Bring The Heat: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (Bad Boys of Summer Book 1) (20 page)

I roared with laughter. “That does sound about right. What can I say, I like a challenge?”

“That’s all I am, huh? A challenge?” she dared, her eyebrows high, waiting for the answer.

“I thought so.”

“But?”

“But I was wrong. And never happier to be…”

Shit, we were wading waist-deep into a deep, dark pond of emotions that I wasn’t ready to deal with just yet.

Chelsea ducked her chin. “Me either.”

“So, are you saying that I’m not an asshole?”

She laughed. “No, you’re definitely still an asshole. But, you’re my assho—oh! That didn’t come out right!”

“Baby, you look so sexy right now.”

Chelsea dropped her chin into her hand. “Hurry home.”

“I’m trying.”

“Do these types of trips happen all the time?”

I shrugged. “Long ones like these happen a few times every season. It all just depends on how the league schedules things.”

“I don’t like it.”

I laughed softly, wishing I could reach through the screen and run my fingertips down her soft cheek. “Me either. But hey, at least we’re kicking ass.”

Chelsea laughed. “Yeah. Besides, right now, I need the distraction-free time.”

“True. Although, I would like to think I was both helping and not just hindering the project.”

“You were.”

We’d spent a lot of late nights together at Chelsea’s. I’d give her a backrub and make her snacks while she worked on the game. I’d catch up with the worlds of sports, or tune into one of the hot rod restoration shows I liked to watch. Eventually, when her eyes were going crossed, I’d pry the keyboard from her hands and take her off to bed and fuck her till she couldn’t think about anything other than the way we fit together and the way my dick filled her so completely.

Well, damn, now I was horny again.

I leaned into the computer. “So, explain to me the no video chat sex again?”

Chelsea rolled those big, beautiful eyes. “Cody…”

“Come on, just tell me again.”

“Why? So you can argue with me?”

I smacked a hand over my heart. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

She laughed. “Uh huh. I’m learning your tricks, Mr. Wright.”

“Damn.”

“I don’t want anything ending up where it’s not supposed to and leaving the whole world with access to titty pictures, all right? I make children’s games for a living. It would be an image—and career killer.”

“And yet, you say things like titty.”

Chelsea shook her head at me, a wide grin tugging on her lips. “You’re impossible.”

“You tell me that with a startling frequency.”

“For good reason!” She shifted in her chair and I could see the neckline of her tank top and the gorgeous curves of her cleavage.

“What if we had phone sex? No one can track that.”

“Phone sex?”

I laughed at her puzzled expression, as though it were some alien term. “Yeah, you know, talk dirty and get off at the same time. It could be hot.”

She quirked her lips into a pout.

“Come on, baby, I’m dying over here. I want to hear you moan and pant my name.”

She shivered and my smile darkened.

I reached over and picked up my phone. I dialed her number and held the phone up so she could see me dialing.

She picked up the phone and killed her video with a kiss at the camera.

Damn, I missed the visual already.

“Hey, baby,” I drawled into the phone.

“How do we…start?”

I chuckled. “Well, for starters, you’re gonna put me on speaker phone. What I have planned for you is going to require both hands.”

“Ooo.”

“Now, I want you to take off that tank top, nice and slow.”

“Okay…”

“Then the shorts. You wearing anything under?”

“Nope.”

I grinned and snaked a hand down my shorts. My hand wasn’t nearly as pleasurable as Chelsea’s was, but desperate times…

“All right baby, now lay down on your bed, and I want you to run your hands up and down your body. Touch your hips, your perfect titties, the insides of your thighs. Go slow, feel yourself, enjoy all your beautiful curves.”

“Mmmhmm.”

“You getting wet, baby?”

“Uhhuh. But only because I’m thinking about you. What are you doing?”

“I got one hand on my cock and I’m thinking about you laying on the bed, your legs spread, and that pretty little cunt dripping wet just for me.”

She gasped. “Shit, Cody…”

“That’s right, baby. Now, tell me something, tell me what you feel.”

“My nipples are hard and tight and my pussy is getting so wet. I want to touch myself.”

“Okay, baby. Stroke that pussy. Go slow.”

Chelsea moaned and I let the sounds and images inside my head take over. I stroked myself a little faster and closed my eyes.

