“I did, too. I have today off and thought it’d be fun to stop down here to shoot some hoops with you. Do you mind if I join?”
Isaac still appears distant and unsure. When I signal for him to pass me the ball, he releases a heavy sigh and tosses it to me.
“I hope you’ve been practicing those three-pointers. You ready to show me what you got?”
A grin breaks out across his face, which seems to break the ice and ease whatever tension he was holding onto.
We shoot around for a bit and play a game of horse. I stop every so often to give them tips and pointers. The more time that passes, the more Isaac gets comfortable, and reminds me of the same kid I met at the charity event.
Eventually, James and Joshua prepare to take off as their mom was picking them up when she got off work. Joshua, who is a few inches shorter than Isaac, approaches him, clapping him on the shoulder.
Joshua murmurs under his breath, asking if Isaac can stop by for dinner, but Isaac shakes his head. He peers over out of the corner of his eye, checking to see if I am listening. I play it off like I’m not, giving him the privacy he seems to want.
James and Joshua grab their bags sitting on the floor along the edge of the gym, shrugging them over their shoulders. Joshua runs back over toward me, his backpack, which is nearly half the size of his body, bouncing behind him as he does. He reaches his fist up again, and we pound it, him grinning before he takes off back toward his brother.
“I wish I didn’t have to go,” Joshua says. “It was so cool to see you again, Rush. Thanks for shooting hoops with us.” His smile stretches across his small face.
“Of course, kid. I’m sure I’ll see you down here again soon.”
Isaac turns to look over at me, his eyes widening before looking down at the ball in his hands. Joshua raises his fist to me one last time, bumping them before ducking his head down to follow along behind his brother toward the front entrance.
“You want to keep shooting?”
“Yeah, sure!” Isaac nods.
“How much longer until you head out?”
He glances up at the clock hanging on the wall, taking a second to figure the time.
“My ride should be here in about thirty minutes.”
“Awesome. I’ll stick around until you head out.”
We take turns shooting, and I try to make small talk with him, asking how he got started playing basketball, which brings up the conversation about his dad. I pick up on how all the words he uses to mention him are in the past tense.
I don’t ask, not wanting to broach a touchy subject, letting him open up to me on his own terms.
“He got into a car accident two years ago,” Isaac says, looking down. He blinks through the tears I notice are welling up in his eyes. “My mom hasn’t been around since I was a baby. My dad had always taken care of me.”
“I’m sorry, Isaac.” I stop dribbling, holding the ball against my hip.
“Thanks,” he mumbles, staring down as he bounces the ball before stepping back to put it in the air. You’d never know how much is weighing on his mind, shooting the ball effortlessly with nothing but a swish of the net.
“My dad was a big fan of yours. He loved watching you play for Chicago. It was his favorite team. He would’ve been sad when you were traded to the Blaze.” He stops, a grin curling the edge of his mouth.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah…” He chuckles. “He’d still buy tickets though to watch you play, even if he’d yell from the stands that you need to go back to Chicago where you belong.”
I laugh, picturing Isaac sitting next to an older version of himself, a drink in his hand while the other cups his mouth to shout from his seat.
“I bet he wouldn’t be too disappointed though if he knew it meant I got to be here shooting hoops with his son. That’s gotta make up for some of it, right?”
Isaac dribbles, looking down as he bounces the ball between his legs before he looks up at me, grinning as he nods his head eagerly.
The familiar sound of the gym doors opening has us both turning our heads, watching as Terri steps into the gym. Recognizing the woman she’s with as the woman who picked him up the other day, I ask, “That’s your foster guardian, right?”
“Yeah.” He hesitates. “Cheryl.”
I almost hear a mocking tone underlining his voice when he says her name, but he recovers quickly. I don’t think he’d want to be disrespectful in front of me.
“I gotta go,” Isaac huffs, clearly not happy he has to leave.
“Hey, don’t worry, bud. I’ll be back again soon, and we can play.”
