by L. M. Carr
He shrugs as he strides across the room and into the en suite, the shower already running.
“I’m just happy. That’s all.”
Reaching down, I pull on the brushed nickel handle of the shower door. Julian steps in and sets me down, the steam swirling around us as my knees shake weakly. Needing stability, my hands clutch onto his chest as I close my eyes, tilt my head back and welcome the feel of the hot water sluicing down my back.
An unfamiliar scent permeates my nose as Julian steps behind me and glides his lathered hands over my skin, soaping every inch. I can feel the drops of water ricocheting off his body.
“That smells so good,” I moan.
When he sweeps my long mane to the side, I angle my head and expose my neck.
“Julian,” I sigh as he peppers my skin with chaste kisses, nibbling on my earlobe. Holding me flush to his body, he slides a hand over my breasts, down my stomach, to the apex of my thighs where he parts me with nimble fingers.
“I’m going to come again if you don’t stop.” I relish the feel of the circular motion against my hard nub.
“I love making you come, Addison.”
The anticipation grows, the blood in my veins propelling through my body.
“Come for me,” he hisses into my ear, encouraging me to move, gyrating my hips as I chase another orgasm.
I reach back and grip his neck, my heated face turning up to the descending water as I rise onto my toes and explode. A heavy exhale whooshes out of me as I lean back into his chest, body trembling, shaking my head.
“What’s wrong, baby?” he whispers into my ear.
“Nothing,” I huff. “Nothing is wrong. Everything is so right.”
I spin around to face him, cup his jaw, caress the scruff covering his chin and kiss him softly. I feel his erection twitch against my belly. With a small smile, I reach for the bottle of soap, squeeze some onto my palm. I rub my hands over his chiseled chest and abdomen, then travel lower. My grip tightens around his shaft with even, long strokes.
“Oh, my god,” he hisses, leaning forward to place his hands against the wall.
I drop to my knees and continue, leaving no part of his length untouched.
Julian’s entire body stiffens. He grips my hair and growls as he comes, his hot seed pulsing out onto my hand.
Once he stills, I pull myself up and hold his weary body in my arms.
After we finish showering, I stand in front of the mirror and drag a comb through my hair while Julian neatly trims his already perfect scruff.
“Thank you for moving all my stuff in here. I would’ve hated staying there knowing you were only a few floors up.”
“I missed you the minute you left the room,” he says, eyeing me in the mirror.
“Liar!” I reply with a light laugh.
Julian pats his face dry, tosses the hand towel down and steps behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. Our eyes meet in the mirror. “It’s true. I was miserable without you.”
I blow out a breath. “I missed you so much when we separated, Julian. I did anything and everything to stop thinking about you. None of it ever helped.”
His gaze drops, shamefully. “I’m sorry.”
Waving him off, I follow him into the bedroom, admiring the perfect form of his ass.
“Are you checking me out again?” He smiles, sliding into bed and opening his arms for me.
“Yep,” I confess, crawling into his arms.
Beneath the soft bedding, my naked body settles against his. I run my hands through the sprinkling of chest hair.
“Can I ask you something, Julian?”
“Of course,” he replies, placing a hand behind his head, the other caressing my back.
“What happened with Rence today?”
Julian moistens his lips, then takes a deep breath. “We had a really good talk.”
I raise my eyebrows. “And…”
“And we’re going to meet again soon to talk about the possibility of him coming to play for me.”
The thought of Rence in Houston is exciting. It would be like old times
“Go ahead.”
I glance up, brows furrowed. “What?”
“I know you have more questions,” he quips with a grin.
I laugh, propping myself on my elbow. “Would you rather I not ask?”
“I want you to ask me anything you want, Addison. I know you have a lot of questions. It’s been a long time since we talked like this.”
I nod, my heart aching for a brief moment. Then something occurs to me.
“Why aren’t you asking me any questions?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “I don’t have any.”
I roll my eyes. “Aren’t you curious about my life all these years?”
He shakes his head slowly. “We can’t change the past.”
“I know, but there isn’t anything you want to know?”
I’m fully aware this could be a slippery slope, but I want everything out in the open. I’m no longer the girl who lost her virginity to him. I’m a woman.
“I don’t care what or who you did, Addison,” he replies sharply, sighing in exasperation. “Neither one of us can change any of the decisions we made.”
I raise my hand to his chest and caress his skin softly. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Searing me with an intense blue gaze, he raises his hand to my face and pulls me down, kissing me gently.
“You already answered the one question I had,” he murmurs against my lips.
“I did? What question was that?”
“Whether you still loved me.”
Tears springing to my eyes, I slide my arms around his neck and nod. “I love you so much, Julian. I have always loved you.”
He pulls me onto his chest, cocooning me against his warm body, his hands splaying across my back. He forces a swallow. “I will always regret leaving you.”
“It’s done. No more talking about the past.”
His hold tightens with immeasurable and undeniable love.
“We’re something else, huh?” I ask, pulling back to look at him, seeing a single tear rolling down his face. I glide my thumb over it, wiping it away.
“We’re going to have quite a story to tell our kids.” He smiles.
