Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Eric

“Angel.” I kiss her bare shoulder, my heart squeezing at the adorable frown she makes into the pillow. “Greta, I have an early practice.” I move closer and lick the tip of my tongue down her spine. “Come with me. I don’t want to be away from you.”

“Come with you?” she mumbles, waking up enough to look at me from the corner of her eye. “Wouldn’t it be weird with my father coaching you?”

“He’ll have to get used to seeing us together.” I gather up her hair in a fist so I can kiss the back of her neck. “Especially since I’m bringing you on the road this season. Every season.”

Greta pushes up onto one elbow, fully alert now, and I see her start to panic. Maybe I’m pushing too hard too soon, but I can’t bring myself to take the words back. No. This girl owns me. She stole the heart clean out of my chest last night—no, even before that—and I will have her for my wife. I’ll have her for my everything. Right now, I would love more than anything to press her face down into the sheets and fill her full of cock while explaining very precisely into her ear that she’ll be walking down an aisle immediately. That she’ll be bearing my children.

And I would.

I would explain that she’s going to be a lifelong obsession and there is nothing she can do to stop it, but I’m held back by my lie.

I hate that I lied to her.

That I told her I would sign the contract with LA, allowing her to choose me of her own free will. If Greta knew I left myself a contingency plan in the event she doesn’t choose me, not only would she be pissed, it would hurt her feelings. And I would rather jump from the rafters of the arena than put tears in her eyes. My God, just picturing a crying Greta makes me feel like there’s a bag of wet cement sitting on my chest. I don’t deserve to make demands on her after what I did, but this obsession…it fucking burns. It burns my common sense and decency to ashes.

There is a voice in the back of my head telling me to make the situation right before Greta finds out. To ask for a quick look at the contract and fix the signature. But Rick probably has that contract under lock and key. I can’t risk him finding out what I did and telling Greta after the fact. After he has my corrected signature on the dotted line. Then I would have no recourse. No leverage.

I just have to hope like hell she chooses to stay with me. Forever.

Just have to hope no one is ever the wiser.

“I’m sorry, you think you’re taking me on the road?” She flops over onto her back and I’m momentarily hypnotized by the bounce of her tits. “What about my classes? I can’t just drop out of school.”

“Tutors.” I palm one of her breasts, rolling the nipples gently between my knuckles and her lips pop open, taking in a rasping breath. “Female tutors.”

“Oh…” Eyes beginning to glaze, she drags her bottom lip through her teeth, arching into my touch. “You’re the jealous type?”

“I never have been. Not over anyone or anything. But you, Greta?” I tighten my hold on her breast while bending down to capture her mouth roughly, kissing her with all of the possessiveness I feel, giving her tit a sharp slap and swallowing the shocked little mewl she makes in response. “Don’t even find out how jealous I can get, little girl,” I growl against her mouth. “Do you understand me?”

Comfort visibly washes over her. Security. Her eyelids grow heavy and she rolls toward me, snuggling close. “Yes, Daddy.”

I trail a hand down her back to palm her backside, making a horny sound in my throat. God, if I had more than five minutes until I need to be out of bed, I’d fuck her so well, I’d have to carry her limp body into the arena for practice. But I find myself needing promises—now—to maintain my sanity. I need a commitment from her or I’ll never be able to concentrate on the court this morning. She’s the most important thing in the world to me, but that also means providing for her. Giving her everything she’s ever wished for. So I need to be on my game, too.

“Greta,” I say, licking into her sexy mouth. “Tell me you’re spending the night again tonight. Every night. Tell me you’re coming on the road with me. I want to know you’re mine before we leave this bed. I need to know.”

She leans back and studies my face. At first, she’s guarded, but her vulnerability begins to shine through the longer we’re looking into each other’s eyes. “I never had a chance,” she whispers. “You made me yours. Now…I don’t think I can go back to before. I don’t want to. I’m yours, Eric.” Her eyes close and I hold my breath, aching to hear the rest, my heart rapping wildly in my ribcage. “And…I love you being my Daddy,” she says, her voice even lower than before. A thread of sound. “It feels so good. Is it supposed to? Feel so perfect?”

Jesus, I was a fool to think I could survive this conversation.

I might die of happiness or astonishment before it’s over.