“You really mean it?” His eyes dart up to mine, raising his brow.
“Of course!” I nod, holding my fist out to him.
He briefly hesitates, as though he’s not quite sure he believes me. I get the feeling he’s been let down in the past, so while he wants to believe me, he doesn’t want to put too much faith in it.
“How often do you come here to play?”
“Tuesday through Thursday, usually when I get out of school.”
“All right then. If I don’t have practice or a game, it won’t be a problem. I’ll be sure to make it down here at least once a week, how about that?”
“Cool.” He grins, reaching for his bag. I follow beside him over to the basketball rack, putting ours away before joining Terri and Cheryl near the door.
“Hi, I’m Colson,” I greet Cheryl, holding my hand out toward her.
She eyes it for a second, not moving to shake it. I hate knowing this is the woman Isaac is leaving with.
Letting out an audible sigh, she reaches her hand out and gives me a handshake even more stiff than her suit. She forces a smile before dropping my hand, turning to look at Isaac.
“Do you have all your stuff? We have to go.”
Terri, standing next to her, visibly winces. I’m glad I’m not the only one concerned by how cold she seems.
“Yeah,” Isaac sighs dejectedly. Cheryl doesn’t bother to say anything else, turning to leave. Terri steps out of her way to hold the door open for her.
“I’ll see you next week, Isaac.”
He turns back, giving me a warm smile. “Thanks for shooting hoops with me, Colson. I’ll see you next week!”
“You got it, buddy!”
“Good luck against Cleveland, too!” He walks backward, giving me a thumbs-up before turning to catch up with Cheryl, who’s now five steps ahead of him.
Terri must read my mood, sensing what’s on my mind when she says, “He’s a good kid. He doesn’t deserve half of what he’s been handed in life. I can’t thank you enough for coming down here and spending time with the kids today. You have to know how much this means to them.”
“It’s no problem. I enjoy it, honestly. If you have time next week, I was thinking I could stop down, and we can go over other ways I can help out and get more involved.”
Terri’s eyes light up. “I would love that, and I know the kids certainly would love to see you here more, too.”
She reaches out, patting my arm, a satisfied smile beaming on her face. It reminds me of my mom the day I told her I was drafted into the NBA. Something about it makes me feel like this is exactly where I’m supposed to be.
Chapter Eleven
Sydney
“Stand up and make some noise for your Miami Blaze,” the announcer sings overhead as the lights start to dim under the darkness. The crowd cheers as flames shoot out near the basketball hoops.
“What number is he again?” my friend Kaylee asks, leaning over.
“Three!” I shout back, using my finger to point out which one he is standing in the starting lineup with the spotlight shining overhead.
“Ohhhh, giiiiiirl,” she jokes. “He sure is cute!”
“Yeah.” I laugh. “He uses it to get what he wants, too.”
He bends down, stretching his legs from side to side as he reaches his arm across his chest to loosen up. My job has its perks; we wer
e able to get third row, near the courtside. Even from here, I can see the ropes of his muscles flex with each movement. Tattoos cover the length of his arm. The combination of his ink paired with his deep orange jersey is a huge turn-on to me.
“Don’t act like you’re not as thirsty for it as he is,” she jokes.
“And now, for the first time on the court with the Miami Blaze, from Denver, Colorado, give it up for number three, Colsonnnn Ruuuush,” rings throughout the arena.
The mention of his name at his first game in Miami sends the crowd into a frenzy.
Once they’ve finished all the team introductions, the lights turn back on, and it’s then when Colson is finally able to spot me in the crowd. He flashes me a wink. I fully expect it to go unnoticed by the rest of the crowd, but of course, nothing gets past Kaylee.
“Did you see that? He’s not even waiting until after the game is over.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“Psh, keep downplayin’ it like I don’t see what’s going on. You’re into him just as much as he’s into you. Quit tryin’ to fool me.”
“Shh, will you be quiet?”
