by Ava Walsh
She hadn’t said anything still.
“I know you think it was a mistake. But Ruby isn’t a mistake, Chelsey. She is a gift to us. She will bring us together. I want to be with you. I’ve always wanted to be with you,” he continued, and he finally heard her gasp.
Her body was still shaking, and she begun to cry again.
“Why didn’t you? How…when?” She was fumbling with her words, and he began to stroke her hair. He wasn’t sure how long they had been standing there in that position, entwined in each other’s arms like that.
“Why didn’t I what? Tell you anything? You were my sister’s best friend. I didn’t know you saw me as a guy. It would have been very inappropriate for me to make a move on you,” he said and she finally began to turn around, still in his arms.
“So why did you kiss me that night?” she asked him, looking at him directly now. He could see her lips move, her eyes gaze directly into his, and suddenly he felt like he had never felt happier. Becca Lowry had been wrong, he wasn’t destined to be unhappy because he had lost the one that he loved.
“Because I didn’t want to lose my one last chance. I thought if I kissed you when I was drunk, you’d forgive me later. But I hadn’t expected you to kiss me back,” he said, and to his surprise she kissed him again.
Chapter Twenty Four - Chelsey
Of course none of this was making any sense. How could Aaron Keels possibly be saying all this to her? But Chelsey didn’t care. She wanted to kiss him. So she straightened herself up, got up on her toes to reach him, and kissed his lips.
She had cut out some of the last words that he was saying, and felt his hands tighten on her waist as he held her in position so that they could kiss for longer.
Chelsey had never kissed him like this before. The two times that she had kissed Aaron Keels, it had been in the throes of passion, with their tongues down each other’s throats. Now, their kiss was soft and tender. She could taste him, feel his hands holding her affectionately. Neither of them was interested in ripping each other’s clothes apart.
When she finally pulled away from him to catch some air, she found him smiling at her.
“I can’t believe it. I’m a father.” Aaron was beaming now. Chelsey bit down on her lip, trying to study the authenticity of the look that he was giving her.
“You’ve of course been a mother for three years so you don’t know how I’m feeling. I can’t believe I missed her birth. I’m so sorry, Chelsey.” He pulled her into his arms again, and hugged her tightly.
“It wasn’t your fault. I kept Ruby hidden from you, on purpose,” Chelsey said. Her heart was leaping now. This was not how she had predicted this scene to unfold. She had expected him to lose his temper, to threaten her with a lawsuit, to either give her money to shut up about their child, or try and take Ruby away. The last thing she was expecting was for Aaron to be hugging her and behaving like a beaming new father.
“You had your reasons. I can choose to forgive you, or forever hold a grudge. I have no other choice but to forgive you, because I’m so madly in love with you, Chelsey,” he said, and he was nearly laughing from joy.
She couldn’t help but smile either. In all the ways she had fantasized Aaron to come back to her, this wasn’t one of them and it was even better.
“I saw you leave that day. The next morning. I hid behind a tree and watched as you got into the car and drove off,” Chelsey said, feeling embarrassed and dropping her face to her hands. Aaron laughed and then reached for her chin, to prop up her face so that he could look at her again.
“You hid behind a tree?” he asked and laughed some more. “I wished you hadn’t. All of this could have been solved. I wanted to see you that morning, I wanted to call you. But in the middle of my parents hurrying me, battling a bad hangover and also dreading that you regretted what had happened between us…I couldn’t see you or reach you,” he said, taking her in his arms again.
Chelsey smiled at him again, this time joining him in his laughter. Now that it was all in the past, it was funny indeed. Now that they both knew how they felt about each other.
“I spent three years chasing skirt, and trying to forget about you. And then I came home and found your letter. I was so happy to find it, but I was worried that you had moved on. I wish I’d found the letter sooner,” he said, and they kissed again.
“So you spent three years chasing skirt?” she asked, and Aaron rolled his eyes.
“You said it yourself, you’ve read the papers. But the reason I behaved so badly with so many women was that I was never satisfied. I kept comparing them to you. My sister’s best friend!” he said and laughed again.
“Ruby has never had a father. It would be a big adjustment for her,” Chelsey said suddenly, her maternal instincts kicking in.
“It will all be a big adjustment for her, not just having me around,” he said, and Chelsey crossed her brows.
“You can’t honestly believe that I’ll let you live here any longer, can you?” Aaron asked. There was still some laughter in his voice.
“Where will we live then?” she asked and he threw back his head and laughed.
“With me, of course. In my penthouse. We’ll have to make it child friendly, but I can call my housekeeper and ask her to get it ready for us before we head back,” Aaron said, staring hopefully into Chelsey’s eyes.
She could see it on his face, that he was silently pleading with her. That all said and done, it was all entirely up to her, still. After all, Chelsey was Ruby’s mother and for now, her sole guardian.
But Chelsey couldn’t keep her away from her father any longer. Especially not now that he had admitted his feelings for her. It was like her perfect fairytale was coming true. It was all going to be alright.
