He heard the chirp of a message waiting on his phone, which was most likely Blake. Grant could deal with the fallout from today later. He didn’t want to think about anything or anyone else tonight but Daisy.
She reached behind her back to undo her bra clasp, and he put one hand over hers. “Let me,” he said. She didn’t resist. The bra was wet enough that he pinched the clasp together and got it off in twenty seconds. He dropped it on the rapidly growing pile of clothes on her bathroom floor.
“It’s not very romantic in here,” she whispered to him. “There should be candles and rose petals floating on the water or something. Mr. Bubble isn’t cutting it right now.”
He reached out to shut the water off. “Mr. Bubble works just fine,” he said. “Let’s get in the tub, and I’ll show you.”
They worked together to pull his jeans off and left them in a sodden heap. She shucked her uniform shorts off in record time. Minutes later, they were both naked, and after dragging a hand through the water to test the temp, he lowered himself into her tub.
He held out a hand. “It’s perfect. Come on in,” he said.
She stepped in, narrowly missing his junk, and settled back against him. She let out a long sigh. “I should have shut the lights off before we got in here.”
“Why?”
“Dim lights. Wine.” She leaned back against his chest, glancing at the open bottle of wine on the bathroom counter. “I should have grabbed that.”
“Daisy, we don’t need it,” he murmured into her ear. He mounded soap bubbles on her belly and covered her breasts with them. “Relax.”
He felt her damp and still chilly skin warming due to the hot water and his hands moving over her. He closed his eyes. She still smelled like sunshine and flowers, and he felt her heave another sigh. “Maybe we should stay in here.”
“We’ll have to get out when the hot water runs out,” he said.
She twined her fingers through his. “I have a tankless water heater. We can hold out forever.”
He wrapped his arms around her abdomen. The only sounds in her house were an occasional splash and their breathing. He let out a long breath. He was hard against her, but they had things to talk about before they got busy with each other. He wasn’t sure how to start the conversation. He’d rather start the fun in Daisy’s tub, carry her into her room, and have sex all night than discuss his shortcomings with someone he didn’t want to disappoint. Maybe he should blurt it out and get things over with.
“Something happened today,” he said. “I need to talk with you about it.”
DESPITE THE HARSH circa-1990s overhead bathroom vanity light and lack of romantic accoutrements, things were moving right along in Daisy’s tub. Her hair was still soaking wet, but every inch of her that touched Grant was warm and cozy. His fingers strayed dangerously close to her crotch. She let her legs fall open in invitation. She wriggled her lower back against his erection.
“We really need to talk,” he murmured.
“We’ve got all night,” she said.
His fingers moved closer to the point of no return. Actually, they moved closer to her clit. The soap bubbles might work as a makeshift lube. Then again, she was so wet that all he had to do was draw his fingertips through her labia; he’d have plenty to work with. She moved against his erection again. If she reached behind her back and between them, she could do something nice for him while his fingers moved closer and closer to the target.
She couldn’t quite reach his penis. “You first,” he said. His damp hair was a veil, but she could reach his mouth. She took his face into her hands and pulled his mouth over hers. His tongue slipped into her mouth, darting, stroking, and inciting. Her moan was swallowed in his kiss.
He reached between them, tipped her up a bit more against his shoulder, and slid a finger inside of her. He thrust slowly. She moved against his hand. If she opened her legs a bit more, slung one leg over the side of the tub, and wriggled a little—there. He slipped two fingers inside of her while the heel of his hand slid against her clit in the slow rhythm he set.
Her breathing accelerated. She let out another moan. She was torn between wanting the orgasm she knew was building and flipping over on her belly, straddling him, and screwing his brains out while they splashed water all over the bathroom floor. “Oh, God!” she cried out.
“Faster?” His voice was low and dark.
