Team Niklas (The Saints Team #3)

Team
Niklas

A
Saints series book

By Ally Adams

PUBLISHED BY: Atlas Productions

Copyright © Ally Adams 2015

ISBN:
978-0-9943762-2-0
(ebk)

This e-book is
licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or
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unless you purchased with a one share agreement. If you're reading this book
and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you
should purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

This book is a
work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product
of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual
persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely
coincidental.

Dedicated
to the office girls from the Bears. What good times!

Chapter
1

“Stop moving or I’ll accidently put it in the wrong
place,” I ordered Nik. You would think a guy who had done military conscription
at home in Berlin, and stood at attention for long periods of time in all sorts
of weather, could stand still for a few minutes.

“Sah-sha, is it even possible to
put it in the wrong place?” he asked, with a raised eyebrow. I couldn’t help
but smile—the way he said my name with his German accent always caught my
attention; it started like sarsaparilla and finished like a dance.

Niklas Wagner, star midfielder for
the national soccer team the Santa Ana Saints, had come to me for a suit
adjustment—yep by day I was the media officer for the Saints and by night I
designed; it was my hobby-cum-passion. Nik was standing in front of me wearing only
the black suit pants and the jacket, no shirt—I could see all those
well-developed abdominal muscles just waiting to be touched and I
wouldn’t mind tracing those grooves with my tongue either, up and down, tight
and tense
.
Is it getting hot in here?
Then I accidently did what
I had been threatening, jabbed him with a pin.

“Ouch,” he yelped and stepped
back.

“See? What did I tell you? Stand
at attention,” I barked.

He stiffened and stood straight…
for about five seconds.

“I like the gym gear you’re wearing,
Sah-sha, did you make that?” he asked looking down on my fitted black gym pants
and matching tank top. It was easier to do fittings in fitted gym gear, easier
to get around the fabric and the client, if that makes sense.

I shook my head. “I don’t make gym
gear yet. But I am going to do a gym workout when you leave,” I said, with a
glance to my home gym in the corner of the room.

“We should work out together,” he
said.

I laughed. “Stand still and stop
looking down, it makes the pants longer.”

“What? Why is the idea of working
out together funny?” he asked, frowning.

 “It’s funny because I would lift
a thimble compared to you and you’d give me a hard time.”

“Never,” he said. “I respect any workout;
I’d love to see you in action Sah-sha. We could put some music on, work up a
sweat, you know? Okay, I have to stop thinking about that now,” he said, and
wiped a hand over his mouth.

Oh yes, he did indeed need to stop
thinking about it. The bulge in his pants would change the line of them and the
amount I had to take up.

“Should I readjust the
measurements or assume when you wear this suit, you won’t have a hard-on,” I
said looking up from the floor at him, trying to get a reaction. I could barely
see past his erection.

He grinned. “It depends. Will you
be coming to the Best and Fairest Awards with me?”

“I’ll definitely be there, working
that night,” I said. “So I’ll leave the measurements as they are. Okay, you’re
done, get it off.”

He grinned again. I swear
everything I said had a sexual connotation to this guy. He extended his hand
like a gentlemen and helped me off the floor. Phew that was a rush, coming up
past his bulge, then past the muscles in his bare chest and standing full
height with my hand feeling so small in his.
I think I just orgasmed
. I
looked away quickly.

“Thanks, you can let my hand go
now,” I said, he did so slowly, running his fingers up my palm.
Holy fuck.

I guess we had been flirting—if
you could call it that—for a few weeks now and Nik was trying to get me to go
out with him this weekend on our first official date. Tonight, however, the
suit adjustment was business only. Maybe and it was a big maybe, on Friday
night Niklas Wagner could take me out for dinner. Apart from deciding if I
wanted to go out, I was considering whether to have sex with him before then
and whether to order an entrée or save room for dessert. All tough decisions.

“C’mon Sarsh, aren’t you going to
help me take it off?” he said.

“So we’re on nickname terms now?”
I said, and narrowed my eyes at him. “Sasha, Sash-a,” I said, rolling it off my
tongue. “C’mon, practice.”

“Sarsh like sarsey?” he said.

“Never mind,” I said. “You know
the way to the change room.”