“What about my job…and Ruby will soon need a kindergarten,” she began to say but Aaron had interrupted her. He was holding her close still, and his breath blew away the locks of hair that had fallen on her nose.
“You don’t need a job, Chelsey. Not when you can own your own hair salon. And finding a kindergarten for Ruby will be no problem,” he said, trying to control his excitement. Chelsey smiled, and then tilted her head to the side.
“What about your career? Your reputation as an eligible bachelor celebrity?” she asked, humoring him. Aaron laughed again and this time lifted her up by her waist.
“You think I ever gave a damn about what they write about me in the papers? They can write as much as they want about how I have the most beautiful family in the world.”
*****
THE END
Bonus Book 4: Quarterback Daddy
Description
If I win, and I always win, I get an animalistic rush that can only be satiated by a woman’s body. And there she is, waiting to interview me.
Erica
I wasn’t attending the NFL game to see Kyle Murphy, like everyone else. I was there because I had a job to do. I had an interview to take, and I was willing to do anything to get it.
Chiseled body, six-pack abs, permanent obnoxious smile. He decided to undress in front of me, in the locker room. And then he invited me to watch him take a shower.
And I was floored. All self-control was out of the window. He was going to have me, and I was willing to abandon all professional ethics for the sake of the interview I wanted.
But then everyone found out. And I was left with a secret that not even he can find out.
Kyle
I get an adrenaline rush after I win a game. An instant, animalistic instinct that can only be satiated by a woman’s body.
So I was lucky that Erica Lee, a fresh-faced young reporter was waiting for me after the game.
But unlike all my other fans, she was a tough nut to crack.
When I succeeded, it was like nothing else. I had to have her again. I wanted more.
So when my manager said I needed a pretend girlfriend to clear my name, I knew exactly whom I wanted...
Chapter One - Erica
&nb
sp; I have been chasing news stories for the past year. Nobody thought I could do it – a girl trying to make it big as a sports journalist? But I was determined to prove them all wrong, especially my dad, who always wanted a son but got me instead.
So when I was called into my editor’s office the other day, you can imagine how on edge I was. The worst thing that could happen was my being demoted to write fluff human interest stories without a byline. The best thing that could happen was that I got to cover the next NFL game.
What ended up happening was that my editor gave me an assignment that was so good that I hadn’t even dreamt of it. Kyle Murphy. I was supposed to interview Kyle Murphy.
Before anything else, I should let you in on who Kyle Murphy is. As you can predict, he is an NFL superstar. Why else would I even be interested? He was being touted as the next big thing. He might have been only twenty-four years old, but he wasn’t green to the game. He had been picked up, touted at the tender age of eighteen and he had been making a splash ever since. Teams had fought over him, and he obviously took up the most pricy offer. Because that is who Kyle Murphy was.
I hadn’t ever met him in person, but I had formed a pretty accurate impression of him. I had interviewed and hung around enough footballers to know exactly how much the fame got to their heads. But with Kyle Murphy, it was a completely different level.
The guy looked like a Greek God, for starters. His body was pure muscle. It was hard to miss the layers of chiseled and well-sculpted sinew under his jersey while he played. His face was sharp, his jaw square, his eyes a piercing emerald green, and his lips flawlessly pink and juicy. His hair was dark, and he kept it short in a buzz cut so that it never interfered with his game.
So, Kyle Murphy’s stardom wasn’t all just about his prowess on the field. It was also about how irresistibly gorgeous he looked. This contributed to all the media attention he got. He was never seen without a beautiful model or film star hanging from his arm and he always left them heartbroken. Kyle Murphy was known as a serial non-committer and I could never understand why these women kept trying. It was like they couldn’t help themselves.
Men wanted to be like him and women wanted to tame him. That was the legend of Kyle Murphy. I had always watched from the sidelines, interested in his success story. Never before did I have the opportunity to actually meet him in person, interview him. He was larger than life – too high profile for me to actually meet. But, finally, here I was. For some reason my editor had thought I was ready to report on him and I was sure not going to mess it up.
So, during the game I stood in the middle of the hallway near the locker room. I could watch on the large screen TV that had been fixed at the entrance, so I wasn’t really missing out on the action. My plan was to intercept him on his way back to the locker room after the game. Kyle Murphy was notorious for not keeping his word with reporters for interviews. He could very well change his mind. Then what was I supposed to do? Become a failure? I was determined to get this interview. It was my job and I was going to do it well.
But the whole time I stood watching the game, my brain was split in half. I could see him on the screen, taking his team to victory. He moved swiftly on the field, the cameras always remained focused on him. Even with his helmet on, even when he was being tackled, Kyle Murphy had an obnoxious smile on his face. The cameras captured the sparkle in his eye, the way his body cut through the wind as he ran.
I was watching him. That is to say, I was watching the team win. I couldn’t help but think about my dad and the look of sheer surprise he would have on his face when my interview was printed the next morning. He’d see my name, my official mugshot at the top above the article and the realization would sink in: his daughter had interviewed Kyle Murphy, the model son he wished he had. He would be in disbelief for the first few minutes that it was actually his daughter, and then he might regret all the words he had thrown at me. He might regret the passive aggressiveness he had tortured my mother with, blaming her for not presenting him with a son, for not being able to have any more children after me.
