I'll Catch You (13 page)

“Are you sure you want to go there with Payton?” his former teammate asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cedric said. His reply sounded like bull even to his own ears.

“Don’t play dumb. You need to keep this thing strictly about business. Don’t blur the lines, Ced. It’ll only lead to trouble.”

“There are no blurry lines, all right?” Cedric said. He attempted to move past him, but Torrian caught him on the shoulder.

“You sure about that?” Torrian asked. “We used to trash Gus Houseman and you never gave a damn. Now you’re ready to tear Jared’s head off because he mentioned Payton’s dress? This isn’t smart, Cedric. There’s a reason old sayings become old sayings, and ‘don’t mix business with pleasure’ is one of the oldest in the book. Think about it, man.”

Cedric knew Torrian was right. Hell, hadn’t he been telling himself the same thing for the past few weeks? He needed to concentrate on his career and making sure he remained a member of the Sabers’s organization. Derek was counting on him, and there was nothing more important than making sure his brother had everything he needed, including having Cedric only an hour’s drive away. Nothing else should matter.

But there was a short circuit between the rational part of his brain and the part that took one look at Payton and wanted to strip her clothes off and pin her against the nearest wall. He closed his eyes against the image that thought created but it only intensified in his imagination.

God, this was
killing
him.

Cedric opened his eyes and found Jared and Torrian both staring at him.

Jared shook his head, a grin hitching up the corner of his mouth. “You’ve got it bad, man.”

Cedric groaned. If it was evident to these two, then everybody could probably see just how bad he really
did
have it for his agent. How could he offer Payton discretion if his feelings were so transparent?

“So what do I do?” he asked them both.

“Don’t ask me,” Torrian said. “You’re at my engagement party, remember?”

“Can’t help you either, man. I’ll be the first to admit Samantha’s got me eating out of the palm of her hand,” Jared said, clapping a hand on Cedric’s back as the three of them exited the restroom.

As they rejoined the party, Cedric had a feeling his situation was beyond help. When he spotted Payton standing with a circle of other women, including Paige and Deirdre Smallwood, Torrian’s sister, he knew it for certain.

He was in major trouble.

Payton’s head flew back as she laughed, and his eyes were immediately drawn to her neck. Just like that, Cedric was right back to their kiss that afternoon. He could feel her soft skin on his lips, taste her sweet flavor on his tongue. Every time he looked at her, his mind conjured images of what they had done in that rec center, and everything he’d wanted to do. Everything he
still
wanted to do.

His groin tightened at the thought, and Cedric knew he wouldn’t be satisfied until he got the chance to explore every single inch of her.

Tonight would be damn near impossible to endure. And he had a feeling it was going to get more difficult every minute they were around each other.

Payton told herself to slow down. She had never been one to overindulge, usually stopping after one or two drinks. But she was having such a great time and the champagne and wine from the Fire Starter Grille’s extensive collection was flowing as freely as a creek in springtime.

The night had been so festive it was hard not to get into the spirit. Everything had been over the top, starting with the delicious six-course meal they had been treated to, which had been punctuated by various toasts from friends and family members of the couple, along with a host of Sabers players.

What a difference a few weeks made. She had spent months just trying to get close enough to introduce herself to many of these players. And here she was, rubbing elbows with them and being her most charming. At least Payton hoped she was being charming. After her third glass of champagne, everything out of her mouth seemed witty.

“Are you having a good time?” a deep voice asked from just beyond her shoulder.

Payton spun around, her elbow crashing into Cedric’s chest. The champagne jostled in her glass and she wobbled slightly. Cedric caught her arm and helped to steady her. She decided then and there to cut herself off. Tonight’s champagne, along with all the wine she’d consumed with her meal, was more alcohol than she usually drank in an entire month. She placed her nearly full champagne flute on a nearby table and turned fully to face Cedric.

“I’m having a great time,” she answered with the enthusiastic slur of the slightly tipsy. “A little
too
great, maybe.”

