All In: Paying to Play (Gambling With Love) Page 7

  Reaching into the fridge, I grab a drink to wash down my pie and find...root beer? What the fuck is going on? Have I walked into the twilight zone? Because this is too good to be true. The only thing that would make this night better would be for Addy to walk through wearing nothing but a pair of red heels and red lipstick. That's it. Yeah, that'd be awesome.

  Never gonna happen.

  At least there's root beer and pie. I carry a bottle with me over to the living room and turn on the afternoon Saints and Seahawks game to check out the competition.

  I'm sure I must’ve passed out and am having a wet dream when Addy appears before me wearing a one-piece, black lace teddy complete with matching hose and garters. Jesus. Christ.

  Her high heels are black but her lips are bright red, and her long dark hair falls gorgeously over her bare, ivory shoulders. I can feel my jaw come unhinged and my dick swell to epic proportions as I take in every delectable inch of her incredible body.

  "I'm sorry," she says softly. Dammit, I knew this was too good to be true. I've done passed out and my imagination is running the fuck away in a dream. "I was careless and selfish with Zack. If you're not allowed to be with anyone else then I shouldn't, either."

  Okay, now I'm confused. If this was a dream, I sure as fuck wouldn't bring that mood killing shit up. "What the hell are you doing, Addy?" I ask.

  She lowers her eyes and a beautiful blush colors her porcelain cheeks and cleavage. "Oh, well, um, I thought that I sort of owe you an orgasm. If you want."

  Do I want her to give me an orgasm? Of course I want a fucking orgasm, but I thought I wasn't allowed to touch her. That it'd end our contact and my career. Is that what this is about? She's trying to seduce me because she wants out? Would she do that? She is the spawn of Satan.

  "No."

  "No?" she repeats.

  "I'm not that fucking desperate," I say, looking back over at the TV. When she gasps and leaves the room a second later, my chest instantly burns with guilt. A few minutes later when she returns fully dressed and walks out the front door, the pain is so intense I'm pretty sure my lungs have shriveled up.

  I sit in the living room until midnight, watching game day highlights on repeat and the door, waiting for her to come back, so that I can maybe try to repair the damage I've done.

  I don't get a chance because she never returns. Not Sunday night, Monday or Tuesday. I had no idea I'd miss her so damn much. The arguing, going out to dinner, kissing her in public…yeah, I want all of it back.

  Chapter Eleven

  Addison

  I scarf my turkey sandwich down my throat before my twelve-thirty emergency appointment. I don't know what the emergency is or even the name of the new client, only that they agreed to pay double to be squeezed into my calendar today. There's not even time for me to read his new client paperwork. I'm running three minutes late so I'll just have to quickly go over it with him once we get started. I walk briskly to the door that leads into the lobby and open it.

  "Mister," I glance down at the intake sheet our receptionist handed me just thirty seconds ago, "Reckshun?" I ask the attentive faces in waiting room. "Hugh G. Reckshun?"

  A young, muscular guy in a black baseball hat and dark glasses stands up, so I hold the door open for him while I skim over the information about his emergency today. All it says is he has a severe case of untreated Tourette's, narcissistic personality disorder, and sexual sadism.

  "Hi, I'm Dr. James, come on back."

  Not getting much of a response from the man, I lead the way into my office and shut the door behind us. Sitting down at my desk I notice the client remains standing, sort of pacing, before resting with his back braced against the door and his thick arms crossed over his broad chest. I try not to freak out at the way he's blocking my only exit from the room.

  "So, what can I help you with today, Mr. Reckshun?"

  "Nice office, doc, and you can just call me Hugh G."

  I gasp at the sound of his voice, the first words he's spoken, and then I wonder how I didn't notice it was him before. Or pick up on the ridiculous name.

  "Jake? What the hell are you doing here?" I ask, getting back to my feet. My face is burning in embarrassment that he was able to pull one over on me, and at the memory of the last time I saw him. The brutal last words he’d spoken to me.

  "Where've you been?" he asks, finally taking off his glasses and nailing me with his midnight stare.

