Jock: A Secret Baby Sports Romance

by Irons, Aubrey

  She takes a step back, shaking her head.

  “I think we should discuss your contract,” she says quickly, smoothing her skirt down. “Seeing as I’m leaving in-” she glances at her silver wristwatch, “twenty minutes.”

  I flash a cocky grin at her as I hook my thumbs into the edge of the towel, pulling it low towards the thickening bulge in the front of it.

  “There’s a lot we could do in twenty minutes, sugar,” I growl out, holding her eyes and letting mine burn right into her.

  London swallows thickly before she crosses her arms under her breasts and gives me a level look, shaking her head. “Let’s talk about your contract.”

  I sigh. “Fine, the contract.”

  “We can’t go higher.” She shrugs. “I’m just going to level with you. The preliminaries we already sent Randy are the highest it’s going to get, no matter how good your manager thinks he is.”

  I nod, mulling it over.

  Randy’s right, the offer is good, even if it’s a little lower than what I’m pulling in Denver. Especially since Randy’s also right about the re-negotiations here; after last season and the bullshit of the offseason, there’s no way I’m keeping the same figures I was getting last year.

  And to top it off, there’s that pressing need to run. There’s the undeniable feeling that I’ve stayed too long in a place I’ve called home all my life. And now, it just feels more like a commitment than a place I can call my own.

  I need to get out of this town, and this is exactly the opportunity I need.

  I stare at the sassy little spitfire of a girl standing in front of me - the one who blew my fucking mind last night with that rocking little body riding me senseless. I let my eyes wander over her, feeling the rush from last night coursing through my veins and my thoughts.

  I shake my head.

  Cool out, man.

  Because the “contract” we’re discussing and the move I’m considering is to go to Houston to play football, not for the prospect of fucking that tight, perfect pussy again.

  London clears her throat, dragging my eyes from the curve of her hip in that skirt back up to her face.

  “Randy needs to know that, before we start wasting each other’s time with the back and forth. The number in the preliminaries really are as high as we’ll go. I’m just being honest with you so we can skip the BS.”

  I nod. “I’ll make sure he knows.”

  London shrugs. “Still interesting in Houston, then?”

  Houston. Playing for the Bulls. NOT that hot ass, those perfect tits, those cock-throbbingly pouty lips.

  I clear my throat. “Yeah, still interested.”

  She holds my eyes for another second.

  “Well, okay then.” She smiles, still all business. “I’ll talk to my people, you talk to yours, and we’ll send some stuff later today.”

  She turns and starts zipping up her suitcase.

  “You want to make the announcement or should we?”

  I frown, grinding my teeth and feeling my heart sink at the thought of telling this town I’m leaving.

  “Me.”

  London turns and nods slowly. “Well, okay then. I guess we’re done?”

  It’s amazing to me that this formal, all business, all straight-laced, tough-negotiating “LJ Jacobs” is the same London Jacobs from last night. The businesswoman standing in front of me looking like she’s ready to head into a shareholder meeting is the same hot little cowgirl who rode my cock like a bull last night while she came like a hurricane.

  “Done?” I flash a grin at her as I step towards her once more, my palm going to the wall behind her.

  “We’ve still got fifteen minutes til you gotta leave, you know.”

  London’s cheeks flush as her eyes burn something fierce for a second. But then she’s only smiling as she reaches up and pats my cheek.

  “Oh, sugar,” she winks at me, “I think you’d need more than fifteen minutes with me.”

  And without another word, she grabs the handle of her suitcase, turns, and strolls towards the hotel room door.

  She turns with her hand on the knob.

  “Check-out is at eleven, but you’re welcome to stay here until then.”

  She places that cowgirl hat of hers atop her head as she turns. And then she’s gone, and I’m standing alone in a towel in her damn hotel room, watching the door click shut.

  Where the fuck did this girl come from, and what the fuck just happened?

  12

  London

  Breathe.

  It’s not until I’m through security at the Denver airport that I remember to do so.

  I take a seat in the waiting area by my gate, feeling shaky, feeling electrified, and buzzing with the flushed thrill of the night before.

  What the HELL just happened?

  I’ve never been this unprofessional, not once. Hell, even before the hotel room, everything about my dealings with Holden Cade so far have been so wildly inappropriate that I don’t even know what to make of it. Talking about the contract and negotiating directly with a prospect? What was I even thinking? It should never have been Holden at that dinner last night to begin with, it should have been his manager and me discussing the terms.

  But there I went and said yes to dinner with him, and as much as I want to vehemently deny it, I know it’s because one look at those smoky eyes and one flash of that stupidly charming grin had me saying yes like some sort of trained puppy.

  Ugh.

  And then I doubled down on stupid decisions. Because apparently taking a one-on-one business dinner with a prospect that I was already having wildly inappropriate thoughts about wasn’t enough. I had to introduce alcohol to the mix.

  Nice job, girl. Well done.

  I groan as I slump in my chair, pulling my hat down low over my eyes and blowing a thin stream of air out through my lips. I want to tell myself that the whole thing was about the deal - about making damn sure we got the trade. That’s all.