“I don’t care how it’s supposed to feel. If it feels right for you, angel—for us—that’s what I want. What I need.” I knead her butt cheek a final time, then trail my fingers inward, tucking my middle one up against her tight, virgin asshole, the puckered texture of it making me groan. “I need every single part of you. Need to know you belong to me every second of the day.”

“I do,” she breathes, whimpering when I press down on that digit. “I belong to you, Eric. I can’t help it. You make me break my rules.”

“Tell me you know I’m not like the rest of them.” I press down harder on her sweet back entrance, parting it slightly. “Say it.”

“You’re different,” she gasps, leaning in to sip at my skin, her pink tongue sneaking out to lick at my collarbone, my chest. “You’re my Eric. I know that now.”

“God, thank God.” I didn’t realize how sick it made me, how anxious to know she’d lumped me in with the athletes she’s witnessed behaving badly. I would never hurt her, never betray her…

Isn’t that what you did by signing the wrong name on the contract?

Making her falsely believe you were giving her a choice?

Guilt causes me to stroke her snug hole one more time, before withdrawing my hand reluctantly. “Thank you, Greta. For saying that.” I kiss her shoulder, inhaling her scent desperately. “Dammit, I don’t want to get out of this bed, but it’s my first practice. I need to set the tone for everyone else.”

A smile flirts with her mouth. “And what tone is that?”

“That we show up early, win at all costs. And there’s no slacking off.” Unable to take my eyes off her beautiful face, I force myself to throw back the covers and climb out of bed, wincing over the stiff length of my cock. “I won’t allow my girl to be with anyone less than a champion,” I rasp, stroking myself once, twice, watching smoke drift into Greta’s eyes as she watches the action, her tongue trailing across her bottom lip eagerly.

Come beads on the head of my dick, dribbling down onto my knuckles. “When you’re watching practice today, remember what you’ll be getting between your thighs afterward.” I let out a shuddering breath, imagining her naked, splayed out, moaning for me to go faster. “Think about how it’ll feel, fucking in and out of you. Ahhh, angel. Getting so deep in that tight, juicy pussy. Think about getting ridden hard, like a bad little girl. Should guarantee you’ll be wet enough for me to rip off your panties and thrust right in as soon as the buzzer sounds, shouldn’t it?”

“Yes,” she pants, sounding dazed.

“Good girl.” Still holding my erection, I move to the side of the bed, leaning down to kiss her soft, perfect mouth. “Shower and get dressed. You’re coming with me. We go together. Now and always.”

An hour later, I guide Greta through the players’ tunnel toward the court, my arm around her shoulders. In the seven years I’ve been in the league, I’ve never truly felt like I’ve made it until this moment. Most days I felt like an imposter. Or like I didn’t deserve success after what happened to Wade at that frat party. On my watch. When I should have been there for him. Yeah, I’ve never really felt wealthy until now. Having Greta tucked into my side trustingly is true wealth.

The only kind that matters.

When we come out on the other side of the tunnel, I see I’m the second player to arrive. Coach Welding is there, too, sitting on the sidelines and writing into a notebook. He does a double take when he sees me with Greta. This man is my future father-in-law, not to mention we’re going to be working together to win basketball games. The last thing I need is to be at odds with him, but I can’t help locking in that final claim on Greta. Looking him in the eye while I kiss her forehead, settling her down in a front row seat to observe practice. Leaning down to stroke my tongue into her mouth, I leave no doubt as to what we did last night and what I plan on doing every single night, forever. I’m the only man in her life now.

I tip her chin up, enjoying the fact that my kiss turned her cheeks pink, breathless. “If you need anything while I’m practicing, you let me know.”

“I’m not going to interrupt you.”

“If you need something, angel, I want to know about it.”

Slowly, she nods, her gaze traveling downward from my face to my lap, catching her bottom lip between her teeth and chewing. On the way to the arena, we kissed at every stoplight, our hands constantly reaching for one another across the console of my SUV, brushing skin, teasing. She’s hard up for a fuck, no mistaking it, and I need to get through this first practice with my new team so I can give it to her. God knows I’m burning alive for her, too. Probably won’t have a moment’s peace from my lust for Greta until the very last breath I take.

* * *

Greta

It’s safe to say I’m officially over my aversion to basketball players.

Or maybe this newfound appreciation for them is all about Eric?

Oh yeah. Definitely just Eric.

