The music, the inane chatter, and the overpriced drinks at the bar at Cruz Tower were not what I had in mind for tonight.
I’d been taking hits all day. Denver had decided to make it their mission to sack my quarterback and being the biggest, baddest center in the league, I couldn’t let that happen. The Knights might have lost the game, but it wasn’t because Troy hadn’t been protected.
What I needed now was a big meal and long soak in a hot tub and then to head upstairs to the new kink club, the Asylum, for some real relaxation. What I had was a cold drink and a long shot at getting laid.
“Come on, man. Take one for the team, buddy. Please, I’m begging you.” How the hell a two-hundred and fifty-pound defensive lineman had pleading puppy-dog eyes perfected baffled me. But Bryan had the look and the tone down pat.
“That might work on the chicks, Bry, but I am not taking out the DUF so the rest of you dickheads can get up close and personal with her friends.”
There were plenty of good-looking, willing, and waiting women at the club. But these guys were all too pussy to go up there with me.
Nick and Jake shook their heads and laughed. They already knew they were off the hook because they’d invited the girls to the bar in the first place. Fuckers.
I should have known better than to come out with the guys tonight. It will cheer everyone up after the brutal loss, they’d said. Ball bunnies will be warm and willing to comfort us all, they’d said. Nobody said anything about me getting designated ugly friend duty.
“You haven’t even seen her yet. She’s not unattractive, just a bit, uh, plain, and she’ll be glamorous standing next to your ugly mug,” Jake said.
“Fuck. Off.”
“I could, but they’re on their way over.” Bryan turned on his anchorman smile and nodded toward the entrance to the bar.
Damn it. “You owe me for miles, Bry.”
Bryan slapped me on the shoulder and bobbed his head vying for the first look at the ladies. “Yeah, sure. I’ll take the next one.”
“The next three.”
God, we were all a bunch of assholes who were probably going to hell. But we had a good time, and never let anything get very serious. That was exactly how I liked my relationships with the ladies.
I was young and in the prime of my career. Three years in the league and all with the Knights. I’d made a name for myself in the Big Apple, which I didn’t need to taint with a meaningful relationship that would turn into a wife and kids, houses with picket fences and a once a month vanilla sex life.
The giggles coming from halfway across the room had me rolling my eyes. I didn’t even have to look to guess what they looked like. Bottle blondes, fake boobs, no butts and the brains to match. I hadn’t gotten tired of them in the last three years, one more night wouldn’t kill me.
Except I wasn’t getting one of the ball bunnies. I had the responsibility of entertaining that one friend all groups of pretty women had and felt obligated to bring out with them. The girl who was badly in need of a makeover and usually an attitude adjustment.
Whatever. I’d get all touchy feely with her, tell her how pretty her eyes were and have her eating out of my hand before the other yahoos even got their girls’ numbers. Then I’d take her home, dazzle her with my brand new McMansion-sized condo in Cruz Tower and my prowess in the bedroom. She’d be talking about her one night with a Knight for years.
“Ladies,” a lilted feminine voice started the introductions, “meet Nick, defensive end, Bryan, defensive lineman, Jake, cornerback, and—”
“Hudson?” The sweetest voice, like honey and eternal youth, washed over me.
I couldn’t move fast enough, the world became a slow-mo instant replay. Getting off the stool and turning around to see the specter of love lost took a monumental effort.
I scanned the group in front of us. These were not your typical ball bunnies. From left to right there was a curvy brunette girl, defensive end, cornerback, slightly familiar looking curvier Black girl, sex on a stick Latina girl, defensive lineman, curvy bright white strawberry blonde.
Screech. My brain hit the brakes and then rewind.
Sex on a stick Latina girl. She had curves in all the right places, a butt I could grab onto and a great fucking rack. Her chocolaty brown hair framed her face, and the smattering of freckles across her nose had me hard in an instant. Freckles I could distinguish from any other in the whole world, because I’d kissed and licked every single one to be seen and a few that weren’t.
“Camila? What are you doing here?”
“Oh, my God. Hudson. I can’t believe it’s you.” Mila touched her fingers to her lips, hiding her smile, exactly like I remembered.
