Most Likely To Score

by Lauren Blakely

  26

  Jones

  It’s like prom, only so much better because I like Jillian way more than Cassie Perkins, the girl I took to the dance. We had a fun time, danced to a couple songs, laughed at a few jokes. But I didn’t feel this stirring of excitement down to my bones when I picked her up.

  The limo Harlan and I rented stops at Jillian’s home in Hayes Valley. Dressed in my dark navy tailored suit, I bound up the steps and ring the bell. A minute later, Jillian appears at the door, and I’m speechless. I drink her in, and I want to eat her up.

  Sexy but classy, the black dress she wears clings to her, hugging her curves alluringly. The V of her neckline offers the tiniest peek of her cleavage, a hint of flesh. I groan my appreciation. “I want to take that off. Kiss you from head to toe, get my mouth all over every square inch of your skin, skip the wedding, and spend the night with you.” I lean closer. “Inside you. Exploring you. Having you.”

  Her lips part, and her breath comes in an unsteady rush. Her hand moves to her chest. “If you talk to me like that, I don’t know how I’ll make it through the wedding.”

  “If you keep looking at me like that, I don’t know how I will.”

  “How do I look at you?”

  “Like you want all the same things.”

  Gripping the railing in one hand, she answers in a soft, sexy voice, “You know I do.”

  Somehow, I muster the strength to tear myself away from her porch and the possibility of what’s behind door number one—her, alone with me, tonight. I offer her an arm and walk her to the car.

  Harlan lounges in the back, tipping his imaginary hat as he says hello. I don’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse that I picked him up first. I decide on blessing for now, because maybe he’s the roadblock I need.

  We pick up Katie next, and as she slides into the car wearing a pale pink dress, it’s safe to say Harlan’s eyes pop out of his head. “How do you do?” He extends a hand as if to shake hers, then dips his head to kiss the top of her fingers.

  “My, my, what a gentleman,” Katie remarks.

  “I can dance, too.”

  “You don’t say,” Katie tosses back.

  He shrugs and shoots her a lopsided grin. “I enjoy dancing. It’s one of my many talents.”

  “What are your others? Besides running, blocking, and tackling.”

  “I can bake pies like nobody’s business.”

  Katie’s eyes light up, and she hums her approval. “I’ll be saving a dance for you, Mr. Pie Maker.”

  I glance at Jillian, and she simply shrugs happily. I have a feeling this won’t be the last I hear of Harlan’s interest in Katie.

  In front of three hundred friends, family members, colleagues, and professional athletes in a swank hotel ballroom overlooking the Pacific Ocean, Sierra’s fiancé tells her he’ll love, cherish, and honor her for the rest of his days. A few rows in front of us, Kevin leans in closer to the woman he cheated on Jillian with, and dusts a kiss on her cheek.

  I seethe inside. He never deserved Jillian. But I let the anger fade because his actions gave me this chance. Seated next to Jillian, I lean in and speak softly. “I’m glad Kevin’s with that skank.”

  She laughs quietly. “You are?”

  “Because that means he’s not with you.”

  She smiles at me, and it’s an arrow straight to my heart. It hits me hard and fantastically, and I want to keep earning the right to all her beautiful smiles. “Also, you look beautiful tonight,” I say in a low voice. “Stunning.”

  I tell her because I want her to feel as beautiful as she is. But I need her to know something else, too. Something more important. That there are guys who would never violate her trust. How I’m one of those guys. I want her to know that even though I might’ve started as a player, I’d never do what he did. When the ceremony ends, and the bride and groom walk down the aisle to the wedding march, I grab Jillian’s arm and whisper, “You have to know that even though I might have a past, I would never do what Kevin did.”

  She turns her gaze to mine, that vulnerable look I love flashing across her brown irises. “I’d never think you would.”

  Even with all these people around us, I can’t stop looking at her. “I need you to know I’m a one-woman kind of guy.”

  As the guests clap and cheer, she mouths words just for me. I’m a one-guy kind of woman.