She scrunches her face, rolling her eyes at me as she brushes me off but doesn’t say anything else.
Tip-off starts, and from the very first second to the end of the game, Colson has a hot hand. Halfway through the third quarter, he’s already hit a triple-double, and the crowd is starting to chant his name. They are playing against New York tonight, and it appears their defense forgot to show up.
“Damn, girl, your man has earned himself some of that good lovin’ tonight for how great he’s played.”
“He’s killin’ it. I’m so happy for him. It’s his first game here, and there’s a lot of pressure, ya know?”
“I think this shows he is loving it here in Miami.” She bumps her shoulder against mine, as Jaxsen Wild knocks down another three-pointer.
She’s right. He’s playing great; honestly, the whole team is on fire. Colson set the tone for the team from the first possession, and my mind is already brewing up ideas to congratulate him on a good game.
They end the night with a score of one hundred and four to eighty-seven, with thirty-seven of the points were from Colson alone. I consider waiting for him outside of the players’ locker room but decide against it.
Heading toward the front of the arena with my mind brainstorming all the ways I could surprise him when I get an idea to swing by the fan shop and buy my own Rush jersey.
Kaylee is staring at me like the cat that ate the canary when she watches me point to the jersey with his name on it, handing over my card to make the purchase.
“Hell, he probably would’ve given you his jersey if you wanted one so bad.”
“I have an idea, and if I want to surprise him, I can’t wait for that.”
“Mmmhm.” She wags her brows at me. “I see you. I can only imagine what you plan to do to surprise him wearing his jersey. Men eat that shit up.”
I know I have a little time before he ends up coming home. The players usually shower in the locker room and get cleaned up before they leave. I’m sure he’ll have to stick around for some media interviews, too.
It’s before eleven, and I’m starting to get tired when I get a call from Antonio down in the lobby. I had let him know I was waiting on Colson and he promised he’d call me when he saw him come in.
“He’s heading up the elevator now, Ms. Carr.”
“Thank you, Antonio.”
I quickly hang up my phone and toss it on the couch, not bothering to pay attention to where it lands. My adrenaline spikes as my heels click on the tile floor, walking through my dining room to my door.
This is a bold move, but Colson makes me feel bold. He also makes me feel confident and sexy. He’s been going out of his way to show me how much he wants me. I’m eager to chip away at his calm and cool exterior and see if I’m able to make him crack.
Opening the door, I adjust the jersey making sure it’s covering enough to pull off the look of a dress. I didn’t intend for it to be, but I knew after seeing the way he looked at me in my office, he’d appreciate seeing my legs in the black heels I’m wearing for him. Leaning against the door frame, I watch as the lights blink above the elevator, bringing him closer and closer to me. When the doors part and I see him standing there, dressed in his fitted suit and his gym bag hanging from his shoulder, I can feel the heat pooling in my tummy.
His eyes widen, taken by surprise when he comes face-to-face with me, but when his eyes fall to the jersey with his number on the front, his jaw drops open.
One point for me.
His eyes stare at my legs, my right leg crossed over my left.
“Nice shoes.”
“Thanks, I thought you might like them. They go well with the outfit.”
He smirks, and a grin breaks out across my face.
“I have to agree with that statement. Were you waiting for me?”
“No, I just like hanging out in the hallway with nothing but your jersey on. Seemed like a pleasant way to greet the neighbors.”
“Well, are you going to greet me?”
“Of course, but to properly greet you, I’m going to have to ask you to come inside.”
“Is that right?”
Pushing off the door frame, I take a step into my apartment, careful of how I walk so I don’t give anyone else who may be looking out their peephole a show they may not have expected to receive.
When I peer over my shoulder to make sure he’s following me, I notice his eyes are falling on where the edge of the jersey hits my upper thigh.
Holding the door open for him, I stand back and wait for him to walk through. He doesn’t wait for me to close the door behind him, dropping his bag inside the doorway as he turns to kiss me. His hands are pressed against the side of my face, holding me as he pushes me back enough to let the door close behind him.