“If I was there, I’d get on my knees, and suck that big, thick cock all the way back,” she purred.

“Fuck!” Pre-come started dribbling down my head. “I’d get a taste of that sweet pussy too. Baby, are your fingers wet?”

“Yeah,” she breathed.

“Suck on them. Taste yourself. Wipe your pussy juice on your titties.”

Chelsea panted and moaned and I grit my teeth, trying to hold it together.

“Now rub your clit faster. Are you getting close baby? I don’t know how much longer I can hang on over here. Thinking about you touching yourself has me ready to explode all over this fuckin’ room.”

Chelsea moaned in response and started saying my name over and over again.

“Fuck, Chels, keep…going.”

My orgasm hit me like lightning as she said my name and moaned loudly into the phone beside her.

When her breathing returned to normal, there was a beat of silence, and then she started giggling. I laughed along. “What the hell is so funny over there?”

“That was the craziest orgasm ever!”

“Ever? I’m offended.”

She laughed. “I mean, solo.”

“Aha. Well, happy to help. If you’re lucky, I’ll cook up something even nastier for tomorrow. Would you like that?”

“Mmhmm.” She moaned again, still coming down from her climax. “And if you’re lucky, you’ll wake up and find a special picture on your phone in the morning. You won’t get all of me, but maybe some important bits that you might be interested in…”

I groaned and my cock twitched back to life. “Damn, baby. You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“Maybe. Either way, I bet you’ll go with a big ass smile.”

Chelsea

“Ugh! That’s so romantic that I can’t even stand it!”

I laughed at Paris as she rolled her head back against her suede loveseat. I’d just finished recounting my afternoon in the hotel with Cody—holding back the juicer parts just for me—and as expected, Paris lapped it up like chocolate ice cream on a hot day. “It was by far the sweetest and sexiest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

Paris sighed contentedly but then rebounded and sprang back upright. She gripped a navy blue throw pillow in her hands, gripping it like she was suddenly anxious. “So what happens next? I mean, your game is almost done. Cody will be home from the road soon. You two gonna take it to the next level?”

“How many levels are there?” I asked, thinking of all the things we’d already done to each other.
With
each other. I’d been more adventurous and free with my body for Cody that any other man I’d slept with. It was hard to imagine there was more. But if anyone would know, it was Paris. She prided herself on being the queen of kink.

Paris laughed at my bug-eyed expression. “Not sexually.”

“Oh. That’s just normally your thing…”

She laughed harder and shook her head. “True. I won’t even play. But that’s not what I meant in this case. I mean, are you two, like, together? If I were a stranger, would you tell me you are dating Cody Wright, the major league pitcher?”

“Well, I’d probably leave out the part about him being a pitcher. But, yeah, I guess that’s what I’d say.”

It was a question I’d tossed around a little bit over the past couple of weeks, but with everything else going on, there hadn’t been much time to really dissect everything and come up with the perfect label. In the past, a label would have been important to me. But now? With Cody it was honestly the last thing on my mind. He had assured me he wasn’t seeing anyone else after the whole Summer Pratt debacle. I assumed that hadn’t changed. He honestly wouldn’t have had time. We spent every night together.

“So he’s your boyfriend?” Paris said.

“Uh—yes?”

She laughed. “All right, see, that right there is what you need to lock down.”

“Why?” I shrugged. “I’m happy. He’s happy.”

Paris sat forward and pushed the pillow aside. “Honey, let me tell you something about men like Cody. Pro athletes in general, really. They are mobbed everywhere they go by gold digging hoochie mama’s who don’t care if he says he’s got a girl. Hell, most of them don’t even care if he’s got a wife! They want the money. They want to have his baby. Whatever. It’s everywhere. So you have to lock your man down ASAP. Make him put a ring on it.”

“But if they don’t care—”

“He cheats—you get half of everything he owns. Money, houses, cars, whatever.”

I shook my head. It was like doing a paint by numbers without one of the colors. “Then how does that make me any different than the gold diggers?”

Paris rolled her eyes. “Are you dating Cody because he’s rich?”

“No! Of course not!”

Paris nodded. “Okay. There ya go. Case closed. You’re not a gold digger.”

I laughed at the simplicity of her test. “That’s a relief.”

She shrugged. “Babe, I’m just telling you this because I don’t want you to get screwed over.”