  All my instincts tell me to pull her close and seal this moment with a kiss, but once more, I’m painfully aware we can’t. We’re a secret—one-time clandestine lovers attending a mutual acquaintance’s wedding for a quick hit of one another’s company.

  I hate that I can’t kiss her in public, or at all.

  We’re ushered into the reception room. People chat and snap photos, and I get pulled in a few different directions, posing for shots with fans, with Sierra, and even with Kevin. He yanks Harlan next to him on the other side. I have no doubt Kevin is going to post this picture everywhere. Bumping into two of the Renegades at Sierra’s nuptials. Isn’t he oh-so connected?

  “So good to see you two,” his baritone voice booms, and I want to punch him and thank him at the same damn time.

  But most of all, I don’t want to be him.

  Because I don’t want to lose her.

  And I don’t even have her.

  After the pictures, I keep trying to snag a private moment with the woman I love, but it’s a fool’s errand since this is a crazy-ass public event. I don’t know why I thought this would be a good idea. I’m running into the same wall everywhere I see her. I can’t talk to her the way I want to. I can’t be with her the way I want to. But I’m relentless, and I don’t stop hunting for an opening, just like I do on the field.

  Harlan must sense it. He’s no dummy, and he has to know what I said at training camp is a lie. He also doesn’t care that I fibbed to him, since once the dancing begins, he says, “How about I take the first dance with Jillian, and you take Katie for a whirl. You feel me?” His eyes pin me.

  “I fucking feel you. And I love you for it.”

  He smacks my shoulder. “I know what’s going on, and it’s cool with me. I’ve got your back. I always do.”

  “I know, man.”

  Harlan holds out an arm and asks Jillian for a dance. They dance as two colleagues do. Nothing more. They maintain a professional distance while I join Katie on the dance floor, her hands chastely on my shoulders.

  “You better treat her well,” Katie says, shedding formalities instantly.

  My answer is true and honest. “I will.”

  But her blue eyes brook no argument. “I mean it. If she goes out on a limb for you, do not let her down. I know that you’re a foot taller than me and probably one-hundred-fifty pounds heavier, but I don’t care. I will kick you in the balls if you hurt her.”

  I flinch instinctively, wanting to cup the goods. “Damn.”

  Katie isn’t done with me yet. “She is the best person I know, and she tries to live her life with honesty and integrity. If you make a move for her, you better make that play for real. Be prepared to put your whole heart into it.” She pauses, softens her expression, and flashes the biggest smile. “Or you will answer to me and my steel-toed cowboy boots.”

  My balls wince just thinking about it. “You will never need to break those out with me. Also, I can see why you’re her best friend.”

  When the song ends, we switch partners, and Harlan seems none too sad to have another chance to chat with Katie.

  Once Jillian is in my arms, I struggle mightily to resist bringing her close. But what I can’t say with my body, I say with words. “Jillian,” I rasp out. “Something’s gotta give.”

  Her voice is soft, overflowing with emotion. “I know. We can’t keep looking for stolen opportunities like this.”

  “I need to find a way to be with you. I want that more than anything.”

  Her breath hitches. “I want that so much, too. I nearly told Lily the other day.”

  My eyes po
p out. “You did?”

  “Almost, but I didn’t have a chance to. I was tempted, though, because I don’t want to keep pretending.”

  “I don’t like it, either. All I want is to pull you close and stop pretending right now.”

  “Me, too.”

  Her hands wind more tightly around my neck, and I groan.

  A soft murmur escapes her lips.

  My gaze roams her gorgeous face, and I can see in her eyes, in the tightness of her jaw, in the rush of breath from her lips, that the fight is real for both of us.

  Real and painful.

  I want this fight to end. I want us to give in. “Do you have any idea how hard it is for me not to kiss you senseless right now?”

  “As hard as it is for me?”

  I laugh softly, then the laughter fades. “I need to be with you, baby.”

  “I need that, too.”

  “I don’t know why I thought coming to a wedding with you would be a good idea. I feel like a starving man. I’m just trying to get crumbs. But now I have these crumbs, and I want to gobble the whole pie.”