Payton could feel the blush creep up her cheeks. Or maybe she had been blushing all along and it had only intensified now that Cedric was near. Champagne had that effect on her and, Lord knows, so did Cedric.

“Good,” he said, grabbing another glass of champagne from a passing waiter and wrapping her fingers around the stem. “You’ve been working hard this past month. You deserve to celebrate a bit.”

He was right. She had been working nonstop since the moment he’d signed on as her client. This was her first chance to step back and enjoy herself.

“You sure picked a great spot,” she said, motioning to their surroundings. The Fire Starter Grille, the brainchild of Torrian Smallwood, was the hottest new restaurant in central Manhattan, and Torrian’s sister Deirdre, the head chef, was making waves on the culinary scene. Payton had never even tried getting a reservation here. It was a well-known fact that the waiting list was months long.

“Torrian does throw a great party,” Cedric agreed. “Have you been making the most of the situation?” he asked.

“If you mean shoving my business card at every football player in the room, then, no, I haven’t,” she said. “I’ve introduced myself to a few players I’ve been eyeing, but nothing more.”

“That’s part of the reason I brought you here, Payton. To make connections. You have every right to look for new clients,” he said. “I don’t expect to be the only player on your roster.”

“And hopefully you won’t. But I still have to prove myself to a lot of people before other athletes believe I’m the real deal. That’s why I’m concentrating on making your career everything it should be. You’re going to get one hundred percent of me.”

“Is that a promise?” he asked.

The husky timbre of his voice, combined with the smoldering look in his eyes, told Payton they were no longer talking about contract negotiations. Instead of answering his question she downed the remaining champagne in one gulp, though it did nothing to cool the raging inferno in her belly.

The beginning chords of Roberta Flack’s version of “Killing Me Softly with His Song” trickled from the speakers that were so discretely placed around the room Payton had yet to actually spot one.

“Oh.” She brought her hand to her chest. “I haven’t heard this in years,” she said. “This was the song my mom and dad danced to at their wedding, and whenever it came on the radio, they always stopped whatever they were doing so they could dance. It didn’t matter if they were at home, out with company, even driving.”

“Driving?”

“That’s right,” Payton nodded. “Dad would pull onto the shoulder of the road and they would dance.” Payton wrapped her arms around herself, soaking in the memory.

Cedric placed the champagne he’d been sipping onto a nearby table. “That sounds like a tradition worth carrying on.” He held out his hand. “May I have this dance?”

Payton’s heart constricted. An emotion she could hardly describe lodged itself so firmly in her throat she couldn’t speak. Instead, she placed her hand in the cradle of Cedric’s warm palm.

He pulled her in close, entwining the fingers of his right hand with hers while his left settled against the small of her back. The spot where he touched tingled, radiating warmth throughout her entire body. As they swayed back and forth to the familiar tune, all Payton could think about was how right this felt, even while another part of her brain knew it was wrong.

No, not wrong, just unwise. Nothing that felt this good could be completely wrong.

She rested her cheek against his shoulder, marveling at the strength of the muscle. “You feel so good,” she whispered.

“Not as good as you feel,” he replied so softly Payton could barely hear it. He increased the pressure on her back, pulling her in closer contact with the solid wall of his body. There was no mistaking the arousal pressing against her stomach, and the power she felt there had the same heady effect as the alcohol she’d consumed tonight.

“Are you ready to leave?” Cedric asked.

She raised her head, her eyes meeting his. The champagne had certainly elicited a compelling buzz, but Payton wasn’t so tipsy that she could misinterpret what she saw staring back at her.

Desire.

Raw and potent. Hot and heart-stopping.

It so closely mirrored what she had been feeling ever since their kiss that afternoon, she was sure Cedric could see right through her.

“Yes,” she finally answered.

The look in Cedric’s eyes became even more smoldering. Payton knew anyone paying attention would clearly recognize what was transpiring between them. This was a foolish mistake, blatantly engaging in what amounted to public foreplay with her client. But for the life of her Payton could not tear her gaze away from Cedric’s stare and the frank, honest desire she found there.