I snort. “We can probably skip all the sordid details. They’ll just need to know that football brought us together…twice.”
He grins, nodding.
“So, I know we just said the past is the past, but…” I swallow. “I do have one last question.”
“What is it?”
“When you and Rence talked this morning, did either of you mention…the incident?”
Julian raises a hand from my back to scrub his scruff. “Yes and no. Look, what happened on the field is in the past. What’s done is done.”
Abruptly, I push myself up onto my straightened arm and look at him. “But that’s the thing, Julian. My brother needs to apologize for what he did to you. He ended your career!”
“He ended my days on the field, not my days on the sidelines.”
“But is that going to be enough for you?”
Julian blinks and nods. “As long as I have you by my side, I can do anything.”
I slap his chest lightly and roll my eyes. “Julian, I’m being serious.”
“So am I.”
I shake my head and sigh in irritation. “Football is a huge part of your life.”
His eyes lock with mine. “As are you. If I had to make the choice again, I’d choose you.”
Choose me? I never realized I was considered an option.
Pressing my lips against his, I close my eyes as a vivid memory from high school rushes forward.
“Good night,” I said as I waved goodbye to Mrs. MacIntyre after dinner. Even with her meager salary, she always made sure she saved a few extra dollars to get Julian’s favorite pizza on Saturday nights.
“Don’t wait up, Ma. You need your rest,” he warned as he kissed her chee
k softly.
Walking alongside him toward his car, I smiled when Julian grabbed my hand and lifted it to his lips.
“What’s up? You’re acting strange,” I remarked as he walked to the driver’s side while I dropped into the passenger seat.
Before he started the engine, Julian leaned toward me. Thinking he was going to kiss me, I mimicked the movement. Instead, he extended his body and reached into the back seat.
My fingers longed to touch the exposed skin of his lower back.
“Stop looking at my butt!” he scolded playfully without turning around.
“Then get it out of my face!” I replied with a smack to the back of his leg.
He sat again, holding his backpack. A passing car provided enough illumination for me to see the apprehension on his face as he unzipped it.
“Julian, what’s going on? You’re making me nervous.”
He reached into the bag. “I wanted to give you something.” He holds a football out to me.
Confused, I scowled, taking it. “I don’t understand. Why are you giving me a football?”
After a moment of hesitation, he sighed softly. “It’s the game ball from last night.”
I pulled my eyes away from the ball and looked at him. “But…,” I stammered. “You passed for more than three hundred yards, and…” Emotion threatened to steal my words. “I can’t take this, Julian. Last night was a milestone for you. You broke the school’s all-time passing record.”
He caressed my cheek with the back of his hand. “My mom said if I was serious about you, I needed to give you something.” A smile tugged at his mouth. “She said back in her day, I would’ve given you my class ring.” He shrugged. “Since I didn’t get one, I’m giving you this.” His hands moved down and covered mine around the ball. “I want to give you something so you know how I feel about you.”
I smiled, tears forming in my eyes. “Julian… You don’t have to give me anything. I already know how you feel about me.” I tried to hand the ball back.
He shook his head adamantly. “I want you to have it. Football is my life. It beats right here.” He placed a hand over his heart. “But you’re my life, too.”
I climbed over the center console, straddled his lap and hugged him. “Thank you,” I cried into his neck. “I love you so much.”
He wrapped his arms around me and held me close. “I love you, Addison. More than you’ll ever know.”
Chapter Fourteen
The view from Julian’s balcony is magnificent. I scan the white sand beach that leads down to the water with its varying shades of aquamarine and turquoise. The shore seems to stretch for miles.
I sigh, feeling like Rence is avoiding me. My calls and texts have yielded no reply, and the knocks on his door remained unanswered, despite hearing muffled voices inside.
“Are you sure he didn’t say anything else to you?” I ask, turning my attention to Julian, who spreads grape jelly onto his toast. He sinks his teeth into the bread and shakes his head.
“I haven’t talked to him,” he mumbles around the mouthful, then swallows. “By the way, a couple of the guys want to have dinner tonight.”
I lower my eyes and raise my cup, slowly sipping the last of my coffee to conceal my disappointment. “Okay. I’ll see you when you get back.”
“You’re not coming with me?” he murmurs, disappointed.
I raise my shoulders. “I didn’t think I was invited.”
“Of course you are. I wouldn’t leave you alone on our last night.”
A smile stretches across my face. “Who’s going?”
His phone dings with a text, and he pulls it out of his pocket. “Just a couple of friends,” he says casually, typing, then looks at me, biting his bottom lip and trying to suppress a grin.
I narrow my eyes at him. I know he’s been scouting talent and keeping track of free agents.
“You’d better be careful,” I warn.
Feigning innocence, he shrugs. “Careful about what?”
“Julian, you know exactly what I’m talking about. Someone might consider that tampering, especially since a lot of these guys are still contracted with another team. You could get into a lot of trouble.”
“Addison, who’s going to question me about having dinner with friends.”
“But are they really your friends?” I ask, raising a brow.
“Does Facebook count?”
