Player: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (51 page)

“
OK
, so where are we-”

“Quinn.”

“What?” I snap.

“Do me a favor.”

“Wha-”

“Stop talking for like, one whole minute, OK?”

I open my mouth to say something back, but instead I snap it shut and shake my head, not wanting to give him the satisfaction as the elevator moves up. The doors open and we’re up on the roof-top lounge area, complete with a pool and a bar and an utterly
insane
view of Manhattan. It’s also
completely
deserted.

“Did you plan this or something?” I say, frowning at him.

“What, paying off the night manager so that I could come up to the pool bar alone and drink scotch after my fight?’

I look at him expectantly.

“Uh,
yeah
, Quinn, I did.”

I’m laughing in spite of myself, watching his face crack into a smile as I do so.

“What, you think, that I did all this for
you
or something?” He grins; “I’m not telepathic, you know. It’s not like I knew you were going to follow me around like a stalker tonight.” I try to hide my grin, knowing he’s right, and he laughs; “You’re a welcomed addition though.”

He reaches over the empty bar and grabs two glasses before we walk over to the pool’s edge. He’s kicking his shoes off, and I start to follow suit before I realize he’s pulling his t-shirt up over his washboard abs and over his head.

“Uh, what are you doing?”

He tosses his shirt aside; “Uh,
swimming
, darlin. It’s a pool, that’s what you do in them.”

“Cute.”

“Oh, you’re coming in too, you know.”

I raise an eyebrow at him as he starts to unbuckle his belt; “Yeah I don’t
think
so.”

“Nope, you have to,” He shrugs nonchalantly, which is hard to pull off when his face looks like the cat that just caught the canary; “Post-victory tradition; jump in the damn pool.”

“I don’t have a suit.” It’s a lame excuse, since he clearly didn’t bring one either.

“Neither do I.” He’s stripping his jeans off, and I’m blushing but not really trying to look away as he stands there in tight, grey boxer-briefs that cling to every inch of him; and I do mean
every
inch. It’s almost not even fair. I mean the guy’s a billionaire already; does he
have
to look like some kind of Greek warrior too? He tosses his pants onto a lounge chair and looks at me expectantly, standing there with that incredible body, with his insanely ripped abs and those twin grooves of his hips leading down…

Ooooo-kay.
Yeah, I am
definitely
not getting in a pool with Logan Dempsey looking like
that
.

“Archer, you’ve got about 10 seconds to start stripping before I toss you in just like that.”

We lock eyes, and I know he’s crazy enough to be serious. He’s also not going to get this one over on me, and so instead I just shrug and start unbuttoning my shorts. He smirks, looking pleased with himself.

“You didn’t think I would, huh?”

“No, not really actually.”

“Shows what you know then.” I’m hoping my voice comes off as flippant and confident instead of the bundle of nerves I feel like inside. I’m pushing all the thoughts out of my head though of how crazy it is that I’m pulling my t-shirt up over my head and letting him see me in my black bra and panties. I’m actually relieved for a second that I actually managed to wear a matching pair, though I’m kind of wishing I wasn’t wearing a damn thong.

Whatever
, I think;
It’s not like he hasn’t seen it all before.

Yeah, not
really
a comforting thought, actually.

But a minute later, we’re both standing in chest-high water clinking glasses, and I’m doing my damnedest not think about the fact that I’m barely a foot away from a practically naked Logan Dempsey in just my underwear.

O
k
, there’s playing with fire, and then there’s just sticking your whole fuckin hand in the flames.

Late-night underwear pool-hopping with Quinn Archer is so,
so
much the latter.

I’m kind of going out of my mind here, and I know I’m pushing this whole “innocent flirtation” thing way too far. I’m dancing on that edge; I’m testing myself here, and I also think I’m about to lose. Why the hell is she up here? Why did I bring her, and why on
Earth
did she even say yes? She’s a smart woman, obviously, but I’d have thought she was smart enough to see right through my bullshit and just flat-out turn me down on this. I mean the whole point was to push her buttons until she backed down and I’d just drive her home; the plan never actually went further than that. Certainly not to the point where I’m standing two feet away from her in a pool when she’s just wearing that fucking
black
lacy bra and thong panties hugging all her curves in all the right places.