Without so much as a farewell wish to the hosts, they left the party.

The thirty-minute drive from midtown Manhattan to her apartment was completed in silence, but the sexual tension suffusing the tight confines of the vehicle said more than either of them could have verbalized. As Cedric helped her out of his SUV, Payton’s breasts grazed his chest. She felt his swift intake of breath and realized he was wound as tightly as she was.

With his hand lightly touching the small of her back, Cedric guided her to her apartment.

Payton’s hands fumbled with the key a few times before she was finally able to unlock the door.

“I’ll follow you in, just to make sure you’re safe,” Cedric said.

“I’d like that,” Payton replied. She wobbled slightly. She’d definitely had too much to drink if the champagne was still affecting her so much. Though, to be honest, the tremble in her limbs had just as much to do with the man standing only inches behind her.

She entered the apartment first, flicking on the lamp that sat on a table next to the door. She tossed her keys onto the wooden tray next to it, then turned to Cedric, who stood just inside the open door.

Payton stretched a hand toward him, then beyond, to the door, shutting it and pushing him back against it. As soon as the door shut, Cedric caught her head between his palms and captured her mouth in an eager assault of lips, teeth and tongue. Payton’s blood rushed through her veins as his insistent tongue plunged and retreated, emulating a rhythm that sent shockwaves directly to the spot pulsing between her thighs.

“God, you taste good,” he murmured.

Payton couldn’t speak. This full-blown attack on her sensory system made it hard to concentrate on anything else. In and out his tongue dipped, dancing with her own. He swirled it around, caressing the inside of her mouth.

Cedric’s hands began a slow journey from her face, along her arms, stopping at her backside where he clutched her and pulled her against his body. The thickness of the arousal straining against her stomach caused all manner of deliciously illicit thoughts to flutter through her brain. Payton undulated against him, wrangling a moan from deep within Cedric’s throat. His hands gripped her ass harder, pulling her more snuggly to his rock-hard body.

Payton melted against him, her limbs losing all control. When Cedric’s right hand dipped underneath the hem of her short black dress, a tiny alarm sounded in her brain, but Payton silenced it. Her body needed this. She would deal with the consequences later.

As his tongue continued to explore her mouth, Cedric’s fingers began a new journey along her body. Moving her satin thong to the side, he glided a single strong finger from front to back, drawing moisture from her core. With exquisite expertise he teased the bundle of nerves at her center into a tight ball before plunging a single, thick finger into her.

Payton cried out as her body stretched around his finger, clutching it as it pushed deeper and deeper. It retreated, then pushed in again, sinking farther and higher with every thrust. Payton’s entire being seized as wicked pleasure cascaded throughout her bloodstream. She came hard and fast, clutching Cedric’s shoulders, burying her head against his chest. She held on to him for all she was worth, her trembling limbs worthless as sparks of sensation continually shot through her body.

“Oh, my God,” Payton breathed. She sucked in air like a drowning woman, hoping the oxygen would clear her brain enough to concentrate on something other than the orgasm she was still trying to hold on to.

“That was…uh…nice,” she said.

“You’re welcome,” Cedric whispered into her ear.

Testing her legs, she concluded she could walk without melting onto the floor in a puddle of satisfied woman. She captured Cedric’s hand and tugged, starting toward her bedroom, but he pulled away.

He banged his head against the door, clenching his eyes tight.

“What’s wrong?” Payton asked, reaching again for his hand.

“Nothing,” he said. “Just kicking myself.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m about to do the hardest thing I’ve ever done,” he answered.

Payton stared at him, confusion mixing with the lingering effects of the alcohol and orgasm to create a bewilderment her muddled brain was far too tired to figure out. She didn’t want to think too much.

“We can’t do this tonight, Payton.”

Protests rang throughout her brain. She clasped her hands around his head and tried to pull him in for another kiss, but he captured her forearms in a gentle but firm grip. He pulled her arms to her sides, leaned in and kissed her forehead.