Shot Caller (A Bad Boy's Baby Novel) (12 page)

Chapter Fifteen

Maddox

All
I can think as I peel my eyes open the next morning is, thank Christ it’s my
day off. Between the several rounds of drinks and the mind-blowing fuck last
night brought around, I’ll be lucky if I can even walk straight before noon.

My
arms are still wrapped snugly around Poppy’s naked, sleeping form. Her light
brown hair is spread across my hotel room pillow, her tight body pressed flush
against mine. Despite how completely zonked I am by last night, I can still
feel my cock stiffening against her sleeping body, begging for another round.
If I’m not careful, my need for this woman could very well kill me. But hell, I
could think or worse ways to go.

Poppy
must be as beat as I am, because she doesn’t even stir as I slip my arm from
beneath her and swing my legs over my side of the bed. The sheets and covers
are in complete disarray from last night’s…
activities
. A trail of
clothing leads toward the bedroom door and out into the living room. Stepping
back into my boxer briefs, I stroll out into the suite to put on a pot of
coffee. But just as I step into the very center of the living room, I hear the
front door lock click open. Before I can move a muscle, the door clatters wide
open.

“Hellooooo!”
my little sister Rose
trills, all but skipping into my suite with a gigantic rolling suitcase
trailing behind her.

“Christ
almighty,”
I
groan, shoving a hand roughly through my hair. I entirely forgot that Rosie was
coming to stay with me for a bit. I even left her a spare key at the front desk
so she could let herself in.

“Don’t
take the Lord’s name in vain,”
Rosie
replies, sliding her sunglasses up onto the crown of her head, “Especially not
while you’re running around in your undies.”

“You
could have called to tell me when you were gettin’
in,”
I grumble, continuing on
toward the coffee maker, “Instead of just surprisin’
me, I mean.”

“I
did
call you,”
Rosie
shoots back, trailing me into the kitchen, “I also emailed, texted, and
tweeted. But someone’s been too busy conquering another football league to give
his baby sis the time of day.”

“Fair
‘nough,”
I
allow, pouring some water into the machine.

“But
speakin’
of
surprises…”
Rosie
goes on, a wicked smile spreading across her face, “There is one little thing I
may have failed to mention…”

I
whip around to face my sister. “What little thing is that, Rosie?”

In
answer, she turns expectantly towards the door of my hotel room. I follow her
gaze just as another familiar face appears on the threshold.

“All
right, Mad?”
asks
Charlie Ainsworth, grinning ear to ear.

I
stare at the man who’s been my best mate since we were a couple of urchins
roaming around the council estate. He’s grown up quite a bit since then,
transforming from an underfed little kid to a burly, sturdy man. Charlie’s
built like a bulldog, not too tall but very strong. He’s got black curls that
trail down to his collar and perpetual scruff on his heavy jawline. But for all
his toughness, Charlie’s the most loyal, dedicated man I’ve ever known. He was
brought into the Hackney Firm just as I was, though he’s remained much more
central to the organization than I have. Whereas I’m more of an occasional
benefactor these days, Charlie is still right in the thick of it. I wouldn’t be
surprised if he was running the whole damn Firm one day.

“Charlie
fuckin’
Ainsworth,”
I bellow, striding across
the room towards him, “What are you doing here, mate?”

“Hold
it, Walcott,”
he
laughs, strong-arming me as I go to give him a hug, “You’re gonna need to put
some trousers on before I let you put your arms around me.”

“I
can live with that,”
I
grin back, giving Charlie a firm thump on the back, “But seriously, why didn’t
I know you were comin’
along
with Rosie?”

“You
think the Firm would let me hop across the pond to see you without sticking me
with a chaperone?”
Rosie
asks ironically.

“Don’t
flatter yourself, Rose,”
Charlie
winks over at her, “I just wanted to see how our boy was doing with my own two
eyes.”

“Is
that really all, then?”
I
press my best friend conspiratorially. “You came all this way to just to pay a
visit?”

“Well…”
Charlie allows, “I may
also be doing a little casual reconnaissance for the Firm. Atlantic City is a
great place to do business, you know. And now that we’ve got a man on the
ground here…”

“You
know my foot soldier days are over, mate,”
I remind Charlie, going to fetch a few
coffee mugs from the cupboard.

