His explanation soothes my ruffled feathers. “I’m not worried about my personal business being on those sites. I’m an agent, not an athlete. Once you and I aren’t together anymore, no one will care what I’m doing. I’ll fade back into oblivion like my pre-Flynn days when no one paid me any mind.”
“I don’t think it’ll be that easy for you. Have you seen the attention we’re starting to get on social media?” he asks.
“I try not to pay attention to that stuff, but I did get a call from your sister. She was mad we didn’t tell her we were together. She said that as your personal assistant and publicist, she had a right to know as soon as we did.”
“Were we supposed to get her approval first?”
“I think she’d have preferred that.”
“She saw us out together and didn’t put two and two together. That’s not our fault.”
“Maybe you should talk to her,” I suggest.
“She’ll get over it. Did she at least ask if you’d lost your mind?” His crooked smile is endearing.
“No. She told me not to break your heart. She said that a really sweet guy resides underneath all your bad boy exterior.”
He chuckles. “That sounds like Kendra. She likes to romanticize everything.”
“Are you saying the sweet guy is a myth?” I question.
“I’m not saying anything. I’ll let you be the judge.” He stands. “I’m grabbing a refill, do you need anything?”
“There are some small bottles of margaritas in the fridge. I’d love one of those, please.”
“No problem.” He moves fluidly and confidently, like a lion prowling through the jungle. He’s the king shit and everyone else but me accepts it as status quo. My gaze follows him until he’s out of my line of vision.
Resting the side of my head on the back of the couch, I close my eyes. I didn’t mean to share my desire to have a child with him. It sort of slipped out in our conversation, and when he took the news in stride, I felt comfortable enough to tell him more. Our relationship has already changed from what it once was. He’s someone I consider a friend, and I like our conversations. He’s easy to share my secrets with. He’s become a really hot best friend, and I know it’s going to be a continuous battle to fight my attraction to him.
“Do you want to go to bed?” My eyelids pop open at his question. I raise my head. “I don’t want to keep you up later than you want to be. I can leave if you’d like,” he says.
“No, I was just going over my to-do list for tomorrow.”
He hands me the open margarita bottle. “This will help you forget about work for now.”
“Is that what having a few drinks after a loss does for you?” I might be jumping from the pan into the fire bringing this up, but he did mention it to me earlier in the night.
He sprawls onto the cushion closest to mine, legs spread, looking ultra relaxed and unfazed by my question. “It doesn’t hurt.”
“But does it help?” I prod, doing my best to ignore how close in proximity we now are. Especially with me sitting sideways facing him. His hip and thigh are touching my knee and shin and there’s no smooth way to extricate myself from this space.
“Going to a club or a bar with my teammates to blow off steam never works out in my favor, so I’d say, no, it doesn’t help. But it’s fun while it’s happening, so there’s that.”
“What about tonight?” I nudge.
“What about it?”
“Does sitting here, talking with me, help?” Why did I ask that? I sound insecure, like I’m seeking a compliment from him.
He focuses on his beer bottle like it’s the most interesting thing he’s seen and then his head turns, bright blue eyes meeting mine. His head tips in a slow, solemn nod. “Yes, being here with you has helped.”
“I’m glad.” My mouth curves in a closed-lip smile. “It was my sandwiches, wasn’t it?”
He laughs. “Actually it’s your perfect ass, but the sandwiches helped.” He raises the bottle to his masculine lips, taking a deep pull.
“You’re an ass.” I joke, shaking my head. “So, you’re an ass man?”
“I don’t like to limit myself.” He winks and licks the beer residue from his lips.
“Okay, this conversation has gone off the rails. Let’s get back on track.”
“Doc, please don’t make me talk about this,” he says with a smirk, so it’s clear he’s joking.
“Flynn, I want to help you.”
He downs the rest of his beer and places the empty bottle on the floor in front of the couch. Turning to me, he says, “We can have this conversation, but I need to be more comfortable.”
I shrug. “Do whatever you need to.”
He peels his sweater over his head, throwing it to the far end of the couch, and my heart responds with a rapid round of applause behind my rib cage.
Whoa, is he going to strip down? It takes my brain longer to catch on.
“You didn’t even notice I wore one of the sweaters you picked out.”
Oh, I noticed. How could I miss the way it hugged his bulging biceps?
“I saw, and it looks great on you.”
“Nope.” He turns his head from side to side. “It’s too late to dole out an empty compliment.”
“Save it, Shaughnessy. You have no shortage of women showering you with compliments. I’d rather insult you and keep you grounded.” I poke the side of his upper arm. “Are you comfortable enough to continue our conversation?”
“Not quite,” he says. Turning away from me, he slings his legs up onto the couch and lowers back-first toward me.
“What are you doing?” I cry out as his head settles on my lap.
“Getting comfortable.” He sighs contentedly. “Now all I need is for you to rub my head.”
“Wh-what?” I sputter, convinced I misheard.
“You heard right. I like head massages. Hair stroking is good too.”
“Fine,” I grit out. “But you better loosen those lips and start talking.”
