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“If I did, then I might as well believe in the tooth fairy, too. There’s no way you haven’t been with anyone for a full year.”
“Why would you say that?” He cocks his head to the side.
“Because… because, well… look at you! You are—”
“I’m what?” he baits.
“Well… you are Trent Nichols, for crying out loud.”
“I’m very aware of my name, Piper. That doesn’t explain why you’re having a hard time believing that I haven’t slept with a woman for over a year?”
“Nope. I’m not buying it. I’ve seen plenty of women throwing themselves at you.”
“Yes. I won’t deny that I have had the occasional woman propositioning me. But have you ever seen me take them on?’”
My brows furrow.
No. I haven’t.
In fact, it’s something that has been boggling me for quite some time.
“Why didn’t you then?” I ask curiously. “Take them on, I mean.”
“Because, unlike you, I’m very particular about who I take to bed.”
“Is that supposed to be an insult? Are you trying to slut shame me?”
“Quite the contrary. I actually admire the freedom you have to act on your most basic needs. How you don’t tame them, but instead, give in to your impulses. I, unfortunately, don’t have the luxury of doing the same. Too many women see me and see dollar signs. To them, I’m nothing more than a get-rich-quick scheme. I’ve seen too much in this business to not be… cautious.”
He’s right.
How many times have I seen athletes become baby daddies from one-night stands?
Or sex tapes being leaked online by some jilted lover or someone they hooked up with at some party, with the sole intention of making a fast buck.
Not only that but there are also athletes in this game who give others a bad name. Evil men who do unspeakable things to young fans, from degradation to assault.
What’s worse is that not all of them come to justice.
Worse still are the con artists who use that knowledge to seduce good men and then try to blackmail them by crying out rape, making a mockery of those who have actually suffered such horrors.
It’s a fucked-up business.
But then again, it’s a fucked-up world.
“So this has to do with trust?” I ask, going to the route of his self-imposed celibacy.
“Yes.”
“And if you’re here… in my bedroom… that means you trust me.”
“Yes,” he repeats softly, brushing his knuckles up and down my leg.
I don’t know why, but knowing that he trusts me enough to not use it against him afterwards, does something to me. Somehow, this has just increased the stakes for tonight.
Trent and I might be rivals, but he trusts me enough to fuck me and not have the whole world know about it tomorrow. He wants discretion. And it just so happens that I’m a master at being discreet.
“I need you to wear a condom,” I demand, my own way of telling him I’m on board.
