The Pickup (Imperfect Love Book 1) Read online

  Pushing her gently against the elevator wall, I brush my lips against hers. They’re soft and plump and taste fruity, and they have me craving more. “I’ll take care of you.” I give her another kiss, this time my tongue pushes into her mouth. Our tongues swirl against one another as our kiss deepens. She pulls back slightly, her chest rising and falling quickly as she catches her breath.

  “I don’t even know your name.” Her words come out breathless, and I find myself wanting to know what she’ll sound like when she’s calling out my name. Then it hits me. She just said she doesn’t know my name, confirming she has no idea who I am. I look into her eyes, trying to find some type of untruth in her words, but all I see is a beautiful, brown-eyed woman staring at me with want in her eyes. Not want for my money or status or fame, but just plain and simple want. This woman is either going to win an academy award for her acting skills or she’s telling the truth.

  “I’m Cole.”

  “I’m Liv.” Her lips upturn into a small, shy smile as I take her in. She’s fucking beautiful. From her silky brown hair to the slight pink tint on her cheeks that tells me she really is this innocent. The elevator dings, and I follow her lead, not knowing where we’re going. Once we get to her room, she pulls a key out of the back pocket of her short shorts, which show off her toned legs, and walks in first. I follow behind, my eyes raking down her body, landing on her muscular calves and her sexy fuck-me heels.

  She stops in the center of the room and catches me checking her out.

  Averting my eyes, I notice this is a multi-room suite. “Is your friend staying here with you?”

  “Yes, the one you met briefly at the club. She’s still there catching up with her friend, but she’ll be back later.” Smart woman...letting me know someone will be here soon.

  “Got it.”

  Placing her hand in mine, she guides me to her room, closing the door behind us. The room is dark, the only light shining in through the curtains from the New York City skyline. The light hits her face, and she looks worried.

  “You okay?” I ask, framing the sides of her face with my hands. Her cheeks are warm, and if it wasn’t so dark, I would bet they are flushed pink with need.

  “Yeah.”

  “You sure?” I ask again, wanting to make sure we’re on the same page.

  “I’m sure. I want you. I want this.” Her hands grip my shirt, lifting it over my head. Her fingers trail down my torso, landing on my belt. When I don’t move, she stops. “Do you…want this?” Her question is filled with self-doubt. She thinks I’ve changed my mind. Has this woman lost her damn mind?

  “Fuck yes, I do. I’ve wanted you since the moment you walked into the club.”

  Instead of continuing with my belt, Liv steps forward and places a soft kiss on my pectoral muscle right above my heart. I stand there, frozen in my spot, watching her place kiss after kiss along my chest and down my torso. She kneels down so she’s parallel to my crotch and looks up at me, her brown eyes connecting with my green. She has a look of mischief on her face as she places an open-mouthed kiss right where my dick is bulging through my boxers and jeans.

  “Fucking tease.” I laugh, and she giggles. Her eyes break the connection as she becomes a woman on a mission. She unbuckles my belt, unbuttons my pants, then pulls the zipper down. When she yanks my jeans down, she takes my boxers with them, and my hard cock springs to attention. Toeing off my shoes, I kick them, along with my pants, to the side.

  My eyes stay trained on her as she takes my shaft in her hand. She lifts it up until it’s almost hitting my stomach and then she languorously licks the entire underside like she’s savoring every fucking inch of me. I let out a groan at the feeling of her wet tongue running along my flesh. When she gets to the head, a bit of pre-cum is beaded over. Her tongue darts out and licks the cream, and I about lose my shit. I grab her by her hair, my hand fisting her mane. Pulling her up, I lack all the patience she possesses. She pulls her top off and unclasps her bra. I toss her onto the bed, then yank her shorts and panties off.

  I push her legs back, and my head is between her thighs in mere seconds, lapping at her wet fucking cunt. The heady moan she lets out in response only spurs me on. I lick and suck on her clit, but it’s not enough. I need more. I need to feel her. I push my fingers inside her. She’s warm and wet, and fuck, she’s so goddamn tight. I want to be inside her, but I need to make her come first. I lap and lave up her slit, my tongue pushing on her clit, and finally, she fucking comes all over my tongue and fingers, her juices spilling onto the bed sheets.