“Hey,
don’t shoot the messenger,”
Charlie
laughs, holding up his hands, “Besides, it’s mostly you I’m here for, Mad. All
the boys back home are glad to see you kicking some American arse over here.”

“And
landing some American arse too?”
Rosie asks pointedly.

I
glance over and see her eyes land firmly on Poppy’s stilettos, lying
haphazardly on the threshold of my bedroom. Ah, shit. Time to cover my arse—not
to mention my trainer’s.

“I’m
a footballer, not a monk,”
I
shrug, pouring myself a cup of joe.

“Who
do you have in there?”
Charlie
asks, looking curiously towards my bedroom.

“Just
a girl I met at the casino last night,”
I say, lying through my teeth, “You know
how it goes.”

“Mad,
I wish I knew firsthand how it went for you,”
Charlie laughs.

“Bloody
animals, the both of you,”
Rosie
mutters, turning on her heel, “I need a little lie-down after that flight. I’ll
be next door in my room for a bit.”

“Sounds
good,”
I
tell her, trying not to sound too eager to be rid of her.

“I’ll
go track down my own room as well,”
Charlie adds, following Rosie towards the
door, “We’ll catch up later, yeah?”

“Of
course,”
I
tell him, “Go sleep off some of that jet lag and I’ll see you later.”

I
play it cool until the front door of my suite has shut behind them with a
click. Setting down my mug, I go and do up the chain before any other
unexpected visitors can pop in. But as I lean my back against the heavy door, I
see a slim figure appear in the bedroom doorway across the suite.

“Don’t
mind me,”
Poppy
says lightly, padding across the living room in her bare feet, “I’m just a girl
you met at the casino, in dire need of some coffee.”

I
watch her walk across the space, wearing nothing but one of my white tee shirts
and some panties. It occurs to me, as she pours herself a cup of joe, that I
haven’t had a morning-after run-in for years. I’m not really a stay-the-night
kind of bloke, myself. Nor do I have much interest in having my one night
stands sleep over. But last night, the thought of bailing or kicking Poppy out
of my bed didn’t even occur to me. It’s not like I was blackout drunk, or
anything. I definitely could have booted her out of my room. But I guess I
just…didn’t really want to. And now that I’m watching her gorgeous self walk
around my place, barely clothed, I can certainly understand why.

“Sleep
all right?”
I
ask her, making my way into the kitchen.

“Sure,
until your entourage showed up,”
she replies, leaning back against the
counter, “Who were those two anyway?”

“Just
my little sister Rose and my best mate Charlie,”
I tell her, “They’ve come over to
visit for a bit.”

“Wow…”
Poppy says, cocking her
head at me, “That’s…
uncharacteristically
sweet.”

“You
sound surprised,”
I
observe, planting a hand on the counter to either side of her, boxing her in
before me.

“Well,”
she replies, trailing a
hand down my chest, “‘Sweet’
wouldn't
be the first word I’d use to describe you. Especially not after the hard
fucking you gave me last night.”

A
smile spreads across my face as Poppy toys with the elastic waistband of my
briefs. This woman is insatiable.

“You
certainly seemed to be enjoying yourself,”
I murmur, leaning in so she can feel my
stiffening cock against her hip.

“Sure
I did,”
she
breathes, flicking her brown eyes up to meet mine, “I like my coffee strong, my
wine dry, and my sex good and hard. I don’t really go in for sweet.”

“Good,”
I growl, lifting the
coffee mug from her hand and setting it down hard on the counter, “Because
nothing I want to do to you is sweet.”

Poppy
gasps as I spin her around, bending her over the kitchen counter. Our knickers
are back around our ankles before she can even say, “Oh, fuck yes.”

One
thing’s for sure—whoever said that the best part of waking up was your morning
cup of coffee never took the time to fuck someone dirty while the coffee went
cold. I, for one, highly recommend it.

