Indulgence (264 page)

“Cut the crap, Terrance.” Nicco shoved the other man off him
and over onto the other woman who shrieked and let him grab her tits. Parker
flushed even hotter as Nicco’s voice cut through the chest-thumping music. “
Jesu
,
you are so….”

“Amazing? Incredibly well hung? Talented with your cock?”
Terry leaned into the woman, smiling, his dark eyes sharp and definitely angry,
his voice low and rumbling.

“Shut up. You ass,” Nicco hissed.

Parker bit back the most compelling urge he’d ever felt. The
blazing in his gut burned all the way up to the back of his eyeballs. He
gripped his knees under the small table and used everything he had not to put a
hand to Nicco’s face, to cup his rough cheek, soothe, caress, ease the tension
that rolled off the older man like smoke. He sighed and sat back, let the
female he’d been ready to fuck a few minutes ago nibble his neck and keep
stroking his denim-trapped dick.

“This is surreal.” He held out his glass. Might as well be
drunk on top of it.

Nicco poured him a healthy splash and shot him a grin that
didn’t reach his huge dark eyes. “
Sí
. Well, you are in one of the most
surreal cities on the planet, I’d say.
Salud
.” He held up his glass and
clinked it to Parker’s, the irony taking his face again, replacing the moment
of soft introspection.

Parker put both arms on the back of the booth and closed his
eyes. The woman’s lips traveled around his neck. Fingers unbuttoned his shirt,
unzipped his jeans and slipped them down. First one hand, then two, stroked
him. He sighed and went into a familiar space in his head. The space where he
fondled amazing soft curves, sucked nipples, fingered warm, velvety female
bodies. But always had to imagine something else, something harder, more
angular and rough every time to find his release. He shifted his hips, let the
alcohol buzz and his own deep need motivate him beyond his usual reticence for
public displays of affection much less public displays of utter eroticism.

“Good Christ,” he gasped when lips covered the head of his
cock. A tongue flicked and teased. A hand cupped his balls. A finger slid
lower, rubbing and making his entire body pulse with pure pleasure. Music
pounded in his ears. His hands clenched into fists. The woman’s soft, eager
mouth swallowed him. He grunted at the sensation. His hips bucked. The finger
moved lower, massaging, pressing deep, making him groan.

When he opened his eyes, the woman stared at him, covered
his mouth with hers, and he let her, suddenly realizing whose lips were around
his cock, whose throat he fucked, whose hair he fisted. He broke away as
Nicco’s fingertip triggered a gut-deep, earth shattering, terrifying orgasm
roaring up from the soles of his feet, lighting his spinal column and exploding
behind his eyes. He cried out, no longer caring if the music covered him up,
thrust deep into the other man’s mouth and let it happen.

Holy shit. Holy mother of ….

Parker jerked away, panting, fear, terror and lust roiling
in his brain, making him breathless and pissed beyond words. “Shit.” He yanked
his jeans up, shoved the woman out and fell to his knees in his haste to
escape. What the hell had just happened? What had he done? He had to play
soccer with this man. He was supposed to beat him at his own goddamned position
in two days. They were…teammates.

His eyes burned. Nicco licked his lips as he stared at
Parker, his dark eyes blank.

Well you did it didn’t you Doc? Yes. You did. Now you are
that guy. The guy you didn’t want to be.
He grabbed the half empty,
three-hundred-dollar bottle of Scotch and stalked away, drinking from the neck
of the thing. As he made his way through the crowd, gorgeous men and women
draped around him, kissing his exposed skin until he figured out he should
button his shirt. But first…He smiled down at a blonde woman with the biggest,
fakest tits he’d ever seen and tugged her close.

The urge to jump off the top of this building felt way too
viable at the moment. He had do something to dispel the horror of the last few
minutes—when he’d just gotten a goddamn, mother fucking blowjob from Nicco
Garza.

This is not me
, his brain insisted as he tugged the
strange girl into an alcove, shoved her up against the wall, lifted her skirt
and stroked her soft, familiar folds, slipping two fingers into her, making her
squirm and sigh. As he leaned over and sucked a nipple between his lips, her
body shuddered in a familiar way. He groaned when she palmed his rapidly
hardening cock then shoved her off him, took a slug from the bottle he’d never
dropped while fingering the nameless, eager chick. She wrapped her arms around
his neck.

