by Kendall Ryan
I fill a pot with water and turn on the gas burner. Even his stove is incredible—a six-burner gas range that looks like it belongs in a commercial kitchen.
“I didn’t think you’d drink, what with being Mr. Healthy and all.” I smile at him. It appears my bath and the clean clothes have done wonders for my spirits.
“I can have a glass. But if you don’t want one . . .”
“I’d love a glass,” I say.
While I sauté the mushrooms, shallots, and minced garlic in another pan, Alexei uncorks a bottle of chilled white wine. He pours two glasses and sets mine on the counter beside me.
I pick up the fine stemware and turn to face him. “Cheers,” I murmur.
He clinks his glass to mine, one hand still holding Ella. “Cheers.”
His gaze lingers on mine as I bring the glass to my lips and take a sip. The temperature in the kitchen soars about six thousand degrees, and it has nothing to do with the heat from the stove or the wine. His eyes on me are intoxicating.
As Alexei turns to prepare Ella’s evening bottle, I wonder how I’ll possibly keep my hands to myself when this gorgeous man is strutting around looking like sex on a stick, all while doing nothing more than holding a baby who doesn’t belong to him. I can’t stop thinking about it. Every time he does something with Ella, my ovaries think for me.
I’m totally screwed.
Chapter Five
Ryleigh
These last few nights have been nice, but apparently Alexei has gone and lost his freaking mind.
When he told me this morning he’s flying to California later today for an away game, I started packing, assuming I’d obviously have to find another place to go. He disagreed, and now we’ve been arguing about this for the past thirty minutes.
He’s insane, absolutely insane. And now he’s staring at me with that sexy, determined expression, his fists clenched at his sides. If it’s a fight he wants, it’s a fight he’s going to get. Bring it, buddy.
I square my shoulders and summon the most commanding tone I can muster. “I can’t stay here while you’re gone.”
He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in the most distracting way. “Of course you can. I offered. You’ll accept. It’s a done deal.” His eyes are playful, but his stance says he means business.
Well, two can play at that game, dude. I’m not intimidated by the fact he’s a professional athlete. I can and will hold my own.
“It’s not a done deal. I won’t stay here, Alexei. End of story. You’ve already been too generous, too kind. I won’t take advantage of you like that. I’m practically a stranger, and you can’t possibly trust me alone in your home.”
I mean, seriously. The dinner, the bath, the heavenly comfortable bed—everything has been great, but I’ve known all along it’s a very temporary solution to my problem.
He smirks, somehow going from angry to amused in about 3.5 seconds. “Oh yeah? And why not? Are you going to make chicken parmesan? Take a bath in my tub? Use all the towels? Do a load of laundry? Be my guest.”
I roll my eyes. “Have you been hit in the head too many times on the field? No, you big bossy man. You can’t invite a random woman to live here while you’re away. I could . . .” I look around, searching. “Steal your TV, or . . .” Jeez, I would make the worst criminal ever. “I could go through your bank statements and tax returns, start a fake identity with your social security number. Maybe commit a murder in your bedroom.”
His eyes widen as he considers my words.
There. Take that, you big oaf!
Then Alexei chuckles and shakes his head. “You’re not going to do any of that.” He stalks closer to where I’m standing until we’re just a foot apart. Then he places his big calloused palms on my upper arms and gives them a light squeeze. I’ve wondered since the day I met him what his touch would feel like. It’s the first time he’s touched me so intimately, and I know he’s not doing it to be sensuous, he’s only doing it to convey his trust in me, but the effect is the same. My skin tingles pleasantly and my breath hitches in my throat. Desiree’s words about Alex Ivan being one of the world’s most sought-after men ring through my head.
His voice drops lower, his anger gone. “I trust you, okay? Is that so crazy?”
His hands fall away and I pull in a deep breath, his words both calming and alarming me. We hardly know each other, but there’s this thing happening between us—undeniable as it is.
“It’s crazy, yes. You and I both know it’s insane.”
