Chapter Three, Part 1
Several hours and more than a few beers with the boys later, Colt reached into his wallet for one of the two keycards he’d gotten when he’d boarded. There was only one in there. Those retired assholes were fucking with him as if it were training camp all over again. If he walked in and found all his shit covered in Silly String, he was going to kick their hairy asses.
He unlocked his door, held it open with one hand in case he needed to make a quick getaway and flipped on the light.
There wasn’t any Silly String sprayed everywhere or frogs leaving slime trails as they hopped around the room or buckets of chicken wings spicy enough to make his eyes water with each inhale.
Instead, two naked women were cuddled up together in the middle of the king-size bed. He recognized the redhead and brunette from the Thunder Dome Crew event earlier.
“Hey there, handsome.” The redhead sat up and the sheet fell to her waist. “Did you lose your girlfriend or will she want to join us?”
“Don’t worry if she doesn’t.” The brunette leaned forward from her position in the back and toyed with the redhead’s long hair. “We’ll keep you company.”
A few years ago, he would be halfway to the bed and totally naked before the door slammed shut behind him, but those days were long gone. Shit. You are getting old, Butler.
He let the door swing shut behind him, but didn’t make a move from his spot a good ten feet from the bed. This wasn’t the first time he’d walked into his room on the road and found someone waiting for him. The groupies bribed hotel staff, sweet-talked the security or whatever else it took to get in. Most of them just wanted to say they’d fucked a player. The rest were either mentally unstable or hoping to find a husband or baby daddy. Colt sure as hell wasn’t taking another step into the room until he knew which kind of crazy he was dealing with.
“How’d you get in here?” Not that he didn’t have a pretty good idea. The guys thought they were so damn funny.
The redhead slid his missing keycard off the bedside table and trailed it across her large tits. “Your friends gave us your key.”
“They shouldn’t have done that.” He was going to kill them tomorrow.
The redhead curled a finger, motioning him over, and pivoted so she faced him as she sat on the bed. The sheet slipped to the floor, revealing miles of creamy legs and proving she came by her hair color naturally. “Why don’t you come over here and let us convince you otherwise?”
Following suit, the brunette spooned her friend from behind and pressed her ample tits to the redhead’s back. “Yes, we’re very convincing.” She cupped one of her friend’s tits and pinched the nipple, sliding the fingers of her other hand through the tight red curls at the apex of her friend’s thighs.
The redhead’s responding moan sounded more practiced than passionate.
He could call security. They’d take care of this mess. If he was lucky, no one would be awake to poke their heads out of their rooms to catch and film two naked women being hauled out of his room at one in the morning—but he couldn’t guarantee that. The Miami media would love it. The Thunder front office would be pissed. Manny would kill him if he came back from this cruise—that was supposed to help set him up as the contender to become the Thunder’s beloved franchise player—as just another debauched football stud.
Then he pictured Angie. Smart and ambitious, she’d told him she had a promotion riding on this cruise. He wouldn’t fuck that up for her. He wanted to screw her, not screw her over.
“While that is an offer I hate to turn down…” Colt grabbed the duffel he’d yet to unpack. It was the only thing of his in the room. “I just came in to grab this. Y’all get dressed and let yourselves out.”
In a heartbeat they went from sultry sirens with heavy-lidded bedroom eyes and wet, willing bodies to scorned women ridged with annoyance.
“You’ll regret missing out on this,” the redhead said. She must have known it was too late, though, because the words were no more out of her mouth before she whipped the sheet across her displayed flesh.
“I’m sure I will.” The younger version of him sure as hell would have, but the thirty-year-old him looked at that bed and saw two women who didn’t care much about who he was as much as what he was, and Colt was pretty much over that rookie bullshit.
He shut the door behind him and hustled to the elevators, grateful that no one came down the hall or emerged from their rooms.
Shit. What’s your play now, Butler?
All the old players had split from the bar at the same time as he had. He didn’t have any of their numbers and no clue what rooms they were in. The only thing he had was—
The idea hit him with the same no-holds-barred force he used to sack quarterbacks. She would be pissed, but she was already mad at him. He could spin this—use a little play action fake to make her think it was the only option to keep anyone from smelling scandal. It wasn’t as if that was a lie. Maybe a slight exaggeration, but as his granny said, sometimes the truth needed elastic-waistband pants.
She liked him. She wanted him. They just needed a little time alone for him to convince her of it, and he knew just how to do it—by playing it so cool she got all hot.
If you missed earlier chapters, you can find it here!
Come back next week for more of HOT DARE!