Fast and Loaded: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (24 page)

“I used to want you so bad. I’m so through with that,” I sing at the top of my lungs with the windows down. My hair flows in the wind along with my words. “Best thing you never had.”

Freedom feels good.

As I amp up for verse two, my cell phone rings.

I use my hands-free device to answer the call and fumble for the knob to turn down the music.

“I hear things have been going well with Devlin,” the elder Masters says.

I bite back a smile.

“Yes. He is listening to advice, rethinking some of his decisions, and trying methods of relaxation,” I report.

“Good. I am trying to get the evaluation moved up to next Monday, before the wedding, so that Dev can be in position when Trevor becomes my son-in-law.” He says the last words as though they feel sour in his mouth. This makes me wonder.

“I don’t want to overstep, sir.” I add a sign of respect to frame my disrespectful question. “Why put Trevor in place if you didn’t really want him to run the company?”

I brace myself for blowback. I don’t know David Masters very well, and technically, he is my employer, but I also want to understand.

“You care about Dev?” he counters.

“Devlin is a hardworking and genuine person.”

“And with people like you in his life, he’ll make a great president of the company, and an even greater man,” he concludes.

He had answered my question, and told me nothing at all.

One thing still worries me, though. David Masters is right about one thing. I do like his son entirely more than I should.

“I was wondering if you planned on telling Devlin who I am, or how I could give a statement without giving my identity?” I question tentatively.

It shouldn’t matter. Our relationship isn’t real. But the idea of Devlin knowing that I haven’t been completely honest with him fills me with dread.

“You will be able to complete a notarized written statement for review that will be sealed. Only the executive review board will look at the statement and have access to your identity. He will never know,” he assures me.

“Thank you.”

“Have a good day, Miss Winters.”

* * *

W
hen I pull
into the parking lot, I notice a black Porsche Panamera and my heart thumps.

He’s already here.

Before I can put my small, sputtering car into park, he is out of his. Dressed in the casual Polo shirt and jeans that we purchased the other day, Devlin’s long, muscular frame shadows my door as he opens it.

“Hey there, beautiful,” he says, helping me up from my seat and planting a kiss on my cheek. “You really should just let me know where you live so we can stop leaving your car in random places unattended.”

“And give away all of my mystery?” I say. “Besides, if anyone decided to take this car, they’d bring it right back.”

“Really?” he asks.

“Certain,” I reply. “I’ve had the alternator changed twice. The engine was rebuilt last year. The air conditioner only blows from the floor, and about twelve other different things. It’s paid for, though, and it’s mine.”

“Is it safe?” His face scrunches.

“What are we doing today? What is this dare that required my near-immediate attention?” I change the subject. My car-care routine is not his worry.

Devlin takes another look at my car as he ushers me into a seat in his well-built, expensive piece of machinery.

“I dare you to spend the night with me,” he says, lifting his head to look right at me. His words are deliberate and strong, and the intensity from his gaze hardens my nipples. It’s getting so that I can’t be near the man without water dripping with want from in between my legs.

I swallow as thoughts of his hardness pressed inside me flash across my mind, similar to the dream I touched myself to last night. In the dream, Devlin had pushed me up against the wall and slid between my thighs, similar to the night at the Gala, but instead of stopping him, I had allowed him to continue.

“I can’t. You know that,” I protest, tension squeezing through my body and gripping me.

He places a solid finger against my lips, interrupting my words before replacing his finger with his full lips.

“I will follow all of your rules. A lot of truth and no sex. No problem,” he says, releasing my mouth but not my mind. All at once, I am relieved.

Feeling floaty, I look deeply into the caramel pools of his eyes.

“Trust me,” he adds. “I promise not to touch you until you touch me. Cross my heart.”

He makes a line vertically first and then horizontally over his heart.

I roll my eyes.

“Don’t do that,” he smirks. “They’ll get stuck like that.”

He moves his face closer to mine and the smell of his cologne nearly renders me brainless.

“I didn’t bring anything to sleep in. I haven’t let anyone know where I am. I have clients. I have responsibilities,” I protest, but stop when his hand slides across my cheek.

“Let me take care of you,” he says softly before pressing sweet suckles down my jaw line.

“I thought you said no touching,” I remind him breathlessly as the world around us slides away.

“After you agree,” he breathes before sliding his wide hand in a line between my thighs. “If you choose not to accept my challenge, I plan to touch you every moment that you are in my sight.”

He stops moving his hand. It had inched as far as it could. He props his fingers right against the power button of my pussy, shocking my body like electricity.

I arch my back in response. Damn, does he have a map of all my pleasure points? It had been two long, barren years since fingers other than my own had been there. Even through the thin fabric of my slacks and silk panties, the warmth of his thick hand pushing in circular motions against my clit feels like being happy-drunk on a Ferris wheel while eating a funnel cake. Joy.

The word “stop” forms in my mouth, but does not exit. Groans of pleasure replace it when he doles out kisses along my neckline.

“Just stay with me tonight. We won’t do anything that you don’t want to,” he says between kisses.

“And what if I prefer this?” I ask, melting into the seat.

