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Anabel is dancing with his friend. She seems like she is in good hands, for now. I start turning back when I catch a glimpse of the guy’s face.

  “Your friend is William Price?”

  “Is that a problem?” His green eyes slightly narrow as he looks at me carefully.

  “Not for me, but my friend … She is new here, so she probably doesn’t know him.”

  “Even better, it’s not easy to be well-known around here.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know …” I murmur to myself. “So, I guess you are one of his teammates?”

  “Yes.” He is still eyeing me suspiciously. What the hell does he think I’ll do with that information? It’s not like I care about what he does for a living. Hell, I’m as popular and rich as any of them. “J.D. Shelton.”

  “Sienna Roberts.”

  “Model?”

  “One and only.” I smile at him. “Now if the offer still stands, we should get out of here.”

  Without another word, he turns around, dragging me behind him. We exit the warmth of the club into the cold November night going toward J.D.’s car.

  “Where to?” he asks in a low voice once we get inside of his car.

  “I know a place.” I give him the address of Lisa’s apartment above the bookshop where I spend time while I’m in town and don’t feel like driving to the city.

  I get my phone out and text Anabel: Went out with the guy. Text you when I’m back. Have fun!! Xx S

  I unlock and open the front door in such a hurry that we crash into the wall as we enter inside. The noise is deafening, and it’s a good thing there are no neighbors around to call the police with a noise complaint in the dead of the night.

  J.D.’s hands are all over my body. I lean into his chest and tilt my head to the side to give him better access to my neck.

  His lips trace the sensitive skin in slow kisses making my legs wobble. Our eyes meet in the dark room. Without breaking contact, my hand finds its way to the nape of his neck and I pull him down into a kiss.

  My tongue finds its way past his lips and into his mouth, softly playing with his.

  Devouring him.

  Pulling him in.

  I don’t remember the last time just a kiss felt so good.

  A sweet addiction.

  He turns me in his arms. Our lips cling to each other’s, holding for dear life. His big hands are on my butt, squeezing it lightly before he lifts me into his arms. My legs wrap around his hips. His hard erection perfectly pressed against my wet heat.

  Wall behind my back.

  I’m not quite sure how we got there, or even which wall it is, I’m just happy to have his ripped body pressed against mine. My hunger for his touch is lowered. If only slightly.

  J.D. thrusts his hips into mine and we both groan in delight.

  “Bed,” I manage to say before his lips close over mine again.

  I start unbuttoning his white dress shirt in hope to reach his skin. Is it as warm and smooth as it seems? I want to see his body without anything covering it from my needy eyes.

  J.D. must sense my urgency, because he moves away from me with enough space for him to jerk his shirt off and throw it into darkness.

  Immediately, I return my hand to his shoulders and slowly trail them over his warm, hard chest muscles and rigid abs.

  He’s pure perfection.

  Ripped, defined muscles. Smooth skin covered in tattoos. Wide shoulders and strong hands.

  Getting to my own feet, I take his hand and start pulling him after me toward the bedroom.

  Once inside, I show him onto the mattress and turn on the small bedside lamp.

  We look at each other.

  My eyes roam over his naked chest, taking his beautifully sculpted upper body in. He is all about sharp angles and toned muscles, making me wonder what I’ll find under those jeans that hug his legs to perfection.

  J.D. Shelton is all a woman can ask for and then some.

  “You have too many clothes on.”

  My lips curl into a sexy half smile. I let my hands move slowly down my body until my fingertips reach the hem of the dress and then I unhurriedly pull it up, revealing a lacy red bra and barely-there panties as well as thigh-high stockings.

  His Adam's apple wobbles, and when he speaks, his voice is raspy. “You are killing me, doll.”

  This time I give him a full Cheshire Cat smile as I get out of my heels and climb onto the bed, straddling him. “If you are going to die anyway, then I guess it’s better if I come closer.”

  “Much, much closer,” he agrees.

