Hot stuff, p.6
Hot Stuff, page 6
“Us. Dividing and conquering together.” His grin is wide, the sparkle in his eyes bright. “A team. We’re a team.”
The fact our thoughts are in line isn’t a surprise. But the thrill I get when he calls us a team is. “I like that too.”
“Go. Reschedule that call. I’ll order breakfast, then if you don’t mind, I’ll plug my phone into your charger. It died last night.”
“It’s over there.” I indicate the desk in the far corner. “I’ll grab us both a robe after I message Nat and Blake.”
He frowns. His gaze rolling down from my face to my feet and I can’t stop the shiver that follows. “Do you have to cover up? I like this view.”
It isn’t until he says that that I remember the windows in this room. Spinning around, I breathe a sigh of relief to see the curtains are closed.
“Do you think I would have let you stand here naked this long if there was the remote possibility someone other than me could see you?”
My gaze moves back to Walker. The look on his face is pure possession. That dark expression, the proprietary glint of it in his eyes has a full body shudder working its way through me.
“The first thing I did when I reached that doorway was check the windows.”
“Oh. I didn’t even think.”
“Yeah, I got that, and I couldn’t think of anything else.”
“Me naked or the possibility of the curtains being open?”
“Both. I know most hotels have one-way glass but I wasn’t taking any chances with you.”
A warmth I’ve only ever associated with my grandfather fills me.
Walker is taking care of me.
Sure, he took care of me in bed—and out—but that’s not what this is.
This is outside of sex.
I know my friends take care of me, but the warmth I get from them isn’t the same and to receive it from Walker hours after meeting him has me realizing this thing between us is far more important than anything else.
I’d pull the offer of head coach off the table if it was a choice between it or our connection.
“You’re doing it again.”
His words have me focusing externally—on him. “Yes. Thank you.”
“For what? Worrying about you being naked in front of New York City?”
I laugh. “It’s hardly the whole city but yes. For worrying about me.”
He cocks his head and studies me for long seconds before he straightens and moves back to me. Cradling my face, something he seems to do a lot, he gazes into my eyes and says something no one has ever said to me before.
“I will always worry about you even when you don’t need me to.”
Blinking several times to alleviate the sting of tears, I can only nod.
He must see I’m struggling because he drops a kiss on my lips then changes the subject. “Is there anything you don’t eat?”
“Um.” I try to shift my thoughts toward food but it’s hard. I’m not used to being this vulnerable—this open—with someone.
Not even my three best friends get this level of vulnerability.
And I’m giving it to Walker within hours of meeting him.
“Oak?”
“No. I don’t have any allergies or dislikes.”
“Okay. Go reschedule, grab us some robes, and I’ll get breakfast sorted.”
He’s giving me a reprieve, I know he is. And as much as it pains me to admit, because I’m an independent, confident woman, I’m taking the break.
I know I’ll have to think about us—what we’re doing—soon enough. But for now, I want to enjoy breakfast with a man who intrigues me, gets me, in a way no other has.
Except before I do that, I need to call Nat and Blake. Or message.
If I message, I won’t get stuck, and they won’t see my face because I’m sure it’s written all over my skin that I had the best sex of my life last night.
Pulling up our group chat, the one Cami insists she doesn’t need to be a part of, I tap out a quick update.
Sorry. Missed our call. Grabbing some breakfast before I give you all the rundown of yesterday.
After sending the message I switch my phone to silent mode. Then thinking better of it, I send a second text.
Phone just about dead. Turning off while it charges.
It’s a small lie. My battery is at sixty percent. More than enough for now but I don’t want my time with Walker to end just yet and I know it will as soon as I speak to the girls.
Besides, I gave them the bare bones of the contract signing and my talk with Walker yesterday afternoon.
In that update I did mention I would be having dinner with him to discuss our offer further so they may get an inkling of why I missed this morning’s call.
If not, I won’t hide this thing between me and Walker from them. They need to know as much as for the sake of the franchise as for our lifelong friendship.
Well, Nat joined our group during college but for the last decade it’s been the four of us against the world.
Or should I say, taking on the world.
Because that’s what we’ve done.
And now we’re taking on the male dominated world of professional sport.
I have no doubt we can do it. We’re capable of anything.
We took a tiny start up, designing and sewing in the back corner of our apartment living room to the multi-billion-dollar, multi-manufacturing facilities company it is today when everyone said we’d never succeed.
And we did it on our own. We may have used some of our trust funds—and between us there are many—but Rogue paid that back within the first two years.
It helped that one of us was able to wear the brand at international sporting events all over the world. Nothing beats free advertising on an Olympic level.
Blake wore nothing but Rogue brand clothing; even when the teams she was on had other sponsors, it was in her contracts that Rogue was her sponsor and she wasn’t to wear anything else.
Hell, we’d even matched colors, and styles to a degree, to whatever the teams were expected to wear.
