Something Real (Atlanta Outlaws)
Page 1
Something Real
Aja Cole
Contents
Thank You!
Before you start...
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
Also by Aja Cole
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About the Author
Something Real
Aja Cole
Copyright © 2019 by Aja Cole.
All Rights Reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
First Edition March 2019
To all of my family and friends that have supported me every time I’ve said, “I’m writing a book.”
I couldn’t have done it without your love and constant encouragement.
To everyone who reads my books and comes back for more…you fucking rock.
To my author friends and the people who let me vent and freak out and constantly inspire me to keep going…
Thank you. I love you all.
And to my little leapfrogs, may you always know how much you are loved.
Thank You!
I just wanted to say a quick thank you for giving my writing a chance, and I hope it gives you everything you’re looking for!
I like my love scenes steamy and my sweet scenes sappy.
Now, please enjoy and I hope you love my characters as much as I do!
~ Aja Cole
Before you start...
This book contains explicit content meant for readers 18+, along with a sweet hero and a smitten heroine. If such language or material offends you, please be aware.
Introduction
A sexy hockey player who needs to prove that he’s got it together.
A cautious graphic designer who lets her pride make her agree to a crazy engagement…
Add the undeniable chemistry that’s between the two of them, and what could possibly go wrong?
Or maybe...right?
Shayla
So there I was.
Minding my business at my temporary job and ignoring the morning after soreness from getting dic*** down.
And then he walked in.
The same he that just walked out my front door this morning...
The same he whose name I didn’t even know until a few minutes before he left...
Funny how these things go, eh?
Something Real contains a lovable cast of characters, a generous heaping of spice and a dash of sweet; the first standalone centering around Atlanta’s new hockey team and the fun that comes with them. This is a fake engagement love story that you don’t want to miss!
1
Dylan
You’d have to cut off my hands before you could force me to walk down the aisle for some broad.
Even then, fuck it. I could learn to eat and play hockey with my feet or get some grade A prosthetics. Anything would be better than attaching a chain to my balls for some coldhearted witch to try to control me with.
Ben’s new wife isn’t a cold-hearted bitch though.
She’s pretty great.
But make no mistake, she’s the exception.
The only thing marriage is good for is having someone there all the time if you like that kind of thing. Maybe financial benefits, taxes and that sort of stuff.
But love? No thanks.
I rode that train and I have zero interest in ever riding it again.
I push my empty beer towards the bartender and signal for another one. It'll be my third? Fourth? I don't have an interest in counting and I'm not the one who got married this weekend, so no one's here to bitch about me getting wasted. One perk of a wedding at a hotel is that my room isn't that far and I'm sure I can find a lovely woman I don't have to see again to help me there.
I tip the new beer to my mouth only for a second before something slams into me from behind. If I were anyone else, they might've knocked me off my seat.
"What the fu--!" I turn around to see who the clumsy idiot is, and surprise surprise, my clumsy idiot is a hot little thing in a barely there dress.
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," She giggles, brown skin tinged with red from embarrassment or maybe the alcohol. "I'm not even that drunk! I just," she clears her throat, brushing long hair away from her face, "My friend dared me to come talk to you because you're uh, really hot, so hot I really shouldn't even be looking at you but I'm supposed to be trying to be more spontaneous and--,"
The rambling is cute but the moment she opened her mouth, I couldn't stop staring at her lips, so I do the only thing that's rolling around in my mind right now.
I kiss her, and it's like stars explode behind my eyes.
She tastes vaguely like vanilla and tequila, and I feel her slim hands grip my untied bow tie and pull me closer at the same time as I wrap a large arm around her waist. When we separate and I look down at her parted lips, it's all I can do not to lay her on the bar wood right then and there. I don't know if she knows who I am. If she does, she's not saying anything and if she never mentions it, I'm okay with that too.
"Well, I'd say that counts as spontaneous." She whispers, still holding onto my tie and peering up at me with beautiful brown eyes and thick lashes.
"Wanna do something else to shock your friend?" I push a rope of hair behind her ear as I lean to it. She's a small thing to me but probably average at about 5'5".
"What is it?" She gasps when I nuzzle my stubble against her neck. It doesn't feel like we're in public and people being around us is the last thing on my mind.
"Come up to my room."