“Yes. Yes. Oh! Oh.” She tried to spread her legs even farther. Damn bathroom wall. He picked up speed a bit. She’d managed to tip herself almost out of the water. She kept moving. She felt the first small flutter of what she hoped would be a huge orgasm in her belly. “A few. Faster,” she moaned.
“Yeah,” he groaned. “Come all over me.”
His fingers and the heel of his hand brought her to an orgasm so intense she screamed. She felt him jump a little in response. His fingers didn’t stop, though. His movements slowed a bit, but he kept stroking his fingers in and out of her through the fireworks that burst behind her eyelids, the strong contractions she felt, the heat that spread through her.
“I’m going to make you scream again,” he said.
“I . . . I . . . ” She had no idea what she was trying to say. She was lost in an overpowering world of sensation and feeling. He continued to touch her gently, rub her, and whisper into her ear.
“Let go,” he said.
She couldn’t concentrate on anything besides his voice and his teasing, thrusting fingers. She would do anything. She flattened her other foot against the bathroom wall to offer him more access, felt his hand move a bit more quickly, and cried out as the contractions began again.
She wasn’t sure what happened next. She came back to herself slowly. She slumped against him. One big hand was over her crotch as he cradled her in his other arm. She still felt fluttering in her abdomen, and she opened her eyes as she heard his voice in her ear.
“Are you okay?” he said.
She’d never been so relaxed. They’d probably made a mess out of the bathroom, but who cared? She pulled one leg back into the tub and rolled over to look into his eyes.
“I’m great,” she said. She reached up to tuck some of his hair behind one ear. “I’d like to do something for you too.”
Things were still twitching between her legs. Damn. If she’d known multiple orgasms were this great, she would have tried them a long time ago. Somehow, she knew it wouldn’t be the same if it happened with any other man. She knew in a blinding flash she didn’t want to try it with any other man, either.
“Really?” he said.
“Oh, yeah,” she said. She reached out to grasp him in one fist. “Still want to talk?”
“Later,” he said.
GRANT AND DAISY wrapped each other in bathroom towels and hurried into her bedroom. He was somewhat amused to watch her shut and lock her bedroom door before she put two hands in the middle of his chest and pushed him down on her bed. He’d already discovered she was surprisingly strong, and she had no problem taking charge. He wasn’t objecting.
“Are you expecting someone?” he teased.
“Just making sure,” she said. She reached under his pelvis, pulled his hips to the edge of her bed, and grinned up at him. “My parts might need a little rest before—well, you know.” She sank to her knees in front of him. “You don’t mind, do you?” She swirled her tongue around the head of his dick, and he let out a long groan. “I was hoping you’d say that,” she said.
Less than three minutes later, she had him begging. She teased and taunted him with her mouth, getting him close and backing away just before he exploded. “Shit. Jesus. Daisy. I need to come,” he groaned.
“Later,” she teased.
“Wait until I get my hands on you—”
“I can’t wait,” she said before bringing him to the brink again. She reached into her bedside table and squeezed something over her fingertips, rubbing her hands together briefly. “Ready?”
“God. Fuck. YES. Shit!” he called out.
He opened his eyes long enough to see what she was doing. She was licking him, rubbing him up and down while manipulating his balls with her other hand, and sweet baby Jesus, he was going to explode. “I . . . I can’t . . . Fuck!” he called out.
He came so hard the edges of his vision went black, and he saw stars.
Grant heard his cell phone ringing as Daisy flopped down next to him on her bed.
“Do you need to answer that?”
“Voice mail,” he said as he fought to catch his breath.
He could call them back if he was still among the living in an hour or so. Having sex with Daisy wasn’t some sweet, languorous encounter. It was hot, sweaty, took every ounce of his strength, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
They hadn’t gotten to the main event yet, and he was already wiped out. Maybe he was getting old or something. Right now, he wanted to scramble under the covers with her and rest.
“You wanted to talk earlier,” she said. “You’re not dumping me or something, are you?”