  She laughs. “A cherry pie.”

  “Don’t say words like cherry. It’s too sexy. It turns me on. They make me think of all the things I want to do to you. You’re like a cherry, and I want to eat you up.”

  “I want you to eat me up like a cherry.”

  “You’re. Killing. Me. We need to get out of here.”

  Worry flickers across her face. “Don’t you think it would be obvious if we left together?”

  “Yeah, but I kind of don’t care anymore.”

  “Sneaking around is risky,” she whispers, caution coloring her tone. “You know it’s dangerous.”

  “I know, but we can pull this off. We have to.”

  Her eyes flash with the same desperation I feel. “Are you sure?”

  “I can’t stand not having you tonight. Are you with me on this?”

  She glances around briefly, as if she’s debating her options. When her gaze returns to me, she nods. “I’ll say my goodbyes and leave first. Then you stay behind ten minutes or something, so it’s not obvious. I’ll wait in the car until you make it out.”

  I nod approvingly. “Look at you, making plays, devising strategies.”

  “Finding openings,” she adds, with a lift of her eyebrows.

  “Hell, yeah. That’s my favorite thing to do. I’d like to find one with you.”

  “I have an—” Jillian freezes, her gaze locked across the dance floor. “Lily’s here.” She whispers the warning, creating distance between us. “She must have come for the reception.”

  Jillian fixes on a smile, waving as she makes eye contact with her boss, who’s chatting with a small girl by her side. I recognize the kid as Olivia, Lily’s daughter. I’ve met her a few times. She’s nine, and she told me I was her favorite Renegade, so I take a chance. After I say hello to the head of the publicity department, I bend down and ask her daughter if she wants to dance.

  Olivia beams, and we head to the dance floor to cut the rug to a fast tune.

  She shimmies. She shakes. She laughs.

  I do the same as Sabrina Carpenter’s “We’ll Be the Stars” plays—perfect music for a dance with a third-grader.

  “You’re a good dancer,” she says.

  “Not as good as you.”

  “But you’re better at catching the football.”

  I wipe a hand across my brow as I move my hips, bopping along to the beat. “Boy, am I glad to hear that.”

  When the dance ends, Olivia gives me a bear hug, but the one from her mom is even bigger.

  I didn’t dance with her kid to win her over. I didn’t do it to smooth the path for Jillian. I did it because I wanted to, and I hope that desire is what matters most in the end.

  Not my past.

  Not the dumb stuff I’ve done.

  Just the things I’ve done lately.

  They have to outweigh the mistakes.

  An hour later, I nod at Harlan as I leave. He gives a crisp nod in return. He said he’d catch his own ride and take Katie home.

  Once I’m outside, I find the limo, grab the handle, and open the door. I’ve made my great escape.

  The car door slams shut behind me, and it’s her and me, alone at last. The partition is up. Total privacy. I toss my suit jacket onto the seat.

  The driver pulls away from the hotel, and Jillian launches herself at me.

  Fuck yes.

  She grabs my face and crushes her lips to mine. Everything in my body screams yes the second she makes contact. Our tongues tangle, our lips devour, and our hands are everywhere.

  She grabs at my shirt, plays with my hair. My hands fly down her sides, over her ass, up to her neck.

  “It’s been too long,” I mutter, then slide my lips over hers again. I have to have her. Must consume her.

  This is everything I missed. This is everything I want. Electricity lights my skin, and my brain is a static haze of lust, desire, and something more.

  Something I don’t want to give up.

  We kiss like a wild homecoming, like I’ve been away for months and she can’t get enough of me. Climbing on top of me, she straddles my lap, hikes up her skirt, and grinds against me. She goes to town on my hard-on, and I can’t stop kissing her. Can’t stop wanting her.

  This is fire and heat, and I need more of the blaze.

  I fumble around in the pocket of my jacket, finding my wallet and grabbing a condom.

  “Need to be inside you,” I grit out, and she nods, panting a yes as she reaches for the zipper on my pants and slides it down.