  His hand is in my hair, pulling me to him.

  I let him have one brief kiss before I start kissing him down his neck and collarbone.

  J.D. is a great kisser. Taking his time with exploring my mouth, seducing. Firm and in control, but I want to explore more than his mouth.

  When I get to his small, brownish nipple I twist my tongue over it before I take it in my mouth and suck on it.

  “Sienna,” he groans, sounding almost like he is in pain, but his fingers are intertwined in my hair, holding me close to him.

  After I do the same to the other brown peak, I continue my trail down his stomach, kissing each of his six-pack abs and both sides of the V that leads into his pants.

  “They are in the way,” I murmur softly.

  “Then I guess you’ll have to remove them,” he adds roughly.

  There is a challenge in his heated eyes. And I never back down from a challenge. Without hesitation, my hand finds its way to his jeans. With a flick of my fingers, I have the button undone and fly wide open.

  My eyes take in the bulge that grew even more under my touch before they return to his face. He is looking at me, his dilated pupils hiding the green of his eyes.

  “Then I guess I will,” I murmur simply. Then, in one swift move, I remove his jeans and boxer briefs down and throw them to the floor.

  “You don’t like to waste time.”

  “We said no games.” I crook my brow at him in silent question.

  He smiles wider. “No games, baby doll.”

  Usually, I hate nicknames and endearments. They are silly and patronizing, but something about the way he says it makes my skin tingle in anticipation and need.

  J.D.’s rough hands cup my small breast through the lace and give them a soft yet firm squeeze. His thumbs circles around my nipples making them stand out through the thin material. I bite my lip to stop the moan from escaping.

  “Don’t you hide from me,” he says, pulling at my lip with his teeth, releasing it from my teeth. “I want to hear you.”

  His fingers find the clasp between my breasts and, in less than five seconds, he has it undone and my bra out of the way.

  Rolling us over on the queen-sized bed, I hover over Sienna stretched out under me.

  Lights and shadows are playing over her creamy skin. Her body is beautiful, lean, and toned in all the right places, and all mine to take.

  To feel.

  To taste.

  So, I do just that, I let my hands roam down her sides. Leaning down, I take one, small, coral bud into my mouth and suck on it. I feel her quiver under me, her breathing becomes rapid. I caress the valley between her tits, slowly.

  Up and down.

  In a steady, even motion.

  Her hands that are on her sides hold onto silk sheets. Her grasp firm.

  Next time I go down, I leave the trail of small, open-mouthed kisses, all the way down to her belly bottom, and then I kiss her pussy over the thin lacy barrier.

  She gasps in surprise. Without giving her much time to protest I pull the wet material down, revealing her bare pussy to my eyes.

  “So pretty,” I murmur as my fingers find their way into her wet, heated folds. “And so hot.”

  She is so wet that my finger easily finds her entrance and I push inside her. I pull it out and insert two, increasing the tempo of thrusts. My thumb is on her clit, circling that small bud of nerves.

  “Don�
�t stop,” she moans softly. “Just don’t stop.”

  I chuckle. “No way in hell,” I assure her. “Just relax and let it go.”

  Kissing soft inner thigh, I feel her tremble under my lips. Her hot walls start squeezing my fingers. I thrust them harder, faster. My lips close over her clit as I suck on it, flickering my tongue over that tiny bud again and again until she shatters under my touch. Not stopping even when she’s at the peak of her high.

  As I slow down, I look up at Sienna.

  Her eyes are closed and her swollen red lips slightly parted in a gasp of relief. Her back is arched off the bed, and her hands are holding onto the sheets for dear life.

  Leaving one last kiss on her still throbbing pussy, I find my pants on the floor and get the condom on before returning to her.

  Parting her legs wider, I get in between them.

  Sienna’s looking at me. Her amber eyes still glassy from orgasm, moving down my body and taking me in, focusing on my erect cock more than anything else. Her small, pink tongue flicks over her swollen lip.