It had cost us, but we felt the price was worth it when our name was plastered on TVs around the world.
“Hey, you done?”
I turn to see Walker leaning against the door frame again.
It’s a position that does it for me for some reason. So much so, I power off my phone and drop it on the floor.
That gets me an eyebrow lift but not a comment.
Then because he has to know what I’m thinking, and if not, I’m going to give him a big hint, I sway my hips as I walk over to the bed.
“How long will breakfast be?” I ask while bending over and pressing on the bed as if testing its firmness.
“About thirty.”
I face him once more. “Oh, I wonder how much more of an appetite we can work up in that time.”
“Couldn’t find the robes?” he asks as he slowly prowls toward me.
And it is a prowl. His limbs taut, each step measured as he draws closer, his eyes locked on his prize.
“I see something else I’d rather be wrapped in.”
The smile he gives is nothing short of devious. “It’s me who’ll be wrapped in you.”
He moves quick. Crowds me, urges me to turn back to the bed and pushes me over, and before I can catch my breath his fingers are between my legs, probing deep.
“So fucking wet.”
Then his fingers are gone and in their place is the hard length of him driving into me in one long smooth stroke.
Walker
I watch Oakley put her fork down and place a hand over her bare stomach.
I’d convinced her once our breakfast had been delivered to go without the robe.
Grinning, I sip my coffee and take in the woman across from me.
She seems to match me every step of the way. When she’d done her little temptress thing in the bedroom earlier, I’d been helpless to stop myself from taking what she offered.
And I damn well took.
Hard and fast and then again.
How either of us managed twice in thirty minutes after the number of times we’d had sex last night is anyone’s guess.
Not that I’m complaining.
Nope. You won’t hear a word of complaint from these lips.
“Stop staring.”
“No.”
She throws her head back laughing and I grin. I’m not one hundred percent sure but I’d lay money on this being an Oakley not many see.
And I’m not talking about her being naked. Her physical nakedness isn’t what I’m referring to.
Last night, this morning, she’s given me the privilege of seeing her unguarded. Emotionally open in a way I’ve never seen.
I’m honored.
Humbled.
And so damn enamored that I can’t think of anything but her and fucking her again.
Both of which will happen over and over for the rest of my life if I have anything to do with it.
As I said last night, I’ll give up the head coach job if it means keeping her.
“I meant what I said.”
She picks up her coffee and arches an eyebrow at me. “You’ve said so much since we met.”
I have. “I’ll pass on the job if it means I can’t have you.”
“That won’t be a choice you have to make.”
“Why?”
“Because I want you to have both, and what I want, I get.”
“So confident.”
“I am. You know that.” She takes a sip then lowers her cup to the table. “What are your plans for today?”
The change of subject doesn’t bother me. I know she thinks the other topic is dealt with, and it is for us; it just remains to be seen how it goes down with the public.
With the league.
Sighing, I lower my mug and lean forward. “I know I can’t say anything about the Rogues yet, so I won’t, but I will be telling my sister and my best friend about my retirement and that I’ll be leaving New York.”
“Gannon Byrd, right?”
“Was that in your PI’s report?”
“Yes. Among other things.”
“Do I want to know the other things?”
She shrugs and rolls her hand to get me to answer her original question. “What else do you need to do?”
“I’ll be attempting to contact Kristina to give her an ultimatum.”
“Fuck off or I’ll ruin you?”
I laugh. “Pretty much.”
“What about the owner of the Knights?”
It’s my turn to shrug. “Don’t know if I’ll do anything about that unless Kristina pushes my hand.”
She nods. “Okay.”
“Do you want to come to my place for dinner?” I don’t know who’s more shocked by the invite, her or me.
“Tonight?”
“Yes.” The more I think about it, the more I want to see her in my space. Not that this suite isn’t great but it’s not personal. There’s nothing of either of us here.
“Sure. What time?”
I can see she’s wary but in what I’m coming to understand is typical Oakley James style, she’s marching toward whatever challenge is tossed in front of her.
“How about I let you know where I am later? I’ve got to head to my agent’s office and probably my lawyer’s at some point too.”
“Do you have a grill?”
“At my place?”
“No, in your pocket.” She rolls her eyes at me with a laugh. “Yes, at your place. I can pick up the makings for a steak dinner if you’ve got somewhere to cook the steak.”
I grin. Having her in my space, doing something so domestic, so couple-y, gives me a burst of joy so consuming I know I must look like an idiot.
“You like the idea of cooking dinner with me?”
“You didn’t say which of us would be cooking and either one or together is perfect. Whatever you want to do.”
“You can cook without assistance?”
“I had to when I moved out of home. If I wanted to maintain my body in peak form, I had to fuel it with the right meals.”
She nods. “Okay, we’ll cook—together—at your place tonight. Text me the address and time later and I’ll pick up what we need on the way.”
“All right, it’s a date.”
