Top Notch (Man on Top Book 1)

by Nicole Richard

  A beautiful blonde walked up to the bar and slid onto the seat next to Hatch. She did the usual combo: not-so-subtle eye contact, wet her lips, pushed her tits out before introducing herself. “Hi, I’m—”

  “And we’re not interested. Sorry.” Hatch signaled the bartender over. “Something for the lady.” The bartender nodded and looked at the woman whose mouth was hanging open in disbelief. “We’re trying to have a conversation, if you don’t mind.” Hatch dismissed the woman politely.

  She caught the hint, a scowl forming on her face. She got off her stool, rolled her eyes, and hissed like a true snake. “Fuck you. You assholes are all the same. And I can buy my own damn drink.”

  “Didn’t say you couldn’t, was just trying to be nice, but have it your way.” He shrugged, not giving a shit.

  Some women were ruthless.

  “Women.” He shook his head. “You know what you need?” He knocked back his drink and held his glass up, requesting another. “You need to get laid. Have a threesome or something. Fuck. Get fucked. What’s it been—a few weeks, a month? It’s like you’re a born-again virgin.” He laughed and a scowl formed on my face, my teeth clenching.

  Was he fucking kidding me? I was torn up, my mind never far from the only woman I’ve ever loved, and lost, and that was what he thought I needed? To get my dick wet. Fuck my way out of this. To lose myself in some random Annie’s pussy. Giving it a quick thought, it might alleviate a shitload of stress, even if only for one night.

  Then the thought of Rowan doing the same, losing herself in some guy, trying to forget about us, replacing me, moving on, caused a category-five hurricane to brew inside of me.

  “You can’t be fucking serious?” At least I didn’t think he was.

  I cocked a brow, waiting.

  “Ran into Greg on my way in.” He studied the amber liquid in his glass as he swirled it around. “Said he was having dinner, but Rowan didn’t feel too good, so she headed home early.”

  Instinctively, my head whipped toward the entrance, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. Should I run outside and see if I could catch her—stop her—talk to her? Haul her pretty ass back to Atlanta with me where she belonged?

  “Don’t worry, she’s gone.”

  “Why didn’t he tell me they were meeting?” Hatch eyed me like I had lost my mind. And in some ways maybe I had.

  “You really want me to answer that?” He slugged back the rest of his drink and stared at the bottom of his glass for longer than should be considered normal. “You know women are just pussy, right?” His words caught me by surprise. How the fuck could he say that shit after knowing what Rowan meant to me? “They all are.”

  “You got fucking issues, man.”

  “History proves it.”

  “What the fuck are you saying?” He was losing me, more like confusing the hell out of me. Hatch may be one of the biggest known players in the game, but not once had I ever heard him speak in such a degrading way about women. Never. Not even about his ex.

  “Women are mere vessels put on this earth simply for man’s pleasure. The hair, nails, makeup, waxing—who do you think they get all dolled up for?” He shrugged. “It’s all to cater to a man’s every need. Candy on our arms.” He gave his words some thought. “They use us as much as we use them.”

  I was beginning to wonder if he was talking to me or himself. If mentioning his ex was messing with his mind.

  “You can’t believe that.”

  “And what if I do?” He eyed me skeptically. “Look at what she did to you. The minute something better comes along, she doesn’t give you a second thought. Tosses you out with yesterday’s trash. Probably already moved on, giving up that sweet pussy to some smart-minded city slicker, your name already forgotten.”

  “Shut. The. Fuck. Up,” I growled, gripping the edge of the bar top. Was he looking to start shit again? His words stabbed a nerve.

  “Never seen you like this, not even with Madison,” he tossed nonchalantly. That’s because I didn’t love Madison. “What I don’t get is why? You’ve had a bevy of beautiful women falling at your feet, dying for a chance with the Bucks first baseman. Had quite a few of them. Why this one? She’s nothing special. Just another—”

  My jaw clenched and my eyes dropped to tiny slits as I lowered my voice. “You say what I think you’re going to say, and I swear to God, I’ll drag your ass out of here and end this once and for all.” Murderous rage slithered through my veins. He had gone too far. Way too fucking far.