He wiggles his lips from side to side and puckers them up temptingly. Threading my fingers in his hair, I yank hard on the thick strands.
“Ouch, you bloodthirsty vixen.”
“Speak, or I’ll do it again,” I threaten.
“I never figured you for the dominant type, but it’s the quiet ones who are always the most surprising.”
“Flynn,” I growl.
“What do you want to know, doc?”
He can call me whatever he wants if it means he’ll open up to me. “Have you ever given any thought to where your reckless behavior stems from?”
He sighs like he’s Atlas holding the weight of the world on his wide shoulders. “Are you sure you want to have this conversation?” he asks. I have an inkling he doesn’t want to talk about such private things.
“Flynn, I told you I want a baby so badly that I’m going to have a stranger’s sperm inserted into my uterus. After that, what you have to say should be far less embarrassing.”
“Oh, fuck, you’re right. Why am I worried?” he teases, and I giggle. “I don’t feel any head massaging going on.” He reminds me that my idle fingers have been buried in his hair for minutes now.
“So bossy,” I mutter before I move my fingertips in small circles on his warm scalp.
He groans with pleasure. “That’s what I’m talking about, doc.” He wiggles around, adjusting his position, putting him a little too close to my lady parts to think clearly. I place a pillow under his head and resume his scalp massage. “You asked me if I had thought about why I was so reckless, and the answer to that question is, yes, I have. Many times.”
“And?” I push him to tell me more, like any good psychiatrist would, all the while continuing my momentary second career as a massage therapist.
“I’ve already told you some of the details of my upbringing. It feels weird to rehash it.”
“It’s worth going over it again if it helps,” I tell him.
“Yeah, I guess
. I’m just trying to figure out how to explain without coming off as sounding whiny and ungrateful.”
“Just get the words out. I’m not going to think less of you.”
“I think my reckless behavior began in my youth as a way to get my parents’ attention.”
“Were you seeking their approval?” I ask.
“I wanted their attention, their love, their approval… all the things most children are given and they take for granted.”
“So you started acting out to get that attention,” I offer.
“Exactly. And as I got older, it became less about my parents and more about the way it made me feel.”
“How does it make you feel?” I question, hoping he’ll continue to share. We’re making progress.
“When I’m in the moment, it makes me feel alive and strong, like I can do anything. My ‘fuck the world’ attitude moves front and center, taking over.”
“What happens later that night or the next day?” I ask.
“I’m usually embarrassed and drowning in self-loathing.”
My fingers begin toying with his brown hair. It’s softer than I expected. “What pulls you out of those down times?”
“I hit the gym extra hard and punish myself physically.”
“Have you spoken to your parents about how you feel?”
“No. We don’t talk about emotions in my family. My parents would rather remind me of every single fuck up I’ve ever made.”
“Pfft.” I blow air from my mouth. “You’ve accomplished so much at such a young age. You need to focus on your amazing achievements and forget about your slip ups. We all make them. But we don’t all break numerous national records like you have. And let’s not forget, you’re only five years into your career.” My hand slides down to cup his cheek. “No more dwelling on the past or what you wish you did differently.”
He tips his head back so his eyes can meet mine. “What about you?” he asks.
My brow furrows. “What about me?”
“Don’t you think it’s time you celebrate your accomplishments?” He turns my own words back on me.
“I’m not quite at the level of achievement that I want to be.”
“Nadia, you’re amazing at what you do. You’re one of the most sought after sports agents in this country. Take the compliment.”
“Okay,” I reluctantly agree. “Thank you.”
“I should be thanking you for reminding me that my past doesn’t define me. Of course I know that, but it’s a battle to embrace it as fact.”
“It really doesn’t. Our past is supposed to teach us lessons.”
“What did yours teach you?” he inquires.
“Not to get married again.” I laugh.
“Be serious. If I have to share, so do you.” His eyes turn stern, and I stick my tongue out.
“My past has taught me I can achieve what I want if I only set my mind to it. My parents taught me to work hard, but I’ve also learned that I don’t want to parent like they did. I want to be a hands-on mother and I don’t want a nanny raising my child for me.”
“How are you going to make sure that happens?” he asks.
“I’m going to need to take on less work and delegate more.”
“I’m sure that’ll be a big adjustment for you.”
“It will be, but I better start planning it out because it’ll be happening in the not so distant future.”
His blue orbs stare earnestly up at me. “You’re going to be an amazing mother.”
“You think?” I ask, baring my insecurity to him.
“I know you will.”
His words mean so much to me. My eyes sting with tears as I’m suddenly overwhelmed with an abundance of emotions. A bubble of gratitude swells in my chest, and I lean down, pressing my lips to Flynn’s. The upside-down kiss is meant to be a simple meeting of our mouths, a brief thank you from one friend to another. But friendship is not even close to what I’m feeling.
Flynn releases a surprised grunt and then his tongue sweeps along the seam of my mouth. Parting my lips, our tongues touch for the first time, and time stops. All that matters is this kiss.
My fingers clutch his head as I try to get impossibly closer. Our tongues twist and tangle in an eager frenzy.
