Not really.
Okay, fine she hoped he might want that, but she wouldn’t allow herself to hope too long because that was flat out foolish. He was a man who could have anyone he wanted. He’d already had her once and dumped her. Why would he want her again?
It made no sense. Yet here he was, whispering in her ear how much he wanted her, needed her, just before he slipped deep inside her body. His behavior was confusing, to say the least. Was it wrong she sort of liked it when he bossed her around?
Her heart skipped a beat. She loved it when he was aggressive. Bossy, telling her what to do and when she could do it. She’d never been into any sort of BDSM-type stuff, but she loved it when Nick got all growly and demanding. Her panties were a soaked mess most of the time, especially when he didn’t ask for anything. He just took. Commanded. Possessed.
Her.
“…so Jared thinks Aubrey might have something for Flynn, but rumor has it Aubrey might have something for Nick too. Who knows.” Sheridan shook her head.
“Wait a minute.” She hadn’t been paying attention to what her friend said but that last remark got her listening. “Who’s Aubrey?”
Sheridan rolled her eyes. “The new publicist. The one who’s handling your man. An attractive woman comes to work for the team and next thing you know, she wants to date them all. Including your man. I think you need to make your claim.”
“Okay, that is the craziest thing I’ve ever heard. First of all, you sound like we’re living in a soap opera, which we so aren’t. And second, Nick doesn’t need to go out with anyone. He has me.” Didn’t that sound rather possessive of her? She didn’t even bother correcting herself in front of Sheridan. “And what do you mean, make my claim?”
“He hasn’t told anyone he has you. You’ve been kept completely separate from his regular life,” Sheridan pointed out. Again.
Willow frowned. Why? Was he ashamed of her? Of course, not like she brought him into her life, either. They were so on the down low, they really were like a soap opera.
Booty call.
Damn, she hated that phrase.
…
“The holidays are coming up.” Harvey grinned at Nick as he handed him a bottle of water.
“Thanksgiving’s already passed. That’s the only holiday that matters,” Nick said after he’d taken a long sip.
Harvey settled in the seat across from him. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those, Hamilton.”
“One of those what?” He was sick of the publicity pow-wows they kept having lately. He didn’t understand them. Didn’t understand Harvey and Aubrey’s sudden keen interest in him. What had he done to garner their heavy attention besides display a bit of crankiness on the field? Something he’d moved past, he might add. Last game he played, he’d been back to his chipper self.
They’d written an article about it in Sports Illustrated and everything.
Ridiculous.
“The type who beat up Christmas for being too commercial. All about the gift buying and nothing about Jesus’s birthday.” Harvey smirked.
“Well…that’s exactly what’s it turned into. It’s all about spending money and nothing else.” Huh. He wanted to spend money on Willow, but how? What could he get her that didn’t scream serious? Jewelry? So serious. A vacation for just the two of them like he’d mentioned to her the night at the Wharf? Extremely serious.
He was in a no-win situation.
“That’s great and all but I wanted to talk to you about your Christmas plans.” Harvey leaned forward. “You going back home as usual?”
“Yep.” Nick nodded, slouched in his chair. Practice was done. He’d texted Willow not thirty minutes ago asking if she was ready for date number five.
She’d sent back a reply in all caps, an enthusiastic: YES.
So why was he still here listening to Harvey’s bullshit when he could be in a woman’s bed, her warm, willing body wrapped all around him?
“Going back alone?”
What was Harvey getting at? “I usually do.”
“Gonna see your mama and your dad and your sister?” Harvey prodded, slipping into a mangled Texan accent.