  Except that’s not true, and I damn well know it. This was about not knowing how to, or even remotely wanting to say no to a man like Holden. This was seeing that train coming from a hundred miles away and standing firmly in the middle of the tracks.

  Because I’m insane, apparently, not to mention seemingly perfectly okay jeopardizing the formidable reputation I’ve built for myself over the years.

  Oh so you slept with him to make the deal?

  I groan as the thought hits me again. I don’t want to think about what that makes me.

  In any case, he’s interested. He’s going to make the move; I can feel it.

  …Either that or it’s just my traitorous body remembering how he felt. I can feel the warm creep of a forbidden, wicked feeling starting in my stomach and spreading through my body as my mind flashes back the events of the night before.

  His mouth, his fingers, moving over my skin and making it ache and burn for him.

  The size of him.

  How he felt. How his lips tasted.

  I shiver, blushing and re-crossing my legs at the sudden tingle of heat and wetness between them.

  That’s enough of that.

  I shake my head, sitting up straight now and taking a deep, shaky breath.

  Last night happened, but that doesn’t mean I can’t put it behind me and just move on. Holden wants this trade as much as we do, and the events of last night will in no way shape or form change that.

  Besides, I think with a shrug, straightening my hat and taking my phone out of my bag; I’m allowed to have some fun once in a while.

  I thumb my phone screen on, and I’m immediately greeted by a string of texts from my friend Serena I haven’t seen yet.

  Serena also works for the Bulls on the publicity side of things. She’s my literal opposite: model-tall where I’m short, envy-inducing long, silken dark hair where my frizzy auburn locks frustrate, and olive skin to my freckled tone. The woman should be in a magazine selling lingerie, not in an office managing ad space f
or a pro football team. But her dad was a defensive coach and a friend of my father, and Serena and I click so well because she’s another daddy’s girl turned tomboy football nut, just like me.

  I glance up to the board and notice my flight’s being slightly delayed in boarding, so I hit “call” instead of bothering to read all her late-night texts from when I was…occupied.

  “So how’d it go?”

  My face instantly flushes at the sound of her voice, however innocuous the question. Because as close as we are, I’m not breathing a word about what happened last night to her.

  I swallow thickly. “Oh, you know, fine.”

  Serena sighs. “I love how you can make taking a business dinner with a guy like Holden Cade sound boring.”

  I shrug. “It was just a preliminary business dinner,” I say quickly. “Nothing to write home about.”

  “Apparently, because you didn’t respond to a single one of my texts last night.”

  My stomach flip-flops a little as I feel the heat rush into my face.

  “Well,” Serena presses on, hopelessly ignoring my stuttered silence of an answer. “And how was the man himself?”

  I shrug again, as if she’s standing in front of me.

  “Oh, fine.”

  “Well, yeah, we know that,” Serena says with a snicker.

  I roll my eyes; suddenly thankful we’re having this conversation over the phone instead of face to face.

  “I think he’s going to make the move.”

  “Get out, seriously?”

  Serena’s whole tone changes from teasing to suddenly interested. This is why I love this girl; she actually gets excited about things like player licensing contracts and trade deals like I do.

  “Yeah, seriously.”

  Serena whistles. “Jesus, girl, what the hell did you offer him?”

  The blush comes roaring back to my face as my mind instantly flashes back to the night before.

  Everything. I offered him everything, and had the best sex of my life when he took it.

  “Okay, you just paused for way too long.”

  I blink out of my filthy flashbacks at Serena’s prying tone.

  “I did not,” I say primly, sitting up in my seat.

  She gasps dramatically. “Oh my God, is this why you never called me back last night?”

  “Serena-”

  “A preliminary business dinner, huh?”

  I can imagine the wide, grinning look on my friend’s face.

  “You’re delusional.”

  “No, just hopeful.” She chuckles. “You work too much, girl.”

  “Yeah, well…” I trail off and sigh, reaching up to rub the bridge of my nose as I try and will the heat from my face.

  “I’m about to work even more, because Holden Cade is about to become a Houston Bull.”

  “This is going to be a media shit-storm, you know,” Serena says, whistling lowly.

  Oh, if only you knew.

  The intercom at the gate buzzes to life, regretting to inform us that my flight back to Houston has been delayed again.

  I grumble into the phone.

  “I gotta let you go so I can go find a cup of coffee.”

  “Hey, London.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Congrats on getting the guy.” Serena giggles. “Take that either way you want.”

  I groan, the blush flashing back into my face. “Serena-”

  “Oh go find your coffee, I’m just teasing you.”

  Later, I find a new seat by the windows overlooking the runway with my overpriced, overly hot airport coffee.

  No matter what happens - no matter if Holden ends up taking the deal like I think he will - what happened cannot happen again. That was dumb, and even if we were both way too drunk and evidently not thinking clearly, it’s a mistake I can’t afford to make.

  Hands off the players, Jesus.

  I’ve worked too hard, and gone head-to-head with too many staunch old men who doubted my abilities and talents because of my gender to let my whole career go to shit because word gets out I slept with a man-whore of a prospect.