  "Home," I say, sitting back down, lowering my eyes to the desk as I pretend to read the papers I shuffle. "You're wasting my time. I skipped my lunch hour and inhaled my sandwich because of your bullshit appointment."

  "I'm sorry," he says, and I still can't look at him.

  "Whatever. Just leave, so I can get back to work."

  "No, I mean I'm sorry for Sunday."

  My breath catches in my throat at the hurtful reminder. It takes a few seconds for me to recover and respond. "Don't be. Honesty really is always the best policy."

  "I thought you were trying to manipulate me to void our contract."

  Now I can't help but look up at him. He actually thinks I'd do that to him?

  "Football has been my life, all I've ever known since my dad taught me how to throw a ball when I was five years old. Making it to the NFL is the only thing I've ever done that they were ever proud of me for. So if I lose that, then I lose them all over again."

  "I wouldn't do that to you," I tell him softly. "If that was what I was after, I wouldn't need you to touch me. It's just a matter of my word against yours."

  "So you'd lie?"

  "No, I wouldn't lie. I'm just telling you that's how easy it'd be if I wanted out."

  "They why did you leave?"

  "You know why," I mutter, lowering my eyes in shame.

  "Because I rejected you?" he asks, making me cringe at the reminder.

  "Yes."

  I’d left because he said he wasn’t desperate enough to sleep with me, even though he’s known for sleeping with everyone. I’d also left because I felt guilty for what I did with Zack. No, Jake and I might not actually be a couple, but it obviously hurt him.

  "So you were going to fuck me for no other reason than to apologize for fucking Zack?"

  "Uh-huh," I respond, instead of getting into the discussion of all those details.

  "Then come back," he says simply.

  "No. It was stupid of me to even think about doing that the other night. I wasn't acting like the intelligent, professional woman that I am." No, I acted like a stupid, lustful slut. One that thought a man would want me after I fooled around with his best friend. Besides, the deal between me and Jake doesn’t allow any physical contact, and it was idiotic of me to think of crossing that line with him.

  "Oh, so now you're too good for me?" he grumbles.

  "That's not-" I start, but he interrupts.

  "Yes, it is. But screw it. You don't have to fuck me, but if you don't hold up your end of the bargain, you know, going out in public with me, then my contract is fucked."

  "I know," I reply, rubbing my temple while I wonder if my brain has stopped functioning. "And I'm sorry for avoiding you. We can get some good PR at the game in New Orleans Sunday night, okay?"

  "No!" he quickly exclaims.

  "Ah, what do you mean no? My dad's already made the arrangements."

  "Cancel it. You're not going," he says, starting to pace again. He looks like one of my high anxiety patients.

  "Um, yes, I am."

  "Don't do this to me, Addy. If you're there, I'm gonna play like shit," he tells me, coming to a stop with his hands aggressively on his hips.

  "What the fuck, Jake? You say I need to do my part, but you don't want me there?"

  "You can't go. Period. I'm serious. Promise me you'll stay here. Please." He actually looks panicked, not like he's just saying he doesn't want me there to be an asshole.

  "Fine," I relent.

  "Good, thank you," he responds on an exhale and his shoulders relax. "I'm leaving
Saturday afternoon, so we can do some PR shit when I get back Monday."

  "Guess I'll see you then," I mutter before he nods and takes off. As soon as he leaves the office, I call my dad to tell him he'll have to take my mom with him to New Orleans instead.

  "Addison, you two haven't been seen together all week. Not that I've personally missed the PDAs, but Jerry's not happy. Have you two gone out since Sunday?"

  "Yes," I lie.

  "Uh-huh. Well, either way, you have to go with us this Sunday. That's a non-negotiable. Jerry said girlfriends travel to see their boyfriends play, especially when it's a game this close. Besides, away games are when that idiot gets in the most trouble with sluts."

  Jake with sluts? I don't like the idea of that at all. Maybe I should go to keep him out of trouble. He won't even have to know I'm there until after the game, so I won't make him play like shit as he claimed.

  "All right. I'll meet you at the airport Sunday morning," I finally agree.