“I appreciate that, Paris. I really do. But Cody isn’t going to screw me over. Even if we break up or go our separate ways, or whatever it would be called given our label-less-
ness
, our money isn’t combined or anything. I don’t live with him. He doesn’t pay my bills other than the stuff he buys me. If he disappeared tomorrow, I’d be—” I choked up unexpectedly before the last part of my statement made it out. “I’d be fine,” I said, forcing confidence into my voice.

Paris’s intense stare softened. “Oh my gawd! You’re in love with him!”

I blinked twice. “What? No. I’m really not. I just…had a frog in my throat there for a second.”

She pursed her lips at me. “Mmhmm. Not buying that load of shit, babe.”

I sat back and it hit me right between the eyes. Despite all efforts to
keep it casual
I’d gone off and fallen in love with Cody Wright.

“Well, shit.”

Paris cackled. “You’re in love!”

I shot her a sideways glance. “How did that happen? I mean it’s only been a few weeks since we even
met
. That’s certainly not enough time…is it?”

She laughed again. “Looks that way to me. It’s okay, you know. It’s not like you caught the bubonic plague or something.”

“Then why do I feel so helpless all of a sudden?”

Paris lunged at the coffee table and grabbed for her phone. She started pecking away at the screen like a madwoman. “What are you doing? You’re not texting Robby are you?” A cold rush of fear swept down my spine and chilled my bones.

“No! Of course not. Besides, even if I did, guys aren’t like girls. It’s not like he’s gonna run over and stick a note in his locker or something.”

I laughed and relief washed away the fear that had temporarily gripped me. She was right. “Okay, so what are you doing?”

She continued typing like a woodpecker and then hit one final button with an extra flourish of her wrist. “I just booked us two tickets to LA, baby!”

“What?”

“We’re going to go surprise our men and cheer them on at the game tonight!”

“Paris that’s insane! I can’t take time off of—”

She snapped a finger at me. “If you say work, I will hurt you! We’re doing this!”

There was no point in arguing with her. She was a bullheaded shark when she wanted to be.

“Now, scoot. Pack an overnight bag and I’ll swing by in an Uber.”

I grinned. “This is crazy.”

“You love it. Now go! I gotta see if my wax lady can do an emergency sesh. Yikes!”

I jumped off of the couch before she could share any more details about her…waxing crisis…and headed through the massive, sprawling home to the front door. I hurried down the drive, hopped into my car, and raced home to get ready.

* * * *

“So, Robby doesn’t even know we’re here?” I asked Paris when we got off the airplane hours later. The time change was on our side and we landed with an hour left to get to the seven o’clock game.

She shook her head and flagged down a cab. “Nope! It will be a total surprise.”

A little while later, we were at the hotel where the team was staying and Paris flashed Robby’s credit card that also had her name and explained the surprise to the front desk clerk. She got the key to Robby’s room and we went up and stashed our stuff inside.

“They are gonna flip when they see us waiting in the tunnel after the game!” Paris squealed, fluffing her hair before applying another coat of spray. She blamed the airplane air for her limp locks. But I couldn’t see her problem. She looked runway ready as always.

I swiped on some lip gloss and then stashed the tube in my purse. “It’s gonna be fun.”

“Agreed! So, let’s go. We don’t wanna miss the first inning.”

“How did you even get us tickets?” I asked her as she led the way out of the room.

Paris waved her hand. “Easy peasy. Once you’re in with the wives and girlfriends club a whole new world of networking opens up. Damon Rodgers used to play for the Warriors. Now he’s out here. I’m tight with his wife and we stay in touch. She scored some last minute tickets for us. I’m sure the seats aren’t fantastic on such late notice but it’ll work.”

As it turned out, the seats were pretty good. But luckily, not close enough to the diamond that we had to worry about Cody or Robby spotting either of us in the crowd. Paris and I spent the entire game drinking, eating, and cheering our asses off for our men on the field—to the chagrin of the LA fans that surrounded us.

When the game ended, a landslide win by the Warriors, Paris and I made a run for the visiting team locker rooms. We flashed a few smiles, dropped a few names, and got past security to wait for Cody and Robby outside past the pack of ravenous media. Robby popped out first, and I watched him and Paris reunite with all their usual fanfare.