Most Valuable Playboy
I pull back, then push back in. I do it again, filling her all the way, and stilling myself inside her.
She bites down hard on her lip, and her back bows, her chest pressing against me. It’s the most seductive thing I’ve ever seen. Pleasure spikes in me as I move in her. As I stroke. As I fuck. As I watch her, my hand tight on her jaw, her eyes locked on me. At one point, I go so deep, she nearly screams, then her eyes float closed.
That won’t do. “Look at me,” I demand.
She squeezes her eyes then opens them. “I’m looking at you. I can’t stop looking at you.”
“Fuck, baby,” I mutter as I yank her closer, fucking her hard and deep. “Do you feel it?” I rasp out as I stroke into her.
She manages a desperate nod. “I feel it all.”
Her head falls back, her neck stretched long and inviting, her words landing on my ears.
So good.
So close.
More.
Deeper.
You.
Coming.
Oh God, I’m coming.
She trembles. Her shoulders shake, and she cries out in pleasure. That’s enough for me. I need nothing more. I’m there with her, my own orgasm insisting on appearing right fucking now as my thighs quake, and my balls tighten, and I come hard and deep inside her, filling the condom.
I groan for what feels like minutes. She does, too. We pant and moan, and come down from the highest high. My hand is still curved on her face, gripping her jaw, and when I let go, I realize I’ve held her so hard, I left fingerprints on her chin. “You okay? Did I hurt you?”
She shakes her head. “No.” Her voice is like a feather. “It only feels good.”
Gently, I slide out of her and excuse myself for the bathroom. After I toss the condom, clean up, and zip my jeans, I return to the living room, but she’s not there. Her purse is gone, too, and my heart stops beating. Fear takes over, and I actually look out the bay window to see if she’s pulled off a dine and dash.
I spot her green car parked right outside, and another car pulls up in front of it.
Why the hell would I think she’s taken off? Maybe because we still haven’t talked. We still haven’t figured out what we’re doing.
Her heels click across my floor, and I turn around, my breath coming fast. “I thought you left.”
She narrows her eyes. “I’m not going to just take off without saying goodbye.”
“I know. I’m going crazy.”
She hooks her thumb in the direction of one of the bathrooms. “I was straightening up. I have an appointment. Remember?”
“Right, yeah.” I scrub my hand over my jaw, trying to make sense of the emotions steamrolling me. “Do you need to go now?”
She looks at her watch as she moves closer to me. “I should leave soon. I have a couple of up-dos for a Christmas party.”
I lean in and give her a kiss, lingering on her lips. “I have to go to the team hotel tonight.” We always stay at a hotel the night before a home game. It’s the team rule, so we don’t have to worry about spouses, girlfriends, sick kids, or cars that won’t start in the morning. “Let’s figure out a time to see—”
A wild knocking sounds on my door.
She arches a brow. I peer in the peephole. Just outside, Ford grins as if he’s won the lottery.
34
“Who’s the man?” Ford holds his arms out wide. His smile extends to Pluto and back.
“You’re the man?” I ask playfully, gallons of hope rising inside me. If he’s here, that means one thing. One awesome, amazing thing.
He claps me on both shoulders. “You. Are. The. Fucking. Man.”
Anticipation bursts in my chest. “And why am I the man?”
Ford stops and gives Violet a cheek kiss. “Hello, beautiful. Wherever are my manners? Good to see you.”
“Hi, Ford. Why is Cooper the man? Are you going to tell him?” she asks, practically bouncing on those skyscraper heels.
My agent raises his right arm toward the ceiling, like a warrior issuing a battle cry. “Four years. Four beautiful, amazing, incredible, make-it-rain years.”
My jaw comes unhinged. It falls to the motherfucking floor when he says the dollar amount. It’s mind-boggling. It’s staggering. I slide my hand through my hair. “Holy shit.”
“Holy fucking multimillion-dollar-face-of-the-team-starting-quarterback-for-the-next-four-years shit.”
Ford punches the air several times, and Violet throws her arms around me. “I am so proud of you. This is amazing. This is incredible. You deserve everything,” she says, her voice bubbling over with excitement. She sounds like champagne. Like diamonds. Like all the stars in the sky.
I’m floating. I’m in shock. “Thank you,” I say, surprised I can even get those words out because I’m too stunned. Too overwhelmed. Ford already banked me life-changing money when he negotiated my rookie contract. This is many-lives-changing money.
I walk to the couch and sink down because I’m not sure I can stand anymore as I process this news.
“Don’t sit. We need to go out and celebrate. We have points to review. We have things to discuss. Get up, brother,” Ford says.
Violet sets a hand on his arm. “I think he needs a little time to process this.”
Ford turns to Violet, pressing his hands together. “Speaking of time, how can I thank you? You were amazing. You were incredible. Thank you for everything you did. And guess what?”
“What?”
Ford waves his arms as if he’s flying. “You’re free now. You don’t have to pretend to like this guy anymore.”
She narrows her eyes. “What do you mean?”
He shoots her a look. “He told me you were never into him in the first place, and that’s why it’s all the more amazing that you pulled this off. You were so believable. Kind of ironic, though, that in the end, our man went all Boy Scout and told the truth that you guys were never a real thing.”
Violet snaps her gaze to me, her voice wary. “Cooper, what is he talking about?”
My brain is sluggish, still processing the shock and thrill of this news. “I told the coach the truth before the game.”
“What did you tell him?” she asks tentatively.
“That it was all smoke and mirrors,” Ford says, waving his hands like a magician.
“Smoke and mirrors?”
“Fake. False. Made-up. Whatever you want to call it,” Ford adds, like he thinks Violet doesn’t understand words.
“I know what smoke and mirrors means,” she says to Ford, then turns to me. “I just don’t understand why you’d say that.”
“I didn’t want the coach to think I was a liar,” I say, the words coming out slow since my head is a swirl of numbers and deals and life-changing news. But even in this daze, I try to explain what went down as best I can. “I didn’t want to earn the job under false pretenses. I wanted him to know the whole truth.”
“What is the whole truth?”
I part my lips to speak—to tell her nothing is false with her—when an alarm sounds from inside her purse. She grabs her phone and mutes the noise. Her shoulders tense, and she mutters something about her appointment as she heads for the door.
“Vi,” I say, standing and walking to her. “But I also realized—”
She turns around. Her eyes brim with sadness, but her voice is resolute. “I can’t be late, Cooper. This is a new client, and I can’t take a chance.”