The Winner Takes All (Complete Collection)

11. My Favorite Habit

11

MY FAVORITE HABIT

Zane

Are you kidding me?

“Fuck me,” I mutter, dropping my head into my hand.

“Dude! The pool party is epic,” Gunnar calls from the hallway. “C’mon, Archer. Get your ass out here.”

I groan in misery, lifting my face to whisper, “It’s Gunnar.”

Face tinged with red, Maddox has already yanked his hand out of his trunks.

“Don’t go anywhere,” I whisper. “I will call you right back.”

He nods, and I hang up, then pull off my shirt, drag a hand through my hair, and make sure my dick is deflated.

Well, deflated enough.

I head to the door, opening it a few inches, affecting a bleary-eyed stare and a deep yawn. “Dude, phones. Have you ever heard of them?”

“C’mon. The guys in the pool are hot as fuck. You can rally.”

The only man I want to rally for is in Los Angeles. I whimper privately at the lost chance. “Next time,” I say, then I shut the door.

I take a big breath, annoyed, but weirdly relieved too. I don’t think I would have stopped the sex train tonight. I was this close to jerking it right there with my agent.

Call me crazy, but I want my hands on him the first time I get him off.

I blink, drag a hand through my hair.

Except that can’t happen.

But a phone call can.

I hurry back to the couch and call him again on video.

He’s sitting in a chair on his deck now, a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Damn. I missed watching you get out of the water, Neptune style,” I say with exaggerated sadness.

“It was like a red-band bathing suit commercial when you hung up,” he deadpans.

He’s back to his usual form—sarcastic and clever.

I sigh, forlorn. “Sorry. Gunnar wanted me to come to a pool party. He said the guys were super-hot.”

Maddox’s jaw ticks. “Do you want to go?”

I scoff. “No fucking way. The sexiest man I’ve ever seen just fondled his cock for me from three thousand miles away. I can’t touch him tonight. I probably can’t touch him ever. But he’s the one I want to talk to.”

Maddox smiles, dipping his face again, that shyness peeking through. “Same here,” he says, all honey-smooth. But then he clears his throat. The softness in his mouth is gone, the dreaminess in his eyes replaced by numbers and data. “Let me tell you about the meeting,” he says.

Right. The reason for the call in the first place.

“I’m all ears,” I say. He slips into super-agent mode and outlines the possible terms of the deal, which involve lots of yummy zeros that excite me, but I’m also cautious. Don’t want to get ahead of myself. “I like.”

“Priyam is a big fan of yours. He loves how you dress, but he also likes that you have a mix of looks and wear a range of brands. And I might have leaned into the bow tie thing.”

I arch a curious brow. “Do tell.”

“Priyam’s big on bow ties. Wants to make them a thing. I suggested you do a video series on how to tie one,” he says, sounding pleased with himself.

And he should since he’s a fucking genius. “Because no one knows how!”

“Exactly.”

But I don’t want to disappoint a potential partner. “Does Priyam know I’m not a bow-tie-or-die guy? It’s just something I break out for fun now and then.”

“It’s all good. Don’t worry. Bespoke has cufflinks, belts, regular ties, bow ties, shirts, slacks—anything and everything. It’s just a good angle to play.”

“And you came up with it,” I say in admiration.

Like I needed another reason to like him. Maddox’s big brain is one more thing that turns me on. I’m glad we’re on opposite coasts right now. If we were in the same room…

You almost jerked off together on the phone. If you were in the same room, you’d fuck.

I force my mind back to the current subject of the deal. “So, what’s the holdup?”

Maddox gives a reassuring grin. “No holdup. He’s just one of those guys who takes his time. Likes to get to know his business partners.”

The deal is so close I can taste it. I want to do whatever I can to help Maddox seal it up. “Then what’s next? A pool party for Priyam? Feel free to send me an invitation.”

“Do you play golf?”

I scoff. “I’m a pro athlete. Course I do.”

“But are you any good at it?” he presses.

My eyes widen in outrage. “You doubt me?”

He shrugs in a challenge. “Not every ballplayer can handle every stick.”

“Oh, I can handle it. And I can’t wait to show you.”

He nibbles on the corner of those delicious lips but stays on track. “Good. Priyam has business in the U.S. during the next few weeks. He’s coming to San Francisco in a few days, then goes to New York. We can play a round with him before your game against the Devils on Wednesday evening,” he says. “I’ll fly up.”

My heart takes off at a sprint. I get to see Maddox soon. I count down the days until our?—

Ah, hell. Was my head really going there? It’s not a fucking date. It’s golf with my agent and my prospective big money sponsor.

“I’ll be there,” I say, trying to keep my focus on the game. I’m here for business, not pleasure.

