Bad Boy's Bridesmaid: A Secret Baby Romance (41 page)

Was it okay to
hug him? I pulled him close, tugging his hand, returning him to my side. “I
didn’t know you had a little brother.”

“I don’t tell
many people.”

“We could share
the story. Let them see you donate. It’d help your—”

“I don’t care
about my image. That’s personal. He was my little brother. I’m not exploiting
his memory.”

I squeezed his
hand. “It’s not exploiting. You’re in the spotlight, Jack. It comes with the
territory. People need to see that other side of you.”

“Why?”

“Just the way it
is. You’re a public figure.”

“I never asked
to be a role-model.”

I arched an
eyebrow. “And if this works? If we have a baby?”

Jack stilled. He
studied my body. “It will work.”

“You’ll have to
be a role-model for your son.”

“That’s
different.”

“How?”

“Because he’ll
be
my
son
.”

I didn’t expect
such conviction. Jack held my gaze, edging close to me.

“Or she’ll be my
daughter
,” he said. “I’ll owe my kid everything, but I don’t owe the
world some bullshit lie. I’m Jack Carson. I’m no fucking saint. What I do on my
nights off, who I go out with, what I do, who I take home…that’s
my
business. I’m not going to let the league tame me because they think my
reputation has anything to do with how well I play football.”

“You can’t party
forever, Jack. You have to grow up someday.”

“And you can’t
schedule your life down to the minute and hope that nothing knocks you off
course.” He winked, brushing a hand over my belly. “Or hope that someone knocks
you up.”

I poked his
chest, but my hand tickled over the thick muscles of his pecs. “You better take
this seriously, Jack.”

“I’m a serious
as I get right now.” His grin charmed me even when I thought I could resist it
the most. “Think it’s too early to take a pregnancy test?”

I laughed. “Oh,
you don’t know anything about the female body, do you?”

“I know my way
around it. No one’s complained yet.”

“It’s too early
to take a test.”

Jack’s gaze
hardened over me. He gripped the hem of the jersey and tugged it up, revealing
my crossed legs. A firm hand to my knee pushed my thighs open, and he stared at
my puffy slit, already slickening under his gaze.

His voice was a
heated, feral rumble. “Is it too late to keep trying to make a baby?”

I shuddered as
he leaned close, capturing my mouth and running a confident finger over my
pussy. One little flick, and my body rocked with a dangerous pleasure.

“We could
probably…” I sucked in a breath as he circled my clit, but his hand immediately
dropped to free himself from his shorts. I met his gaze. “Increase our odds…”

His cock was
hard, hot, and more than ready to try again. I gasped as the thick head pushed
inside my core, still swollen and raw from the fucking last night. His growl
warned me before he shoved every last inch within me. I groaned, grasping his
shoulders, holding tight as he began to move.

I wrapped my
legs over his waist and commanded his kiss. Jack wasn’t a man who’d deny me. I
melted against his lips and savored the feel of his body against mine.

Hot.

Strong.

Close
.

Every movement
explored my body and demanded my pleasure and stole from me the last defenses I
cast for Jack. I could hide nothing from him while his cock stretched me and
tormented me and delighted me. I never imagined experiencing such a passionate
intimacy with him.

I never thought
I’d enjoy it so much.

That I’d need it
so much.

That I’d love it
so much.

I came quickly
for him, trembling against my own sudden realizations.

It would be far
too easy to fall for Jack Carson, to want the untamable and risk breaking my
heart for the arrogant trouble-maker.

I’d have to be
careful I only gave him my body.

I couldn’t risk
giving him my heart.

Chapter Twelve – Jack

The team cheered
as I dropped back, let loose, and threw a bomb that hit our receiver mid-stride
for a sixty yard completion.

Had it not been
training camp—had we actually strapped on our pads and gone to work at a real
game—it would have broken my personal record.

Just gave me
something to aim for this season. It was a good pass. It felt good. It looked
good for the screaming fans and press attending our training camp.

I could feel it.
This was going to be my season.

My year.

My championship.

Bryon finished
his stretches and hooted at me. “Baby, you kicked it up a notch this
offseason.”

“Fuckin’ know
it.” I took the bottle from the trainer but dosed myself with the cool water.
Goddamned August was killing me, and it was only the first week of camp. “Just
a preview of what’s coming, gentlemen.”

Bryon revved the
team up. “Watch out!”

“Better start
working up new nicknames.
Play-Maker
’s gonna become the stuff of
dreams.”

The guys
laughed. Bryon mocked me, hands in the air. “Preach it, Jack.”

“I’m the baddest
motherfucker on this field. You best be calling your mommas on Monday. Ain’t no
one rocking you to sleep Sunday night after you get fucked by me.”

The team
cheered, my offensive linemen heralding the charge with another blitz of
profanity. My back-up nudged me.

“Dude, there’s
kids over there.” Matt wasn’t a stick in the mud, he was all the dirt in the
damn pile. “Better watch your language.”