The smile on her face was playful, but he saw something else in her eyes. She was bracing herself for whatever reason. He got off the bed and pulled the blankets down so they could crawl inside. He propped the pillows against the headboard. He held out his arms so she would nestle against him.
She ran her fingers through his chest hair. “So, what’s up?”
He let out a long sigh. “You might want to dump me when you hear this,” he said.
“So, we’re together now?”
“We weren’t before?” he said. “I want to be with you. Do you want to be with me?”
“Yes,” she said. She laid her hand over his heart, which was beating a bit faster at her nearness. Her scent, the softness of her skin, the sound of her voice, and the way she snuggled against him—he never wanted her to leave, he realized with a shock. He’d been searching for her, and he hadn’t realized it until now. And he had to tell her the truth.
He took a deep breath. His voice, when it came, sounded shaky to his own ears. “I’ve been lying to everyone I know for a long time now.”
He heard his cell phone ringing again in the silence.
“Want me to get that?” she said. Her voice sounded casual, like he’d just confessed to leaving the carton of milk in the refrigerator with half an inch in the bottom.
“I’ll get it later,” he said.
“No, let’s get it now.”
The ringing stopped and started again. There might be an emergency with his parents. Maybe he should get out of bed and find out who was calling and what they wanted. She hopped out of bed, disappeared into the bathroom, and closed the door slightly.
She got back into bed a few minutes later and handed him his cell phone. He had twenty-six missed calls since he’d been at the soccer field with Daisy. Ten of them were from his agent. The other sixteen were a mixture of his teammates and members of the media.
“Something’s wrong,” she said.
“Are you okay if I call my agent back?” He was already getting out of bed. He wrapped a towel around his midsection and padded into the bathroom. He shut the door behind him and sat down on the toilet lid. He hit Blake’s number.
“Where the fuck have you been?” Blake asked.
“It’s a long story,” Grant said.
“Listen. There’s trouble. I did my best, but there are several people in the Sharks’ front office who are not happy about the story that’s now been picked up by all major sports outlets. Sportscaster Barbie sure gets around.” He let out another long sigh. “I did my best. I told them it was unreasonable for them to equate anything you’ve done with that dipshit QB they cut before, but they’re not budging. I’m meeting with the front office guys and your coach tomorrow.” He let out a long sigh. “Also, one of my buds in the scouting group called me earlier. They’re bringing in some veteran QBs for a tryout tomorrow morning.”
It took everything he had to get the next words out. “Are they cutting me?”
“No. They might be benching you, though.”
“Johnny can’t quarterback his way out of a paper bag, and Reed’s still hurt.”
“You owe Reed one hell of a fruit basket, by the way. He was on the call. He told them there were guys currently on the team who are bigger manwhores than you’ve ever been, and they’re making a huge mistake by bringing anyone else in.”
Grant couldn’t seem to make his mouth work.
“I’m flying up there in the morning. Get some sleep, and we’ll strategize beforehand,” Blake said.
“Yeah.”
“We’ll get through this. If we don’t, Los Angeles has already called and would like to give you a tryout.”
He didn’t want to play for LA. He wanted to stay in Seattle. With Daisy.
“Thanks, I think.” Grant pulled breath into his lungs. “And thank you for trying.”
“I’ll let you buy me brunch tomorrow at that Brown Bag place. Big portions. I’ll call you in the morning. My flight lands at ten AM. The meeting is at two PM.”
Blake disconnected the call. Grant stared into space for a few minutes. The bathroom door opened, and Daisy walked in in some silky, flowery bathrobe. She sat down next to him on the edge of the soaking tub.
“I guess this wasn’t good news,” she said.
“No. It wasn’t.”
“Come on,” she said. She held out her hand, and he took it. She led him back to her room, repositioned the pillows, pulled the blankets up to his chin, and put his phone down on the bedside table. “We can talk more tomorrow.”
“I need to tell you what happened,” he said.
