Chapter 17
Roman
The evening air is thick with humidity, floral fragrances, and the scent of my own wanton lust. I can’t remember a time when I wanted a woman this badly. I’m fucking feral.
I open the car door for Iris, and the moment she’s standing, I pull her into a passionate kiss.
Instantly, a forest fire ignites between us.
With my mouth still on hers, I pull Iris up by her ass, kick the car door shut, and make my way toward the bungalow with the hottest woman alive in my arms and my mouth devouring hers.
I stagger inside with Iris wrapped around me like a baby monkey, too turned on to make it all the way into the bedroom in the back.
With my heart pounding, I lay Iris down on the couch, peel down her shorts and panties, and slide my hand desperately between her legs to get a read on her.
She’s already soaking wet and swollen for me—as ripe as a summer peach.
I don’t normally jump straight to fucking. Almost always, I prefer getting my partner off first as an appetizer. But today with Iris has felt like one long, mouthwatering appetizer—a sexy slow burn of foreplay that’s kept my blood at an endless simmer and my skin perpetually buzzing.
Panting with desire, I massage Iris’s hard, swollen clit around and around, and then slide my fingers in and out of her slick wetness, getting her beyond ready for my aching cock.
When I can’t wait a second longer, when my blood feels on the verge of a rolling boil, I rip off the rest of Iris’s clothes and mine, get myself wrapped up tight, bend Iris over the back of the couch, and sink myself inside her from behind.
As my body stretches and fills hers, Iris lets out a sexy growl that’s nearly as loud as my own. With one hand buried in her sandy hair and the other gripping her hip bone, I fuck Iris hard, until she’s making inhuman sounds and I’m dizzy and gasping for air.
As our passion intensifies even more, I grope her neck, breasts, and nipples with one hand while rhythmically stimulating her clit with the other. And the result on Iris is so plain to surmise, I’m already on the cusp of losing it.
“He’s an idiot,” I grit out, trying desperately to hang on.
“If you were mine, I’d fuck you so often, I wouldn’t have time to even think about cheating on you.
” What am I saying? It’s nothing but dirty talk.
The unthinking nonsense that hurtles out of a man’s mouth in the heat of the moment.
But damn, that’s the first time that specific brand of unthinking nonsense has hurtled out of me. I need to get a grip on myself.
Or do I? Because in response to the crazy thing I said, Iris growls with ferocious intensity and releases an orgasm around my cock that rockets me into my own release on her heels.
With a deep groan, I crumple over her back, gasping for air, as her innermost muscles ripple, warp, and squeeze all around me.
Jesus.
After catching my breath, I straighten up, pull out, and turn Iris around to face me. Rather than speaking, however, I take her face in my palms and kiss her once again. I feel addicted to this woman. I feel high. What’s happening to me?
Before I manage to speak, my phone on the floor rings with an incoming call.
I’ve got my phone set to Do Not Disturb other than for calls from Cameron, my mother, and Maverick’s mother, Vanessa—so that call’s got to be from one of the three.
Still breathing hard, I lurch toward the phone and make out Cameron’s name as I pick it up; but with Iris here, I let the call go to voicemail.
“That was my business partner,” I explain. “I need to call him back real quick.”
“Okay, while you do that, I’ll take a shower and get into bed to wait for round two.” Iris winks. “I swear I won’t fall asleep this time.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Starving.”
“After my call, we’ll order room service.”
“Yummy. Will you make me one of your famous rum punches, too?”
“You bet, baby.”
Iris bats her eyelashes as she saunters toward the bedroom. “See you soon, baby. Don’t keep me waiting too long.”
As I watch her beautiful ass swish, swish, swish out of the room and disappear, I’m smiling so damned hard, my cheeks hurt.
What is it about that woman that makes me feel so damned drugged?
I can’t remember the last time I felt like this, if ever.
Even in the midst of one of the most stressful times of my life, I feel like a carefree kid when I’m around Iris.
I feel light as a feather. Giddy, like a school kid with a crush.
A goofy smile still plastered on my face, I throw on my clothes from the floor and head to the kitchen first, figuring I’ll make my girl that cocktail before heading outside to return Cam’s call—but there’s no ice in the small freezer.
“I’ll be right back, baby!” I call to her. “I’m going out to grab some ice!”
With my phone in one hand and the ice bucket in the other, I head outside into the warm night to search for an ice machine while talking to Cameron. Before I press the button to place my call, however, a group of young dudes passing by loses their shit at the sight of me.
“Roman Maguire!” one of them shouts. “Holy shit! I’ve got you on my fantasy team!”
“Hey, guys.”
“Are you gonna re-sign with the Crusaders?” one of them asks. “I heard a rumor you’re shopping for a new team.”
“Never listen to rumors.”
They ask for selfies, and I oblige them, even though I can’t wait to get away.
To my frustration, one of them begs me to sign his T-shirt before I go, so I wait for him to scurry into his nearby bungalow for a pen, and when he returns, I wind up signing not only his T-shirt, but everyone else’s, too—plus a few hats.
Finally, however, I’m able to break free without coming off like a complete dick, at which point I head down to the beach to make that call to Cameron.
As I walk toward the entrance to the sandy beach, I listen to Cameron’s voicemail, but all he says is “Call me ASAP!” Once I’ve made it onto the sand, I walk a short ways, find myself a dark, secluded spot, and plop myself down.
“Hey, Roman,” Cameron says in greeting.
“What’s up?”
“The Thunderbolts said if you can convince Coach to come with you, they’ll one hundred percent be able to meet your salary demands.
They’d do a three-year deal worth two hundred mill total: a hundred-fifty in salary and another fifty in bonuses and incentives.