  My eyes stray to her hands undressing me, and hell, this is perfect. This is the view I want for a long time.

  I want her hands on me.

  I want her owning my body.

  I want her to know that she’s the only one I want touching me.

  She’s the one.

  It’s staggering, the realization that she’s the end of the line for me. She’s the one I want. It’s been hitting me all week long, over and over, in different ways.

  I knew it earlier in the week at the game. I was sure when we texted. I felt it again in my agent’s office, then at dinner, and now once more tonight.

  And I need to feel it in a physical way.

  Need to know what it’s like to connect deeper than I ever have before. I cup her cheek, meet her gaze. “I need to make love to you.”

  “Please. Please, make love to me.”

  Quickly, I rearrange us, laying her down on the leather seat, then roll on the condom. She slides off her panties, and I groan in appreciation of the stunning view of her perfectly wet pussy. “Fuck, you’re beautiful. I missed you so fucking much.”

  “I missed you, too. Now, please, please. We’re going to be at my house soon, and I need this.”

  I slide inside her, and I shudder. It’s unreal. It’s bone-shatteringly good. She grabs my neck, pulls me closer, and kisses me harder, rougher than before.

  “Yes,” I groan as I swivel my hips, filling her completely, thrusting deep inside her.

  The sounds she makes send me into a frenzy as lust spreads all over my body, but it’s so much more than that. As I go deeper, she cries out, “So good.”

  I wrap my arms around her. “I can’t get close enough to you, baby.”

  She digs her nails into my ass. “I know. I feel the same.”

  “I can’t stand being without you.”

  “I can’t take it, either.” She brings her mouth down on my shoulder and bites. Hard. Leaving marks. Setting me off, because I fucking love her orgasms, and she has to be close. I give her what she wants—hard, deep strokes—because I know what she wants, and I want to be with her like this. Always.

  Soon, she flies over the edge, falling apart in my arms, biting down on my flesh, and it’s as good as it’s ever been.

  No. It’s even better. Because I know what I want.

  After I follow her there, coming hard, I meet her gaze. Her
eyes are blissed-out. The words that come next are so damn easy to say. “I’m in love with you.”

  The sigh she makes is soft and happy, but also a little sad, as she whispers, “I’m in love with you, too.”

  This should be a defining moment in the playbook of my life. This should be when the quarterback launches the ball and I run clear to the end zone to score a touchdown.

  The trouble is, I fear I’m going to drop the pass, or worse, get slaughtered by a hit I don’t see coming.

  We all have a blind side.

  But I don’t know how to anticipate a problem I can’t see, so I hold her face and kiss her, a little soft, a little desperate, as we drive the last mile to her home.

  When we turn onto her block, she breaks the kiss and sets a hand on my arm. “I want to spend the night with you. You have to know that.”

  “Yeah, I know that, and I want to spend the night with you, too, but . . .”

  “But the longer we keep sneaking around, the worse it’s going to be.” She brushes a kiss on my cheek. “I need to go through with it this time. I need to tell Lily.”

  “And I need to tell Ford and Liam.” I brush my lips against hers once more, as if we’re finalizing our plans. Sealing them with a kiss before the night ends, and the hard work begins tomorrow.

  When she’s gone, I tell the driver to take me home.

  The next day, I’m up bright and early, the morning fog snaking through the hills of San Francisco as I run. Along the way, I focus on the words I’ll say to my agent and to my new business partner.

  When I’ve crested five miles, I head for the gym near my home to lift weights, and forty-five minutes later, I’m energized and ready to make the call.

  But as I head for the exit, I bump into my old teammate, Garrett Snow.

  27

  Jillian

  My stomach is a skydiver, executing loops and flips that I didn’t know it could do. I’m pretty sure that at some point it tries to crawl up my esophagus.

  Nerves can suck it. I need to be made of steel.

  I lift my chin and continue my march down the hall to my boss’s office. My high-heeled shoes click along the floor as I picture my patent leather pumps giving me power, giving me the strength to say what must be said.