“It’s all going to look better in the morning.” She shut off the bedside lamp and crawled into bed next to him. “Sleep.”
Chapter Fifteen
DAISY’S ALARM WENT off at five AM the next morning. Grant wasn’t in her bed. She reached out to feel the pillowcase. It was cool. In other words, he’d left sometime during the night. She could see one of the drawers in her dresser slightly ajar. He must have found the sweats and the huge Microsoft Vista T-shirt her brother left at her place once upon a time.
She sat up in bed and pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her forearms around them. He’d awoken in the middle of the night; they’d had sex again, and she’d had another huge orgasm. She was falling asleep in his arms when she heard him say, “We have things to talk about, Daisy.”
“I have something to tell you too,” she murmured.
“Then we’re even,” he said. She heard the smile in his voice. After the drenching on the soccer field and some pretty acrobatic sex, she could sleep for a week.
She was pretty sure she knew what Grant had wanted to tell her last night. It really didn’t matter to her how many people he’d been with before or that he wasn’t the Goody-Two-shoes everyone else expected him to be. She knew he was worried because he thought the Sharks would retaliate against him for some vindictive sports reporter’s nonstory. Wait until he heard what she had to say.
The icy ball of fear was back in her stomach. She had to confess to him. She couldn’t believe all the media about Overtime Parking. It must have been a slow news week or something. Plus, she knew Grant was handsome, but he was now some kind of sex symbol. He had a new nickname in the media: Quarterback Jesus.
Yikes.
The book had just hit a new best-seller list, and she’d also received a fresh new royalties deposit in her checking account. She’d transferred it to savings and resolved to find a CPA who could advise her this week.
She shoved herself out of bed. If she didn’t get a move on, she was going to be late. And she was going to catch up with Grant later today and tell him. Once and for all. If he dumped her, at least she’d told him the truth. Thinking about losing him made her want to cry and cry and never stop, though.
She should have told him a long time ago. She should have told him before they’d slept together, before she’d found out what he was really like, before she’d developed feeli
ngs for him. She shouldn’t have published the book in the first place. She knew how it could affect him. He liked his privacy and didn’t need to be the subject of jokes and conjecture. Grant wanted to play football and not have to deal with the fallout that came from something everyone else expected him to comment on.
She’d traded with another flight attendant this morning because she wanted to work the Sharks’ charter flight this weekend. She’d rather spend tonight with Grant than in a hotel room in Phoenix, but she had to work.
She heard her phone chime with an incoming text. She picked it up off the bathroom counter and clicked on the icon to open it. It was Grant.
Grant: Let’s meet up later.
Her thumbs flew across the keyboard.
Daisy: I’ll be in Phoenix. Tomorrow.
Grant: Tomorrow night. I’m sorry I left without saying good-bye.
Maybe he didn’t like staying all night. Maybe he was uncomfortable. Maybe he had an appointment. Or maybe he was avoiding the conversation they needed to have as much as she was.
Daisy: I missed you.
Grant: I miss you too. I taped an interview. I’ll send you the file so you can see it.
She heard another chime on her phone as the video file arrived in her in-box.
Grant: Hopefully I don’t look like an idiot. See you later.
He must have done the interview before she showed up at Marymoor for her game; the date on the video file was yesterday. She had to leave for the airport in the next twenty minutes or so, but she could watch it before she left. The listing said that the interview would be part of Pro Sports Network’s Sunday pre-game show.
She’d seen the show before because her dad and brother had watched it. Five guys with some connection to the NFL talked about that day’s upcoming games, told jokes, and gave each other a hard time. The only one she recognized behind the desk was Brandon McKenna.
Brandon seemed to be the guy the other players and coaches looked to for confirmation or calm in the midst of the chaos of five highly competitive men attempting to talk over each other. He’d also built up solid interviewing skills as a result of talking with some high-profile players about the questions of the day without devolving into needless flattery to elicit information from them.
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