He looked a little dejected as I
pointed him towards the guest room which I had set up for clients. It included
hanging racks, mirrors, a sofa and a small en-suite bathroom.

“Look even Prada thinks you should
help me,” he said, with a glance at my black Bombay cat who had moved closer to
us and now sat watching Nik warily.

I smiled at Prada, such a handsome
puss. “Trust me, he’s not giving you that look because he is on your side,” I
warned Nik, “he’s deciding whether to jump on your head or not. He’s not very
social.”

“Oh,” Nik said and moved a step farther
away from where Prada was perched near the window. “This is a great place. Is
that your bedroom up there?” His eyes looked to my lofty room.

“Yes, that’s where I sleep and
entertain my lovers,” I teased him and he laughed. “Now get changed.” Even
though he towered over me I tried giving him a direct order and pointed to the
guest room. Call it girl power… maybe not, he was still standing there frowning
at me. Man this guy was persistent; he was trying every trick in the
How to
trap a girl before you take them on an official date
book. I studied him.
He was the biggest potential ‘boyfriend’ on my scene for some time, maybe
because I had removed myself from the scene some time ago. And when I say big,
I’m not just talking height from the sneak preview I’d had—you can get very
close to the anatomy when you’re pinning a client.

It would be very easy to fall for
Niklas Wagner. He looked as though he was still in the military with his super
short blond crew cut. My hair was almost the same color, only messier—I had
decided to grow it again and now it was that awkward in-between length. Nik’s
haircut, along with his tan, set off his bright blue eyes and even though he
was fluent in English, his German accent still made for a direct manner of
speech. We were suited there too—I was always in trouble for being too direct. That’s
where the similarities ended—I was five-foot-eight to his six-foot-plus and I
was pale to his tan.

“What if I accidently get stabbed
by a pin when I take it off?” he asked, his lips curling in a smile. “It could
penetrate an artery and put me out of play. The coach would be very upset with
you Sah-sha.” He put his hands in the pockets of his suit pants and rocked back
on his heels. Sexy as all fuck.

 “Niklas.” I tried not to smile,
which didn’t work, while I crossed my arms across my chest. That only served to
bring his eyes to my chest. “You managed to put that suit on all by yourself,
taking it off is pretty much the same only in reverse. You can do it, I have
full faith in you. Should I do a Saints’ war cry for motivation?”

He looked vaguely interested in
the idea but that look changed to a different expression—one that said he wasn’t
quite beaten yet. His jaw locked with frustration as he planned his next move—I
suspect he was a man used to getting his own way with the women and trust me,
since his arrival there were no shortage of women throwing themselves at him at
the club and wherever the team socialized, from what I heard. I wouldn’t know;
being a groupie wasn’t my thing.

He slipped the jacket off in front
of me and strode off to the bedroom. I breathed out. I had won that round and enjoyed
the spectacle of his muscles departing the room. Moments later he started up again.

“Sah-sha,” he called out from the guest
room, “I need your help.”

I shook my head.
Men. I’ll give
him help in a moment.
Ha, I sounded like my mother then.

“Coming,” I said. Yeah, he’d make
something of that too I bet.
I’d love to come by the hand or tongue of Nik
;
again with the sex thoughts. I really was too frustrated for my own good but it
was impossibly hard not to think about sex when you have a perfect specimen of
manhood in your guest room.

I stalled him while I packed my
sewing kit. I was just a little bit impressed that Nik wanted to get his suit
adjusted because he had lost weight and didn’t want to buy a new suit for a
club award night. I liked the fact that he was on a contract worth more than
this week’s lottery draw, but he still wanted to get a suit adjusted rather
than buy a new one, I hated waste too. When he mentioned he needed to find
someone to do the adjustments, his housemate Alice—who happens to work with me
at the Saints—told him I sew, wasn’t that handy? Since they began flatting
together, Alice had become the unofficial source of all Nik gossip, telling me
all his movements even when I didn’t want to know.