“Is that what it is?” she asks with a grin.
“It’s dinner with my woman. Yes, it’s a date.”
“Don’t dates usually require eating out?”
“We could do that but if the press release goes out this afternoon, going out will be a nightmare. Plus, I’m not sure if you want us to be seen together in public yet.”
“Thanks for that consideration. I’ll need to run it by Nat, Blake, and Cami before I can decide the best way to deal with the private part of our relationship. The professional connection definitely can’t be revealed yet.”
“Of course not. You have to announce the franchise first.”
“That’s slated for two weeks from today.”
“Oh. So, the buzz about my retirement should have dulled by then.”
“Maybe.”
I could see her thinking but don’t get to question her because my phone rings for what feels like the hundredth time since we sat down to breakfast.
“You should probably answer that.”
I don’t want to but I know she’s right. Drake has been calling all morning and I didn’t even bother sending him a message to let him know I’d get back to him after I ate.
Pushing back my chair, I head for the ringing device and sure enough, Drake’s name is on the screen.
“Finally,” Drake all but yells in my ear. “Where the hell have you been?”
“Sleeping.” I glance at Oakley, a smile tugging at my mouth. “What’s going on?”
“I got a call from Cantrell a couple hours ago.”
“Okay.”
“He wanted to let me know the team’s lawyers were working on your paperwork, but we didn’t need to wait for it to make your retirement announcement.”
“Okay.”
“Yesterday I was a little taken aback by the fact he didn’t want the Knights organization to be involved in crafting your retirement announcement but I was willing to let him do things the way he saw fit—it’s his team after all. Except…”
“Except what?”
“I had an itch. Today it got worse. You know, the one I get on the back of my neck? The one that’s never steered me wrong.”
“Yeah, I know what you’re talking about.” And I did—years ago, when I’d first been offered a contract, Drake had been there.
Young, and no really big clients to his name, I’d trusted his instincts because we’d been friends from my first day in college. A few years older than me, Drake had been leaning toward representing professional athletes instead of pushing to be one himself. He’d had talent, but in his words, not enough to get far, not as far as he could help someone else get.
“What did you do?” I ask even though I know he’ll tell me anyway.
“I had our lawyers pull your latest contract. Got them to comb over that fucker from first word to last.”
“And?” There is an edge to my voice because I know he’s found something with the number of calls and texts I’ve missed from him this morning.
“And that motherfucker is trying to get you to breach your contract.”
“How?”
“There’s a clause about termination; I won’t bore you with the legalese but basically, you can’t make an announcement of any kind, including the current status of your injury—only the team can. If you do, you’re in breach, and he can sue the ass off you.”
“Isn’t there some sort of clause about me suing the team over my career-ending injury?”
“No. There’s a clause that gives you a mass payout if you’re unable to continue playing due to injury caused while performing your job but that too would be void if we put out a press release about your retirement.”
“So what does this mean?” I hate that Cantrell has us over a barrel.
“Well, until we get the paperwork from the Knights org, our hands are tied, and we have to zip our lips.”
“And how long with that take?” I glance at Oakley again. I want to move forward with the Rogues, but I can’t do that until I end things with the Knights.
Drake sighs. “I’ve got a feeling that fucker is going to drag this out.”
“So what? I’m stuck in limbo, can’t go back, can’t go forward, until he sees fit to pull his head out of his ass?”
“Basically, yeah.”
“Fucker!”
“Hey.” Oakley puts her hand on my arm. “What’s going on?” she whispers.
“Who’s that?” Drake asks.
“Hang on a sec,” I tell him.
I place my hand over the bottom of my phone, bring it down to my chest, and keep my voice low.
“Cantrell is being a dick. I can’t sign anything with you until the announcement goes out and I can’t announce without all the Is dotted and Ts crossed.”
“Use the pictures.”
“Huh?” For a second I have no idea what she’s talking about, and then it hits me.
The pictures of Cantrell and Kristina.
Bringing the phone back to my ear I speak to Drake.
“Get everything you need to terminate my contract with the Knights and the statement about my retirement ready. And find Cantrell. I want to know where he is, who he’s with, within the hour. I’ll get whatever we need from the team by this afternoon.”
“How? You can’t punch him if that’s what you’re planning. Although, to be honest, I wouldn’t mind you doing that, wouldn’t mind slugging the guy myself.”
“I’m not going to hit him.” I scrub a hand down my face. “I’ve got an incentive for him to get things moving and moving fast.”
“What kind of incentive?”
I look at Oakley. The woman has saved me twice in the last twenty-four hours. First with a job offer and now with the solution to this bullshit with Cantrell.
“Just something I know he won’t want anyone else knowing.”
“You’ve got dirt on Cantrell? Jesus fuck, man, what the hell could you have on him? I know he’s a sleaze and all, but I’ve never even heard a rumor about the guy that could be used against him.”