Luckily, the water surface is enough to
maybe
conceal the fact that my rock-hard erection is threatening to tear a hole in my briefs.

Damn, this is like the mistake I just can’t let go of. If I was a smarter man - maybe if I were Bryce or something - I’d walk away right now. Erection be damned, I’d step out of this pool, call a driver for Quinn, and then
leave
. I’d find somewhere else to live that wasn’t ten feet up from where she sleeps, find a new team member for the outreach program, and just severe ties.

Of course, looking at her now with just the tips of her dark auburn hair getting wet in the pool, the tops of her breasts glistening with drops of water in the low light, and that unintentionally coy smile, I know that
none
of that is happening. Not in a million fucking years.

So instead, we sit on this submerged bench seat against the side of the pool in the shallow end, sipping scotch and just staring out over the neon forest of Manhattan.

“It’s pretty up here.” She takes a small sip of her drink, and I’m not even able to look away from the perfectly unintentionally sexy way her lips linger on the edge of the glass as she swallows.

“I like coming up here.”

“After fights?”

I nod; “Yeah, actually. It clears my head,” I say, as if my head is
any
fucking way
clear
right now with her sitting so close that I can almost feel her skin against mine.

But it’s true. I come up here after the fights because win or lose, it puts things in perspective for me. When I’m up here, surrounded by the trappings of wealth and power that I wield now, it forces me to remember
where
I am in life. That might sound absurd, or like some sort of douchebag “rich-guy problems” bullshit, but it’s something I’ve found I need. Because again, win or lose, I have to remind myself why I fight, and I fight because
this
life
that William Archer gave me is precious. I came from nothing, and I
was
nothing before saw
something
in us and dragged us out of that hole. I might truly hate being beholden to Javier and the fighting, But I know I owe William even more. There was the promise made to stand tall under the responsibilities and the trust he gave me, and owing up to that debt means more to me than anything.

And so, I fight.

“Listen, sorry about snapping at you back there at the warehouse. I just-” I take a sip of the scotch and then clear my throat; “I just wasn’t expecting to see you.”

She fidgets with her glass; “Sorry I followed and spied on you like a stalker.”

“I’d say it worked out OK,” I say, chancing a grin at her.

“Well, I think we’ve had
quite
enough encounters without me following you around looking for more.” Quinn says quickly, her cheeks blushing adorably as she takes a big sip of her drink.

“Oh?” I smirk at her; “And what kind of
encounter
were you looking for tonight, darlin?”

She stammers as her face goes bright red and she opens her mouth and closes it again quickly about three times before she just looks away; “That’s- that’s not what I meant.”

I grin at her; “Yeah but you’re
dying
to mean it.”

The voice in my head is screaming about how terrible an idea it is to be flirting with her like this; how I need to get up and just
walk the fuck away
right now. But she turns and looks into my eyes, and as her pouty lips just part, her tongue slips out to wet them. I can see her chest rising and falling with her every breath, and it’s almost too much for me to take before I end up ripping her panties off right here and driving my cock inside her.

I need her to roll her eyes, or smack me, or just walk away from me right now. I need a hit of reality right in the face for me to simmer the fuck down and just
know
how bad of an idea this is; how dangerous it is to play with
this
particular fire named Quinn Archer.

But instead, she does the exact fucking opposite. Instead, those big lashes of hers blink as she looks up into my face, her eyes wide and her teeth just gently biting at her lower lip as the flush from the pool and booze creeps over the tops of her breasts. And then she opens those pink, pouty lips; “
Maybe
.”

Yeah, fuck; I’m done.

My hand goes to her hair, and I grab a handful of it as I roughly bring her crashing against my lips. She moans out this sexy-as-fuck cooing sound as I growl into her mouth; our breaths intermingling as our tongues slide together and our lips crush against the other hard enough to bruise.