I had met Nik at the office of
course before I played with his inside leg—a dressmaking term. You can’t be
media officer for the Santa Ana Saints soccer team and not know the players or
at least talk to them by telephone to organize media interviews. He had only
joined the club late last year, but we had spoken on the phone heaps of times
when I was setting up pre-publicity for his arrival—
Germany’s hottest
recruit
signed to the Saints, the
Berlin wonder boy
or ‘wunderkind’
if you translate it. Everyone wanted a piece of the ‘Kaiser’ and he was very
obliging, doing all my telephone interview requests and there were heaps of
them. His management team was really helpful with photos too and as soon as he
got off the plane, Shayne the Saints’ football manager had Nik in the Saints’
jersey and getting photos done before the poor guy even had time to unpack.

Nik cost the club a fortune so I
know he had a shitload of pressure on him to perform on-and-off the field for
the club. Guys like Nik, the team’s captain Lucas, goalkeeper Tomás and our
forward The Russian; they had the pulling power to bring in memberships and
ticket sales and to make the club big. Nik was definitely big. I wondered if he
left someone behind in Berlin.

We finally met in the flesh for the
first time when he came in to see Alice about a housemate position. He gave me
an electric shock, way to make a first impression! Alice said it was an omen
that we were suited and that we would always have a spark between us. Sounded
like crap to me, but whatever, if it makes her happy to dream up this shit.

“Sah-sha? Are you coming in here?”
Nik called again.

“Any minute now,” I answered,
“just cleaning up.”

“Can you make it quick?” he yelled
back.

“Sure,” I said, slowing down.
Man
must think I’m an idiot
. Which reminded me of the next time I saw Nik in
the flesh when I came off looking like the idiot… it was at a home game a few
weekends back. Unfortunately that didn’t go well either. My job on match days
is looking after the media and one of the journos from the daily paper wanted
to talk with Nik before the game. Sometimes the coach allowed that. I chased
down Shayne the football manager, who said Nik was getting iced and strapped so
just go in and ask him. Unfortunately his groin was getting strapped when I
walked in, so that’s more evidence of how I know he’s big all over. Yep, a fine
import from Germany. Now on our third encounter, I’d stuck a pin in him, no
wonder he was completely taken with me, what man could resist? Makes you wonder
why he persisted; that guy must love a challenge.

“Sah-sha, seriously I need your
help,” he called again, his voice a bit muffled this time.
What the fuck,
has he got caught in his zip or something?
I smiled at his persistence, I
love a man on a mission, and I headed to the guest room. Nik sat on the end of
the sofa, the suit completely off and he was wearing a very nice pair of black
fitted boxers. Blood poured from his nose and he cupped his face with one hand
and used the other to keep himself upright on the bed. His tanned face had
turned pale and his eyes were a little hazy.

“Holy fuck,” I said, and ran to
the adjoining bathroom. Thank God my towels were navy in color. So not
important right now I knew but later, I’d be pleased. I ran back to his side, spread
one across his lap covering his prize bounty and gave him one to hold against
his nose.

“Sit up straight and tip your head
forward,” I said, and when he had done this, I pinched the soft part of his
nose with my thumb and forefinger. I knew that first aid course Aunty Sandra
gave me for my birthday would come in handy—I love practical gifts.

“It’s okay, I’ve got it,” he said
with a muffled voice.

“Take over the pinch and I’ll get
an ice pack,” I said, removing my hand. I glanced into his eyes and they were not
focusing on me.

“Think I should call Chris?” I
asked him, referring to the team doctor.

“No,” he said, firmly, his eyes
finding mine. They weren’t clear, not good.

“Hmm.” I studied him.

“Really, no,” he said again. “The
ice pack would be good, thanks.” He sounded as though someone had punched him
in the nose. I gave him a look that said I wasn’t convinced but from what I
knew of Nik already, he probably thought that look said I thought he was hot
even when bleeding on my sofa. He kind of was actually, it was the boxer briefs
and the muscles in his arms as he leaned forward…
right, get the ice
.

I raced into the kitchen, and
decided to ignore Nik—I made a quick call to the team doctor. Talking quietly under
my breath to Chris, I grabbed a tea towel and broke the ice cubes out of a tray
from the freezer and into it. I balled it up, thanked the doc, hung up and took
the ice back to the room. Nik was lying flat along the full length of the sofa
now, his head propped at one end, and his legs overhanging at the other end. I could
see all his muscles defined lying like that, including the main one in his
boxer briefs.

“Nik, you need to sit for a
while,” I said, kneeling in front of him.