She shakes her head and I stop immediately, because even though things are a little hazy; if she's saying no - I don't need any confusion and I don't beg or coerce.
"Thanks for the kiss, then." Assuming it's done, I start to go back to my beer but she tugs on my shirtsleeve and puts her chin on my shoulder, probably on the balls of her feet just to reach me.
"I'd feel more comfortable if you just came home with me." The little lady tugs on my earlobe with her teeth and sends a shiver right down my spine. Leaving cash on the bar and grabbing my jacket, I grab her hand and I'm more than ready to see what the rest of the night has to offer.
"Lead the way, darlin'. I'm all yours."
Barely awake, I feel for the hot body next to mine that I know is there.
I can't see a damn thing and I don't know what time it is, but I do know that even after having her already - I need her again.
I kiss
up the graceful line of her neck, whisper how much I want her in her ear and feel instant triumph when she makes the sweetest little noise and turns her body into mine.
I grab a condom and get it on quick, feeling my way into her body and touching every part of her that I can reach. My fingers play at her hard nipples, I trail them down over her proud clit and caress it the way I discovered she likes as I drive into her from behind, cushioned by the firm softness of her ass.
If we had more time, I'd take that too, but we don't.
She shudders against me and cries out in the quiet of the room just before I let go and finish. I clean up quickly and get back into bed, where she curls up against my body like a little kitten. Settling against her, I close my eyes with a sigh and let sleep take me again.
"Excuse me." For a second, I think the timid voice might be in my dreams, but when I feel a small hand trying to shake me, I realize it's real.
"Uh....hey, can you wake up?"
I peek open an eye and see someone very different from the little minx I went home with last night. This version has a pulled back bun, rectangle glasses, and a fitted white blouse with a modest skirt. Much more modest than what she was wearing last night, but I wonder if the lingerie is just as sexy underneath this outfit too.
"And stop looking at me like that, we don't have time for any more playing around."
"On the contrary, I was very serious about what I was doing last night." She blinks like she can't believe I'm talking this way, and shakes her head.
"That's nice, but you have to go now. It's still the first few weeks at my new job and I can't be late."
Scratching my abs, I nod. I'm not the kind of guy to make it difficult for a woman. We had our fun and now it's time to keep it moving and not get attached, even if the sex was phenomenal. I crawl out of bed and try to ignore the bit of a headache that I've got. Maybe it was more than three beers after all. I've got a meeting with my reps this morning to talk about my "image issues", so maybe getting drunk last night wasn't one of the best decisions I've ever made. My agent's exact words were that the "drinking, drugs, fucking and gambling aren't good for an up and coming player who the franchise has a lot riding on. You need to fix your shit."
Always great to know the people around you think that you're a fuck up in every way but your game. Comforting.
"Say no more. I'll call a car and get out of your hair." After I send for a ride, I do my business in the bathroom and use the toothbrush she left out for me.
How thoughtful. I didn't pay much attention when I was only thinking about fucking her, but it's a nice little house. Colorful, neat, and not overwhelmingly girly. I start pulling on my clothes and buttoning my shirt. She's sitting on the bed on her phone and my car is almost here. For the first time, I feel a little tinge of guilt, like it's weird to be leaving like this. She walks me to the door and starts to unlock it.
"This was cool. I'll call you."
I probably won't, but she's sexy enough that if I get bored enough one night, it's a higher chance than other women.
Her brow wrinkles and she laughs a little. "You don't have my number."
"Right..." I trail off, "Let me remedy that." She lists her numbers off and I put it in my phone, before I realize that I have no idea what her name is. "How's your name spelled?"
"S-h-a-y-l-a." She deadpans, and I laugh off the awkwardness.
"Nice. Put me under Dylan, gorgeous." Tossing a wink her way, I jog down the stairs of her house and to the waiting car. Once I'm inside, I shake my head and drop it back against the headrest.
Time to get my game face on for this meeting, and hope I still have a contract when it's over. I can’t event take that thought serious, because the idea of them dropping me is ludicrous.
I’m Dylan Hunter.
Everyone wants a piece of me, and they’d be idiots if they forgot that.
2
Shayla
Every step I take has me regretting that I wore these damn high heels. They were so cute in the window display, and that's where they should've stayed. Even the clack of them across the concrete parking lot is annoying me, or maybe it's just annoyance with myself leftover from taking a stranger home.
