Player: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (37 page)

I
t’s
the pretending to care that gets old after a while. It’s exhausting really, pretending I’m interested in what they’re saying, or their opinions on the menu, or in
them
as people when really, I just don’t care. I’m going out with girls because I know I should, and I know it’s something I
need
to do to get my mind off of her, but it never helps. If anything, it just makes it worse.

A year later, and here I am out with some other redhead who only even vaguely looks like her, who’s chattering at me across the dinner table about - fuck, actually I have no idea. I’m dating because I know a man of my position
should
be dating cute women in skimpy dresses at fancy restaurants. I mean let’s face it, there’s already enough weird shit about me to make me stand out more than I ever want to; being that weird guy who
never
goes out or is
never seen
with a hot girl on his arm is just a reputation I don’t need if I’m trying to blend in.

When I drop her back off at her apartment, she looks at me like I’m completely nuts when I politely decline her invitation to come up for for coffee “and maybe a little cream and sugar”. Besides it being such an over-the-top line, I’m just not interested. I mean shit, the old me would’ve had her dress off halfway up the stairs; hell, the old me would’ve probably fucked her in the bathroom of that 5-star restaurant. But the new me feels pulled in too many directions, and is hounded by too many demons, and is
haunted
by the memory of the one perfect girl who no one is ever going to replace.

And as I roar away from the redhead’s apartment, I wonder just how in the hell I’m ever going to get Reagan Archer out of my fucking head.

W
e’re giggling
like fucking teenager as we stumble out of the shower, barely toweled off and leaving wet footprints across the carpet. She pushes me back in this big stuffed chair by the window of her room, and before I know it, she’s kneeling at my feet. When her lips wrap around my cock, it’s fucking
miles
better than every single one of the multitude
of fantasies I’ve had of this exact moment. Her tongue slides across the underside of me as she begins to gently suck, and I’m just
done
. I’m gasping for breath with my hands running through her long red hair as she moans and swirls her tongue around me. When I warn her, she only moans louder and sucks me deeper, and I explode inside her mouth as I gasp out her name.

She giggles as she pulls away, wiping her mouth in this way that would look just plain slutty with literally any other girl in the world but her; on her it just looks incredible. She smiles shyly up at me as I try to form words though the fog in my head. Our eyes meet and then I’m pulling her up into my lap and kissing her neck and feeling her whimper softly into my ear.

“You trying to kill me, Red?” I growl, nipping at her earlobe and loving the way it makes her gasp.

“No but I’m starting to see the appeal all those other girls found in you.”

She’s giggling, teasing me, and I groan as bring her lips to mine; “there
are
no other girls but you, you know that right?” She’s kissing me, and then as her hand drops to my lap she starts to giggle again

“Oh my
God
-”

“What?”

She laughs- the sound so fucking beautiful and musical; “Hudson-” Her eyes are wide and her cheeks are blushing bright red as she nods at my cock, standing straight up between us; “You’re still, um-” She’s trails off, and I shrug, not being able to help but add in a smug smirk at the fact that I’m still hard. Reagan bites her lip; “Do you- um, do you have one?”

Fuck
. Of
course
I don’t. The old me had them stuffed into every pocket I owned, but of the course the second the new me needs one more than a dying man needs water in the desert, I’m without. She sees the hesitation on my face and smirks as she reaches for her purse on the table next to us; rummaging around before coming out with a little foil packet in her hand and an adorable pink glow to her cheeks. I raise my eyebrows teasingly and she rolls her eyes; “You should probably check and make sure it isn’t expired.”

She’s grinning at me as our eyes meet, and I feel
so
fucking close to this girl without even being inside her that it practically knocks the wind out of me. I’m not used to feeling this emotionally exposed with someone; this naked. In fact, even with all the women before, I’m fairy certain in that moment that I’ve
never
felt quite like this before; the sobering epiphany hits me that
this
is what making love feels like. She looks at me, so innocently, and so full of need that I’m suddenly terrified of shattering everything that she with the burden of what I carry.

“Reagan, you know we don’t have to do thi-”

“Hudson will you shut up and fuck me already?” She leans down and kisses me, sucking my lip between her teeth, and that pushes me right over the edge.