Chapter Sixteen

Poppy

I
have more sex over the next few weeks than I've had over the course of my
entire adult life. Look at me, mad for the Mad Man. To give credit where credit
is due, Maddox is far more discreet about our affair than I could have
imagined. I guess that when you’re as famous as he is, you learn how to cover
your tracks pretty damn well. If I thought our sexting habit was an exciting,
intoxicating secret to hold between us, I could never have guessed how
thrilling it would be to hide a full-blown affair from the entire world. And
make no mistake, the entire world
is
watching.

Though
work could obviously be a huge complication in this sexy arrangement, it also
provides a pretty excellent cover for my rendezvous with Maddox. It’s perfectly
reasonable for us to stay after hours together and work on his physical
fitness. Or for me to stop by his hotel to take a look at a potential injury.
Or for us to go out with the guys after a game or practice. We even find that
we can be friendly with each other while we’re on the job without attracting
suspicion. In fact, Glover is glad to see what good bedside manner I have with
the players.

If
only he knew the extent of it…

The
only person who seems suspicious of my easy rapport with Maddox and the rest of
the team is Barry O’Leary. Ever since he made that crappy call about Barlow a
few games ago, Barry has had it out for me. He watches me like a hawk,
critiquing every single decision I make. Not exactly the best conditions for
carrying on an illicit affair. But Maddox and I become pros at keeping our secret
as the weeks fly by. Our time together is too important to jeopardize.

Little
by little, I start to learn more about Maddox Walcott, the man. Even though
most of our alone time is spent fucking each other into oblivion, we manage to
squeeze in some light conversation here and there. I tell him about my WASPy
Manhattan upbringing, he tells me about growing up in London’s equivalent of
the projects. I describe my emotionally abusive mother; he comes back with
tales about his physically abusive father. I even get to spend some time with
Mad’s sister Rosie and best friend Charlie when the team goes out as a group.
Little do they know that I was the girl in Mad’s bed the morning they arrived.

The
days roll over me as I come to know Maddox Walcott’s body as well as my
own—every perfect, chiseled inch of it. Sex with Mad is a full-body experience,
an endurance sport if I ever knew one. Nothing I do or want is too much for
him, and he challenges me every single day. Not just in the sack, mind you. But
in my work, in conversation. He pushes me to be more assertive, more decisive,
more firm in my opinions. Somehow, this arrogant, swaggering bad-boy is
actually doing wonders for my self-confidence and happiness. Wonders never
cease.

One
Sunday morning in April, just a little over three weeks since we first kick
started our affair, Maddox and I are lying in a pile of jumbled blankets on the
floor of my beach house living room. We didn’t even make it upstairs last
night, so eager were we to have each other. Mad is still asleep as I roll over
to face him, moving slowly as to not wake him. His face is entirely transformed
in sleep. The hard, assertive mask he wears all day long is lifted. His
features are softer, relaxed. He looks like an entirely different person…
or maybe just the person
he is underneath all his swagger and rage.

I
have to admit, as I lay here watching Maddox Walcott sleep, that some genuine
affection is starting to color my feelings for him. Sure, this whole affair is
still mostly just that to me—a lusty, passionate fling that will surely never
grow into anything more substantial. But some little part of me is starting to
truly
like
Maddox, despite all my good sense. The more I learn about his
past, his ambitions, his demons and his strengths alike, the more I have to ask
myself whether I really just want sex out of this relationship, or something
more?

“Jesus
Christ,”
Mad
growls as his eyes crack open, “What’re you staring at me for, you bloody
weirdo?”

“Good
morning to you too, sunshine,”
I
say, rolling my eyes as I sit up in our makeshift nest. “You want some
breakfast before you steal away into the shadows?”

“I
am
starving,”
Maddox
says, pulling himself up onto his elbow, “But there’s no way I’m risking my
life with your cooking again.”

“Hey!”
I exclaim, giving him a
playful shove, “I’m a perfectly…adequate cook.”

“You
can barely boil water, and we both know it,”
Mad shoots back, standing to collect his
clothes. I drop my protestations at the sight of his perfectly muscled naked
body. I’m content to cede my point if it means I get to ogle him for an extra
few seconds.

“Tell
you what,”
he
offers, stepping into his jeans, “Why don’t we go out instead?”