“Mila, you know a Knight and you didn’t share? You’ve been holding out on us,” strawberry blonde said.
Strawberry had been the one making the introductions even though I had never seen her before. She tried to sidle up to me, but I only had eyes, and arms, and time for one girl.
I called upon my highly refined blocking skills to use Strawberry’s momentum and moved her right into Bryan’s waiting arms. I quick-stepped around the other girls until there was nothing between me and Camila, but air and memories.
“You remember Aniya Smith.” Camila indicated toward the familiar looking Black girl.
No. “Sure, yeah. How’ve you been, Aniya?”
“Fine, Hud. I’ve been meaning to try and catch up with you. I’m organizing our ten-year reunion next summer. You’ll be back home in Chicago for it, won’t you?”
“Of course.” I nodded and smiled, a well-practiced skill that nary a reporter or ball bunny could see through. Aniya totally bought it.
“And these are our friends, Gail and Skylar.” Camila indicated to Strawberry and the brunette.
“Ladies, nice to meet you.” I quickly shook hands and made eye contact with my team-mates sending my best mental telepathy to take a girl and distract them.
The guys made their moves and started talking to Camila’s friends like the whole thing was a perfectly executed play. That left me with Camila all to myself.
“You don’t remember her at all, do you?” Camila leaned in and spoke directly into my ear.
Her breath smelled of cookies and flowers and sent shivers from the back of my neck straight to my cock. I needed to cool my libido. Mila was no ordinary chick. Not the kind I normally picked up at the bar, and definitely not the type I’d take to the Asylum.
I’d been head over heels for her in high school. Just looking at her now, I was already half in love with her again.
Whoa whoa whoa, Knight. Keep your cool. I grinned and shout-whispered back, “Not for a second. Who is she again?”
Mila stayed nice and close, so she could be heard over the crowd around us. God bless loud bars. “Imagine her with straight jet-black hair, black lipstick and lots and lots of black clothes.”
I took a second to look Bootylicious over. “Holy shit, that’s Scary Smith?”
She laughed. “The one and only.”
I could almost see it. That girl had done more than a one-eighty with herself, more like a seven-twenty. “What happened to her?”
Camila shrugged. “She grew up. I guess we all did.”
I took the opportunity to focus directly on Camila. I didn’t need to look her up and down. I knew every single one of those curves. “You look exactly the same. Beautiful.”
Her cheeks went all rosy, just like I’d hoped they would.
She shook her head, but smiled. “You always were a flatterer. I never believed a word that came out of your mouth.”
“You should have.” Especially the bit about wanting her to come with me to the East Coast for college. A tiny pain irked in the back of my brain that she’d ended up here anyway. Just, not with me.
The smile stayed on her lips, but a flicker of unhappiness flashed in her eyes. “I should have done a lot of things.”
What was that supposed to mean? I had a million questions to ask her, including how she’d ended up in New York and why she hadn’t called the second she got here.
“But I’m not thinking about any of them tonight. I’m out to celebrate and have fun with my girls.” She grabbed my glass of whiskey and downed it in two gulps.
I could watch her swallow all day long and into the night. And here came my cock rising again. Down boy.
A pulse-pounding song blared out into the bar. Happy hour must be over. Loud music meant loud talking meant dry mouths meant more drinks. We should get out of here. Together. Good plan.
“What are you celebrating?” I needed to know if it was important enough to hang around with her friends at the bar or if I could help her celebrate…all night.
She held a hand up to her ear. “What?”
“What. Are. You. Celebrating?”
“What?”
It wasn’t that I didn’t like being this close to her, but we couldn’t have a conversation this way. If we couldn’t talk, I couldn’t talk her into my bed. Where I would tie her up, spank her fantastic ass until it glowed pink, and fuck her senseless.
I pushed a hand into her hair and pulled her to me. Getting her close enough to whisper into her ear was certainly no hardship. The softness of her skin, the vanilla scent of her shampoo, all brought back an infinity of memories heating me from the inside out.
Her eyes went all big and then darkened. Well, hell. If she’d thought I was coming in for a kiss already, maybe I should.
“Mila, let’s go dance.” Someone literally shouted and snatched her right out of my arms.
Fucking hell.