“You’re on the Black Jacks, no?” she purred, making Parker
wince at his callous thoughts of “get the fuck away from me”.

“Yeah, that’s me. Soccer star.” He grimaced at her and
stomped away, drinking the burning brown liquor, trying to find the steps so he
could escape this utter nightmare. He glanced back and stumbled, the floor
having become suddenly unreliable under his feet. A strong hand gripped his
biceps. He looked at it then up at its owner’s face.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he growled, jerking his arm out of
Nicco’s grasp. “I am not that guy, okay. I don’t, I can’t, shit!” He lifted the
green bottle to his mouth, but the other man took it.

“Go easy,
amigo
,” he crooned. Parker squinted, tried
to get the two Niccos to form into one, then gave up and sank into a chair,
head in his hands. The room resumed its nauseating spin. He sensed the other
man’s face near his, but he shifted away unwilling to be near him lest he give
in to what he truly wanted. Because it simply could not happen. They were pro
athletes, and he would be damned if he disappointed his parents one more time
by being…gay.

A tall glass of ice water appeared, and he drained it,
willing the other man away from him. Didn’t work. The tall, dark figure pulled
a chair up alongside him and draped an arm over his shoulders. Parker braced
himself for sarcasm, for innuendo, for the usual bullshit spewing from the
guy’s lips.

“I’m sorry.” His soft Spanish lilt made Parker clench his
eyes shut. “
Querido. Lo siento.
I should not have done that to you.” The
man put a hand on his thigh, kept his lips near Parker’s ear.

“It’s fine.”

“No, you silly polite American, it’s not. I took terrible
advantage of you.” The hand stroked, soothed, the musical voice calmed Parker’s
pounding heart. “Be pissed off. You have every right. But….” Nicco turned his
chin with a light touch. “You are…,” He dropped his gaze, surprising Parker.
“Amazing.”

He pressed his full lips to Parker’s once, in a chaste,
dissatisfying way, then stood. Parker watched as the one Nicco morphed into two
again, heard the two of them speak. “Get water and some sleep, young Parker. We
have a big day ahead on Monday.” He tilted Parker’s face up to his, ran a rough
thumb over his lips making Parker’s entire body shiver. Then Nicco walked away
without another word, hands in his pockets.

Parker watched him go, his heart sinking. What had he done?
How in God’s name could he play now with the man whose dark eyes and full lips
made him want to weep with desire? He lurched to his feet, stumbled down the
circular staircase and out into the cool night air.

Rafe stirred and rolled over, reaching out for Maureen’s
soft familiar curves. When he hit the living room floor he came fully awake,
staring at the rug, remembering the verbal knock-down, drag-out that had landed
him on the too-short couch. Adam dropped into a nearby chair, holding a bowl of
cereal.

“Hey, uh, Mom’s in the bathroom crying.”

Rafe groaned and got to his feet. He had been pushing the
team to its collective limit through months of camp in between managing bouts
of seriously bad behavior on the part of various players. The daily stress of
setting plays, getting a group of extreme sports egos to actually work
together, keeping as much of the bullshit out of the media as possible while
placating a set of needy investors had proven positively overwhelming. The
added bonus of his prized coach delaying his appearance until nearly a week
before their first game only added to the frustration.

So when Maureen had some kind of breakdown last night after
a dinner party at Jack and Sara’s house to celebrate the eve of their first
game, he’d snapped. Too much booze at dinner, too many veiled innuendoes about
team dynamics not working and general behavioral problems and too much denial
about his role as the husband of a pregnant woman played hell with his nerves.
He had no real excuse. He’d made a bit of a scene, and they had left. The tense
car ride home ended with tears from his wife and more fury from him.

He knocked on the bathroom door. “Honey? You okay?”

“Go away.” She sniffled. “Far, far away. Go back to the
team. Sleep there. I’ll see you at the end of the season.”

“C’mon, babe. I’m really sorry. I was an ass.”

“Yeah.”

“I know I was.” Adam tapped his shoulder, held out a
steaming cup of something that smelled like lilacs. Rafe smiled. “Adam brought
your favorite tea.”

“Go the fuck away, Rafe, I mean it. Sorry, Adam.”