  …No matter how mind-blowingly good it was.

  I take a furtive sip of my coffee as I stare out at the runway, only to hear the intercom squawk again with another canned apology for yet another delay.

  Goddamnit.

  I don’t need to spend another second in Denver. I need to get home and get Holden Cade and the mistake of a lifetime out of my head.

  13

  Holden

  I stop by my own place after leaving London’s hotel room just long enough to change into gym clothes before I head out the door.

  No, it’s not that I’ve suddenly decided to start actually showing up for my scheduled morning workout routines. But working out and lifting has always cleared my head, and shit do I need to wipe mine clean right now.

  The trainers and other guys on the team all give me odd, unbelieving looks when I actually show up at the training center before three pm for the first time in months. But I just nod, still too lost in my own head to say anything as I make my way to the weight room.

  I grin as I rack some weights and take a seat on the bench, thinking about the night before.

  Yeah, last night happened and it was fucking amazing.

  I shake my head as I lay back and grip the benching bar. I know I should have said no. Hell, I never should have even gone to dinner with her in the first place, let alone taking that cab with her under that ridiculous pretense of “making sure she got home okay.”

  I start to work my way through some reps, but I break early, puffing as I rack the weights.

  I frown, shaking my head to try and clear the thoughts of London Jacobs and the fucking mind-blowing way she rocked my damn world the night before from it. I try again, grunting through another set before I rack the bar again with an angry crash, sitting up and dropping my face into my hands.

  Shit, what the fuck is wrong with me? I mean, I’m no stranger to bad decisions, believe me, and especially when it comes to bad decisions and women. But crossing that line with London last night was a step too far, and I know it. I’ve done a lot of shit I’m not proud of when it comes to girls. I’ve stepped over plenty of lines before when it comes to putting my hands on the wrong women - a coach’s wife back in college; a second-string linebacker’s mom a few years back that I doubt he ever knew about before he got traded.

  Mistakes? Bad decisions? Yeah, I’ve made a fuck-ton of them. But I’ve always brushed myself off and just gone on being me afterwards. No sense in looking back, “the only way forward is forward” and all that sort of shit.

  This one’s different though, and I damn well know it.

  And it’s not just that she might be my new boss’s daughter, or even partly my new boss herself. If it were just that, this would be easy.

  It’s the fact that I can tell she’s not the kind of girl that does what happened last night. And in a way, there’s a strange sort of guilty feeling, like I’ve corrupted her somehow.

  I shake my head again, rolling my eyes at my own sentimental bullshit.

  I didn’t “corrupt” her. Hell, she practically dragged me into that room with her. And judging by how dripping wet she was for me, that wasn’t exactly a sudden decision on her part.

  Nah, no way. That girl knew exactly what she was doing, and she knew exactly what she wanted from me.

  I grin as I lay back on the bench ready to give my lifting another shot.

  Yeah, she knew what she wanted from me, and I damn well gave it to her.

  Twice.

  I bring my hands up to the bar again, gripping it tight as I frown.

  Still.

  Still, I’ve fucked plenty of inappropriate, off-limits girls and gone right on doing my own thing the next day. But her? I frown. Her I can’t seem to get out of head.

  Hell, she may have been the one to drag me into that room last night, but she was also the one that walked away from me this morning. I th
ink of the way she patted my cheek before walking out that door, like no girl has ever done.

  Please. Your loss, babe.

  There’s a whole city’s worth of girls here ready to jump on my cock and thank me for it.

  I try one more round of reps before I just give up with a growl of frustration. I sit up and flip my phone out.

  It’s time to get some of the boys together and go out. It’s time to tear this town apart before I leave it in my rear view mirror.

  Because whatever weird funk London left me with, I’m going to fuck my way out of it.

  Hell, there’s gotta be a few girls who live here I haven’t slept with yet, right?

  14

  Holden

  “So what’s this about, man?”

  To the untrained eye, Max looks like one scary motherfucker.

  For one, the guy’s a monstrous six-foot-four and probably three hundred twenty pounds of linebacker muscle. Throw in a thick black beard and tattoos all the way down both arms, and he basically looks like the bouncer from hell at the wildest heavy metal club in the world.

  If you know him though, you know that Max is actually one giant fucking teddy bear.

  Max is one of the good ones. That’s rare with big, rich, douchebag football guys, I can tell you. I used to always give him shit about being so damn faithful to the wife he married way too young in my opinion, especially when we were out on the road basically getting pussy thrown at us.

  But I’ll hand it to the guy, he never flinched, and he never stepped out on Hannah.

  Which is smart because for one, she’s model gorgeous - as in she’s literally a model that somehow a scary beast of a guy like Max charmed. And two, she’s smart as a whip – certainly smarter than Max, and genuinely a great, kind, and amazing person.

  Which leads to number three: honestly, in the grand scheme of the world, a guy like Max just does not deserve a girl like Hannah. Well, except he does, cause the guy is fucking awesome.

  I grin at him across the corner of the bar we’re sitting at.

  “What do you mean?”