  Hatch nodded in understanding and swallowed his drink in one breath, not even bothered by my threat.

  “Is she the one?”

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

  “You’re so fucked up in the head over this woman, I had to make you see it for yourself. If she means that much to you, why aren’t you out there”—he threw his thumb over his shoulder—“getting her back?”

  He had a point.

  I got up off my seat ready to heed his advice when I stopped short, coming to the realization that I had no idea where she lived. How would I find her in a city with close to a million people?

  “I don’t know where she lives.”

  Hatch produced a piece of paper out of thin air, earning him a cocked what-the-fuck-is-that brow.

  “It’s her address.”

  “And how the hell did you get that?” I questioned, irritated that he had my girlfriend’s address. Yeah, she was still my girl even if we weren’t together at the moment.

  “Does it really matter?”

  Did it? I guess not.

  With a quick hand, I ripped the piece of paper from between his fingers. “Tell Coach I’ll find my own way back.”

  “You better not be late.”

  I gave him the two-finger salute and hauled ass out of there.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  Levi

  I didn’t think, just reacted. And once I realized I was standing in front of Rowan’s apartment building with no game plan, I felt like an idiot. A complete fool.

  There was the very real chance she didn’t want to see me. Let alone talk to me. What if she had some guy in her apartment already filling the void? I’d strangle him, that’s what!

  Those emotions and reactions were new to me. Not once had a woman torn me up the way Rowan did. Occupying my head space, always wanting to do things with her in mind. She was every good thing in my life. She centered me, opened my eyes to things I didn’t think I needed or wanted, and as tough as it was to admit, I was proud of her. Proud that she was determined to turn her dreams into reality, never allowing anyone to deter her. She had true drive and ambition, and beyond my hurt and frustration, I truly admired her.

  And it was then, as I approached the front entrance of the high-rise, realization of where I was truly hit me. The anger and frustration a thing of the past. I studied the scrap of paper in my hand and craned my head back, my eyes gauging where in the mass of mirrored glass her apartment might be.

  With added determination, I walked up to the building and stopped, fronting the entry door. I pulled. Locked. I gazed into the front lobby, my reflection one of a lost and confused boy. It wasn’t too far off from how I actually felt. I pulled my cap low, deciding my only option would be to wait.

  And luckily, it didn’t take long.

  Some guy pushed out the front door and I slipped right in after him. I rode the elevator up to the fourteenth floor, counting the seconds. I stepped off the elevator with one destination in mind.

  My hand froze mid-knock as another dose of realization blasted through me. What if showing up unannounced upset her? After walking out of her house, I hadn’t responded to any of her voice mails or texts—I couldn’t. The thought of hearing her voice, even if recorded, would’ve messed with me more than it already had.

  Dropping my hand to the side, I took a step back, unblinking at that damn peephole, willing her to look out and see me there. Take mercy on me. Put me out of my misery. Invite me in or toss
me out on my ass.

  That didn’t happen.

  I took in a deep breath and released it along with a flurry of emotions. Anxious, I lifted my cap, scrubbed my fingers atop my head, and switched the cap to sit backward on my head. Then I moved a heavy step forward and knocked. Nothing. I gave it a few seconds and as I was about to knock for a second time, the door opened slowly. My beautiful angel stood before me, once dazzling blues dulled, her nose red.

  My heart dropped.

  “What are you doing here?” Not an ounce of surprise was in her voice.

  “I had to see you.”

  “What about your flight?”

  “Not flying back with the team.” I’d utilized my time wisely from the bar to her apartment, lucking out and booking an early morning flight.

  Her statue-like gaze left us in a long pause, and I questioned my choice to show up unannounced. Most of my adrenaline left me, unease filled its place. But thankfully, she finally stepped to the side, silently allowing me to enter.