For every excuse my brain calls forward, I throw it back rapid fire.
Our kiss, though unexpected, feels inevitable, like the sun rising each morning. Some forces are too powerful to stop once they’ve been set in motion, and this is one of them. All we can do is hang on and enjoy the ride.
15
Flynn
Nadia’s tongue boldly slides along mine, sending a jolt of desire straight to my dick. Reaching up, I cup the back of her neck, pulling her closer.
Fuck me. Kissing Nadia is even hotter than I’d imagined it would be.
As painful as it is to tear my lips from hers, I need my hands on her beguiling form, mapping out every tantalizing curve.
Sitting up, I spin around and crash our lips together once more. Gripping her hips, I slide her down the couch until she’s beneath me. I lower until our torsos connect, with her soft tits pressing against the hard wall of my chest. My ragged groan gets smothered by our heated kiss.
Nadia’s legs circle my hips, and her fingertips clutch my shoulders, drawing me closer. I caress a palm up her thigh, gripping her hip and wishing she were naked. The only way this could be any better is if I were touching her bare skin.
My other hand slides upward over her ribs to palm and squeeze one of her full breasts. My cock grinds into the seam of her jeans, and her breath hitches. Rocking my hips, I create the friction we’re both craving.
“Don’t stop,” Nadia whispers against my mouth.
“No fucking chance,” I growl before my tongue dips between her lips. I’m not stopping until she comes.
Her sock-covered heels dig into my ass with urgency as her hips circle, complementing the rhythm I set.
My lips trail down to lay kisses under her jawline before I hover above her lips, watching and waiting for her to unravel.
Nadia’s head falls back, arching her neck forward. The elegant column of coffee colored skin is too much to resist. I drag the tip of my tongue in a straight line, stopping just shy of her mouth. Drawing her bottom lip between my teeth, I nip the fullness and soothe the sting with my tongue.
Her quick, jerky exhales blow against my face and I know she’s close. Bracing my weight on my forearms, I cup her face. Her eyelids flutter open and her passion-glazed stare meets mine. “Come for me. I want to watch you unravel.” Grinding my cock against her clit a few more times sets Nadia off. Her face lights up like fireworks in the night sky. I can’t take my eyes off her as she trembles and moans through her orgasm. She’s the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen, and at this precise second it hits me—I’m fucked. Completely and utterly fucked.
I’m experiencing some unexpected emotions toward Nadia and I don’t know what to do with them. But emotions aside, what I do know is, I won’t be satisfied until I have her naked beneath me with my cock buried inside her. I’ve never wanted anyone with such a vicious intensity, and what I want, I go after. I won’t stop until she’s mine.
Holding her close, I wait for her breathing to even out and my cock to calm down. But I have a feeling as long as I’m touching her, my hard-on isn’t going anywhere.
Nadia pushes on my chest and I loosen my hold, rolling toward the back of the couch. Sweeping a lock of hair from her forehead, I tuck it behind her ear.
“You’re so beautiful. I loved watching you come,” I say.
Nadia covers her eyes with her forearm. “Oh God. I can’t believe we did that.”
Pulling her arm down to the couch beside her head, I thread my fingers between hers. “Don’t you dare regret what just happened.” My steely tone has her eyes showing her surprise. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever witnessed. I’m not going to let you ruin it by being embarrassed about something that was special.”
/> “I’m not trying to ruin it for you, but I can’t help that I’m embarrassed. This kind of behavior is unusual for me, and it never should’ve happened. Especially not with you.”
“Why not me?”
“Because you’re my client. And we’re fake dating. Ugh, this was never supposed to happen.”
“Just so you’re aware, I’m glad it did. And I hope it’s the first of many orgasms that I can give you.”
“Oh God, don’t say that.”
“I’m going to head back to my place and let you process what we did in peace. You should at least let yourself enjoy this for tonight. You can freak out tomorrow instead.”
“I’m not freaking out,” she yells.
One of my eyebrows leaps upward. “Yeah, you’re the picture of calm.” Leaning down, I press a kiss to her forehead. “Thanks for everything.”
“Don’t thank me,” she says, groaning.
“I was referring to our conversation, not the kiss you laid on me.”
“I was merely giving you a friendly kiss, and you shoved your tongue in my mouth.”
“Of course I did.”
“You’re not going to deny it?”
“Why would I? You presented me with an opportunity and I seized it.” And gave away a piece of my heart in the process. I should be the one losing my shit, not her. So why am I being adult about this and so unlike my usual self?
* * *
Locking the door behind me, I set my bag down and kick off my shoes. Heading upstairs, I enter my bedroom and set my phone on my nightstand. I undress on my way into the master bath. Turning on the shower, I let the water heat up before stepping inside the glass walls. It’s been a long, exhausting day. I let the water wash away my fatigue and beat down on my sore shoulders.
Losing our game was a tough pill to swallow, but spending time with Nadia made all the difference for me. There will be no story about me drinking too much or wondering about the woman or women I left with.
CHANGING THE PLAYER: Charleston Pirates #1 Page 10