“Win. Win,” he murmurs against my skin as he deftly unbuttons my pants with one hand and slides it beneath the flimsy fabric to the slick folds of my pussy.

“Okay!” I exhale in a near yell. “Please just—I’ll take my chances with the dare and no touching.”

He sits back wearing a smug look.

“Good,” he answers before placing the car in reverse and driving off.

Heaven help me and forgive me, wrong shouldn’t feel so good.

C
hapter 14-Devlin

The look of sheer pleasure plastered against Ayron’s face when I touched her filled me with an immense sense of gratification. For those few minutes in the car, when I was able to touch her bare womanhood, she looked relaxed. I like being the reason that she smiles.

We got to the small airport and got on one of my private jets. I didn’t tell her where we were going, just that it was a surprise.

The private flight to New York is quicker than expected. Ayron and I play charades while in the air. Her goal—figure out where the hell we were going. My goal—confuse the hell out of her. I had refused to tell her. Ayron gets as far with an answer as I had gotten with her and having sex, but her will to try gives rise to fun times. The elegant woman transforms into an energetic teenager, either unaware or not caring that she is grown and a professional. Her excitement is so contagious that I join in. I give her hints through scenes from movies. After she can’t figure it out with my reenactment from “King Kong,” I give up. I love the way that Ayron is prim and proper in public, but when it comes to our time she can be carefree. Smiling, comfortable, and funny.

Even though I hadn’t been at work, Gloria was still paid as my assistant. She had been able to put the evening together for me securing the perfect tickets, flight staff, and clothing. I had her gather a rack of dresses and shoes that Ayron could choose from while on the plane. Gloria had already sent a change of clothing and necessities ahead to the hotel.

* * *

B
roadway is a sight to behold
. But the hundreds of flashing lights, neon advertisements, and thousands of tourists milling the streets fades into nothing, compared to the awe-struck look on Ayron's face.

“The Lion King," she whispers, staring up at the colorful marquee. I stand behind her. I want to hook her into me, feel the press of her soft breasts against my chest, and see that gorgeous, grateful, loving face looking up at
me
instead of a Broadway banner.

But I promised not to touch the goods, and I won’t.

“No you didn’t,” she breathes. Her head swings between the marquee sign and my face. “Devlin?”

“You said that you wanted to see The Lion King,” I say. “No money, no one who wanted to see it—I thought. Did I do wrong?”

Ayron grabs the sleeves of my sports jacket and smashes her lips against mine.

“This is awesome,” she shrieks when she finally releases my lips. “Thank you.”

I was certain when I had Gloria put all of this together that this surprise would be something she wanted.

“So you like it?” I double check.

“I just can’t believe it,” she exclaims, scooting through the moving people and pulling me behind her.

I had promised that I wouldn’t touch Ayron, but she doesn’t stop touching me. Her hands slip and slither about my fingers and arms during the entire performance. Her head dips and droops on my shoulder. Her lips linger and tingle my cheek. Her giddiness is infectious, and I smile because she does. Making her happy eases me. The songs, the costumed characters, the sound effects—none of them are as exciting as watching Ayron.

“That was the best show ever.” She bounces as we make our way to the hotel.

“I loved looking at you. Your smile was the best part of the night,” I explain to the wonderful woman who had drawn me closer to her. The flouncy hair that moves along her shoulders compliments the burgundy cocktail dress that she had changed into on the plane.

“I still can’t believe that this afternoon I was home and now I’m in New York with you,” she says, looking from the sky and into my eyes. “Thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome,” I reply, squeezing her hand tightly.

She is serious. Her gaze is unwavering but sweet.

“I mean it, Devlin. I’ll never forget this,” Ayron promises. “This is the best night ever.”

“It won’t be our last night,” I say, concern churning in the back of my mind. Her words make it seem like this isn’t long-term. Does she plan to bail on me before the thirty days are up, or does she plan to sleep with me and then disappear? We hadn’t named what we had, but when I think about doing things in life, I imagine that she will be there.

Ayron’s excitement moves us forward quickly down the crowded sidewalk, her wide eyes and pointing arms making the trek just as enchanting as watching her see a Broadway play for the first time.

“This is it,” I tell her, nodding to the left at a large building with gold plated revolving doors.

Her eyes shoot at me with wonder.

“Are we staying here?” she asks, placing a hand on my arm to steady herself. “I am trying my best not to act like the country mouse visiting the city, but you are making this terribly difficult.”

The dancing twinkle in her eye makes me laugh and I slide a comfortable arm around her waist before guiding her into one of the most luxurious hotels in the city. Her head falls against my arm as though it’s made to be there.

Walking through the gilded lobby is a treat as I watch Ayron’s sweet yet comical reactions to the opulence. I kiss her forehead before stepping away from her to the desk to receive our keys.

“Be right back,” I tell her, feeling the emptiness where her warm body had been.

I speak with the clerk about our reservation. I just need to check in and pick up the keys.

The clerk brandishes a toothy grin and becomes extra-attentive once she is aware of who I am.

“If you need an-ny-thing,” she stresses the words with attentive eyes, “you can call me personally.” The uniform clad woman slides two key cards across the marble desk.