Kyle Murphy represented more than just a lucky break for me. He was going to give me the opportunity to prove to my dad that I was capable of anything. That even though I was a girl, I was way closer to the NFL than any son of his might have ever gotten.
The game had come to an end, and I could see Kyle Murphy on the screen being lauded by the crowd. Some of his teammates had lifted him up on their shoulders. He had yanked the helmet off his face, smiling and laughing for the camera. Kyle Murphy was celebrating and I was silently celebrating too, hoping that he wouldn’t forget that he had an interview to give.
Chapter Two - Kyle
That fresh after-victory feeling overcame me when I walked off the field and back towards the locker room. I have to admit – it was the biggest thrill. It was why I played the game, why I trained every day of the week, every week of the month. I pushed my body to the limit, I worked hard to stay fit and on top of the game, to be the best… because I love to win.
To hear the crowd cheer was a high, an adrenaline rush, and a reminder of all the good things in my life. Most importantly, a reminder of all the panties that were going to drop tonight. A game always charged me up for a good fuck. I needed to feel the smooth flesh of the inside of a woman’s thigh immediately after a game.
If I won, and I always won, it immediately turned me on. I don’t know how to describe it other than that it was an instant, animalistic instinct to fuck.
We had won again, my teammates thumping my back as we walked back towards the locker room. I was already scanning the cheering crowd, eyeing the people who had gathered at the entryway.
I noticed the handful of women, fans who were screaming my name. Tight asses, delicious cleavage, flowing hair, big eyes, smooth necks. Those were the first things I noticed. I was like a wolf on the prowl. I knew I could have any of them – all I had to do was give them a look.
I smiled at a few of them, and I could see it in their eyes as I passed by. They were desperate for me. I had read the papers this morning: a recent poll had revealed that I was named as “The Sexiest Man in America”. It had made me laugh that morning. Now, after the game was over, after we had run and the adrenaline was pumping through my veins, I wanted a prize. An actual prize.
One of the girls who was screaming my name, whose palm I lightly grazed before walking away, had licked her lips when our eyes met. She wanted me. I could imagine her panties getting wet. She was going to tell all her friends that I had looked at her. It made me smile. Maybe there was some way I could get her into the locker room, into my shower, bend her over and get it over with. That was the only way I could relax, the only way I could calm my nerves and enjoy the rest of the celebration with my teammates. I needed to fuck.
Then I walked into the hallway, my teammates flanking me on either side. We were like an entourage, a convoy of the most eligible bachelors in the country, who had just won another game.
But my focus had shifted already. I had seen her standing at the entrance of the locker room, and I decided almost instantly that she was going to be my catch for the night. She would do.
She could have been a reporter, or a lawyer, or an architect. The bottom line was she looked nothing like my usual screaming fans. This girl had straight glossy blonde hair that was neatly parted on the side, it was cut sharply at her shoulders. She immediately looked low maintenance, like she had barely spent any time doing her hair. She was wearing a pair of black tailored trousers and I instantly thought, “Who wears trousers to an NFL game?”
A white shirt was tucked in at the waist, and that waist was small, and the buttons on her shirt were slightly parted to accommodate for those big juicy breasts. A lanyard hung around her neck, and that was when I made up my mind. I knew she was a reporter even before she stuck her hand out in front of me.
“Kyle Murphy.” She said my name like she was informing me of it - like I might have been clueless of my name before she
instructed me. I looked into her eyes. They were large, blue eyes, yet focused – like she was on a mission. She was serious about what she was about to say.
I hadn’t slowed my pace (neither had those around me) and she walked beside us, keeping her hand stuck out towards me.
“I’m Erica Lee from The Statesman,” she continued. This time I smirked at her. But unlike all my other fans, she was a tough nut to crack. I still hadn’t seen her smile or blush.
“Hello, Erica Lee,” I said and decided to shake her hand. Physical contact might get the ball rolling. Our hands met and I was instantly aware of how small and slender her hand was in mine, but I shook it nonetheless with a strong jerk. I was almost afraid that I had broken her arm.
But she looked unaffected.
“I have an interview with you. Your manager confirmed it with us this morning,” she continued, and I raised my eyebrow. Honestly, I couldn’t remember. I didn’t pay attention to half of the things that Lewis said to me, and especially not on game day! But the very fact that she was here, so close to our locker room, meant that she had been given access. It was obvious that Lewis had allowed her to try to get an interview with me.
She was still not smiling, and I was still walking. I walked straight into the locker room and she followed me. “Mr. Murphy,” she said after a few seconds of silence. Her voice was sharp, authoritative. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had spoken to me like this.
My interest in her had lain in what lay underneath those trousers and that white tucked-in shirt. But she looked like she meant business, and I wasn’t sure if that annoyed me or interested me more.