I tear open the packet and roll the condom down over my length before my hands are grabbing her ass and moving her up to my tip as she squeals. And then I’m feeling her slide down on to me, and it’s like heaven and I could die right here. She’s like warm silk around me as we move together like the movement of an ocean; rocking together like a tide upon a shore. I’m gentle at first, but the way she starts to dig her fingernails into my shoulders and the way she bounces up and down my length making these sexy as hell little cooing sounds has me grabbing her harder and pumping my hips to meet hers. She grinding against me and whimpering as my hands grab the soft skin of her ass hard enough to leave marks as I start to fuck her hard. I can feel her tightening around me, her muscles clutching at me and her mouth hanging open as I kiss her and then slide my lips to ear; “Come for me, Reagan; fucking come for me
right
now.” I muffle her screams with my mouth this time as she goes to pieces around me, and it’s more than I can take. I see stars as I roar my release into her kiss and explode inside of her.

When we’ve caught our escaping breaths and racing hearts and moved to the bed, I’m curled up next to her. And for the first time in maybe ever, I’m not counting down the seconds until I can leave.

She yawns into my chest as she snuggles against me, worming her way deeper into my arms; “We shouldn’t fall asleep like this” she says sleepily.

I nod, feeling my own eyelids weighing heavily down; “Definitely not.”

I can feel her lips smiling against my skin; “But Hudson, would it really be so bad if…”

I’m waiting for a full five seconds for her to finish her sentence until I grin as I hear the soft rhythmic breathing of her sleep. Before I can even convince myself to stop, I’m holding her tightly against my body as I let sleep take me under, and for the first since longer than I can honestly remember, I don’t dream at all.

And it’s
wonderful.

I
quietly hang
up the phone and stare at the wall of my apartment for a second before I let the air out in a slow stream. The empty, sort of
blank
feeling inside is weird, especially since I know I
should
be feeling something much more right now. When your friend calls to tell you that your boyfriend’s been cheating on you, there’s a certain way you’re
supposed
to feel and react.

Except, I just don’t.

And a lot of that might be because there wasn’t exactly a whole lot there
anyways
with Chet. He was more like a companion, and kind of an annoying one at that than any sort of
romantic
role. Movies are full of dramatic encounters and fiery kisses and unbridled
passion
, and I know that’s all Hollywood bullshit, but I also know that I’ve
seen
that sort of passion. I’ve felt it, if only once and if only for one brief kiss, but that one kiss with
him
is better and more memorable than anything I’ve known since.

So, no, I’m not
mad
that Chet’s apparently been fucking one of his interns, I’m just sort of
sad,
I guess.

I open my phone, and almost like second nature, I’m scrolling down through my contacts until I see Hudson’s number there on my screen. It’s right where it’s been for over a year now, sitting there in front of my face with my thumb hanging half an inch above it but never actually touching it and actually going through with calling him. I don’t even know what the hell I’d
say
to him at this point, even though for a while I was so mad I even
wrote down
all the poisonous vitriol I wanted to hurl at him. But now- now it just seems like a faded and sad dream.

Wow, look at me. I’ve just been cheated on and dumped by my boyfriend, but all I can think about is the man who broke my heart a full year ago. I take a deep breath and look at the number once more, and I know it’s time; I know it’s time to let him go. I slide my thumb across his number, and before I can stop myself, I’m hitting the little red “x” there to delete the contact. And just like that, he’s gone.

T
here’s
the usual fog that accompanies waking up when I first open my eyes, and as sunlight glows around the drawn curtains, I find myself lazily stretching as I yawn and roll over -
right
into Hudson. Suddenly I’m wide awake and panicking, and I jump out of bed and back away from it, as if being near him somehow makes it more real and more than I can handle right now.
Holy shit, I slept with Hudson
. My hand flies to my mouth as my eyes go wide, suddenly thinking of all the repercussions that could come of this; my campaign, the funding from Archer Holdings;
God
, the
media
if they got ahold of this?

I realize I’m pacing and chewing at my cuticles again, and I force myself to stop as I turn and look at him, still sleeping heavily in bed. The covers are pulled most of the way down on his torso as he lies on his stomach, and my eyes trace over the inked and scarred skin there; his back rising and falling slowly with his breathing. A flush creeps into my face as I think about last night with him, and how freaking incredible he felt in that first delicious moment of penetration. There’s a feeling of stinging guilt that I’m standing here
regretting
last night while I stare at the man that’s made me happier in one night than I’ve felt in a long time. But then the panic hits me again;
fuck
, I mean what if somebody
heard
us? My face gets hot as I try and think how loud I might have gotten the previous night. Or what if someone puts two-and-two together when they see that Hudson's bedroom door is wide open and his bed still made?