  “No playing games,” I remind her.

  My voice is low and rough from all the built-up sexual tension. I need to get inside of her, and I need to do it now.

  “Then stop delaying and come here.” Sienna opens her arms, her legs parting if only slightly, inviting me in.

  I get over her, careful not to crush her with my weight, and position the head of my dick at her entrance.

  Kissing, as we look into each other’s eyes, I thrust inside to the hilt. Her pupils widen, and she moans into my mouth. Her eyes roll in the back of her head.

  She is hot and wet and so damn tight. Her walls hug me to perfection.

  Like on cue, we start moving. My dick slipping out of her before hurriedly moving back inside.

  We are panting.

  Calling to each other.

  Holding each other.

  “F-faster …” Her voice is like a plea, and I can only obey.

  My hands move to her butt, lifting her off the bed to get a better grip and angle. I drive faster and deeper than before until I feel her walls tighten, this time around me.

  She’s squeezing me. Hard and tight. Pulling me in.

  Her hand disappears between our sweaty bodies, sliding down until it reaches her drenched pussy. She plays with her clit, and then her fingers move lower to the place where my dick pounds into her.

  The place where we are connected.

  There is something hot and sexy about a woman who isn’t afraid of her own sexuality. A woman who isn’t afraid to ask for what she wants or simply take it.

  Sienna Roberts definitely isn’t afraid to demand until she gets her way.

  “J.D.,” her loud moans fill the otherwise quiet room.

  Her back arched off the bed, her pussy strongly holding onto me, contracting as she reaches her climax.

  A few deep pushes later, I let myself fall over with her. A deep, almost inhuman, groan rips out of my chest.

  We lie there without moving an inch, waiting for our breathing and strong, fast heartbeat to slow down. After I can feel my body again, I roll off Sienna so that I don’t crush her slender body.

  I want to pull her to my side, but she stubbornly stays in her place, not moving a muscle.

  The room is quiet and, for the first time ever, it bothers me. Most women would be all over me by now. Needy and clingy, talking my ear off with stupid, silly things. But this time there is nothing.

  Just silence.

  Sienna gets out of bed, pulling the soft, silk sheet after her. My hand lands on hers, but she doesn’t turn around.

  “Where do you think you are going?”

  “Bathroom,” she mutters and jerks her hand out of mine.

  “Is everything okay?” I sit straight, looking at her carefully. “Did I hurt you?”

  “I’m fine,” she says, looking over her shoulder. There is no more warmth or passion in her whiskey-colored eyes. It’s like a shutter came down.

  She is looking through me, unaffected and cold as stone. “When I get out I don’t want to see you here.”

  “What?” I shout in surprise and lift on my elbows.

  What the hell is going on here?

  “Do I have to spell it for you?” Her impatience is clear in the tone of her voice. Like she is talking to a toddler. “You know where to find the door, but please, make sure to close them behind you this time.”

  With those parting words, she enters the small bathroom, firmly closing the door behind her and turning the key. Leaving me standing naked in the middle of her room wondering what happened.

  I simply stand there for a few minutes, too shocked to move.

  The shower starts behind a closed door. I’ve never been kicked out of woman’s bed before. No, I was the one leaving them in the wee hours of the night, careful not to wake them and get into position to have to explain myself or give any kind of promises. But I guess Miss Roberts has other plans.

  Fair enough.

  I find my clothes and put them back on before leaving the apartment without turning back.

  “Hey, man. You still here?”

  Turning around I find Lewis’s still-wet blond head peep behind the door. I grunt in response and continue running. The display on the treadmill shows I’m starting my fifth, and last, mile for the day.

  “Some of us are going to grab a beer. You want to join?” he offers, still standing behind me.

  “I’m good,” I grunt. “You have fun.”

  “Fine, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Matt agrees before turning around and closing the door to the workout room behind him.