She’s moaning into me, her hands running over my chest and dropping down over my abs. I grip the handful of hair tighter in my fist, loving the way she gasps into my kiss as I do. My other hand traces over her hip there and teases at the elastic of her panties. She drops her hand down into my lap, the boldness of the act from a girl like Quinn surprising me momentarily, but it’s only that much hotter because of it. Her fingers grasp at my cock through my briefs, pulling at me like she needs me, and I feel like I could explode right here and now.

She gasps out loud as I yank her head back, exposing her neck to my lips and my teeth as I nibble and not so gently suck my way down to her collarbone. I’m pulling at the straps of her bra, slipping them off her shoulders as she shudders and presses against me; her hand still stroking my cock through the fabric.

“
Fuck
, Logan.” She gasps; “We- we can’t-”

“
Yes
,” I hiss out; “Yes we fucking can.” My hand slides down to grab her perfect curvy ass, and she whimpers, and that’s
it
for me.

I slide my hand around right between her thighs, and she moans as I push her panties aside to trace my fingertips over her lips. I push two of them deep inside, curling up against her as she cries out and bites my shoulder, and I suddenly want
much
more.

I let go of her hair slide my fingers out of her before I grab her by the waist and bodily lift her onto the edge of the pool. My hands grab at the elastic of her thin little thong, and I
tear it
away from her body to her surprised gasp. And then she’s bare and open for my eyes, looking so fucking sexy and so fucking
perfect
perched naked on the edge of the pool like that. She’s got this
look
that’s both totally innocent and smolderingly sexy at the same damn time, and it’s making the blood roar in my ears.

She cries out and grabs me by the hair when I slide my mouth over her, tasting her pussy and devouring her like a starving man. She’s bucking wildly against me, and prim little Quinn Archer
loudly
moaning my name and rocking her sex against my face is possibly the single hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.

“
Oh
fuck oh fuck, we- we can’t - we- oh GOD, oh FUCK, LOGAN!”

When she crashes over, it’s loud, and explosive, and she tastes like honey as she comes on my tongue.

S
o
, part of me is freaking out about what I’ve just done -
again
- with Logan because we work together. Another part of me is throwing a fit because of what my sisters would say, or my father for that matter. And then there’s a third part of me that can’t believe I just let that scenario happen again after
all
the moaning and groaning and sworn protesting to the contrary I’ve been doing over the last week or so.

But that doesn’t really matter, because
all
of me is
very much
into the reality that Logan Dempsey is kissing me hard on the mouth, with my legs wrapped around his waist and my body still
throbbing
from the feel of his tongue on me. I can taste my own sweetness on his lips, but instead of totally turning me off like I’d assume it would, I actually find myself kissing him harder, and deeper, and wanting even more from him.

God
;
what am I doing? I’ve spent the better part of my entire waking and even sleeping existence since the wedding cursing myself for letting this
exact thing
happen the first time. I’ve been practically useless at work since I’ve been spending my hours there staring at walls trying to shrink-talk my way out of thinking of this man all the damn time. But for all of my pep-talks, and vows, and
lengthy
internal monologues, where do I find myself?

Exactly where I swore I’d never be again; lip-locked and moaning against Logan Dempsey.

I should fire my inner-shrink.

“
More
,” I whisper, grabbing at the bulge in the front of his briefs. He’s
huge
, and I feel a shudder of electric desire course through me at the sheer anticipation of what I want
right now
from him,
and
from this tool in my hand.

I’m slipping my hand under the elastic, feeling him growl into my mouth as my fingers tease down the trail of hair over his rock-hard abs, and lower until I-

“I hope I’m not interrupting, Logan.”

I shriek at the sound of the voice behind us, especially since I’m sitting here on the edge of the hotel pool totally naked with my legs wrapped around a
mostly
naked Logan. I see his face grow dark as he flashes a snarling look at the sound of the man’s voice behind me and before I know it, his powerful arms grab me off the edge and whirl me around behind him.

“What the
fuck
do you want, Javier.”

