Jock: A Secret Baby Sports Romance Read Online Free Page B

as I imagine little miss prim and proper Texas riding every thick inch of my cock with nothing on but those boots, that cowgirl hat, and a look of pure orgasmic bliss on her face.
    I wonder if her pussy is as tight as that attitude.
    And I know Randy’s right. I know the precipice I’ve been walking on the last few months is getting narrower by the day, and as much as I fucking hate the thought, the Goddamn Bulls might just be my ticket off that ledge. I also know that pretty much means hands-off when it comes to London Jacobs, and it definitely means I should probably stop thinking about her pussy and how tight it might be.
    Or how wet.
    Or how eager.
    Or how fucking hot she’d look with that tiny, rocking body bouncing up and down over my hips.
    I quickly pour myself a second, third, and then fourth drink to try and get myself to shut up and think of something else.
    It doesn’t work.

5
London
    I ’ve got this .
    “This” being “dealing with Holden Cade.” Because I’m better than the giggling, flirty little fangirls he’s used to dealing with. Dealing with me will not be the same as the football groupies and cheerleaders I’m sure he’s used to having falling all over him.
    Holden Cade is a prospect. An acquisition. A business transaction. And I won’t be taken in by a business transaction.
    Especially one that’s already a half hour late for our eight a.m. appointment on the Astroturf of the Denver stadium.
    I’m grinding my teeth, stuffing my laptop back in my bag, and muttering about my wasted time when he finally strolls onto the field at eight forty-five.
    He’s grinning that same cocky, supremely confident smile he was yesterday in the locker room as he strides across the sidelines towards me, all hip-rolling swagger.
    I swallow thickly, forcing myself to scowl at him - forcing myself to pull my eyes away and make a show of checking my watch.
    I will not be taken in by this overly-macho, sophomorically infantile man-child of a meathead. I keep to schedules, and my time is important, and that panty-melting grin I’m sure he’s had plenty of practice perfecting will not be winning him any points with me today.
    I make a show of checking my watch again and sighing loudly before sitting back down at the coaching table and pulling my laptop back out. I pull up my spreadsheets, forcing myself to analyze today’s benchmarks instead of the way Holden Cade’s bronzed, muscled, tattooed arms look in that sleeveless t-shirt, or the way that flop of his blonde hair looks so perfectly tousled, like he’s just woken up to me running my fingers through it.
    I swallow quickly, mentally chastising myself to get it together as I stare through the spreadsheet on my screen.
    This is just hormones, that’s it.
    I’ve been all work and no play for a so long, that’s all this can be - pent-up sexual tension after way too long of a dry spell.
    I force myself to actually focus on the spreadsheets on my laptop, and I instantly feel calmer.
    “Okay, I’m here.”
    “Finally,” I say with a thin smile as I turn to him.
    He looks bleary-eyed and a little rough around the edges. Stubbled chin, dark circles under his eyes, and a tightness in his jaw.
    I smirk. “Rough night?”
    “Yeah, yeah, I’m here, okay?”
    I arch my brows and turn back to my spreadsheets.
    “I hear you guys are ready to drop some serious cash on me.”
    I turn back to see him grinning at me even through his obviously hungover state. He brings a hand up, stretching like he just got out of bed as he runs a hand through his hair.
    “Guess you need me pretty bad.” He winks at the obvious double entendre, and I swallow the heat that threatens to bloom into my cheeks.
    I smile benignly at him. “We're putting a lot on the line to lure you, but I need to know you're putting something on the line yourself."
    Holden flashes that smug grin again, his hand dropping to hook a thumb suggestively into the waistband of his mesh shorts.
    “What do you