“Out?”
I echo, “You mean out
into the world? Together? As a…couple?”

Maddox
groans in disgust. “No, not as a bloody couple,”
he says, “As two people who both need
to eat food every once in a while.”

“What
I meant was, we could be mistaken for a couple,”
I clarify. “It’s like you tell me all
the time, prying eyes are everywhere.”

“Not
at some shitty New Jersey diner at 6 o’clock in the morning,”
he replies.

“That’s
your pitch? Wow. You really do know how to show a girl a good time,”
I scoff.

“Fine.
You can stay here with your burnt toast and slimy eggs,”
he says, zipping up his
hoodie, “S’no skin off my nose.”

“Wait,
wait,”
I
grumble, hurrying back into last night’s clothes, “I need a good Jersey diner
fix. I’m coming with you.”

Maddox
and I trek out into the April morning side-by-side. The sun is just beginning
to brighten the sky, and a warm breeze brushes against my face as we step out
onto the boardwalk. Looking down the stretch of beachfront, I can see the small
residential houses give way to the grand extravagance of Atlantic City. The
antiquated architecture of the roaring 20’s still stands, here and there, run
through with towering casinos and hotels. I wonder how many other pairs of
forbidden lovers have made their way along this very boardwalk?

This
is a first for Maddox and I, stepping out together first thing in the morning.
Usually, we make sure to part ways before anyone has the chance to spot us
together. But Maddox is right, we have nothing to worry about. The only other
people out and about this early in the morning are a couple of very devoted
joggers, and they’re sure to be more invested in their Fitbits than the two of
us.

I
take a deep breath of sea air, relishing this rare moment of peace. Between my
new job and my extracurricular activities with Maddox, I barely have a second
to myself these days. I don’t mind being busy, but this quiet morning is really
hitting the spot for me. It’s incredible how at ease I feel with Maddox Walcott
by now. We can easily share a silence together, without worrying over small
talk or etiquette. I don’t feel like I have to perform anything for him. I can
just be myself.

And
what’s more, I actually
like
the person I am around Mad. That’s much
more than I can say for my relationship with Jason, which was mostly comprised
of self-loathing and self-pity in turn. Luckily, I haven’t heard from Jason again
since the night Mad broke his nose. And after that ugly scene my ex caused a
few weeks back, I’d be happy never to hear from him again.

“Why
do you look like you’ve just swallowed a bug?”
Mad asks me.

“Just
thinking of something unpleasant,”
I laugh, glancing up at him.

Every
once in a while, Mad’s gorgeousness knocks the wind out of me, even after all
this time. Looking up at him now, I can barely breathe as I take in his
brooding, expressive face. The strong set of his scruffy jaw, the high arches
of his cheekbones, his bottomless grey eyes, the thick brown hair blown across
his forehead by the sea breeze…it’s almost too much to take in at once. But
hell if I won’t try anyway.

“Why
dwell on the crap, Poppy?”
Maddox
goes on, laying his arm across my shoulder, “Life’s no fun that way.”

I
glance behind us, making sure no one’s there to see this show of affection.

“Life’s
no fun when you’re paranoid as hell, either,”
he presses, giving me a little nudge.

“Sorry,”
I mutter, bringing my
eyes back to his, “I just have a feeling that this thing we have is going to
have to end. Something’s going to go wrong. I don’t know whether we should be
honest about it and just tell the team, or whether we should keep it under
wraps, or—”

“Come
on, Poppy,”
Maddox
says firmly, stopping in his tracks and looking down at me, “We’ve barely even
started. No need to be worried about the end.”

“But
what about—”

“Would
you shut up for a second?”
he
murmurs, laying his strong hand on my cheek, “Just let what’s going to happen
happen.
Can you do that for me?
”

And
with that, he draws my lips to his, kissing me hard and deep right there in the
open, beneath the sprawling sky. I melt against him, unable to summon a care in
the world outside of Maddox Walcott. That’s the effect he has on me. Sometimes
the depth of my absorption with him is even a little scary. But just because
something is scary, doesn’t mean you should run from it. In fact, quite often,
it means you should embrace it.