  Not able to wait another second, I’m up on my knees, condom ripped open and rolled on, and pushing into her. Her head rolls back, her chin lifting, as her back arches. And then she’s meeting me thrust for thrust as we chase our orgasms.

  “I. Need. It. Harder,” she groans out. Grabbing her ass, I flip her over onto her knees, her round ass in the air. I give it a hard smack, and then I’m pushing back into her from behind. My fingers dig into her hips as I piston in and out of her, bottoming out. I can feel her trembling around my cock in pleasure, and then her cunt starts to choke my dick like a goddamned vice grip as she comes for a second time. Not able to last a second longer, I pull out and rip the condom off my dick, preparing to come all over her ass. But before I do, she turns around, and taking my dick in her hand, strokes me up and down until I’m releasing my seed all over her luscious fucking tits. And holy hell, if the sight of my jizz dripping down her breasts doesn’t have me hard all over again. I swipe my finger across her taut nipple, and her body shivers.

  “Open your mouth,” I demand, and she obeys. I run my cum-covered finger over her lips, painting them a creamy white, then I push my finger inside her mouth. Her tongue darts out and her lips close. She sucks my finger clean, her eyes closing as she lets out a breathy moan. When her eyes open back up, she grants me a mischievous grin.

  “How about a shower?” I suggest, and she nods in agreement.

  Once we’re both cleaned up, we lay down in her bed. Usually this is the moment when I make up some bullshit excuse as to why I need to leave, but for some reason, I don’t want to go anywhere.

  “Tell me about yourself,” I find myself saying.

  “What do you want to know?” she asks.

  “Tell me something you love.”

  “I love art.” Her smile is bright and wide. “What about you? What do you love?”

  “Playing football.” The words are out before I can stop them. I expect her to ask me about it, but she doesn’t.

  “Tell me something you hate,” she asks instead.

  “Playing football.”

  She gives me an incredulous look. “Explain.”

  And for the first time, I tell Liv something I’ve never told anyone. “I love playing football because I’m good at it. I love the rush I feel when I’m out on the field. The thrill of the plays. What I don’t love about football is everything else.”

  “Like?”

  “Like the fact that if football didn’t exist, my parents probably wouldn’t know I’m alive.” And now I sound like a whiny little bitch…“Tell me something you hate,” I say, changing the subject.

  “Switzerland.”

  We both laugh. “Switzerland? What the hell did Switzerland ever do to you?”

  “A guy I was dating left me to move there.” She shrugs. “I gave him three years, and he didn’t even give me a second thought as he packed up and left.”

  I pull Liv closer and into my arms. “It’s his loss, trust me.” I bring my lips to hers and thank my lucky stars for that dumbass leaving her. His loss is definitely my gain.

  * * *

  My eyes open slowly, but quickly close when the sunlight shining through the window adds to my fast-growing headache. I groan as my head throbs. It takes me a second to remember where I am and what I did last night—or I should say who I did last night. The sucking, the fucking, the talking for hours, the falling asleep with Liv in my arms. Waking up and needing more of her. Pulling her on top of me, and her riding my cock until we both came. Falling asleep sticky and satiated.

  Some would think I’m crazy, but I think I could fall in love with this woman. What started out as lust turned into something more as the night went on. Between the fucking and talking, I found myself craving Liv in a way I haven’t wanted a woman since Fiona left me. And if I’m honest, I don’t even think I ever wanted Fiona like this.

  I roll back over, feeling for Liv’s warm body, wanting to hold and touch her. I want to ask her for her phone number. One night wasn’t enough. I need more time. More nights and days. Only there’s no warmth. It’s cold. My eyes dart open, and I glance around until I spot a note on the pillow.