Alexei mulls this over, his perfectly straight white teeth biting into his bottom lip as he does. “I didn’t want to say this, I wanted you to stay because you wanted to, but . . .”
I rock back on my heels, waiting for whatever bomb he’s about to drop on me.
“We both know this is what’s best for Ella. Moving her back and forth, disrupting her schedule like that, it’s not good for her. This is what’s best for her, and since I want you guys here . . . Stay. Please.”
Ugh, low blow. I hate when he reminds me that I’m not capable of taking care of her on my own, even if those aren’t the words he used.
I straighten my spine. “Fine. We’ll stay.”
His full mouth breaks into a happy grin. “Good. That was easy. Now, let’s talk about your place of employment . . .”
I shake my head, frowning at him. “Don’t say a word, buddy.” He’s been driving me to work and my old neighbor watches Ella until I get off and he comes back to pick us up. I’m not sure what the plan is when he’s gone, but my job is one thing he doesn’t get to dictate.
Alexei only chuckles, but I can tell he was serious, and this is a topic of conversation we’ll be discussing in the future. God, this man. He’s equal parts gorgeous and infuriating.
He may have won this round, but I have no intention of giving in so easily.
Chapter Six
Alexei
I’ve just boarded a plane to California, but all I can think about is the woman and baby I’m leaving behind.
It took quite a bit of convincing to get Ryleigh to stay at my place while I’m away this weekend. I almost thought I’d have to threaten to tie her to a chair, but in the end, she finally agreed. It should be strange, I’ve known her only a handful of days, and yet I trust her completely in my personal space.
My agent, Slate, thinks I’m insane, but he hasn’t met Ryleigh. She’s the furthest thing from a gold digger you could find. I’ve had to fight with her every step of the way to get her to let me help.
Even the smallest things are difficult with her. She’s insisted on cooking for me as a way to earn her keep, which has been fine with me. I hate cooking, but I need to eat so often, it’s a necessary evil. Ryleigh seems to enjoy it. She’s made herself at home in my kitchen, and loves coming up with new dishes for me to try. The homemade fettucine alfredo she made last night was almost as good as sex.
Scratch that.
It was amazing, but yeah, nothing is as good as sex. Living with a gorgeous woman I’ve seen naked twice has fucked with my brain. Now I have sex on the brain like a horny teenager. Fantastic.
I’m way overdue for some action, but there’s no way I can hook up with some random woman while Ryleigh and Ella are staying with me. At this point, I’m pretty sure the only woman I could get it up for would be Ryleigh.
How does this woman I barely know own me already?
My mind keeps remembering those tight-ass shorts she had on at the club and those gorgeous tits. Jesus, those tits and everything that’s below them have haunted my dreams. I’ve dreamt about her every night. Touching her. Kissing her. Rolling her nipples under my thumbs.
Unfortunately, she hasn’t shown the least bit of interest. Actually, that’s not entirely true. After dinner during her second night there, she lingered in the kitchen, standing close, her pretty blue eyes locked on mine, and for a second, I got the feeling that she wanted me to kiss her—or that she wanted to kiss me. Fuck, I wouldn’t have complained either
way.
But there was no way I was going to make things awkward and freak her out. For all I knew, she’d panic and hightail it out of there. The thought of her and Ella out there somewhere fending for themselves wasn’t a chance I was willing to take, especially not in the middle of winter in Chicago.
So instead, I busied myself with cleaning the kitchen. Ryleigh left to lay Ella down, and when she came back and washed bottles beside me at the kitchen sink, all the tension from earlier was gone. We shared another glass of wine and talked about our favorite movies before parting ways to head off to bed—in separate bedrooms. It didn’t stop me from jacking off that night while thinking of how she looked in the bathtub, but at least I didn’t do something stupid like make a move on her.
She gets hit on all day every day at her job, and I’m not about to be like one of those Neanderthals and expect her to share her body with me just because I’m helping her. If and when she decides to share that delicious body of hers with me, it will be because she’s as desperate as I am to explore what could happen between us, not because she feels like she has to share my bed for a warm place to stay.
