The Play Maker (The Sideline Series Book 1)

by L. M. Carr

  He slides his hand up my leg, close to my core. “I’ve had better things for dessert.”

  I kiss him, sliding his hand away. “Stop! You’re working, and I don’t want to distract you.”

  “I could use the distraction. I just want a little taste,” he states.

  I open the container and plunge a plastic fork into the scrumptious dessert, then bring it to his lips. “Here you go.”

  He opens his mouth and slowly takes the fork between his lips, chewing. “So good, but not as good as you.”

  Lifting my body, wrapping my legs around his waist, Julian carries me to the leather couch. He kneels on the floor and lifts my dress, his head disappearing underneath the material. Hands moving my panties, I gasp when I feel his tongue on me.

  I feel my orgasm building, slow and steady. Gripping the back of his head, I stifle the cry when he flicks his tongue over my clit, making me explode.

  Panting, I smile at him when he looks up at me. “If I didn’t know better, I think you might be trying to kill me.”

  He crawls up the length of my body and kisses me. “Nope. I just love making you feel good.”

  The landline on his desk rings with two consecutive beeps, letting him know the call is “in-house”.

  Julian growls playfully and jumps up to answer the phone. As he sits, I adjust my clothing, secretly wishing I had on a pair of granny panties instead of a thong. I could use the cotton to absorb the moisture between my legs. Feeling uncomfortable, I stride to the door.

  “Hold on a sec,” I hear Julian say to the person on the phone, then to me, “Where are you going?” I glance back and see him covering the receiver with his palm.

  “To find the bathroom.” I mouth, I’m so wet.

  His eyes turn fierce, the fluorescent bulbs in the room transforming his orbs into a deep shade of cobalt. He returns to the call. “Listen. Something came up that requires my immediate attention.”

  He disconnects, then narrows his eyes at me. “You. Come here. Now,” he demands, his voice deepening to a threatening tone.

  A shiver of excitement travels through me.

  “You think you’re going to walk away and wipe away that deliciousness before I can enjoy it?”

  We stare at each other until he beckons me with his index finger. “Right here. Right now.”

  I slowly walk back to his desk, desire consuming me.

  When I stand before him, he caresses my face with the back of his hand and brings my mouth to his. “Mine.” He spins me around and pushes me down on his desk, spreading my legs with his. Aside from the sound of my galloping heart, I only hear the unzipping of his pants.

  Julian and I have always had an intense attraction. Sex with him has always been so much more than just a physical act. It doesn’t matter if we make slow, passionate love or if he’s rough. It’s our connection. Our unbridled love.

  Pounding into me from behind, he grips my hips, both of us rising until we come at the same time, releasing strained curses.

  I smile and look over my shoulder, panting. “Now I have to clean up.”

  As he kisses my shoulder and I stand, adjusting my clothes, I spot a folder with Rence’s name on it.

  “What’s this?” I ask, lifting it.

  He yanks it from my hand, making me scowl. “That’s confidential.” He immediately stashes the folder into the desk drawer and tucks himself back into his pants.

  “Bullshit! If it’s about my brother, I want to know.”

  Taking a deep breath and releasing it with an exaggerated huff, Julian shakes his head. “Around here, Rence is one of my players. I’m not going to treat him differently just because I’m marrying his sister.”

  Surprised by the unexpected news, a huge smile stretches across my face. “Your players? He’s on the team?” I throw my arms around his neck and bounce with uncontrollable joy. “I am so happy right now!”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but he actually wanted to tell you himself, so act surprised when he does.”

  I pull back. “When did all this happen?”

  “Last week.”

  My eyes narrow. “I wonder why he hasn’t said anything yet. I should call him.”

  Julian rubs the nape of his neck. “I think he’s in Chicago.”

  “Visiting Mallory?”

  He shrugs, then snickers. “I guess. I don’t keep tabs on my players like that, unless I know they’re up to no good.”

  “I’m going to get you back somehow for withholding this information from me.” Laughter emerges as my hands slide around to squeeze his ass. “I’m going on a sex strike for three days.”

  “What?” he yelps, fear in his eyes. “Why? This isn’t my fault. He told me not to say anything.”

  My hands fly to my hips and purse my lips. “Who’s the coach again?”

  He laughs when I spin around and exit his office.

  Minutes later, I return. After taking a few bites of my salad while we talk, I put the container into Julian’s refrigerator. Since a few of us from work are having dinner at a new restaurant downtown and Julian has to work late, he can nibble on it. I wasn’t going to go, but it’s a free dinner at an expensive place. How could I say no?

  “Listen, I’ll let you get back to work.” A sweet kiss accompanies my words before I stride out of his office and meander through the halls that I’ve wandered through hundreds of times.

  The unexpected appearance of a cheerleader in tight spandex walking around the corner makes me a little uneasy. I know women want to fuck Julian. It’s nothing new. I trust him, but I also know the pressure he puts on himself to make everyone happy. I just don’t want anyone to take advantage of his good heart.

  When I reach my vehicle, I call Rence. My call goes to voicemail, so I hang up and type out a brief text.

  Call me. It’s very important.

  Since getting engaged, life’s been hectic. I don’t get to see my brother as often as I’d like, so when he’d called and said he and Mallory were coming for a visit the last week in March, I was elated. I wanted their visit to be special, and I had the perfect way to do it.