He stirs in the bed suddenly as he begins to wake up, and for some bizarre reason I’m suddenly keenly aware and awkward about the fact that I’m standing there naked, despite what happened the previous night. I grab the first thing I see - his dress shirt - and throw it on; quickly buttoning it as he opens his eyes and starts to sit up in bed.

“Morning,” He grins at me, blinking sleep from his eyes. God he looks incredible sitting in my bed like that; so peaceful, so
naked
, and so - I flush - so
hard
. He arches a brow at me and then smirks as he nods to the sizable tent in the sheet in his lap; “You know, as good as you look right now in that shirt, I think you should probably take it off and come back to bed, darlin.” And for a moment, doing just that sounds like the most amazing thing in the world.

…That is, until there’s a startling knock on my door and Erika’s chipper, annoying voice hollering through about the interview I need to to be ready to leave for in thirty minutes. And just like that, the fantasy of curling up with Hudson and letting the world just float away without us is shattered as the
very
real reality hits me like a ton of bricks.

“You need to get out of here!” I hiss at him, feeling panicked as I throw his pants at him.

His grin falters as his brow furrows; “Relax, Rea-”

“I can’t
relax
, Hudson; don’t fucking tell me to rela-”

“Reagan, it’s just
one
fucking interview for what, some stupid NYU school paper?” He’s sitting up on the edge of the bed while I run around the room like a crazy person trying to hide the signs of the previous night as I yank on my black dress pants and hunt around for a clean blouse; “Look just
skip
it.”

I whirl on him, feeling furious that he’s just
sitting there
while I’m in panic mode; “Because that would be stupid and a big mistake.”

He rolls his eyes; “Oh, please, a big mista-”

“Kind of like last night.”

He freezes, his eyes narrowing at me as a shadow passes over his face. I cringe, instantly feeling like a total crazy bitch for letting it slip out like that; “Shit, Hudson, I didn’t mean it like-”

“No, forget it, you’re right.” He’s up and yanking his pants on with his back to me, and my heart drops as I realize the fantasy veil of last night has completed dropped and we’re standing in the naked reality of today.

“Mistakes happen, right?” He shrugs and flashes a thin smile at me, and right there I see his armor go right back up.

“You should get to that interview, I’ll- I need to-” He’s at the door, opening it slowly as he peaks out and checks the hallway; “I’ve got some shit to do anyways.” He turns and looks at me coo;ly; “Don’t worry, we’ll pretend this whole little
mistake
never happened.”

And just like that, he’s slamming the door behind him and slamming the chapter shut on whatever happened last night.

Fuck.

* * *

I
subtly peep
under the table at the phone I’ve ever-so-secretly slipped out of my purse. There are
plenty
of messages of course, but I frown when I see that his number isn’t among them. Part of me hoped he’d still just show up at my first interview today, but he never did.

“Oh,
stop it
, Ray!”

I glance up, trying to look as innocent as possible as Quinn glares at me from across the diner table, even though I know she’s busted me; “What?” Leave it to family to totally burst your bubble on feeling subtle or sneaky.

“We said no phones! That’s what!”

I roll my eyes, “Quinn, you
do
know I’m running for State Sen-”

“Yeah and when you
win
, you’ll have even less time for your boring, non-famous sisters.” Chelsea butts in.

Ten minutes; we’ve been sitting at lunch for
ten minutes
and they’re already ganging up on me. I sigh dramatically as I slip the phone back in my bag and sling it over my chair; “
Fiiiine
. So what should we talk about?”

“How about the fact that you’re a major political figure and you’re still dragging us to shitty brunch diners like this place.” Quinn says, wrinkling her nose at the plain white cup of coffee in front of her.

“Hey, this place is an
institution
, you know. Plus it’s freaking delicious; I’d eat here every day if it wouldn’t give Donald and Erika conniptions.”

“And what would Hudson think?”

Chelsea’s snarky grin catches me off-guard, and I stumble; “W-What do you mean?”