“You ready for the big game, Ivan?” my friend Doug asks, clapping one hand on my shoulder as he passes me in the aisle to take the row behind me. The plane is big enough that each player has his own row, which is helpful when you stuff sixty-five football players onto a plane together.
“Born ready, baby,” I quip.
The truth is, the game is the furthest thing from my mind, and I hope I can get through it without letting my team down.
I pull out my phone to text Ryleigh one last time before we need to switch over to airplane mode.
Hey, Ry—you guys okay? We’re about to take off.
A second later, my phone pings, and my mouth twitches in a smile.
We’ll be fine, Alexei. Go win that game. For me and Ella. :)
I chuckle and tap out a reply.
You going to watch me on TV?
I watch as the last of the players and staff board the plane and wait for her to reply.
Oh! I never thought of that. Yeah, totally! What time’s the game? What’s your number again so I know who to look for on the field?
This makes me laugh harder. I’ve never dated a woman who wasn’t obsessed with football, obsessed with what I did for a living or the idea of being a player’s girlfriend or wife. Ryleigh literally has zero interest, and I find that refreshing.
I fill her in on the time and tell her which channel she’ll find the game on, as well as the number on my jersey.
See you Sunday night.
Her reply comes almost instantly.
Looking forward to it.
Two nights. Two nights away from Ryleigh and little Ella, and it feels like a fucking eternity.
• • •
I have no idea what the hell is happening to my life. I only know that all my concentration, all my focus, has been replaced with constant worry and concern for a certain woman and baby who are currently staying in my home.
My team squeaked out a win, but only barely, and I can tell Coach Royce isn’t at all pleased with my performance on the field. But fuck it. We won. It’s over. He’s just going to have to deal with it for now.
On our flight back to Chicago, I lean my head back against the seat with my eyes closed, pretending to be asleep so I don’t have to endure any questions about what the fuck happened out there. During the last forty-eight hours, I became someone I barely recognized. I was like a needy teenage boyfriend, texting Ryleigh constantly, checking on them, and honestly just missing having them near. Even little Ella.
I almost had a panic attack and flew back when Ryleigh couldn’t figure out how to arm the alarm system, even though there was no way anyone was even getting up to the apartment without my passcode. Basically, I was being a ridiculous man-baby about all of this, and I have no freaking idea why.
While I was halfway across the country wishing I was back in Chi-town, Ryleigh spent her time being productive, trying to track down Ella’s mom, and even filed a missing person’s report with the police, although she hasn’t gotten anywhere with her search. I bet she wasn’t checking her phone constantly and about to go all full-blown meltdown while worrying about me.
Jesus, I need to get my head and possibly my balls checked. Hell, maybe even a check to see if a vagina is growing in place of my manhood. Nothing would surprise me at this point.
When my ears pop from the change in pressure, I open my eyes, happy we’ll be landing soon. Forty minutes later, I pull into the parking garage of my building. I can’t get to the elevator fast enough, and jab the button three times in my rush to get upstairs.
It’s late, almost ten here, and I find Ryleigh curled on the couch with a glass of white wine in her hand. Her legs are covered by a white fur throw, and the TV is on mute. Ella is nowhere to be seen, in her Pack ’n Play, I’m sure.
“Hi,” I say.
“Hey.” Ryleigh grins when she sees me and starts to get up.
“Don’t move. You look comfortable,” I say, joining her on the other end of the couch. I lift her bare feet and place them in my lap. I need to touch her right now. I know I shouldn’t, but tonight I’m indulging. I’m too weak not to have my hands on her after the weekend away from her.
“I am. She wore me out.” Ryleigh lets out a yawn as I rub small circles into the arch of her foot. “Mmm . . . that feels nice,” she says, closing her eyes.
She looks so pretty like this, so soft and domestic. There’s something I like about finding her here waiting for me, all relaxed and sleepy.
