Page 66 of Roughing the Player
He’s right about that.
“Look. You’re in hot water with your agency, right?”
He had to remind me. “Yes.”
“Well, if you marry me, you won’t be. Simple as that.” Done eating, he strolls to the sink, rinses his dish and drops it into the dishwasher. He then folds his arms across his chest and leans back against the kitchen counter. Sexy does not begin to describe those roped arms and wide chest of his.
But I can’t be sidetracked by his powerful body. “How do you figure that?”
“Well, for starters, I’ll walk if they do anything to harm your career.”
“You would?”
“You better believe it. And that’s only for starters. If they so much as give you the side eye, I’ll spread the word among my teammates about how they treated you. They would not look kindly upon sports agents who mistreated my wife. Plus, the agency might have a harder time signing new players, especially ones who came from my Alma Mater.”
“I can’t believe players would sever their relationship with my agency. It’s one of the best in the business.”
“Trust me. Some would. If there’s one thing players respect is families.” He strolls back to me, that slow swing of his hips drawing my gaze, along with the rest of him. Why am I fighting this? He could be mine, in bed and out. Fine. I’m in. But first, we need to set some rules.
“One more thing.”
“Yes, darling.” He says, cupping my cheeks.
“While we’re married, you don’t screw around with anyone.”
“Oh, Ellie girl, don’t you know? There’s no other woman for me.” He brushes his mouth across mine, and I tingle down to my toes.
“Yeah, right,” I whisper against his lips. He might ooze honesty, but I know what he’s really like. “Promise me, Brock.”
He makes the sign of the cross over his heart. “I promise. I’ll treat you right, especially in bed. We had a great time Sunday night, didn’t we?”
My face grows hot as I recall the things he did to me. And everything I did to him. “Yeah, but that was just—”
“Sex?”
“Yes.”
“No. It wasn’t.” His hands slide down to my ass and lift me. After dropping me on the counter, he rubs his hard cock against my pussy.
“Oh.” I widen my legs to give him better access. There’s only so much temptation I can withstand.
He kisses my lips, nibbles my jaw. “I’ve had lots of sex, Ellie girl. What we have? It’s special.”
“I bet you say that to every woman who hops in the sack with you.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Uh-huh.” I don’t believe him for one second.
“Most of those women were looking to score with an NFL player so they could brag about it to their friends. It meant nothing to them or me.” He kisses my fingers, one at a time, the last one he licks, same as he did Sunday in bed. “But you are different. You’ve always been different.”
God. Why am I falling for his malarkey? Sooner or later, he’ll want his freedom, because Brock Parker can’t be true to one woman. No matter what he says. And the last thing I want is more heartbreak. I’ve had enough to last a lifetime. So as much as I want to say yes, I can’t. I push away from him. “Sorry. This is not going to work out.”
He rubs his hands up and down my back, and I practically melt in his arms. “It doesn’t have to be forever, you know.”
Well, that makes sense. He would think that way. And that is something I could agree to. “Only long enough to get over this hump, then?”
“Exactly.” He gives me his most brilliant smile, as if I’m a dull student who’s just caught up. “We’ll have to give it a go for at least a year. Until I’m through with this season and signed on to a new team. Then we can put out a statement. A mutually agreed story about how things didn’t work out. In the meantime, we’ll just enjoy ourselves.” He waggles his eyebrows.
