Bad Boy's Bridesmaid (40 page)

Chapter Eleven – Leah

I woke stiff and
exhausted and…sticky.

Very
sticky.

Everywhere. My
thighs. My slit. The sheets.

Jack wasn’t in
the bed—thank
God
. I slipped from the blankets, stood on wobbly legs,
and surveyed the mess. At least I could assess the damage without him watching
and flashing that knowing smile. 

Not like I
hadn’t earned it last night. That gorgeous, cocky smirk overwhelmed me when I
was under him, conquered me when I rode him, and dominated me even as I crushed
my body against his to harden his cock once more. I’d wanted him to take me
again and again.

I got my way.

Three times.
Maybe four?

I couldn’t even
remember. The night was a blur of pleasure, energy, and undeniable,
unquenchable need. I had never, ever experienced anything so erotic or insane
or unbelievably sexy.

Now the sun
rose. I was supposed to return to my normal state of respectability and
repression.

But how could I
handle the man who turned me from responsible, controlled Leah into a crazed
sex kitten? I remembered my demands. Bare cocks. Coming inside. Orgasms.

Babies.

Oh, God. I was a
mess. My core still heated. It was sticky too.

I had
unprotected sex. A
lot
of it.

But I didn’t
have any regrets. That was the strange part, especially since I was usually
suffering in shame after my nights with Wyatt. Even after dating for so long,
we only ever had sex under the covers, carefully and slowly and
always
with a condom. The last thing either of us wanted was a mistake that would ruin
our judiciously crafted lives.

Well, that
life-plan ruined before it began. Now I’d have a baby at twenty-four with the
star, playboy quarterback of the Ironfield Rivets. It was as good a plan as
any, especially since it meant sex with a man who dominated my body with the
same ease he ruled the football field.

I checked my
phone. Eight o’clock. At least it was a Saturday or I’d have one hell of a time
explaining my tardiness to Jolene.
No, sorry, I was getting my brains fucked
out by Jack Carson last night. Nope, we weren’t careful at all! I took so much
of his seed inside me, I’m still dripping this morning…

Christ, that
thought shouldn’t have gotten me hot. But it did. Horribly. Shamefully.

I let my fingers
glide over the slickness between my legs—some of it mine, most of it Jack’s. My
clit throbbed under my touch, and every little bump nearly drove the air from
my lungs.

I was still
sensitive. Still wanting.

This was trouble
waiting to happen, and I’d have to leave the safety of the bedroom to confront
the trouble-maker himself.

I rinsed off in
his expensive, beautiful shower with more soaps and oils, dials and temperature
settings than a man like Jack Carson ever needed. The spa tub looked
comfortable though. A good soaking tub was a quarterback’s best friend on
Monday mornings. Also, a bottle of aspirin. And, of course, I remembered Jack
telling me he often added a
blow-job
to his recommended prescriptions.

It shouldn’t
have tingled me to think that maybe I’d be the one giving him that small
comfort after a hard game.

I had nothing to
wear, so I stole one of his shirts, the first thing my fingers brushed from the
drawer. Of course it was a jersey. Wearing it would only boost his ego, but
after last night? Maybe he deserved that swagger.

The jersey was
long enough to cover my behind. The black and crimson stripes looked better on
him, but at least it’d shield most of my nudity from the man.

Not like I
wasn’t seared into his memory by now.

He’d be forever
in my mind.

I tip-toed into
the kitchen. He flipped pancakes and crisped bacon, bare-chested. It was as
good an image as last night’s tensing muscles and dark tattoos cradling my
body. I slipped onto a stool at the kitchen island, marveling at the brand new
stove top, counters, and appliances that lined a professional grade kitchen.

Jack was
planning to say something smart. He glanced once over the jersey and his grin
turned wicked.

“Holy fuck,
Kiss, you have no idea how bad I wanna fuck you while you wear that.”

I tugged at the
material, feigning disinterest with the name of his league rival. “I was
looking for a Tim Morgan jersey, but I figured yours would do.”

Teasing him
didn’t have the intended consequence. His cock hardened, tenting his boxers.
The spatula cast onto the counter, and he leapt at me, forcing me into a kiss.

Everything
inside of me melted, but I wasn’t ready to lose myself into that reckless,
consuming passion again.

We probably
needed to talk.

I thought so.

Maybe?

What was left to
talk about? We agreed to make a baby. We had sex. Now the bacon was burning.

I slipped from
his arms to take his post in front of the stove, my bare feet chilled on the
cold tile. It was the only part of me cold. Everywhere else burned like I
struck myself with the grease.

I flipped the
pancakes as Jack’s hands wove over my hips. The heat turned to an inferno, and
I whimpered as his lips brushed against my neck. He had bitten there last
night. Now his mouth grazed over the sensitive little bruises and nips.
Apologizing. Re-energizing. Seducing me all over again.

I had no idea
what to say to him, or how to even begin when my words dissolved into a sensual
purr. I whispered his name. His grip tightened on me.

“Did you have
fun last night?” His whisper ached my core.

His thick arms
circled me, holding me, pinning me against the solid strength of his flexing,
bare chest. It was almost too much. My mouth dried. I nodded instead.

“Do you regret
it?”

I licked my
lips, wishing he’d kiss me instead of making me talk.

“Absolutely
not,” I said.

I heard Jack’s
grin through his words, muffled in the sensitive hollow of my throat. “Did I
hurt you?”

“Hurt me?”

“I took you
harder than I planned.” He switched off the stove and lifted me up, setting me
on the counter if only so he could move between my legs again. His blue-eyes
flashed, mischievous, the gaze of a rogue looking to steal what he had already
taken. “You turned me into an animal, Kiss. Couldn’t contain myself.”