He doesn’t stop kissing me, even when his hand reaches behind him to click the lock into place. He stares down at me, biting his lip as he shakes his head, unable to believe what he’s seeing.
“I need you to do a quick little spin. You know, give me the full three-sixty like those models do.” He chuckles.
“Oh, you want me to model for you?”
He raises his eyebrow, shrugging before he nods his head yes.
Reaching for his hand, I lead him down the hall toward my bedroom. He laces his fingers in mine, using his other hand to unbutton the front of his suit jacket. It’s a shame he doesn’t wear a suit and tie every day, even if he does look damn fine on the basketball court.
When we enter my room, he pauses to glance around the space. I know him well enough by now to recognize he’s using it to peel back another layer of who I am.
Leading him over to the foot of my bed, I push him until he’s reclined back on his elbows. His suit jacket falls open, and my eyes burn into him and the perfectly fitted dress shirt he’s wearing underneath.
I’m itching to get my hands on him, but I need to hold up my end of the deal and give him the full modeling experience.
Running my fingers through my hair, I toss my long locks over to the side, giving it a wild look. Turning so my back is facing him, I saunter along the hardwood floors of my bedroom, pausing to reach for the hem of the jersey, lifting it to show him the new orange panties I purchased recently. After the way his eyes lit up in my office at the sight of my red ones, I knew I needed to get a few more.
I’m glad I did. Seeing his nostrils flare and his jaw clench, gives me the reaction I had been hoping for. His eyes are laser-focused on my every move as I continue to turn so my back is facing him. Bending down, I loosen the strap of my heels and judging by the string of curse words he muttered, my little plan is working. Unhooking my shoe, I kick it off near my closet door, widening my stance before leaning over to my other foot and doing the same.
When I stand facing him, his fingers are pulling at his tie, loosening it.
“
No. That’s my job. You sit and wait.”
His eyes widen slightly, the edge of his lip curls up before rubbing his lips together. I think it’s safe to say he’s enjoying how I’ve turned the tables and am now calling the shots.
Yeah, my plan is working like a charm.
Stepping between his legs, my fingers slip into the waistband of his pants, reaching for the buckle of his belt. His eyes turn darker as he peers up at me under his long eyelashes, making my knees weak.
“Why didn’t you wear this to the game?”
“I ended up buying it after,” I say. He nods his head. “I will next time, though.”
“You may want to hold off for a few games. I’m not sure I’ll be able to get the sight of you bending over for me out of my head. It’s not going to help my focus while I play.”
“Well, seeing how you played tonight, something tells me you’ll be fine.”
He smirks. The way his lip curls with his smile, I give into the urge to kiss him.
“I’m not sure I’m going to be able to get the sight of you wearing a suit out of my mind anytime soon, either. I liked seeing you in your uniform tonight, but this suit…” I trail off, not finishing the words as I focus on unbuttoning his dress shirt. Running my fingers across his chest over his shoulders, I help him shrug out of his clothes.
His stomach muscles flex when I kiss a line down to the smattering of hair leading to his growing cock. Rubbing my palm roughly over the front of his pants, he whispers, “shit,” beneath his breath.
This time, when I kneel in front of him, I notice the way he grits his teeth, his jaw clenched. He’s fighting off the need to take control, but when I lower his zipper and wrap my hand around him, he exhales harshly, letting all the pent-up tension deflate out of him. He squeezes his eyes shut when I drag my hand over him, pumping him fast then slow.
A bead of precum leaks from the tip, inviting me to lean forward, swiping my tongue over the head, and he lets out a strangled moan.
His perfectly crafted exterior is cracking right before me, and damn if I don’t love watching him crumble.
Bending forward, I suck him deep into my mouth until he hits the back of my throat.
Personal Foul: A Sports Office Standalone Romance Page 7