  It’s late, but I can’t get myself to leave like everyone else did, so I decide to stay for another small workout. After the day filled with meetings, training, and practice I should have been worn out, but I’m not. The blood is still running fast in my veins. My body is itching to do something. My mind’s restless.

  There is something peaceful about being in the training room surrounded by equipment and with music to help you feel pumped up playing in the background.

  As I’m wrapping up, the door opens again, and Coach Hampton enters. “What are you still doing here, Shelton?”

  “Just finishing, Coach,” I say, passing him on the way to the door.

  “You should have been out hours ago,” he grunts.

  “Later, Coach.”

  He doesn’t say anything, probably already lost in his own workout. Hampton looks good for his late fifties, still keeping up with his workout and eating regimen, which I know because the man all but lives in this facility. The only thing giving away his age are his grey hair and wrinkles—mostly from frowning at players—on his face.

  Ditching the shower, I grab my stuff and get out into the cold December night.

  The parking lot is empty, my Cadillac Escalade being the only car there.

  I unlock the car, open the back door, and throw in my gym bag. My stomach growls reminding me that I put in more hours than usual and skipped dinner. Maybe I should call Will and see if he is in for pizza or something.

  Getting to the driver’s side of the car, I stop in my tracks.

  There is someone standing in the shadow of the car, leaning against it. It’s dark so I can’t see well, but I know it’s a woman. Maybe one of the groupies. It wouldn’t be anything new. They are around all the time, seeking willing players to get into their pants and check him off their list. And then people think players are … well, players.

  I’m about to tell her to get lost when a voice from my past breaks the silence. The voice I never thought I’d hear again. “You’ve got yourself a nice life, Daniel.”

  My legs almost give out on me, but it isn’t only my legs that are unsteady, my whole body is shaking with anger. Memories of the past, memories I closed off in a box and put in the back of my mind, want to break loose and assault my thoughts. Want me to lose myself to them, to the feelings that accompanied them. Feelings that were ignored for twenty years.
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  “That’s all I get?” She sounds irritated, angry. It’s not like she ever managed her anger well. “Silence?”

  “What did you expect?” I say, making sure to sound indifferent. Like this doesn’t bother me in the slightest. Like my worst nightmare didn’t just walk into my life, the life I created for myself and my old man.

  I want to escape, but she is leaning against driver’s door, standing in the way of my exit. And although it would be easy for me to remove her—she is much smaller and thinner than I remember her, but I guess addiction does that to people—there is no way in hell I’m going into her personal space and touching her. I’d rather crawl home.

  “Warmer welcome would be nice,” she pouts. “After all, I’m your mother.”

  “I don’t have a mother.” The words are filled with suppressed rage. Not because it was just my dad and me, I’m more than okay with that part, but because she dared to bring it up. “Just the old man and me, or did you miss that part when you were snooping around my life?”

  “Ohh, I see,” she says, looking me up and down before taking a step toward me. The urge to go one or a thousand steps back and forget this ever happened is huge, but if I do that it’ll make her the winner. “Someone is still touchy about this subject.”

  “The only thing I’m touchy about is getting you back to the hole you crawled out from.”

  She takes another step and then another until she stands in front of me.

  Almost touching me.

  Cassie Shelton, or whatever her name is now, looks older than her late forties. Her skin is dry and cheeks hollow. Light-green eyes, the same shade as mine, look big and tired with dark bags underneath them. But there is also some kind of gleam in them like she’s holding the winning hand and she’s been fooling me for all this time thinking that I’m in charge. Her chestnut hair streaked with grey, dirty and messy, is falling down her back. Her too-big clothes are worn out and filthy. It looks almost like she lives on the street.

  She puts her bony hand on my chest. The itchy feeling to remove it is strong, but I don’t do it. I don’t want to give her the pleasure of knowing how much I loathe her touch.

  “This is where you are wrong, my little boy,” she says quietly, almost like a whisper, patting my chest. “On the contrary, you’ll help me get out.”