I’m hiding naked behind Logan’s broad back, and as I peep over his shoulder, my eyes go wide as I recognize the man leaning nonchalantly against the pool bar. He has the same look of dark humor on his face as he did back at the warehouse, when he confronted Logan after the fight. His long, slick black hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and he arches a dark brow as he sees me peeking out from behind Logan.

“Well,
well
; so this is how the rich live large, huh?” His accent sounds Spanish, and he nods appreciatively as he looks around the deserted pool; “Nice booze, private pool parties, and a hot little doctor, huh Irish? You’ve got yourself set up nice and pretty now don’t you?”

It takes me a second to appreciate the sudden cold feeling of fear shooting through me, but then I place it; ‘
hot little doctor’
. How in the
hell
does this guy know anything about me?

“I’m going to ask you again,” Logan’s voice is dark and dangerous sounding; the muscles of his shoulders tensing and bunching; “
What
do you want, and how the fuck did you get up he-”

“Oh, give me a little credit, cabrón!” He grins at Logan; “You’re not the only guy who knows how to grease wheels my friend.” He reaches into his pocket, and Logan’s whole body tenses for a second; “Oh
relax,
Papi; you just forgot this.” He tosses a bundle of something at Logan, and as it’s not until it splashes down in front of us and sits there floating in the pool that I realize it’s a bundle of cash with a rubber-band around it.

A bundle of cash that looks a whole lot like the blood-stained one from his pocket that first night.

“I told you, I don’t want it.”

Javier grins wickedly; “Oh, but I
want
you to have it!”

Logan’s jaw tightens and I can hear a growl at the back of his throat as I clutch at his back; “I don’t
need
it.”

Javier’s grin drops in an
instant
; “I don’t give a shit what you
need
, marica.” The warmness in his voice from before, however fake, is dropped like a rock; “You take it ‘cause I want it to
remind you
of our deal.”

I lean into his ear; “Logan, what-”

Javier chuckles; “Yeah I bet she doesn’t know, does she? I bet she’s just got
no idea
what sort of shit you and me got up to before her
daddy
swooped in and wrote you a blank fucking check.”

Wait, what?
A million questions whirl through my head, none of which I can ask right now given our circumstances.

“Hey, chica;” Javier’s eyes narrow as he grins at me over Logan’s shoulder; “Stick around with this guy and you’re gonna get burned, baby.” Javier cackles at that one, as if he’s just told the joke of the century; “Yeah this one likes
deserting
things he starts, don’t you, Irish!”

Logan’s hands start to close into tight fists; “You have five seconds to walk the fuck out of here before I throw you over the edge.”

Javier chuckles again; “Just keepin you on your toes, pendejo; just keeping you on your toes.” He looks at me again and blows me an air kiss that makes my skin crawl and my nose wrinkle; “You have a good night too, baby. If you get tired of this loser, you come find Javier, OK?”

He nods as he looks around the pool area again; “Not bad, Irish; not
fuckin
bad.” He gives Logan one last look before he turns and heads towards the elevators, leaving us alone.

It takes me another few seconds to find
any
words at all; “Ok,
what
was that?”

Logan pulls away before turning to me; “I need to take you home.” He moves away and steps out of the pool.

“Logan, talk to me; what was that guy talking ab-”

“Let’s just go, ok? I should bring you home.” He holds a towel out for me, and I blush before he turns his head as I step nude from the pool and grab the towel around my body. He turns back to me with this hard glint in his eyes like he’s wrestling with something inside.

And so much of me wants to ask him what that battle inside is; what he’s fighting against even now, when it’s just the two of us. And I want to
know
what this whole thing was - the part with Javier, but also, and maybe even more-so, the part before.

I look at him and see the man that was open to me when it was just him and I, in that one perfect moment in time.

But the way his face betrays nothing now, as he snatches his keys off the table and yanks a shirt over his head tells me that openness is now closed. The walls are back up, and I’m suddenly furious with myself for letting myself
fall
for all of this again, and making the same Goddamn mistake all over again.

“
Fine
.” I say quickly, yanking my shorts back up and snatching my t-shirt up; “Take me the hell home.”