But that’s only the deal if Coach comes with you. ”
“I’m worth that on my own.”
“I agree, but they think you’re worth one-fifty total on your own. They figure they’ll sell tons more season tix and merch if they market the hell out of your legendary partnership. ‘Coach Hardy and Roman Maguire, together again!’”
They’re not wrong about that, but Cameron knows I want two hundred mill, whether Coach comes with me or not.
“Between you and me,” Cameron continues, “I can’t argue with their logic. You in a Thunderbolts jersey will send shockwaves throughout the league. But you and Coach together again? That’d be a nuclear bomb.”
I kick off my flip-flops and burrow my feet into the sand. “I’m worth two hundred mill, no matter what. If they can’t meet my salary demands, they’ll need to get there with more cheese on the back end in bonuses.”
“It’s just a question of the funding they can pull together. It’s all about crunching the numbers and making sure they’ve got money for other players, too. You know that.”
I know it, yeah. But I don’t really care about the salary cap all that much. That’s their problem, not mine. I’ve earned a record-breaking contract, if you ask me.
“Listen, Romie,” Cameron says. “I know you’re hell-bent on LA, but Arizona called me today and said they could do two-twenty-five to get you. They can’t wait too long to close something, though. They need to lock down their number-one QB, ASAP.”
“I don’t want to be in Arizona, Cam. I want to be in LA and I want my team to pay me what I’m worth. It’s not that hard.”
“Phoenix to LA is only an hour and a half flight—way shorter than Baltimore to LA—so you could always—”
“The whole point is I don’t want to fly to see my son. I want to drive a short distance to pick him up, and then I want to take him back to my house across town and tuck him into his little race-car bed in his own, permanent room. I want him to live with me part-time, Cam, and I can’t do that if—”
“I know, Rome. You think I don’t want that for you, too?”
“Make it happen, then. Since that’s your fucking job.”
“I’m doing everything in my power. If you want a guarantee you’ll get everything you want, without having to compromise a goddamned thing, then convince Coach to come with you. If you do that—”
“I’m not gonna ‘convince’ Coach to do a goddamned thing. The man bleeds Michigan maize and blue. I’m not going to ask him to risk ruining his legacy by retiring as a Thunderbolt, instead of as a Wolverine, if he’s not one thousand percent sure he’s willing to take that fucking risk.”
“Would it kill you to sell the man on the dream a bit, though? We both know you can sell water to a fish, so all I’m saying is—”
I exhale in frustration. “Look, I’m in the middle of something important here. Is there anything else you called to tell me?”
Cameron lets out a long exhale. “Did you check into the new place I got for you yet? I got a notification a couple hours ago you hadn’t checked in yet.”
Shit. “Oh. Yeah, about that . . . I decided to stay at the bungalow all week after all.”
“The ‘Runaway Bride’ didn’t want the place?”
I feel like a kid caught with his hand in a cookie jar. “She’s staying with me. All week.”
“Roman motherfucking Maguire! We talked about this, and you agreed—”
“I changed my mind.”
“Goddammit. There’s no pussy in the world worth—”
“There is, actually, as I’ve been lucky enough to find out.” I snicker. “Repeatedly.”
Cameron gripes under his breath. And then, “Please, at least tell me you haven’t gone out in public with her.”
“If you want full honesty, then I can’t tell you that.
” I give Cameron a rundown of my amazing day with Iris, and he grumbles and complains.
“Look, I don’t pull this card on you very often,” I say, feeling intensely annoyed.
“But you work for me, remember? Not the other way around. So, fine, you gave me your professional advice about what you think I should do, and I decided to disregard it. Which is my right, since this is my fucking life. Not yours. At this point, it’s time for you take off your fucking agent cap and put on your best friend cap.
Do that or shut the fuck up, man, because I’m done with this goddamned conversation and all your whining and bitching. ”
I can practically hear Cameron rolling his eyes across the phone line.
“I’d have thought you’d want me feeling as relaxed and happy as possible,” I rant. “As you might recall, the ‘best sports psychologist in the world’ you forced me to see said me being relaxed and happy off the field will help—”
“Will you shut the fuck up already? You’ve made your point.” He exhales. “Goddammit, Rome, you horny fuck. I thought you’d slowed down on the one-night stands.”
“I have.” There’s no point in explaining my white-hot, irresistible attraction to Iris because Cameron wouldn’t understand.
How could he, when I don’t understand it myself?
Yes, I’m a horny fuck. Always have been.
That’s why I had sex with Iris the first time, even before getting back the results of the background check.
But after that, it wasn’t simple horniness that inspired me to plan a daylong romantic date today.
No, I did that because Iris makes me feel something beyond simple lust. The truth is she touches my heart.
She makes me laugh and feel good. She makes me feel protective, possessive, and jealous, even about hypothetical men touching her.
And the best part? She makes me feel all of it without her knowing I’m Roman fucking Maguire.
“Anything else you need to talk to me about?” I bark into my phone at Cameron. “Because Iris is waiting for me back in the bungalow, and you’re pissing me off.”
“Where are you now?”
“Outside on the beach. I didn’t want her or anyone else overhearing our call.”
“Has she signed an NDA, at least?”
“There’s no need.”
“Fucking hell, Roman. That’s your dick talking.”
“Maybe, but it doesn’t negate the fact that she’s a trustworthy sweetheart, Cam. Trust my instincts here, okay?”
“I guess I’ve got no choice, huh?”
“Now you’re getting it. Call me if you find out anything I should know before my golf game on Friday, or if the Thunderbolts suddenly decide to meet my demands.
If it’s anything other than those two things, then leave me the fuck alone to have a fun and carefree week with my horny and hot little runaway bride. ”