Hard Luck (16 page)

Cali

Once we’re inside his penthouse, Brady closes the door with a slam and spins me around. Resting his hands on my shoulders, he looks down at me, raw hunger in his eyes, and I can’t turn away.

“That kiss in the elevator was only a warm up, baby.” Shivers run down my spine and my nipples tighten under my clothes.

He bends down, places his hands under my ass, then lifts me up. Wrapping my legs around his waist, he presses my back into the door with the length of his body. And shit, speaking of length. His big cock pushes into me at just the right spot and it feels beyond good. I moan, unable to suppress what he’s making me feel.

“You like that, don’t you?” he asks while attacking my neck with kisses. Lost in the sensations, I roll my head from side-to-side as he trails kisses up to my lips.

“Yes,” I breathe, “but we shouldn’t do this.”

“Please, we’ll leave our clothes on,” he begs. “Just a little harmless dry humping like in middle school.”

“That was late high school for me.”

“I was progressive.” 

“You were a teenage manwhore.” 

“Yeah, but I learned a lot of tricks. Let me show you.” He circles his hips and my eyelids flutter with each pass over my clit. 

“The night we met. I thought about fucking you against the wall.” 

“You did?” I ask through his thrust.

“I thought of pressing you up against a wall in the back of the bar and fucking you senseless,” he continues, his dirty talk edging me closer to an orgasm.

“You have to quit saying things like that.” 

“Why?” he asks as he continues to swivel his hips while pressing up into me.

“Because I’m about to come,” I moan as he grabs my hands and holds my arms over my head, pinning me to the wall with his cock and hips.

Soft cries and mewls escape my lips as I close my eyes. He thrusts upward a few more times and I throw back my head, imagining what it would feel like being impaled by his nine inches. A tightness builds at the thought and I come with a spectacular cry.

I begin to open my eyes and realize the dry humping was all a fucking dream—literally. My heart races as my body comes down from the post-orgasmic high. Holy shit, I just had a wet dream involving Brady.

I try to move, but a heavy weight is wrapped around my waist. Before my eyes are fully working, I reach down to feel what has me pinned to the bed and find Brady’s arm.

Shit. The first night here and I’ve not only slept with him in my dreams but also my bed.

I glance over my shoulder. Brady’s fast asleep next to me, but lying on top of the covers. I let out a quick breath knowing we didn’t actually touch skin to skin under the sheets. It’s too soon.

Slowly, I turn onto my back so I can look at him closer. When he’s awake, there’s something about the look in his eyes and the nearly permanent smirk. They combine to make him that adorable cocky player I have crushed on for two years. But asleep, his face is totally relaxed, making him look younger and less edgy.

His long lashes rest against his high cheekbones and his dirty blond locks are a beautiful mess, but it’s his lips that draw my eyes. Full and slightly open, they are way too inviting. I want to kiss him, maybe even nibble on that glorious jawline of his, which has the most delicious covering of scruff.

Then I wonder what the hell I must look like. I am not like Brady where sleep only makes him hotter. I slide out from under his arm, sneaking out of bed to protect my dignity, and tiptoe to the bathroom.

One look in the mirror and I’m glad I escaped when I did. My hair is a rat’s nest of tangles and I look like a raccoon with mascara smeared under my eyes.

After a quick shower, I get dressed in yoga pants and a tank. Brady’s out cold, because he hasn’t moved an inch, even with me stirring around the room.

I wonder how much of
The Notebook
he watched as I spot my computer folded closed and sitting on my nightstand.

I leave him asleep and head to his—I mean, our, kitchen to fix him some breakfast.

As soon as the sinful aroma of bacon permeates the air, Brady appears, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. My jaw hits the floor as all six foot three of him stretches, relaxing his sleep stiff muscles.

“Morning,” he says, smiling at me. I close my mouth, trying to recover.

“Hungry?” I squeak out, but I’m not just asking about the food.