“I survived.”

“Wish I had.
Can’t stop thinking about you. If you knew how hard I was…”

I knew very well
how hard he was. I felt it pressing against me. I arched an eyebrow.

“You still want
more?” I asked. “Even after all of last night?”

“Fuck yeah, I
do.” Jack’s fingers grazed my bare leg, tickling up to the hem of the jersey.
“Tell me that wasn’t the best sex of your life.”

“Aren’t you a
little smug?”

“I deserve to
be. I rocked your world.”

I rolled my
eyes. “Good Lord, Jack. You think everyone’s world revolves around you.”

“Tell me I’m
wrong. Tell me you aren’t still weak in the knees and wetter than hell because
of me.”

He knew the
answer to that. I looked down, but my gaze fell only to the definition of his
broad chest. The man was pure muscle, absolutely rock hard in every place his
body had laid over mine.

“You’re not wrong.”
I wasn’t afraid to be honest with him. “I’ve never had a night like that. Never
had anything like that before.”

Jack frowned.
“Not even with your ex?”

“
Especially
not with Wyatt.”

“What about
before him?”

Tricky,
dangerous territory. “There…wasn’t anyone before him.”

Jack took a step
back. “You only had sex with
one
guy before me?”

“Yeah.”

“
Why
?”

I didn’t think
he’d understand. “Because I had a
plan
. Wyatt and I dated in college, we
were getting married. I plotted out the kids and the jobs and everything. It
was going to
work
. I prepared for a perfect life, everything I ever
wanted.”

Jack’s
expression darkened. “Then he cheated on you.”

My stomach flipped.
I still wasn’t over that pain, even after a year. “Yeah. He…wanted a bit of
freedom. He didn’t like the plan anymore, and, instead of telling me, he
decided to sleep with my best friend. They…they got married after she realized
she was pregnant.”

“Sorry, Kiss.”

“It’s fine. I
thought I could just…power through it. I’d take what I wanted anyway. I haven’t
really trusted anyone since then.”

He nodded.
“Makes it hard to get married and have all those kids, doesn’t it?”

I shifted, my
fingers clenching the counter. “I had a plan for that too.”

“Doesn’t
surprise me.”

“I was…getting
information on sperm donors.”

Jack laughed.
“Are you serious?”

“It probably
sounds crazy, but I’ve always known what I wanted from life. I …figured I could
do it without the marriage and husband.”

“Then I won’t
feel so guilty for wanting to impregnate you.” Jack meant it as a joke, but I
heard the desire in his words. “This arrangement worked out good for you.”

“That remains to
be seen.”

Jack glanced
over the jersey, my soft legs. I swear he saw right through the material to my
bare flesh beneath. “I’ll take care of everything with this baby, Kiss.”

“I doubt that,
but thanks.”

“I’m serious. I
can handle the midnight feedings. Diaper runs. All that stuff.”

“Do you know the
first thing about babies?”

“Not at all, but
I can learn.”

I reached for a
strip of bacon, nibbling on the end. Jack stared at my lips.

“Do you like
kids?” I asked.

“Hell yeah.”
Jack tucked three strips of bacon into a folded pancake and dipped the
improvised breakfast taco into syrup. He took a big bite and looked surprised
when I gave him a skeptical smirk. “Of course I like kids. They’re great. They
like fun. They don’t have any expectations or responsibilities. They like to
have a good time. So do I.”

“I figured as
much.”

Jack swallowed,
his smile fading. “My kid will have all the fun there is in life. All of it.
The amusement parks and toys and vacations and everything. They’ll have it all,
because not every kid gets a chance to do something as simple as throw a ball
with their dad.”

I lowered the
bacon. Jack’s eyes weren’t on me anymore. He focused only on a memory I don’t
think he shared with anyone. It all started to make sense.

He gave money
directly to McGrin Regional Hospital. The
pediatric
ward.

He didn’t want
anyone to know about the donation.

There was a
reason for it.

“Jack…” I drew
his attention to me. “Why were you at McGrin Regional?”

He pushed from
the counter. My body chilled without him between my legs. It only flickered,
but already I missed his smile.

“My little
brother died when he was nine,” Jack said.

Oh. My breath
escaped in a mournful gasp. “I’m so sorry.”

“Leukemia. I was
seventeen when it happened.”

My heart
shattered for him. Jack tossed the rest of his breakfast away. His hand
trembled, and he curled it into a fist. He glanced at me, jaw tight.

“He was one hell
of an athlete. Or would have been.”

“Is everyone in
your family athletic?”

“Nah. He was
better than me. Did things when he was a kid I couldn’t do. If he hadn’t gotten
sick, he could have done anything. Football, soccer, baseball. The fucking
Olympics.”

“It sounds like
you really loved him.”

Jack swallowed.
“Yeah. He idolized me for some stupid reason. He loved going to my high school
games. He cheered for me louder than my mom.” He paused, and I realized it was
probably the first time he was telling anyone about this. “When he got too sick
to come to the games, I brought in the recording, and we watched it together.
The last time he smiled was while we watched a recording of the semi-finals. I
forgot the snap count and ate a sack on the goal line. He rewound that play so
many damn times I got pissed and broke the DVD. He thought it was hilarious.”

“What was his
name?”

“Sam.”

Jack paced the
kitchen. I hated how painful it was for him, but he was telling me anyway. That
was a gift, a revelation I doubted he trusted many to know.

“Sam deserved a
better life than that. I watched this little kid just…waste away.” He paused, a
long moment while he remembered more than I felt right asking to hear. “The
doctors did good though. They tried everything, and he was always taken care
of. So I, uh…” He shrugged. “I figure I can give something back to the wing in
his memory.”