I can’t take my eyes off of him during the practice, my fingers curled into the edge of the seat, legs crossed beneath my skirt to hide panties that dampen every time he barks an authoritative order on the court. My pulse flutters in more than just my veins, there is a pulse between my thighs that beats in a low, tumultuous rhythm, my entire body feeling hot and flushed.

Lord, the way he moves is so fluid. A little bit cocky, but focused.

He lifts his T-shirt to wipe sweat from his brow, briefly revealing that gloriously chiseled stomach and I barely trap a moan, squeezing my legs together.

I need him inside of me.

Now.

He told me to think of us having sex while he practiced. So I would be ready for him as soon as the buzzer sounds. And he really didn’t need to give me those instructions, because I can’t control the moving images in my head. Can’t stop the breath sawing in and out of my lungs, the nipples turning to hard, little points inside the thin, blue material of my tank top.

The orange juice I drank this morning means I have to pee now, but I can’t make myself stand. My legs are too wobbly and I’m so wet, I’m worried if I uncross my legs and get up from the seat, moisture will be clinging to the insides of my thighs.

I’m so absorbed by the sight of Eric’s thick calves, his flexing arms, the sexy line of concentration between his brows, that I almost jump out of my skin when a buzzer goes off, signaling the end of practice.

I’m surprised when Eric comes toward me immediately, stripping off his T-shirt and using it to dry the sweat from his skin. Tossing it away in favor of gripping my elbow and pulling me from the seat. Quickly, he hustles me toward the players’ tunnel and down the long, cinderblock hallway, turning right instead of left at the end. Taking me in the opposite direction of the locker room. He opens one door, looks inside and slams it shut with a growl.

Thankfully, he seems to find what he wants behind the second door he opens, because suddenly I’m being pulled inside, crowded up against the door by Eric’s huge, sweaty body, his hands yanking up my skirt without a moment’s hesitation. Without permission. Only confidence. Possessiveness. And I love it.

I love it when he spins me around to face the door and rips my panties off in an aggressive fist, sinking down to his knees behind me. My legs almost give out when he licks me there, his tongue traveling over the pucker between my cheeks, pressing his stiff tongue there and flexing it, jiggling, until I’m gasping into the surface of the door, back arched, offering him my backside for more of the same treatment. And he gives it to me, his tongue relentless on that unbreached entrance while his fingers find their way around my hip to the front of my body. To my sex, his middle and ring finger slipping through my folds, tantalizing that aching bud slowly, firmly, setting off explosions of unimaginable lust in my lower body.

“Eric,” I gasp, no idea what I’m asking for.

Do I want him to keep going so I can climax this way?

And I will—I’m only seconds away.

Or do I want him inside of me?

Yes.

As soon as I have the thought, I become almost blind with eagerness. I make a whimpering sound in my throat and Eric correctly interprets what it means. His tongue leaves me along with his fingers, my legs almost collapsing from the loss, but then he’s standing behind me, shoving down his shorts with a growl and plowing his big smooth shaft into me, the force of his entrance slamming me up against the door.

“Oh my God,” I scream through my teeth.

“Jesus Christ!” He punches the door above my head, thrusts me up onto my toes and flattens me, rattling the door in its frame. “What am I going to do with this tight, tempting little pussy, huh? Should I fuck it?”

“Yes,” I sob, clawing at the door. “Yes!”

He wraps a sweaty forearm around my hips and punches upward several times, our flesh smacking together, his teeth bared against my ear. “Sitting on the sidelines flashing me that wet cunt. Making me insane. You’re lucky I didn’t put my cock in your mouth, right there in front of your father. Would you have sucked your new Daddy in front of your old one, angel?”

I’m seeing stars. Can’t form words to save my life.

He’s taking me roughly, angrily, and it feels so good, I’m simultaneously begging for the orgasm, while wanting to stave it off as long as possible. To let this delicious, pounding torture continue. The fact that I have a full bladder is somehow heightening the pleasure of his hard sex inside of me, the added weight pushing down on my erogenous zones, the pressure perfect. Blissful. So incredible I find myself grinding my hips back to meet his drives, doubling the impact, setting off sparks of light behind my eyes. “Harder, harder, please.”