I scoff. “I don’t think so. Who’s going anyway? Anyone I know?” I prod with a grin.
He laughs. “Addison, you know everyone in this industry.”
“This is true.”
We kiss goodbye, both of us having things to do, and agree to meet up before dinner. As a new head coach, Julian was invited to a round of golf with team owners and coaches. It’s an “unofficial” meeting to discuss upcoming changes in the NFL. Many people hope to see the league adjust the rules about penalties and blown calls. There have been too many of those lately.
My day is filled with endless coverage of the kids’ events our network sponsored. I have a smile on my face, but internally, all I can think about is Julian.
“Are you having fun? I haven’t seen you much,” Justin comments as we walk to the lunch table.
I grab a grilled chicken wrap, a bag of chips and a bottle of water, then shuffle along the line. “It’s a work trip. There isn’t much leisure time.”
“I went by your room this morning, but some old lady answered.”
“Yeah, I changed rooms,” I confirm, quickly walking to a large table where the rest of our team sits.
“Do you know MacIntyre is here?” Joe, the producer, asks, all heads turning in my direction.
I raise an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure most of the coaches and owners are,” I shoot back.
Aaron, whose nasally voice and laughter have always reminded me of a goat, asks, “How’s your brother feeing?”
“He’s good,” I mumble around a mouthful of food, not mentioning that I haven’t talked to him since we met in his room to discuss my reconciliation with Julian.
“Heard he got himself into a little scuffle last night.”
I choke on the food in my mouth, coughing for several minutes before I can take a breath. “He what?” I gasp, coughing a few more times before I take a drink of water. Clearing my throat, I look at him. “I didn’t hear that.”
“Apparently, it was over some chick.”
Trying to disguise my frustration with my brother, I shrug. “Well, Rence is a big boy. I’m sure he can take care of himself.”
I quickly finish my lunch, then excuse myself to find Rence, determined to get him to talk to me. I’m not sure what’s gotten into him lately, but he’s been acting strangely over the past few months.
Grabbing my phone from my bag, I send Julian a text to let him know I’m thinking about him. When I look up, I see Gigi Asher walking in my direction with her father, my stomach roiling. Thankfully, she’s looking down at her phone. I try not to stare, but I must admit, she’s a gorgeous girl. And I do mean girl. I don’t even think she’s old enough to rent a car without her parents’ signature. She wears a short, white dress, which details every curve and accentuates her long, tan legs. Her long brown hair is braided on one side and hangs over her thin shoulder. A pang of jealousy rises within me when I think of Julian with her.
“Miss Hamilton!” Ed Asher calls, grasping my arm.
Flustered by the unexpected greeting, I feign a smile at the older man, whose teeth match his white, linen shirt, his skin the brown color of his pants.
Oh, hello.”
“Have you met my daughter?”
I flash my eyes to hers and smile tightly. Possibly annoyed at having been interrupted while perusing social media, she huffs and stares at me, as if this is somehow my fault.
“Georgina, this is AJ Hamilton. She reads the sports highlights on television. Doesn’t that sound fun?”
The brunette bombshell and I both look at him.
“Excuse me
?” I snarl in indignation. “I don’t read the sports highlights. I report the game from the field. There’s a lot more to my job than what you just suggested.”
“Daddy, is there a point to this conversation?” Gigi whines. “I have things to do and people to see.” Her eyes rake over my body. “Important people.”
Mr. Asher leans in and kisses the top of his daughter’s head. “Go on. I’ll catch up to you, sweetheart.”
I remain silent and still as she saunters away with her head down, all her attention on her phone once again
“Sweet girl, isn’t she?” he says, looking at me with a knowing smile.
“You took the words right out of my mouth.” The dry words sound exactly the way my mouth feels.
“Forgive me,” he says, reaching out to stroke my arm. “It seems I’ve offended you. Why don’t you meet me for dinner so you can tell me all about you and your job?”
I pull my arm away and scratch a non-existent itch, his touch making my skin crawl. “It’s fine, Mr. Asher. I don’t need to explain myself to you.”
He suppresses a smile with tightened lips and focused eyes. “Well, meet me for dinner anyway.”
“I already have plans for dinner,” I counter as people continue to walk past us in the lobby.
“Then come to my room and we can have breakfast in the morning.” Dark, lust-filled eyes penetrate mine.
A cold shiver runs through me and my stomach roils. Feeling nauseated by his insidious and disgusting offer, I raise my chin and clear my throat.
“Have a good afternoon, Mr. Asher.”
Despite wanting to run, I walk away from the tall, older man and continue toward the elevator.
Hoping to appear unaffected, I press the button and wait calmly, even as I feel the weight of his stare. When the doors open, I step aside as a family of six spills out, each member donning apparel representing the New England Patriots. With Tom Brady’s number on their backs, the two adolescent boys giggle as they make their way out.
I step on just as the doors begin to close. Suddenly, somebody grasps my bicep and pushes my body forward, slamming me into the back wall. I whip my head around to see Ed Asher’s face, lips snarling.
“What the hell are you doing?” I screech, struggling against him. “Get your fucking hand off me!”