Lord knows I’m hungry for a taste of him. What woman wouldn’t be as he stands before me, all rumpled sexy from bed.

“Very hungry,” he says, giving me a direct stare. I look away from him, more to hide my own desires than deal with his.

***

Stuart drives us to Bryce’s house for the pool party and we arrive around one o’clock. Bryce lives in the upscale Chicago suburbs of South Barrington, complete with an ornate metal fence surrounding the property as well as a guarded gate. I suppose he needs privacy from crazed fans and the media, but it’s more a fortress than a home.

“Wow, your brother has some place.”

“Wait until you see the pool. It’s obnoxious.”

“Not any more than your bachelor pad in the clouds.”

“True, but you’ll swear you’re at The Ritz.”

“Um, Brady. I’ve never been to that hotel, or any like it. Remember, you and me,” I point a finger between us, “different worlds.”

“Not anymore, baby. My cloud is your cloud.”

“Whatever,” I say, upping the sarcasm, but liking the fact that he’s seeing me as part of his life. It eases the feeling of being an interloper.

I think the hearty breakfast I fixed helped, too. After all, a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.

I glance over at him and he smiles. Yeah, I’ve already won over his cock, I wouldn’t mind having his heart. A girl can dream, even though I know fairy tales belong at Disneyland.

Brady walks me through Bryce’s home and it reminds me of his own penthouse—bachelor pad city.

“You two have the same designer?” I follow him deeper into the house, but other than a couple paintings, the place has no color.

“How’d you guess?” Brady asks with a wink.

In the distance, I hear shouting and laughter followed by a large splash of water. We pass through one more opening and enter a huge open room where the outside wall is one big glass window with a view of the pool beyond.

Brady was right. The thing is obnoxious. A wall of large rocks creates a waterfall into the pool and there’s even a swim up bar staffed with a bartender.

“Jeez. It’s ridiculous,” I laugh as he takes my hand and leads me outside.

My stomach flutters and flips as I scan the crowd around the pool. It’s like a beautiful people convention. Shapely blondes, curvy brunettes, and sultry redheads hang on the arms of the men. I recognize many of the guys as fellow Chicago football players. Everyone’s wearing swimsuits, though some of the women’s bikinis look more like scraps of fabric and show off more tits and ass than I expected. I suddenly feel like I have too much covered in my sundress.

“Isn’t your mother coming?” I ask. She’s the reason I chose to wear something conservative and simple—a big mistake, obviously. Instead of blending in, I stick out like a nun at a hooker convention.

“She’s over by the food.” Brady points to a gray-haired woman filling her plate with the spread on the table. “I’ll introduce you to her first, if we can make it that far.”

“Okay,” I say, following behind him around the pool deck.

I hang my head and cower behind Brady when Kevin Reynolds, a football player from Northwestern, approaches us. He plays pro ball for Chicago now and is a friend of Mitchell’s—or was, in college. There’s no way he won’t recognize me since we hung out for over two years while I dated Mitchell.

“Brady, man, how the hell are you?” Kevin claps Brady on the back. “Hitting’s been in the shitter.”

“Thanks for bringing that up,” Brady quips and looks to his side for me, but I’m more behind him now.

“Who you hiding?” Kevin says with a laugh. “Straggler from last night?”

Yep, he’s still the same old jerk he was in college. He and Mitch were two peas in a pod, or two sweaty balls in a jock strap.

“Haven’t you heard?” Brady asks. “Let me introduce you to my fiancée.”

“What the hell?” Kevin yells, laughing hysterically. “How did I miss that? I haven’t recovered from last night’s fuck and whiskey.”

Such a nice mouth he has on him. I can’t wait to shock the shit out of him. Walking out from behind Brady, I keep my head lowered with my hair forming a curtain, then slowly raise it and make eye contact with Kevin. His mouth hits the deck.