Eric’s erection leaves me and I’m spun around again, lifted against the door and entered a second time with a triumphant grunt. My legs circle his hips haphazardly, trying to find purchase when he’s wailing on me, taking me so hard, the door bangs loudly with every surge of those chiseled hips.

“Yeah. You love this dick, don’t you, little girl?” His breath is hot on my neck, his grazing teeth sending tingles to my core, signals that the end is near. “Good. You’re going to be getting a steady diet of it. Up that baby girl ass, down your throat, in this tight motherfucker of a hole between your thighs. Mine. All of that is mine. Do you understand me?”

“I understand,” I whimper, my head falling back.

Slapslapslapslap.

He’s bouncing me now, the momentum of his pumps picking up, his hips ramming mine into the door, his grip bruising beneath my knees where those extra-large hands hold me open, accessible to his lust. “Eric,” I moan.

“It’s time to catch my sperm, you horny little thing,” he growls into my ear, hips pistoning madly. “Here they come. Welcome them home like a good girl.”

I’m already close to my peak just hearing those words, knowing he’s about to break. But then Eric reaches down and fondles my clit and I accelerate toward the edge, my knees jerking up and wedging beneath his armpits, his final drive grinding me into the door, both of us groaning like animals as the moisture leaves him, traveling into me with thick gushes. His lower body jerks with every one, my core spasming around him, fingers clawing, male hands clutching. Mouths open and panting against each other. There is no way to describe the euphoria, only that it’s like having the tension raked from my body while my chest fills with a new kind of tightness. Affection. As we come down from heaven, clinging to each other, I can barely stand the calamitous shift in my chest. Love. I’m feeling…love.

I’m caught so off guard by the emotion, I start to push him away, trying to disengage, but Eric only holds me tighter, flattening me more securely against the door. “I feel it, too, Greta,” he says hoarsely. “Let it happen.”

“Scary,” I gasp, one word all I can manage.

“You’re safe with me.” He lays kisses all over my face. “You’re home.”

That single word intoxicates me and I believe him. Trust him enough to look him in the eye and let him see the rearrangement taking place in my chest. The expansion of my heart as it includes him, allows him to burrow deep. He is still planted between my thighs and the longer we look at each other, the more I feel him beginning to thicken again. We start to breathe faster and he drives upward slowly, so deep that my legs tremble, a cry leaving my mouth. But we don’t break eye contact, his male vulnerability on display even as he takes me like a possessive master, pinning me to the door with every roll of his hips.

We’re so sensitive, it only takes a minute for both of us to come again and it’s less explosion this time, more of a desperate, grinding reach, his teeth burying in my neck, fingers digging into my backside while I moan his name.

Seconds later, I’m limp against him, his mouth planting kisses in my hair when a bellow rips down the underground passages of the arena.

“Bentley!”

That’s my father’s voice.

We both stiffen at the raw, angry sound of it and I search Eric’s face questioningly. “Do you think he’s angry about the way we snuck off?”

For some reason, Eric looks concerned, a groove forming in his forehead. “I don’t know. I’ll go find out. You stay here, all right?” He strokes a hand down my hair. “You look like you’ve been assaulted.”

I kiss his chin. “Only in the best way.”

One corner of his mouth lifts in a lopsided grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m all for Rick knowing who you belong to, but if he’s already pissed about something, the bite mark might put him over the edge.”

Laughing softly, I swipe some of my tinted lip gloss from his mouth. “Good point. I’ll wait here.”

Eric looks a little concerned, but I try not to let that worry me. As soon as he steps out into the hallway, I begin to straighten my clothes, covering the love bites as best as possible with limited clothing. But I pause in the act of smoothing my hair when Eric and Rick’s voices clash right outside the supply room door.

“I bet you thought I wouldn’t notice—”

“Let’s talk about this somewhere private,” Eric interrupts him.

“No. You’ve jerked me around enough. This is an eight-figure contract, Bentley. It’s the keys to the kingdom. And you signed it with a phony name?”

A phony name?

Why?

This…this doesn’t have anything to do with me, does it?

Eric agreed to sign the contract with LA. He agreed to do that without me giving in to his demands to become his wife. I was given a choice. Wasn’t I? Did he give himself a failsafe in case I decided I wasn’t interested?

“This was about Greta, wasn’t it?” Rick sneers. “Bought yourself a little insurance with my daughter?”

Eric’s heavy silence confirms my theory.