“Good,” Maddox says. “My parents are in the area, so I’m going to see them later that night.”

“They live there?”

He shakes his head. “No. But they have a case they’re working on in San Francisco. So they’ll be there doing some pro-bono work for a firm.”

“Are you close with them?” I ask.

“Not really. But they don’t always agree with my career choices.”

I jerk my head back. “Do they hate sports? Does not compute.”

Maddox laughs, shaking his head. “They’re die-hard Cougars fans, actually.”

I hiss. “Blasphemy.”

“Well, I do love all baseball teams. All sports teams, in fact.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re a pan-sports-ual, but you told me the truth about your baseball love,” I joke.

“And you’re keeping that between us.”

“Mad, everything between us is just between us ,” I say. But I want to know how on earth his parents could not like his career. “Do your folks not know how badass an agent you are?”

He smiles, and I fucking love when he gets slightly bashful. “They were corporate attorneys. I learned golf because my dad wanted me to be able to do business with billionaires and CEOs on the course, like he did. Then when I was in college, he was corporate counsel for a media king. This man owned networks, e-commerce sites, and a sports team. My father helped him expand his business worldwide. But a few years into my dad’s work for him, allegations came out that the man hit his wife. My father felt responsible, I suppose. He saw the light, so to speak, and decided he would never work for someone like that again. He and my mother left corporate law to become family law attorneys, working with underprivileged women and children. They wish I were a family law attorney too, rather than a sports and entertainment lawyer. They said that’s not why they sent me to undergrad.”

“Do they want you to work with them instead of repping athletes?”

“Pretty much.” He sounds defeated. “They don’t like that I work in such a money field. But I donate to plenty of causes that matter to me—helping families who need it, helping rescue animals, and environmental causes. But they’ve never masked their disappointment over me working in this field.”

I sigh, a little hurt for him. “That’s such a bummer.”

“I wish I could make them happy without giving up what I love to do, but I can’t. So at least I try to take them out to dinner when our schedules line up,” he says, a man resigned to his reality.

“I’m sure they’re proud of you in their way,” I say optimistically. “How could they not be? Their son is this brilliant agent and attorney who strikes killer deals for his clients.”

“Knock wood,” Maddox says.

“I have faith in you.”

He flashes me a smile that’s vulnerable around the edges. “Good. I want you to, Zane. I want to make this happen. I can’t wait to deliver this for you.”

His passion and determination tug at my heart. His commitment to his job may even be sexier than those abs, and that’s saying something. “Me too,” I say.

A pause makes it clear we don’t have more to say about the deal. It’s clear, too, he’s not in a rush to get off the phone.

Nor am I, though I should cut this getting-personal convo off while I can.

Instead, I ask, “How was London?”

“Have you ever been?”

I shake my head. “Nope.”

“I bet you’d love it there.”

“Why do you say that?”

Maddox hums thoughtfully, his brow furrowing as if searching for the answer. “It’s like you. It’s full of energy, excitement. Lots to see and explore, lots of interesting people.”

“Sounds great. I think I’d dig it.”

“You definitely would,” he says. “It’s the kind of city where you can wander for hours down alleys and across bridges.”

“I’d like that,” I say.

“And the nightlife is great too,” he adds. “Music, bars, clubs. If you like to dance…”

It sounds like the cusp of an offer to hit a nightclub. “I do. Do you?” I ask.

“Absolutely.”

“I’d take you dancing some night,” I say, spinning the start of another fantasy.

His lips twitch in a hint of a sly grin. “You would?”

“Hell, yeah. Take you out. Show you off,” I say.

Maddox drags his teeth against his lower lip. “It’d be dark in the club, the music too loud to talk. There’d be a sheen of sweat on my neck.”

I growl. “I’d move behind you. Kiss the sweat on your neck.”

His shoulders rise and fall. “You’d wrap an arm around my chest, lock me against you.”

“Curl my other hand nice and tight around your hip,” I continue.

“You’d drag me closer. Grind against me,” he says, casting a wickedly sexy spell.

“Everyone would know who you were going home with,” I say, my voice raw.

“I’d drive you so crazy we’d have to leave.”

Yes, fucking yes . “I’d take you home and fucking have you all night long.”

His eyes float closed, and I’m sure the rest of the scene is playing out as a dirty film inside his mind. I’m watching it too. And I’ll watch it again in slow-mo a little later.

Maddox opens his eyes, breathes heavily, then says, “So, that’s London for you. Like I said, you’d like it.”

“I would.” I bite my tongue, so I don’t say let’s go sometime, you and me .

Already this man makes me want him in more ways than one. I can’t have him, but I can, at least, be completely honest with him.

Next time I see him, I’m going to tell him the true story about my tattoo.