The tall kid shrugged and patted Rafe’s arm. “No worries.
She’ll be okay. Let’s eat. You’ve got a big day.”

Rafe put his aching head against the door, ignoring his
stepson’s attempt at adulthood. “Please, Maureen. I am really sorry. I need you
today.”

“Yeah, should have thought of that before you called me—what
was it? Oh yes….”

“Maureen, come on. I didn’t call you anything. You were
making too much noise for me to even get a word in.” He stopped. “Listen, I’ve
been behaving badly. I haven’t been here for you. It’s partly your fault, you
know. You’re so goddamned independent, you’ve set me up. I don’t even know what
I do for you. How you even need me.”

The door jerked open. His wife’s beautiful blue eyes
watered. His chest tightened again. Dear God, he was so stupid. These fucking
boys parading as men he’d been babysitting, threatening, coddling into working
for him and not against him—they did not matter. This, right in front of him,
mattered above all else. He took her hand, pulled her close, covered her face
with kisses, and muttered any and everything he could think of to make her stop
crying.

“Stop it.” She pushed him away and brushed at her eyes.
“Rafe, we are a partnership. That implies need. What you don’t have, I give
you. What I can’t do, you can. Don’t you get it? You brought this into my life,
gave me a reason to trust you, to believe you’re here for me. You’ve
essentially disappeared. I get why but I don’t like it. Not now. Not with all
this.” She put a hand on the shelf of her belly.

He reached out for her, heart on fire with anguish, head
buzzing with terror at the sight of her pale skin, the dark circles under her
eyes. She leaned on the wall, hands to the small of her back. Feeling stupid
and helpless, he rubbed her shoulders, then leaned in to kiss her. She turned
her head and made her slow way down the hall, calling for Adam to heat the tea
back up.

Rafe watched her go, frustration at his current predicament
building in his chest. He pulled his seemingly forever buzzing phone out of his
shorts pocket, grimacing at the sight of his assistant’s number.

Choosing to ignore it, he followed Mo into the kitchen and
glued a smile on his face, determined to fix this. She turned her face up to
his when he leaned over her, hand on her huge stomach. Then blew out a breath
and shoved him away.

“Fucking hurts. God, my back is killing me.” She let him
kiss her and put her hand against his cheek. He crouched down to be on eye
level.

“Aren’t we, I mean, isn’t this...” He stared at her stomach,
anxiety strangling him. She put a hand on his hair.

“Yeah, honey. Today is your baby’s due date. And the first
day of your season. Perfect timing once again.”

He groaned and leaned into her, putting his lips against the
taut skin of her belly, whispering, “Wait, young Inez. Hang on, my man. Give me
twenty-four hours,
por favor
?”

Rafe glanced up at Maureen, fear sending a fresh thrill of
stress down his spine. She looked like her whole body hurt. He really should
have read some of those “what to expect” books. He’d only made it to one damn
breathing class or whatever they called it. He closed his eyes. Sweet Jesus,
help him, he could not take this right now.

His phone buzzed again. “Sorry, it’s Jack.” He stood.

She waved him away and kept staring out the window. He
frowned and sat and took the call.

“Dude, please tell me you did not piss off my sister any
more than you did my own lovely bride last night.”

“Damn, Jack, let’s talk about the team, okay?”

“Sorry, my brother. As Sara has in no uncertain terms
informed me for the last, oh, ten hours straight—you have a priorities problem.
And I am your enabler, or some shit.”

“She’s right.” Rafe stood, walked around behind Maureen and
rubbed her shoulders, keeping the phone propped against his ear. “But we have
informed the young Master Inez he should save his appearance for another day or
so.” Maureen leaned her head on his hand.

“I’m coming with you,” she stated loud enough for her
brother to hear it through the phone.

“Oh hell, no,” Jack sputtered into his ear. “She’ll distract
you and, ow! Damn, Sara, cut it out.”

“We’ll figure it out, don’t worry. I’m gonna go. Go control
your woman already.” He ended the call, dropped the phone on the table, and
leaned down to kiss his wife’s lips.

“Do what you want, Maureen. I know I can’t stop you. But if
you guys are coming with me, you gotta get it together. I need to be there in
about two hours.
Vamanos
!” He headed down the hall to the shower, hoping
his leapfrogging nerves would calm, but realizing the day had only just begun.