  "We're going with Jerry on his private jet, and he wants to leave by ten. Be there by nine at the latest."

  "See you then," I agree.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jake

  I've never seen Zack act like this before. First I thought he was going to kill me yesterday when he showed up at my house, attacking me, asking me what I said to Natalie at the photo shoot for the breast cancer calendar. He was a complete mess. Now, the tiny blonde woman is sitting on his lap in first class while the two come damn close to practically fucking each other.

  And my first thought seeing them making out across the aisle? I wish Addy was here. How fucking stupid is that?

  Zack's holding his girl like he doesn't plan to ever let her go. The way he looks at her...it's like he's the happiest man in the world.

  Noticing me gawking, he flips me the bird with a smile. He's not the least bit ashamed that all the guys on the team know he's pathetically pussy whipped. Hell, if it's that damn good, maybe it's worth it. Anything is better than how miserable I've been since Addy left. I look out the window into the clouds, wondering what's she's doing. At least she's staying safe and sound in Charlotte, so I don’t have to worry about her.

  Just like every time here lately that I think about her, I can't help but remember how fucking sexy she was in the revealing black teddy and thigh highs Sunday night. Oh hell, why'd I say no? Oh yeah, because I don't want to get kicked out of the NFL.

  But there's nothing wrong with imagining how amazing it would have been to have things go another way. What would she have done if I’d said yes? Got on her knees? Climbed on my lap? Not knowing may drive me fucking insane. I spend the rest of the two hour flight thinking about each and every one of those scenarios in explicit detail.

  …

  Zack was on fire tonight. I had two touchdown receptions and enough receiving yards to probably bump my numbers up to the second best wide receiver in the entire league. The home fans stayed quiet the whole first half, and by the second the stands started clearing out with our twenty-four point lead.

  After showers we loaded up on our rental buses and headed back to the hotel to celebrate with a late dinner. Zack and his girl are nowhere to be found, and I know he's taken her upstairs instead of a slut for the first time ever. I don't even think about messing with the fangirls that came up to us as the guys and I wait for a table in the hotel lobby. It isn’t just because of the threat they pose to my contract, either. No, there's another woman on my mind tonight. A raven haired beauty with golden eyes who is at this very moment watching me from across the room.

  Oh God.

  …

  Addison

  I'd been hesitating, wondering how Jake would react to me being here when he caught me staring at him. At first his eyes widened in surprise. Then I waited for the anger that I figured was coming. Instead he bolted into the men's bathroom. Um, okay. I hadn't been expecting that response. Sure, I'd hoped he'd be happy to see me, even if I was bracing myself for the anger.

  Determined to wait him out, I head over to stand next to the bathroom door. And wait. Then wait some more. When a man in a gray jacket pushes open the door to go inside, the sounds of someone retching echoes and escapes. Is that Jake? Is he sick? When the same man in gray comes out I glance around to make sure no one's watching and then slip in through the door.

  It's a small, one stall and two urinal bathroom that's thankfully kept spotless by the staff here. Quietly moving in farther, the door to the stall is open and inside it I find Jake, on his knees, hugging the toilet a second before he starts throwing up again. It's a horrendous sound, and I instantly sympathize.

  "Jake, are you okay?" I ask softly. His hanging head shakes in the negative. "Is it something you ate? Or the flu?" He shakes his head again. "Then what's wrong?"

  "I told you to stay home," he says without looking at me. I'm hurt and completely at a loss as to why my being here makes him physically ill.

  "Jerry told my dad I needed to be here," I reply in my defense.

  "Fuck Jerry and fuck Satan," he mutters, making me cringe since I know he's talking about my dad.

  "I wish you wouldn't talk about my dad that way."

  "Yeah, well, I wish you weren't here right now," he mumbles when he reaches for some toilet paper to wipe his mouth.

  "God, Jake. Why do you have to be such a jerk? I'm here, so what? Did I mess up your night of fucking some sluts?"

  "No."

  "Then what's your problem?" I ask in frustration.