“Did you watch the game?” I ask.
Ryleigh’s eyes open and latch onto mine. “You were amazing, Alexei. I’ve never been more interested in watching a football game in my entire life.”
I chuckle. “I played like shit, but thanks.”
“No way. I thought it was amazing. You were so confident and aggressive. It was . . . never mind.”
“It was what?” Curiosity makes my mouth quirk up.
“It was hot,” she says quietly, her gaze dips from mine to my mouth and then back up.
“Glad you enjoyed it,” I say, my voice suddenly tight as my hands stop their gentle caresses while we stare at each other.
She nods. “I only have one complaint.”
“What was that?” I move to the other foot to give it the same treatment now that it seems our moment has passed. I’ve never dared to touch her this freely, but somehow it just feels right. And she’s letting me, so there’s no fucking way I’m stopping now.
“I wish they had more coverage of you.”
This makes me laugh. Coming from her it sounds adorable and slightly awkward, but I don’t care, I feel ten feet tall. “I’m a linebacker, not the quarterback. They get the most airtime.” Truth be told, I’m lucky to make it on a few clips here and there.
She swallows, watching my hands work on her delicate foot. “Well, I much preferred watching you.”
It’s in that moment that I wonder if she feels the same way I do. Does she feel this thing between us? The force field of chemistry zapping around us is intense. It makes me wonder if this could be something real, and not just something physical—though I know that the physical could be really fucking amazing too.
I sit up and move closer. Ryleigh straightens too. I take the glass of wine from her hands and set it on the coffee table.
“Is it crazy if I say that I missed you?” I murmur, my mouth just inches from hers.
Her eyes are so blue, so wide and clear. They’re mesmerizing.
She wets her lips with the tip of her tongue. “I . . . I missed you too. I mean, mostly I just missed having backup with the baby, if I’m being completely honest, but the other part of me missed you.”
I laugh and place my hand on her neck, my fingers turning her head toward me. “Come here.”
When I draw her close, Ryleigh tilts her mouth up, and I place one slow, sweet kiss against her parte
d, damp, wine-flavored lips. Heat races down my spine, and my cock hardens instantly. One slow kiss becomes two and then three, and when my tongue slips between her lips, Ryleigh reciprocates, deepening the kiss and making me groan.
I thread my fingers through her silky hair and kiss her pretty, pouty mouth like my life depends on it. She makes a small, need-filled sound that makes my cock ache.
Breaking away from her lips for a second, I pull her onto my lap. Ryleigh parts her knees on either side of my thighs, bringing her pussy in line with my now fully erect dick.
I grunt at the surprise contact. It feels so fucking good.
“Oh, hi there,” she says, smiling at me.
“Hi.”
She places one hand on my cheek and leans in for another kiss, giving her hips an experimental roll.
Fuck.
She’s torturing me. Scientific fact: I will die if I don’t get inside her in the next four seconds.
I settle my hands on her ass and tug her even closer. “You are so fucking sexy, baby.”
When I tug at her T-shirt, Ryleigh raises her arms, letting me pull it off over her head. She’s bare beneath, and I waste no time filling my hands with those gorgeous tits.
“Alexei . . .” She groans my name when my thumbs find her nipples and tease.
Her back arches and my mouth moves from her neck to her chest, where I suck and flick the firm peaks with my tongue until she’s writhing in my lap.
I think my head’s going to explode. Correction: both heads.
“Baby,” I pant. “I don’t want to pressure you. Don’t want to go further than you’re comfortable with . . .”
Ryleigh nods like she agrees, but she doesn’t tell me how far she wants this to go. Instead, she slips her hands under my shirt and presses both small palms flat against my abs, her face lighting up in happiness at the firm muscles she finds there.
Soon, I’ve stripped her of her leggings, leaving her in only a pair of those damn white cotton panties I bought her. Her wavy hair drifts over her shoulders, and she looks like a goddess perched above me, grinding against my dick.