  With each step, my heart beat wildly, listening for the click of the lock and hoping to not have her change her mind and ask me to leave. Her walls were up, as I should have expected, but dammit, this was me. The man that was madly in love with this woman.

  Turning to face her, I held my hand out, aching for her touch. She didn’t take it. Well, shit.

  Drawing in a sharp breath, a weight pressed on my chest. My whole life seemed to be moving in a slow painful motion. This is what we had become. This is what happens when you hurt the one you love.

  I did a quick survey of the open-concept living room, kitchen, and dining space done up in neutral tones with a splash of blues and greens here and there. The wall of glass overlooking the city strongly resembled a part of my home, and the vision of her giving herself to me our first night hit hard and fast.

  This woman was mine. No question about it.

  She sighed and I offered her my hand again. She laid her soft palm in mine and walked into my arms. Home.

  “God, I’ve missed you,” I mumbled into her sweet-smelling hair, relieved and wanting to freeze time. Desperate to hold on to the moment and never let go.

  My whole body relaxed as her arms wrapped around my waist, her cheek pressed to my chest, as she sniffled. The familiarity, her warmth, her scent had my own eyes welling and my heart squeezing. How in the hell did I walk away from this—from her? I love her, and nothing as trivial as demographics or profession should matter. Nothing.

  “How are you?” I managed to push through the thick lump of emotion.

  “I’ve been better.” She wiggled out of my arms and made a mad dash for the kitchen. “Can I offer you something to drink?” She curled her hair behind her ear, taking in slow deep breaths. “Are you hungry at all?”

  Oh, no, angel. You aren’t getting away that easy. I came here for a specific reason. One. And that’s you.

  Consumed by her, the sight and scent of her infiltrating my senses, awakened everything I had pushed to the deepest recesses of my mind to keep from completely losing my shit. And all I needed at that moment was her in my arms. And that’s what I did. I took what was mine, enclosing her protectively, wrapping my arms around her chest, and pulled her back into me.

  “Levi, we shouldn’t.” She gripped my forearms.

  “Feels perfect to me,” I admitted, fighting the sheer force of will to not press my lips to hers and jog her memory of how perfect we were. How perfect we fit. How we belonged together. Either that or my need for her had caused me to become delusional and blind.

  “Please don’t do this,” she begged half-heartedly, pushing to keep her walls erect.

  “Don’t do what?” I prodded, moving in front of her. My hands held her shoulders, my eyes keenly set on hers, ready to go to war—with this woman—for this woman. “Come here and tell you that I miss you? That I love you, and I can’t stand not being close to you? That I was an asshole? An idiot? And at the very least, I should have listened to what you had to say. Been a man about it.” I hated admitting I had failed her on some level.

  Geared up and ready to argue, the fight was in her eyes, in the way her body tensed and the straight line of her soft, pink lips. But then she looked away, lowered her head, and a sigh slipped past her lips. “You can’t just show up here—”

  “Should I have called first?” My dig was hot, and I grew frustrated when she didn’t answer. Was I expected to stand back and wait around? Or turn a blind eye and pretend as if we’d never met? I may have been partially to blame for this mess, so I was going to take the opportunity to fix it. “Because I’m sure you would have answered,” I added condescendingly. How this woman brought out my best and worst sides, without effort I might add, was beyond me.

  “Like you answered me?” she pointed out, squaring her shoulders. “Oh, wait. You didn’t answer any of my calls—or texts.” She took a predatory step forward, and my heart pounded. Was it wrong that her anger was turning me the fuck on? That I wanted to wrap my hand around the back of her neck and kiss the fucking sass from those beautiful, plump lips. “If I remember correctly, you walked out of my house without so much as a backward glance,” she sneered, eyes like daggers piercing my heart.

  And she was right.

  She was one hundred percent fucking right.

  That’s exactly what I did. It was a dick move walking away and not giving it so much as a second thought. I’ve regretted it every minute since. Wounded pride and a battered heart were likely to blame. “I did. And I’m sorry.” I raised the white flag, waiting to mark the second she’d accept my apology.