“Jesus Christ,
it’s a practice. Like they haven’t heard this shit before—”

Coach Thompson’s
voice was a shrill as the whistle. It silenced the field. “
Carson
!”

What the hell. I
was in a rhythm. Why the fuck were we stopping?

I abandoned the
practice and jogged to the coaching staff, strategizing over the playbook. The
rest of the team buzzed the field, some running laps, some doing plays, most of
the new recruits shitting themselves while trying to make a good impression.

I guess I was in
that position too. My contract renegotiation hadn’t started yet. I doubted
they’d let me wallow through the last year of what I originally signed. It’d be
a monumentally shitty idea for the team, especially after how good I looked at
this year’s training camp.

I was bigger
than last season. Stronger. Fitter.  I knew the offense better than the layout
of my house. And I had a reason to win—not just because I was the most insanely
gifted quarterback to enter the league in twenty years.

I had my pride
to regain. A lost game to forget. And they knew it.

“Carson, you’re
gonna watch your motherfucking mouth on that field.” Coach Thompson pointed at
me with a pudgy finger. “In fact, you’re gonna shut that mouth. Throw the damn
ball and do your job.”

The insult
cracked deep. I narrowed my eyes. “Haven’t I done that?”

“You showboat
when you got a ring on your finger to show what hot shit you are. You brag in
the minutes after that final win. As of now?” He tapped his watch. “New season,
Play-Maker
. You’re on my time now, and there ain’t no winners or losers
yet. You gotta prove yourself, same as anyone else.”

“You’re kidding,
right?”

The coach was a
beefy man, a former lineman that forgot he wasn’t burning thousands of calories
in exercise a day anymore. He tried to intimidate me. Didn’t matter how many
clipboards he held in front of his face, he wasn’t pissing with me.

I took another
drink and hoped it was the heat that made me so fucking irritable. I pitched
the water bottle at my feet and turned back to my team.

Coach Thompson
snorted at me. “You think you’re special, Jack?”

I’d shove that
whistle down his throat. I faced him, eyes narrowed, every muscle in my body
tensed and ready to prove that I was a one-in-a-million athlete that wouldn’t
tolerate his bullshit much longer.

“What the hell
is your problem?” I pointed to the field. “I have fifty-two men I’m leading
back to the championship. And you know what I’m gonna get?”

“A win this
time?”

“Re-
fucking
-demption.
Don’t tell me I gotta prove myself. I know exactly what I need to do.”

He nodded at the
other coaches, backing them down as I felt my temper baited, checked, and about
to rage. He patted my shoulder, but the son of a bitch didn’t have a right to
rile me up just to shit on me when the urge came over him.

“You’ve been
doing good these past few weeks, Jack. Staying out of trouble.”

“Don’t patronize
me.”

“Don’t give me a
reason to treat you like a child.”

I knew better
than to say a damn thing. If I let loose, I’d be overheard by the media hanging
too close. They always descended when they thought there’d be fireworks.

Fuck em. I
wasn’t giving them any fodder to take to Leah. It was bad enough she still
dealt with the car accident and the camera incident. Those scandals complicated
my nights with my publicist, when she had to bitch at me before I tossed her in
bed and tried to knock her up.

It had been a
good couple weeks of attempts though. Leah’s pussy was great stress relief.
Something about getting a girl like her in trouble—even if she gave me
permission—was sexy enough to get me hard every minute of every day.

Coach Thompson
grabbed my shoulder. It was a bad move, but I let him pull me back.

“Listen to me,
Jack. You’re keeping your head down. You’re doing good work. You’re on time.
And you weren’t with Bryon when he got into that mess with the slut downtown.
You’re doing what you’re supposed to be doing. You understand me?”

I did, so why
was I resisting it? “Yeah. I’m the league’s newest lapdog. You taught me not to
bark in the house, but you still want me neutered.”

“Damn right, we
do. You’re gonna stay on this path.”

“I am?”

“Yes, you are. I
don’t know why this is always a fight with you.” He pointed to the field,
watching as the men ran plays without me. “You are one of the most gifted
athletes I’ve ever seen, but you refuse to cooperate with
anyone
. You’re
aggressive. You throw temper tantrums. You insist on using your cock to make
your big decisions.”

Couldn’t argue
with that, but when had my cock led me wrong?

“This past
month, you’ve been behaving—and yes, I say
behaving
because you’re the
only goddamned adult I have to treat like a teenager. I got kids at home, Jack,
I don’t need another crew of ungrateful shits here, you get me?” He looked me
over, but he still didn’t try to respect me. “You haven’t been partying as
much.”

Yeah, cause I
was balls deep in Leah at night, trying my damnest to make her orgasm so hard
she’d pass out on my dick. Every man had a dream. This one was new. Didn’t
involve a championship game, but it took up a lot of my nights.