“Cali?” he whispers after a few seconds, his brows knitted in confusion. He looks back and forth between Brady and I. His gaze drops to where Brady has his hand protectively covering mine. “She’s your fiancée?”

“How do you know her?” Brady steps in front of me, his tone accusatory, and I have to chuckle. He sure is taking this fake thing to heart.

“She dated Mitch Davis,” Kevin announces. I peer up at Brady and watch his jaw tighten. This is going to be fun.

“So I heard,” Brady spits out. “Sorry excuse for a gifted athlete.”

“Well, Cali sure didn’t think so back in college, and even a time or two last year.” Kevin uses his words like a knife and I flinch.

I want to tell Brady it was only once when I was lonely and weak, but that would confirm what I want to forget. Mitchell must’ve told Kevin, because I’ve told no one—not even Taylor.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Brady steps up and pokes his index finger into Kevin’s chest.

“Getting into a fight already?” says Bryce Luck, Brady’s brother, who walks up by our side to referee.

“I was just telling Brady congratulations on landing Mitchell Davis’ ex-girlfriend for his fiancée.” Kevin gives Brady a mocking smile and I want to slap it off his filthy face.

“His what?” Bryce asks, looking between Brady and me. “I’m confused. Are you Cali?”

“I am. It’s nice to meet you.” I smile at Bryce, then turn to give Kevin the dagger death glare. What a fucking asshole. “I dated Mitchell back in college. Brady knows. It’s in the past.”

“Not sure Mitchell thinks the same,” Kevin claims in a way that implies Mitchell cares, but I know he really doesn’t. “You know you’ll likely be playing the Yanks in the Series, Brady. The former boyfriend versus the current one. Should be fun to watch.”

“Get lost, Kevin.” Bryce throws him a don’t-fuck-with-me look and Kevin starts to laugh.

“You Lucks sure are easy to piss off.” He drains the remaining bit of his beer and tosses the bottle in a nearby trashcan. “Anyway, I need another one.”

“Don’t listen to that fucker,” Bryce says as he holds out his hand to me. “Welcome to the family. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Thanks,” I reply. “I’m a big fan.”
Great, Cali
, I think,
just announce you’re a total fan girl.

“Well, you’ve got season tickets for life if you stick it out and marry my brother.” Bryce searches my face, like he’s trying to assess me. I blink and bite my lip, unnerved under his scrutiny. “You’re way too pretty and smart for him, though. How’d you pull this off, Brady? Did you have to pay her?”

Bryce laughs at his joke, but Brady and I just look at each other, waiting for the other one to speak. Finally, Brady breaks my stare and turns back to Bryce.

“Something like that,” he says, squeezing my hand. It’s a subtle reassurance that we are on the same team, and I appreciate the gesture.

“Brady, is this her?” The woman Brady pointed out as his mother stands by Bryce with the widest smile on her face. Her blue eyes twinkle just like Brady’s.

“Cali, this is my mother, Millie.”

“Oh my, dear. It’s so lovely to meet you. I am super surprised to hear about your engagement, mind you.” She gives Brady a reprimanding look. “But thrilled to learn one of my wayward sons has found someone.”

“It was all very sudden, no doubt,” I say in my and Brady’s defense.

She takes my hands and holds them to the sides. I feel like she’s inspecting me and I want to pass muster. “You’re beautiful and perfect for my Brady. Not like the others wandering around here with no clothes on.”

I give myself a mental high-five for wearing something that covers my assets—even if I feel like I popped out of the fifties.

“So nice to meet you,” I say with a sincere heart, and she gives me a big, mother-type hug.

“I’m afraid I can’t stay for this hedonistic party,” she says, looking around the pool deck at Bryce’s friends. “I have a church meeting, but stopped by to meet you. I have always wanted a daughter—and grandchildren.”
What?
This is going too far, especially knowing in a few weeks Brady and I will part ways. I look to Brady for help here, and he shrugs his shoulders, like it was almost expected.

“Mom, we haven’t even set a date.”