  “I don’t want to argue with you,” she breathed, letting her shoulders sag.

  “I don’t either.” Cautiously, I slid a finger under her chin and lifted it until her eyes were on mine again. My thumb brushed away her silent tears, winning me a sad smile. “But we do need to hash out what happened,” I probed carefully, softly.

  “Not yet.”

  “Angel, yes. We need to figure this out. I’m not going back to Atlanta without knowing where we stand.” I linked our fingers and led her to the couch. She sat on one end, facing me cross-legged, and I sat on the other.

  “Fine. Talk.”

  I nodded, but the words never came. God, this woman had me in a tailspin. I took a silent moment to take her in. My hands itched to run my fingers through her soft blonde waves. Trace the apple of her cheeks and cradle her face in my palm. Only to slide my hand lower, to her neck while my lips met the other side and kissed their way to her ear, whispering all the reasons she should give in and come home with me. Be with me.

  I was growing harder thinking about all the ways I wanted to touch her. With my hands. My mouth . . .

  I forced out a hot breath, but she surprised me with, “What happened to your face?”

  “What happened to yours?” I touched her cheek.

  “Excuse me.” She frowned.

  “Hang on,” I backpedaled, holding my hand out in surrender. “Bad choice of words. I just meant it looked like you were crying. What happened?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Angel,” I conceded.

  “Don’t angel me.”

  If I planned on getting anywhere with this woman, I’d have to surrender first.

  “Hatch and I got into it.”

  “Why?” Her eyes closed.

  “Because he was being an asshole . . . and I was an idiot.”

  Slowly, her lids lifted and her palm came close to my face, but inches before touching it, she pulled back. It was a struggle not to touch her the way I needed to. It was a goddamn crusade not to put my lips on hers. To refrain from caressing her soft skin and take the hurt and pain away, to remind her how much we love each other. How we were the better versions of ourselves together rather than apart. At least I was. I’d admit it. She made me want to be that better person. To want more out of life than I’d been living these last few years. But only with her in it.

  I reached for her hand. “Your turn.
”

  “It’s nothing.”

  Bullshit. “Are you sure?”

  “Um hmm.”

  I was walking a fine line of not pushing and refusing to be shut out. “Talk to me.”

  “There’s nothing to tell.”

  “Rowan,” I exhaled. “Hatch ran into Greg at the restaurant.” I came clean, hoping it would give her the nudge she needed to open up.

  “You were there?”

  “In the bar.”

  “Oh . . .” She looked past me and when her eyes met mine again, she cautioned, “He said some things . . .”

  Worried, I prompted, “What things?”

  “You.”

  “What about me?”

  She dropped her gaze to her lap and started twisting her fingers together, stalling. And after what felt like forever, she spoke softly. “He mentioned how you’ve been off lately. How this”—she moved her finger between the two of us—“is messing with your game and we should talk. Find some closure so we can move on.”

  “What?” I hated that I had caused a possible rift between father and daughter. If she took his words to heart and was convinced that was the best possible solution, I would be fucked. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for all of it, but you can’t believe that, right?” I inched closer, my body reacting to our proximity, remembering what it felt like when she was near. “Rowan, I love you—”

  She froze. Her eyes closed for a second. “I can’t do this right now.” She swallowed hard and a single tear slipped. She fidgeted with her fingers again and when she finally looked at me, with pleading eyes, she asked, “Will you kiss me and pretend everything is okay—just for tonight?”

  Pretend? WTF!

  In a brief moment of panic, my heart rate spiked and my eyes dropped to her lips. If I gave in, this wouldn’t end well. We still had so much to talk about—to figure out. And how the fuck did she expect me to pretend anything?

  “Please . . .”

  I cupped the back of her neck and pulled her to me until I had her straddling my hips. Locking my eyes on hers, I struck a deal with her. “I’ll kiss you on one condition.”