  "I don’t want to lose you," he answers softly.

  "Lose me?" I echo.

  "I don't let my brothers travel for any away games."

  He doesn't let his brothers come to his away games? He doesn't want to lose me? Oh no! His parents. They died in a car wreck leaving Atlanta after seeing Jake play. And now he's superstitious, worried the same will happen to his brothers if they travel. Or me. Jake didn't want me to come here today because he cares about me. He's having an anxiety attack, worried that something bad will happen to me.

  I kneel down and wrap my arms around him, resting my cheek on his back. He stiffens up for a few seconds before relaxing again, his heart racing underneath my palm.

  "God, Addy. I miss them so damn much," he says, his voice shaking almost as much as his muscular body.

  "I'm sorry," I say, even though I know it's inadequate.

  "They would've liked you."

  "You think?" I ask with a smile.

  "Yeah. They couldn't wait for us to settle down, so they could have daughter-in-laws and grandkids. Now though…my brothers and I won't ever be able to share either with them."

  My eyes water, thinking how much it'd hurt if I lost my parents. For them to miss my wedding. My kids never meeting them, knowing them, having their love.

  "All because of me," he says. "They died wearing my jersey." Tears overflow from my eyes when silent sobs rack his body from the incredible guilt he's wrongly put on himself.

  "It's not your fault," I tell him. "Jake, listen to me. It wasn't your fault. It was a car wreck that could've happened anywhere, even on their way to a home game. They lost their lives because of a drunk driver that shouldn't have been on the road. Blame him."

  Jake doesn't say anything for a while and neither do I. The bathroom door opens and closes a few times, but no one comes back to the stall.

  "I need to get out of my head," he finally says, grabbing my hand that's still around his waist. "I need a distraction to make the pain go away."

  At first I think he's pushing me away, but then he runs my palm up underneath his shirt, over his washboard abs, and shudders. Just like that, everything changes. Tears are forgotten, along with the fact that we're on a bathroom floor. All that matters is the lust growing between us, his back against my chest suddenly warming, the heat spreading through my entire body. I run my fingertips over the ridges of his muscle definition and it's so incredible I slide my other hand up his shirt as well. I rub that one along the waistline of his jeans, dippi
ng low enough to know he's not wearing any boxers.

  "I need you, Addy."

  "Yes," I agree against his back. "We should, um, we should probably go up to your room."

  Jake nods, so I pull away from him and get to my feet. I give him some space and go wait for him at the door. When he comes out he wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me to him and lifting my feet off the ground. I laugh at his caveman move as he hauls me to the hotel elevator. After we get on with a few other guests, Jake presses a floor number. On the way up he looks at me silently while his hand slides down the back of my jeans, unnoticed by the other guests since we're against the wall.

  "Nice jersey," he says into the quiet space, making necks turn when he draws everyone's attention.

  "Thanks," I respond. Friday after work I went to our local sports store and picked up his name and number in a black woman's jersey to wear to tonight's game.

  "It'll be even nicer when that's all you're wearing."

  My cheeks warms in embarrassment that everyone just heard his comment.

  "Oh, so is that what it takes to get an autograph?" I joke.

  "Sorry, sweet cheeks, but you're gonna have to get completely naked for that."

  I smile and shake my head, covering my face, unable to believe he'd say all that in front of random people. The man has no filter whatsoever.

  Finally the elevator door dings and opens so I step out and wait for Jake to show me which room. He casually, in no rush, pulls out his key card and swipes it so we can go inside. Then he disappears to the bathroom. Okay. Now what am I supposed to do?

  I turn on a lamp and pull the curtains closed. I'm just about to sit on the bed when Jake returns. He doesn't stop until he's standing right in front of me, his hands reaching to undo my jeans. The minty freshness of his warm breath so close tells me what he had been doing.

  I wait for him to close the distance between us and kiss me, but he doesn't. Once he unzips my pants, he shimmies them and my panties down my legs before dropping to his knees. Waiting for me to lift my foot, I grab onto his shoulders to steady myself while he takes off each of my shoes and socks to remove my clothes.