug around the muscular bear of a man. He chuckles, low and heartily, nearly picking me up off my feet.
Clapping his hand on my back, he grips hard before letting go, taking a step back to survey my face.
“Congrat-fucking-lations, Sterling.”
I shake my head, my hand still wrapped in his. “I don’t think anyone can confidently call me Sterling again.”
He scoffs, looking at me with eyes anew, a different appreciation shining through them. “Who are you telling? Looks like that old Sterling is dead.”
I nod. Because he is.
And for once, I’m not sad to see him go.
Sawyer grins. “We’ll give him a proper burial when this is all over. But for now? Let’s just focus on getting your kid back safely, huh?”
I let his hand go, slapping his shoulder. “Sounds like the best advice you’ve given me in a long time.” I glance at Naomi and Emily’s faces in the background—now more fortified than ever before. “Let’s go.”
EMILY
We all should be preparing for a trip back to Arizona. We all have careers to protect.
But Charlie comes first.
Minutes after Sawyer and Sevin have their sentimental bros face-off, the four of us take off, scouring the city, covering every inch of sidewalk we can find. Every subway. Every bus station.
Every inch of space in the wide Windy City.
I’ve never circled Chicago so fast.
The early spring weather is cloudy, thunderstorms on the horizon—half-cold, half-warm. We search under a Chicago sky as sullen as our moods, and a sheet of fog falls over the cemented sidewalks and buildings like the soft prelude to a sentimental symphony.
Only there’s nothing sentimental about the Chicago crowds.
The noise-filled streets of downtown are alive with early spring and incoming baseball fever. People in brightly colored summer outfits swarm around the plazas and infamous Cloud Gate bean, filling the streets with color and even when we split up into two’s—Sevin and me, Sawyer and Naomi, the ground still feels too large to cover.