Player (A Secret Baby Sports Romance)(154)

I know the criminally good looking man in the tux standing right in front of me, even though I'm not supposed to. I shouldn't know about the body built for sin underneath that tux; shouldn't know about the tattoos covering his chest and the coiled muscles of his biceps, or those abs carved out of marble. I shouldn't know how the muscles on the side of his hips groove down like pure sex, and I certainly shouldn't be able to exactly picture the thick- well, what I know he's got between his legs.

He's shaved his beard off, and the bruises around his face from the last time - from seeing him slumped in the elevator that night barely a week ago - seemed to be healing. I briefly wonder about the shallow stab wound in his side and how the bruised rib is doing.

And how is it that I know these things I shouldn't? Because one week ago, I saw those bruises; I sewed up that wound.

My one one night stand, the one man I never expected to see again even if I haven't been able to get him out of my head for the last eight days, is standing in a tuxedo, right in front of me, at my sister's wedding.

What the hell is going on here?

My brain is still trying to get my mouth to work and say something to the grinning, criminally good looking man standing in front of me, when the door to greenhouse bangs open.

“There you ar- Oh, hey!”

Hudson, my very soon-to-be-brother-in-law, smiles at me, “Good, looks like you two found each other.”

Huh?

“I mean, wow, how long's it been since you guys even last saw each other?”

Warning bells start to sound inside my head, slowly at first and then building louder and louder, until there's an audible ringing in my ears. Hudson opens his mouth again, and the words that tumble out have my heart jumping up into my throat as the floor practically drops out beneath my feet; “Quinn, you know Logan, right?”

Oh God; oh holy fucking shit-balls. No-no-no-no-no...

The words are screaming through my head as I whirl around almost in slow motion to lock eyes on him. I can see the same horrible shock mirrored across his face as his eyes go wide as the recognition dawns on him too.

“You know Logan, right?”

God, do I know 'know' him?

I know how his lips taste. I know how his tongue feels buried between my legs. And I know how his cock feels as he grabs my hips and slides deep inside of me. Yeah, I think it's safe to say I know Logan Dempsey.

Except, I sure didn't know who he was then; not that night.

Of all the men in all the world, it had to be him. The one night stand that never should have happened; and in half an hour my sister is going to marry his brother, which basically means we're family.

I'm barely breathing as his eyes lock in on mine. And it's almost still in slow motion when he grins and sticks a hand out; “Great to see you again, Doc.”

Oh, fuck.





2





Logan




Oh fuck me fucking sideways.

You know that dream you have where you go to school with no pants on or some shit? Yeah, well that's what this feels like. Except this isn't a dream and the reality is staring me in the face with wide, accusatory bright blue eyes. The girl from that night barely a week ago; the girl who patched me up and probably saved my ass.

The girl who stayed in my bed afterwords and fell asleep on my chest.

Oh, and the girl who later slid down my cock and rode me like a woman possessed until we were both screaming for air. Fuck, she looked strangely familiar before, but she looks like original sin staring me in the face now.

Quinn Archer; William Archer's daughter. I slept with the daughter of the man who brought me up in the world from nothing, gave me the gilded life out a fucking book, and taught me to be a man.

And I fucked his daughter. Oh, and her sister is basically my future sister-in-law; future as in thirty minutes from now. I'm suddenly horrified at the shit I gave Hudson when I first heard about him and Reagan, William's second daughter. I mean what are the fucking odds?! They're actually too much to even comprehend, and I know odds. I mean of all the girls in all the world, THIS has to be the random chick who found me that night? I can still remember her hands - so firm and so unflinching as she sewed and patched me up. And then her lips; yeah, I can definitely remember those lips. They're the same pouty lips parted in shock and probably the same jolt of fear I'm feeling right now as she stares at me, but damn do I remember how they felt crushed against my own as she moaned into my mouth.

Fuck. This is literally the last girl on the whole fucking planet I should have anything to do with besides a friendly nod or a boring conversation about work at the odd Christmas party.

Protect them. William's words reverberate through my head, filling the deafening silence between my ears. The Old Man's dying words were to make sure his daughters were safe and protected. I'm fairly confident that grabbing Quinn's hips and pulling her back against me as I bury my cock inside of her doesn't count much in that department.