Published by Atlas Productions on April 13th 2017
He’s tall, dark, handsome and athletic and just that little bit mysterious. He’s also over women, big time. A star of the Saints’ team, The Russian has had a high profile relationship with a Hollywood director’s daughter for years and now that it is over, he just wants to focus on his sporting career.
Carla Brooker’s professional sporting career as a basketballer with the Suns is about to end due to injury. To mask the pain, she throws herself into developing her role as a sports reporter. There’s just one problem, she needs a date for the Suns’ Ball where she will announce her retirement.
When these two sporting hotshots meet, they are more than a good fit, they are made for each other … if they can just file away the doubts they carry and find a way to be together.
The doors opened and a few of the flight attendants came out, along with a handful of passengers. Buzz was out first and greeted us. He wrapped an arm around Laura and gave me a wink as they left, as though all was forgiven for his prank. Some of the Saints’ crew followed, then the coach, and Lucas who gave Mia a wave and pointed in the direction of the journos. She nodded, knowing he had to give a quick interview first.
Tomás came into sight, greeted us all and left with Alice, and then Nik and The Russian appeared. The Russian’s eyes scanned the area and found mine, and he gave me a smile that would launch ships. He walked towards me, threw his bag over his shoulder and wrapped his spare arm around me, pressing me hard to him, our lips locked. It was so healing, his lips on mine, his skin against mine, just the feel of his strong body encompassing me, and he didn’t stop kissing me. I couldn’t believe it, in front of his teammates and everything!
“Geez, not in public you two, cut it out,” Lucas teased, coming over and giving Mia a showy kiss.
“Get a room, Russian,” Nik added as Sasha threw herself at him, and then we heard the sound of flashes and The Russian released me just a few inches, enough to draw a breath.
“So needed that,” he said. “Hello, Brooker.”
“Hello Russian,” I grinned up at him, admiring his dark eyes and beautiful face. He looked exhausted.
“We need to get home immediately,” The Russian said, slightly breathless. “Let’s go.”
He released me only enough so I could walk, tucking me into his body, ignoring the flashes of cameras. When we got to my car, he threw his bag in the back seat and sat back while I drove, annoying me by rubbing his hand over my leg, and anywhere else he could get access to before I hit him away for being distracting. We hardly spoke, we just wanted to be together, to be near each other.
The Russian hustled me straight into my bedroom, closing my bedroom door with his foot and knocking me onto the bed. When we were settled, he stopped and placed his forehead on mine.
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