  Have a flight to catch. Check-out is 10:00. Thanks for last night. –Liv

  My heart constricts as I crumple up the note and throw it onto the floor, suddenly feeling pissed off and used. Why doesn’t it surprise me the one woman I’ve met in the last year I thought might be different, isn’t? Just like everyone else, once I was no longer of use to her, she walked out without even a backward glance, showing me once again people are only in it for what they can take from you.

  After I’m dressed and make sure I have everything I came with, I head out. As I’m snagging a cab, Celeste texts me, asking to meet up for breakfast. She moved here after she graduated from high school in hopes of having a career as a model. Using my connections, I was able to get her into a summer internship program with a modeling company, which got her foot in the door. She now makes a more-than decent living and her name is definitely out there. You can find her picture on several billboards throughout the city. She also has her own successful makeup and accessories line and has been on shows like America’s Elite Model as one of the judges. But she’s still not satisfied. She’s always striving for more. She’s one of the most hard-working and determined women I’ve ever known.

  When we were younger I thought for sure she would latch on to some rich guy and ride his coat tail, but I was wrong. Celeste is independent and career-focused. Don’t get me wrong, the men she dates are always wealthy, and if it’s possible she’s even more cold and emotionless than she was when she was younger, but since she moved here she’s different. She no longer comes across like she needs a man. Maybe it’s because she has her own money. I don’t know. As close as we are, she doesn’t open up to me about that kind of stuff. She travels a lot for work, but when she’s in town we hang out often.

  We meet at Buvette in West Village and are seated immediately. After she orders a mimosa, and I order a coffee, she says, “So today’s the big day, huh?”

  “Yep, I find out in a couple hours if New York is going to take a chance on me.”

  “You nervous?”

  “I guess.” I shrug. The truth is my mind is still on the beautiful brown-eyed woman who rocked my world and then skipped out.

  “You guess? What’s up with you?”

  The waiter sets down our drinks, and Celeste takes a sip of her mimosa while I pour a bit of milk into my coffee.

  “That woman last night…”

  “The one you left with?”

  “Yeah. She skipped out on me this morning.”

  Celeste cackles. “Aww…you poor baby. You got left before you could do the leaving.”

  “It’s not that.” I take a sip of my coffee. “I thought maybe…” I shake my head. “I thought maybe there was something there. Something more.” I cringe at my confession as I wait for Celeste to give me shit.

  And of course she does. “Oh God, Nick. You didn’t really think a woman you met at a club was going to fall in love with you. You’re an NFL player.”

  “She didn’t know that, though,” I point out.

  “Oh, c’mon! Of course she did.” Celeste laughs. The waiter comes back over, and we order breakfast. Once he leaves, Celeste says, “Sometimes I wonder if you’re really related to Henry and Victoria. You’re so damn gullible.”

  “Because I wanted to fall in love instead of being in a money and status driven marriage like my parents?” I volley back.

  “No, because even though you’ve had your heart stomped on and used repeatedly by everyone around you, you refuse to see life for what it really is.” I notice when she says this, her lips turn down into a frown, and I wonder if maybe Celeste has had her heart broken. I don’t bother asking, though. If she has, she would never admit it. She hates appearing weak or vulnerable.

  “Well, then you’ll be happy to know I’ve given up. Money makes the world go round. Women are heartless, and my parents don’t know the meaning of love. You win, I lose.”

  “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Celeste leans in toward me, and I’m confused by her question.

  “That I’m done with love? Yeah.” I shrug. “I mean, I pretty much gave up on it after Fiona left me. And after Liv left me a note this morning…” I release a humorless chuckle. “I think it’s time I throw in the towel and admit defeat.”

  “No, not all that.” Celeste shakes her head. “Although, that information definitely helps. But what I meant was…” She bites her bottom lip nervously. “You’re thirty.”

  “Yeah, so?” I shrug. “And you’re twenty-six,” I point out, not understanding her need to remind me of my age. The waiter sets our food down in front of us, and I grab my fork to dig in.

  “Our pact when you were in college,” Celeste says. “If you didn’t find true love by thirty, you would marry me.”