“I mean about you eating pancakes and scrambled cheesy eggs every day.”

I shrug as nonchalantly as I can; “I’m sure I’ve got no idea what he thinks about anything.”

Like, me, for instance.

Quinn grins at me, and I steel myself, afraid she’ll sniff out what I’m really thinking about him like some sort of sex-bloodhound; “So how
is
spending all that time with
Hot
sun going, anyways?”

I groan; “
Qui-
”

“What?! Have you fucking seen him!” She says with mock indignance; “He’s like-”

“Packaged sex.” Chelsea butts in, making the two of them devolve into giggles and my face into total guilty embarrassment.

“
Guys
, he’s not-”

“Oh my God,
Ray
, why are you fighting her on that? She’s totally right and you know it. Hudson is like, James Bond, but with super hot tattoos and a body off the cover of a romance novel.” She arches her eyebrows at me; “Hey, I mean if you don’t
want
that, I mean
I’m
single-”

“Quinn I think you stole
quite
enough boyfriends from me in high school.”

They both
immediately
beam at me as I realize my slip-up and die a little inside.

“
Oh. My. God.
” Quinn’s jaw drops.

“Guys, no, that is
not
what I-”

“No
fucking
way!” Chelsea stares at me with a grin on her face. She and Liz turn towards each other and start giggling again.

“Wait, no, it is
not
like-
stop that!
” People are starting to turn and look our way, and even in this greasy little diner in midtown, I know it’s a matter of time before someone realizes who I am and starts to get
really
interested in what we’re talking about so animatedly.

“Guys, seriously!” I hiss; “Keep it down!”

Chelsea is beaming at me; “Hudson fucking Banks?”

“I think it’s more ‘Hudson fucking our sister’, actually.” Quinn quips, with the predicted giggle from Chelsea and the deeper shade of red on my face.

I shake my head much to animatedly; “No
way
, of course not, he’s horrible.”

Quinn shrugs; “Well, I mean he’s crude I guess, but horrible?”

“Ugh! He’s one of Dad’s
thugs
!” I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince more, me or them.

“So?” Chelsea shrugs; “Ok, he worked for Dad; big deal. It’s not like he’s our brother or something.”

I make a face into my coffee; “Eww?”

Chelsea sighs; “No, I just mean what would be so weird about hooking up with Hudson?”

“Um, because
besides
that, how about the fact that Dad ditched us for him and his other adopt-a-veteran pals all the fucking time?”

Chelsea looks quickly down and Quinn shakes her head at me; “You need to let that one go sometime, Ray. You know Dad had his reasons for-”

“Ok, fine, whatever.”
Not
the conversation I want have in the middle of a political campaign sitting in a diner.

We sit in silence for another moment before I open my mouth again; “Ok, how about that he’s technically my campaign financier? Hello? Conflict of interest much?”

Quinn shrugs; “Archer Holdings is your campaign financier, not Hudson. So
what’s
the harm?”

I slam the coffee cup down harder than I intend, spilling the lukewarm liquid onto the countertop; “Because I feel like an idiot for sleeping with him after what happened at Dad’s wak-”

I freeze and clasp my hands to my mouth as the whole table goes silent, my sisters
staring
at me with open mouths.

Oh, fuck.

“Wait,
what?
You
did
sleep with him?!” Chelsea is wide-eyed and grinning at me.

“You
hussy
!” Quinn clucks her teeth like a mother hen; “And oh my
God
;
what
did you do get up to at a
wake
?!”

And it’s right there, with room-temperature coffee all over my hands, sitting in a crappy little midtown diner in the middle of the afternoon that I start to cry. Quinn immediately changes her whole tune as she jumps out the booth and crams in on my side, her arms going around me as the tears and the sniffles come pouring out of me.

“Hey,
hey
now Ray.”

“I’m horrible!” I moan into my hands, feeling Quinn’s arms tighten around me.

“No, hon, you’re not.”

“But at Dad’s fucking funer-”

“You were emotional and lost, and you needed something to grab onto; and he was there.” She nuzzles my hair like she used to do when we were kids; “That’s not being horrible, Ray, that’s just being human.” She says softly.

Chelsea reaches across the table and takes one of my hands, patting it dry of coffee as I look up at her miserably; “And Hudson
isn’t
so terrible you know.”