Ice encases my chest and I back away from the door, struggling to fill my lungs with air. “No…”

“Bring me the contract,” Eric says stiffly. “I can fix what I did.”

“You bet your ass you’ll fix—”

“Watch how you talk to me, Rick,” interrupts the point guard, his voice deadly quiet. “You’ve thrown your fit. Now don’t throw away your best shot at a title.”

Even though the door is closed, I can picture my father backing down, palms out, his anger shrinking in the face of winning. “I’ll go get the contract. We’ll get this taken care of and put it all behind us.”

My father’s footsteps carry him down the hallway. Once they fade, several seconds of silence tick by before the door to the supply room opens and Eric is standing there, watching me silently, from beneath hooded eyelids. His energy is charged and wary—and it should be. I’m crumbling inside. He lied to me. Told me I was making the decision to be with him, when all along he was maneuvering his options behind the scenes. Just like every athlete I’ve ever met. Just like my father.

I can’t quite prevent my lower lip from trembling when I whisper, “You’re the same as the rest of them.”

* * *

Eric

She says the words that rip the heart straight out of my chest.

Because she’s right. I knew the reckoning was coming as soon as I heard Rick shouting my name angrily. They say hindsight is twenty-twenty and this is proof. I could have won her without being deceitful, but now I’ve fucked up the best thing I’ve ever had or will ever have again, haven’t I? I’ve lost her trust, that’s what kills me the most of all. I only had it, truly had it, for a matter of moments before my mistake tore it away.

You’re the same as the rest of them.

No. I want to shout the denial. But how can I? When she was a child, her father paid off her mother for custody in the divorce. I know how much that gutted her. And I forced her father into doing it again, hurting her worse. When that wasn’t enough, I left myself a way to manipulate the situation. How can I deny being exactly like the men she’s avoided all her life? Men who maneuver women like toys.

“Don’t say I’m like them,” I choke out. “Please.”

The tears in her eyes reflect my agony and regret back at me. “Were you going to corner me if I decided not to stay with you?”

Emotion presses against the sides of my throat. “I’d do anything to have you. To keep you. I won’t lie about that.”

“You’d do anything except for the right thing.”

I can see that I’m about to lose her and it incites madness inside of me. There is no fucking way. No way I could go on without her now that I know she exists. Life would be a colorless charade. Forget playing basketball, I wouldn’t want to get out of bed in the morning. “Scream at me. Claw me bloody.” I close the distance between us in two giant strides, cradling her beautiful face in my hands. “Get it out of your system, but don’t leave me, Greta.”

Moisture forms in my eyes and the sight of her sadness, disappointment in me, almost drops me to the floor. “Sign the contract with the right name,” she says haltingly. “Without conditions. Let me go.”

My heart lurches painfully. “Impossible.”

“I don’t care what deal you arrange with my father, I won’t stay with you.”

“Yes. You will.” I pick her up and crush her to my chest, inhaling the scent of her hair, doing my damnedest to absorb her into my body, but she just stays limp, eyes closed. She won’t react, won’t put her arms around me and it’s the worst punishment she could have devised. Refusing to show emotion, to touch me. “Angel, I know I fucked up. But this thing between us isn’t going away. I’ll never give up.” I kiss her neck, raking my mouth into her hair, relieved when she gasps at the pleasure. “I’ll show up at your door every goddamn day until you forgive me. You’ll choose me again.”

She shows a burst of spirit, twisting free of my arms and pushing me away. “Don’t hold your breath.”

If her voice didn’t crack at the end of that order, chin wobbling, I would have reached for her again. I don’t, though. I can see I’ve really hurt her. She’s betrayed. And there are no right words, no right touches to make it better. Misery hollows me out and I fall back against the wall, unable to stay upright when faced with the reality of losing her. “I’m sorry, Greta. I’m so sorry.”

With a sniffle, she pushes out of the equipment closet, coming face to face with her dad. He splits a look between us and hands me a pen. I could maneuver this to my advantage. My talent gives me leverage, but I won’t use it. I can’t coerce her again and leave another wound. When Greta crosses her arms and looks at me pointedly, I have no choice but to take the pen and sign my name—my real name—below the phony one. And when she walks away, she takes my hope, my heart, my world along with her.

But if she thinks I’m giving her up without a fight, she’s dead wrong.