  My fork falls out of my hand and clatters against the plate.

  Three

  Nick

  “Your tryout and evaluation were top notch, and the doctor signed off on your physical...” I’m trying to focus on what’s being said in probably the most important meeting of my career, but my mind is completely fucked up at the moment. First off, I can’t seem to get Liv off my mind, which is really fucking stupid because other than knowing her first name, nothing else I know about her will help me find her. She said in her note she had a flight to catch, which most likely means she doesn’t even live here…or maybe she does and she’s leaving on a trip. But then why would she be staying in a hotel? I tried to get the front desk to give me some information on her, but they wouldn’t budge. I shouldn’t have even tried. If she wanted to see me again, she would’ve woken me up or left her number. She did neither.

  And then there’s the fact that I’m actually considering making good on the pact I made with Celeste all those years ago. When I agreed to her terms, I imagined by thirty I would be married with kids. But after having dealt with Fiona, my string of one-night stands this past year, and then Liv leaving this morning, I’m beginning to think maybe Celeste has the right idea. Fiona said it herself, I would make a horrible father, and the one woman in the past year I actually wanted to get to know better left without a trace the morning after. Clearly, I’m doing something wrong here, so maybe it’s time I do things Celeste’s way… Jesus, to even be considering this must mean I’ve lost my damn mind.

  “We would like to offer you a one year contract, ten million—”

  “Absolutely not!” my father booms, cutting off Declan Thomas, the owner of the New York Brewers. “You know damn well Mr. Shaw is worth double those numbers.”

  “If he’s successful,” Stephen Harper, the new coach, points out. “It’s a risk, but one I’m willing to take.”

  “He’s hardly a risk,” my dad says. “You saw him out there with your receiver. This team’s about to get its first Super Bowl win in over a decade.”

  “Henry, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here,” Declan says.

  “I’ll take it.” Everybody’s gaze swings to me.

  “What are you doing?” my father hisses. It’s been over a year since I’ve even seen the man who walked out the door at the hospital and has barely spoken five words to me since then. When Killian mentioned our college playing days to the new coach, he asked to meet with me. Of course, that meant contacting my agent on file. My dad was on the next flight out, dollar signs flashing in his eyes—my mother right beside him. For a while there, I forgot why I was playing football. I was so caught up in trying to make my parents proud of me, I lost my love of the sport along the way. This last year has been eye-opening.

  Now, playing football is about me—what I want. If I’m going to bust my ass, it’s going to be because of my love for the game and not because of the money, status, or fame. And it’s definitely not going to be to make my parents give a fuck about me. Being with Liv last night, I thought maybe was a sign—reminding me love could still exist—but her walking away only reconfirmed why I’m done. Football is the only damn love I have left, and I’m going to give it my all.

  “We’re coming up to the end of free agency. I’m happy here, and I want to play.” This past year has been fun, like an extended vacation. I’ve worked hard in physical therapy, and I’ve partied even harder. But now I’m ready to get back out there and play again. I didn’t bust my ass this last year rehabilitating my throwing arm to be out for another year because I refuse to take a deal from a team who’s willing to give me a shot.

  Sure, with a month left of free agency, there’s still a chance another team will offer me a deal, but what if they don’t? And even if they did, that would mean moving. Plus, signing with New York means playing on the same team as Killian.

  “Does your ass hurt?” my dad asks. I know he’s pissed because, for once, I’m actually going against him. Up until I was injured, I’ve done everything he’s advised. Where to go to college, what to study, when to leave college, who to play for…but I’m done going along with everything he says.

  “I’ll make sure to ask for some lube.” I shoot him a condescending smirk, and he throws his hands up in the air. He’s only peeved about this deal because the less I accept means the less he pockets. He doesn’t give a shit that I’m actually going to be on a team and able to play. He doesn’t give a fuck that I busted my ass day after day in physical therapy. Most guys at my age would’ve said fuck it and retired. I’ve made enough in the last eight years to last me a lifetime. I’m no longer playing for the money—I’m playing for the love of the game.

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