“You’re focused,
Jack,” he said. “You’re concentrating. You’re in great shape. You’re not hiding
in your sunglasses cause you have a raging hangover. You understand now? You’re
ready to lead this team the way it should be led, and you’re becoming the man
you were supposed to be
three
years ago. I don’t know what changed, but
something flipped that switch in your head. It’s going to bring us to victory.”

I didn’t change.
Nothing
changed. Christ, people were so fucking desperate to see
connections and stories in my behavior. Nothing happened unusual.

Nothing except
Leah.

Nothing except
pretending to be in a relationship with a cocoa-skinned goddess. A woman of
class, grace, and absolute sensuality who wanted nothing more than for me to
take her again and again until I seeded her with my child.

I guessed that
was different.

Coach Thompson
waddled onto the field to yell at the defense. Coach Wallace, the quarterback
coach, winked at me. He patted my shoulder before grabbing a playbook to
consult with Matt.

“Jack, you
are
playing better. Considerably. Don’t you feel it?”

Yes. “I guess.”

“Then I’d keep
doing what you’re doing regardless of who it pleases. So long as you get the
results, what the hell does it matter if it keeps the league and Coach Thompson
happy? Keep that good luck charm or the new exercise routine. It’s working.”

Except it wasn’t
luck or me.

It was Leah.

Holy shit, they
were right. It wasn’t just my image. It was
Leah
.

I grabbed
another bottle of water and sprayed off the sweat. My eyes searched the crowd.
Enough people and press, kids and fans crowded around the outdoor practice
facility. Training camp was a big event, and a lot of people came to watch the
open practices.

Today, I knew
where to look. Leah promised to stop by during her lunch. I scanned the faces
in the crowd until I found her. She took my advice and waited beside the field,
beyond the ropes cordoning off the fans from those who had clearance to be
close to players.

God, she was
beautiful.

And smiling.

And fanning
herself in the heat as she sought the shade on the sidelines. She twisted her
visitor’s pass and used it to cool her face. Her wave was half-hearted, and she
stumbled.

Backward
.

My stomach
pitted as she wobbled again. I shouted, sprinting across the field and pushing
through my teammates. I hopped over the equipment set up next to the sidelines.
My legs pumped harder than I ran for the forty, and I was certain I broke my
own goddamned records to rush to Leah.

I didn’t reach
her in time.

Leah fainted
before I made it, but she woke as soon as her butt slammed into the ground.

“Kiss!” I scooped
her from the turf and carried her to the nearest bench. I pointed at a trainer.
“You! Get your ass over here!”

Leah waved me
away, rubbing her head. She sweated, but she managed a weak smile.

“I’m just hot,”
she said. “I’m sorry. I’m okay. I’m hot.”

Well, good for
fucking her. I was chilled to my core. 

“Sit here.” I
searched for the trainer. “Bring her some fucking water!”

“Language.” Leah
pointed to the kids nearby, as well as the sport reporter chasing us across the
field to get a picture. “Gotta be careful.”

“Fuck being
careful. Are you okay?”

The trainer
hurried to our side—a nosy little redhead who busted the guys’ balls and had a
bad habit of ferreting out concussions. She edged me away and offered Leah
water and a cool towel.

“Miss?” The trainer
felt her pulse and gave her a drink. “It’s very hot today. Were you in the sun
for too long?”

“Look at
her—she’s well done.” I forced a joke. It didn’t ease the twisting in my gut.

Leah smirked as
I poked her dark skin. “I’m just hot.”

“You might have some
heat cramps, maybe exhaustion. Do you have a headache?”

“No, I got
dizzy.”

“Nausea?”

She glanced over
the growing pack of fans and press. My teammates and coaches also started to
crowd, checking on why the star quarterback freaked the fuck out and ran fifty
yards to help a girl off the ground.

If nothing else,
the pictures of me scooping her up and helping the trainer would give me that
prince charming image Leah so desperately cultivated. Lately she had leaked
stories of dining and dancing and long stemmed roses delivered to her work.
That wasn’t a line for the media. I sent her a dozen roses as an apology after
every morning of fucking that made her late to work.

She was starting
to like getting the roses.

“Miss?” The
trainer asked. “Are you nauseous?”

“With all these
people staring at me…yeah.”

I smirked. “You
get used to it. Just swear a little. Wave a champagne bottle. They love to hate
that.”

The trainer had
no patience for me. “Were you nauseous before you fainted?”

“Maybe? I’m okay
now.”

She nodded. “We
should take you inside and cool you down. Did you get hurt when you fell?”

“No.”

“Have anything
to drink today? Anything alcoholic?”

“It’s only
eleven o’clock?” She pointed at me before I made a joke about it being happy
hour somewhere. “And don’t you say anything.”

The trainer took
her pulse again. “Any medical conditions? Diabetes? Heart disease?”

“No.”

“Any chance you
might be pregnant?”

And just like
that, Leah froze.

So did I.

We both counted
the days, though I had no idea where I was supposed to start counting or why.
Leah said some nights were better than others for our chances. I fucked her
indiscriminately to ensure they’d all be good.