Page 15 of Roughing the Player
Chapter 5
Brock
ONCE THE PLAYERSARE RELEASED after lunch on Saturday, they practically leave skid marks as they peel out of the Outlaws’ parking lot. Not me, though. Since my furniture is still a no-show, I have nowhere to go. I’ll just hang out until it’s time to leave for the banquet.
The silence at camp is downright eerie. I miss the noise dozens of football players make—the grunts, the curses, the crunching of one body against another. But then football has been my whole life. Since I was eight in fact—the year my mother died.
My parents never had any use for me. They’d never intended to have children. But somehow my mother had gotten pregnant with me. After I was born, they’d hardly missed a beat. She’d continued with her hectic, country club social life, and he’d kept his nose to the grindstone, making millions from his pharmaceutical business. They never concerned themselves with me. That’s what nannies were for.
After my mother passed away, there was even less of a reason for my father to notice me. All he cared about was his drug company so ignoring me was easy. A caretaker made sure I showered, ate and got to school on time. When I expressed an interest in football, he’d totally approved. Of course he had. I’d be spending more time away from home so he wouldn’t be reminded of the one mistake he made. When he died from a massive heart attack during my last year of college, he didn’t leave me a dime. My party lifestyle had been too much for him. But his pride prevented him from outright disinheriting me. After all, I was his only son. So he’d neatly tied up his millions in a trust fund which would reinvest his money and parcel out enough to cover my bare necessities.
I hadn’t asked for a fucking dime. After I graduated from college, football had taken care of all my needs.
And it still does. Prime example is the limo the Director of Player Relations arranged for me. I’ll be arriving at the Hilton in style. You gotta give the Outlaws credit. They do things right.
After grabbing my gear and the one nice suit I brought to camp, I head out. Rather than chance wrinkling my clothes, I plan to dress in the hotel room the team reserved for me. Sharp dressed man and all that. Tonight, I’ll sleep on a luxury king mattress instead of the twin bed that almost took off my knees.
I really wanted to see Butch, but the dog kennel talked me out of it. They said it would be best if I didn’t drop by until I picked him up for good. Makes sense. My buddy would probably get his hopes up. And then be devastated when he didn’t come home with me.
On the way to the Hilton, I call Ellie to let her know when I’ll be there. She should arrive a half hour after I do. After I change into my suit at the hotel, I park myself in the lobby to wait for her. Some of the women parading through the space are dolled up in shimmering, floor-length gowns. Hope Ellie’s wearing something somewhat sexy. A bare shoulder, a hint of cleavage would do. But I’m not holding out much hope. She never was much for dolling up in high school. And now she’s hell-bent on being a professional, so I’m guessing no peekaboo dress. Too bad, she has the most beautiful skin.
Antsy, I glance at my watch for the tenth time. Damn it. She should be here by now. Is she running late? No. She would have called. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to check. As I’m about to dial her number, Ellie emerges from the elevator on the other side of the lobby. She’s wearing one of those little black dresses that every woman owns. On most women, it’s a utilitarian choice. But on her? It looks sexy as hell. As she glides across the room, I can’t keep my eyes off her. It’s only when she stops in front of me that I remember to breathe.
“Ellie. Good of you to come.”
Her nervous gaze darts around the lobby. “I should have worn something fancier. Not that I have any such thing.” She glances at me, her gaze filled with apprehension. “What do you think? It’s not too plain, is it?”
Going by the tightening of my balls, hell, no. I smile, to put her at ease. “I’ll let you know as soon as I put my tongue back in my mouth.”
She appears adorably confused. As if she didn’t expect that answer.
I leisurely take my fill of the wonder that is Ellie tonight. Her mahogany hair—half tossed back, half spilled forward across a v-neckline that hints at her sweet breasts. Fire-engine red mouth I want to taste, nibble, hell, downright devour. A rhinestone belt sharply shows off her tiny waist, and a flared skirt hides her treasures. I know what lies beneath that dress. Sugar and spice and everything nice, along with a hint of honey. I’ve never forgotten the flavor of her skin, the cinnamony taste of her breasts, and, most especially, the sweet intoxication of that spot between her legs. “You look lovely.”
She breathes out a relieved sigh. “Thank you.”
That’s Ellie, polite to the end, even when she can’t make heads or tails of me.
Rather than take her somewhere private and dark where I can do wicked things to her, I crook my arm. After all, I did promise to behave. “Cocktails are being served. Would you care for a drink?”
“A glass of white wine would be nice.” She glances at the shimmery black wrap folded over her arm. “Should I check this?”
“If you wish. I can keep you warm if you get cold.”
“Brock.” An arched-brow reprimand. The first of the night, but, God willing, not the last.
With a smile, I beg for forgiveness. “Sorry.”
Her “Umph,” doesn’t quite pardon, but it does give me a pass.
As we walk toward the cloakroom, I ask, “So, who’s watching your daughter?”
For a moment, she tenses, but then her shoulders relax. “She’s at a sleepover at a friend’s house.”
“Oh.”
“I’d originally asked Mama, but—”
“Your mother’s here?” I rarely saw Mrs. Adams during our tutoring sessions, but when I did, she was always nice to me.
