Page 62 of The Player's Obsession

“I hope they have more champagne, that stuff is addicting. You have ruined me and created a monster who can only be defeated with expensive champagne.”

“I can ruin you forever in other ways, too,” he says with a chuckle.

“Oliver, are you flirting with me?” I tease.

“I am.” He gives me a conspiratorial look; his sexy smile is never old on his chiseled chin.

Mother of all things holy, I don’t know how I can resist him.

It’s one bed. How are we going to spend hours in one bed and not have nonstop sex? I can picture myself running my fingertips over his biceps and tugging at his chest hair. And yet, part of me is afraid to do anything for fear he’ll dump me. Ah, to hell with it. Even though he doesn’t love me, we can still enjoy each other. What’s the worst that could happen?

We walk hand in hand toward the elevator and find it packed with guests when the doors open. I wonder if all these people are here for the wedding. They make space, and we squeeze in.

Arriving at the lobby, we follow signs directing us to the hotel bar. As we make our way through winding corridors, I realize I’ll never find my way back to the room without Oliver or a trail of breadcrumbs.

I know we’re getting close to the bar when I hear music and laughter. This is where I need to bring my A-game. I’ve never been very good at games. I’m not into strategy. All I know is that I will be out of debt after our arrangement. I’m looking forward to—freedom.

I almost forgot what it’s like to be with a man holding my hand and opening doors. If this is what it feels like to be pampered, I can’t wait to use the spa. This weekend might turn out to be the best New Year’s ever. And here I thought I’d be spending it alone.

Maybe I misjudged the allure of dating a famous football player.

CHAPTER27

Oliver

We walk into the bar that’s been rented for this affair, packed with people, including many of my teammates. I hold Penelope’s hand and, leading the way, carve a path through the crowd.

At the bar, I get the bartender’s attention and order a bottle of champagne. I’m feeling festive, and it’s not the alcohol. I pull Penelope to me, and for the crowd’s benefit, she gives me a long, passionate kiss. We may be putting on a show, but the stirring in the pit of my stomach and the stiffening of my cock is very real. Fuck me, how are we to share a bed and not fuck like rabbits?

My thoughts are interrupted by the inevitable hoots and hollers from the crowd.

Penelope pulls back to look around, leaving my lips warm and moist from her kiss.

I’m in heaven.

“Hey, what’s up, man?”

I hear the familiar voice of our quarterback and turn to say hello.

“Travis,” I say, recognizing the pretty woman beside him. His wife is dressed in an oversized sweater, tight jeans, and knee-high boots. “Rose, so nice to see you.”

“It looks like you two have been busy,” Travis says, getting right to the point.

I shrug. “Want some champagne?”

“Are we celebrating something, Oliver?” Travis is not giving up that easily.

“Every day is a blessing and should be celebrated.” I show the bartender two fingers and after a few seconds, hand Travis and Rose chilled glasses filled with champagne. “To good times,” I toast.

We tap our glasses and sip.

“How did you two meet?” Rose asks, looking from Penelope to me.

“You know how clumsy I can be off the field. I was in a coffee shop, bumped into her, and spilled coffee all over her blouse.” I grin. “She told me she was on her way to work and was gonna have to go home to change. I apologized and —”

“He asked me to dinner, and I said no, I didn’t know him well enough,” Penelope explains.

“Yeah, so then, she thinks I’m a stalker.”

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