I mean, he was hot, but I am not the girl that just has sex with random guys that I meet in bars!
I don't even remember if we talked about sexual health...good god.
I wince at the thought and write a mental note to myself to set up a doctor's appointment in a few weeks when everything will be more detectable if I don't develop any sudden symptoms.
Ugh, that's what I get for letting Rachel's comments about me being a boring drag get to me. I just couldn't take that smug look on her face when she dared me to go talk to the guy in a suit at the hotel bar. You could just see it in her eyes that she was expecting me to chicken out, to prove her right that I'm the safe friend.
If there's one thing I've always hated, it's people thinking that they have me all figured out and acting like they're better than me for it.
The shock on her face when I left with the guy, whose name I now know was Dylan, might've just been worth it all though.
Okay, not worth the potential STD, but...overall, it's not exactly an experience I can complain about.
No man has ever touched me the way he did. I can honestly say that I can still feel him...
Shaking my head, I toss the image of his muscled body above me away and remind myself that I need to focus on work.
I'm lucky that I even got this receptionist job. If it wasn't for my Aunt Ernie being a secretary here, I wouldn't have. They're exclusive in that they don't even post job openings. It's by a lot of word of mouth and I think almost everyone that works here was by referral or vouched for by someone. They're a tight-knit sports management firm, that's for sure. So here I am, a low-level receptionist who got in by the skin of my teeth and I'm already a few minutes later than I'd hoped to be.
I rush to the little side room so I can stash my coat, and Aunt Ernie and a few of the other secretaries are already there. When Janet gives me an oddly disapproving look and Karen gives me a speculative brow, I look down at myself to figure out what the hell they're on about.
"Should I have worn lipstick?" I ask anxiously, revising my opinion that the subtle slick of gloss would be enough.
"You have a rather large hickey, sweetie." My aunt tells me kindly and I slap a hand to my neck, humiliated. Refusing to meet any of their gazes, I hightail it to the bathroom and do the best I can with covering it with makeup.
A hickey!
How old am I? Sixteen!? Jesus.
I wait a few more minutes to leave the bathroom and hope the coast is clear, because while they don't let anyone else in easily; the gossip mill around here is worse than the tabloid magazine I used to intern at. I know the other biddies already know that Ernestine's niece is probably a harlot.
Great.
Time flies between making coffee and answering phones for a couple of hours, and an alert pops up on my calendar about a high-priority client having a meeting. There are only initials beside it, and I guess the old receptionist who's on maternity leave put it in. They're not ones I recognize at this point, so I keep an eye out.
Truth be told, I'm really behind on my current sports knowledge. I got a degree in computer science with a dual minor in graphic design and technical writing. Keeping up with the sports world was the least of my worries and I only went to college games because my friends dragged me to them and we got free stuff. I spent a lot of time studying, and not that much time partying...which is what all of the athletes I knew about seemed to love doing.
Hence, me still being the safe friend.
The door opens while I'm still typing up a memo for Mr. Johnson and doing calendar input for the next week, so I don't look up to see who enters even though I call out a greeting and ask them to please give me a second.
When I do look up, it's all I can do to keep my mouth from dropping.
Fuck shit dammit ho
ly hell
If I could sink under my desk right now, I very much would. Just disappear into a sinkhole on the floor and never come out. He looks up from his phone and his deep green eyes widen in surprise. I feel the heat of a blush starting to stain my face. Before I can even open my mouth to say anything or see what he's going to say, one of the junior agents comes out and he's swept off to the office.
To my credit, I try to go back to filing and the exciting menial tasks that one affords their receptionist, but curiosity is rearing its ugly head and there's nowhere for it to go.
Well, he's here so he must have something to do with sports. Using that and the fact that his name is Dylan, I try to use some google sorcery to absolutely no avail. My stalking skills are failing me when I really need them, go figures. I'm just typing in the firm's name along with his when I get a page to come to the conference room.
Oh shit oh shit oh shit
Aunt Ernie is going to kill me.
What if they know we slept together? Are there rules about that?? I should've maybe read the employee code of conduct, but that thing was thick and it's not like I knew this man's name before this morning!!