  Cashing in on the week-long trip I’d won at the charity ball, the four of us went to South Padre Island. Lazy days or paddleboarding were part of our routine.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” Julian asked as he dried off with a towel.

  “All the time in the gym has really paid off,” I noted as I slid my hand down the front of his body and traveled over his tight abdominal muscles. Then I trailed my fingertips over his biceps. “You look like you should be on the field playing, not coaching from the sidelines.”

  “I’m right where I’m supposed to be,” he countered with a subtle shake of his head. “I’m the happiest I’ve been in a long time.”

  We emerged from our bungalow to meet up with Rence and Mallory. She and I had bonded over a mutual fascination of dolphins during the tour around Devil’s Elbow.

  On our last day, Julian produced a football and tossed a long pass to Rence, reminding us of the way it used to be, essentially putting an end to the underlying tension that still lingered.

  I smile at the memory as I drive back to the penthouse to get ready for dinner. Julian swears the commute from the stadium is usually only twenty minutes, but the heavy traffic will extend my trip by another fifteen.

  Once showered, I dress in fitted jeans, a one-shouldered top and heels, then drive to Brenner’s on the Bayou, arriving by six forty-five. Unlike my brother, I hate being late. The thought makes me chuckle as I pull the heavy door open and step inside. I’m never late for anything. Then it hits me.

  My period… I swallow back the rising bile, calculating the date of my last cycle. Oh fuck.

  “AJ!” Wes, standing from his place at the back bar, calls me over with a wave of his hand.

  I slap a smile onto my face and walk toward him, suppressing my anxiety, to no avail.

  I can’t be pregnant. A baby is not part of the plan…not
right now.

  I smile at Curt, his wife, LeighAnn, and a few other colleagues.

  “What are you having?” Curt asks, signaling the bartender.

  “I’m good actually,” I blurt.

  Curt’s eyes widen. “Really?”

  Even I’m surprised by my reply, God knows I’m not one to pass on a glass of wine. “I’ll just have a Perrier with lemon.”

  My colleagues continue to make small talk, but I’m no longer listening to the conversation, my memories tumbling.

  I lingered outside the Rite Aid pharmacy for twenty minutes before I finally summoned up the courage to go in. My steps heavy, my feet dragged like two blocks of cement. I scanned the signs hanging from the ceiling, indicating what items were where. Inhaling slowly, I trekked through the store until I stood before the product that would determine my life’s direction. Without reading the labels, I snatched a box from the shelf, tucked it into the crook of my arm and marched to the front counter where four other people waited. I felt as though everyone was looking at me, as though they all knew what I hid.

  A young woman, who looked only a few years older than me, offered a sympathetic smile as her fingers flew over the cash register. Maybe she saw the panic in my eyes or the shaking of my hand when I unfolded the ten dollar bill and handed it to her.

  “It’s going to be okay,” she whispered as she placed the box into a white, plastic bag.

  Surprised eyes flashed up at her. “What?”

  “If you’re pregnant… You’re going to be okay.”

  “I’m not pregnant,” I hissed.

  “Oh. I guess I assumed the test was for you. You have the same look I had when I found out I was going to have a baby at seventeen.” She smiled. “He’s starting first grade in the fall.”

  As she handed me my change, I murmured a quick thanks and rushed out of the store, the bile in my stomach on the rise. I didn’t remember driving home or talking to either one of my parents before I sprinted up the stairs and locked myself into the bathroom. My lips moved as I silently read the directions on the rectangular box. The only sound was my heart beating like a drum.

  Please be negative. Please be negative, I prayed over and over as I held the stick between my legs and forced out a stream of urine. The combination of fear and nerves made my hand shake, warm liquid splashing all over it. I jumped to my feet and dropped the pregnancy test onto the floor. For a moment, I stood there. My eyes watered. All my dreams, all Julian’s dreams would be over. A baby would change everything. The life we had planned would no longer be an option.

  With the potential detour in life, a flow of hot tears sprang from my eyes. I collapsed onto the floor and pulled my knees to my chest as I stared at the white plastic stick that held the answer to my future.

  “Please let there be just one line. Just one line,” I repeated, my head hanging between my knees.

  After several minutes, I extended my leg and pulled the test over with my foot. It was inches away, yet I couldn’t move my fingers to grasp it.

  “AJ! Are you in there?” my mother called. “What are you doing? You’ve been in there a long time.”

  I grabbed the test and hid it behind my back, fearful that she may open the door.

  “I’m… I’m okay. I think I ate something bad at school,” I replied, afraid my unsteady voice would make her come in.

  “Okay, sweetie. Don’t be too long. The boys will be home for dinner in about an hour.”

  “All right.” I rolled my eyes. Yesterday I was called a useless bitch. Today I’m a sweetie.

  Her light footsteps bounding down the stairs indicated her absence and her state of mind.

  My attention returned to the test that weighed heavily in my hand. I looked up at the ceiling. “Anything. I’ll do anything, God. Take my scholarship. Just don’t let me be pregnant. I’m begging you.”

  Pulling the plastic stick from behind my back, I held it in front of my face. I drew in a sharp breath as I focused on the single, dark blue line. Negative. I released the breath I’d been holding, relieved. I offered up a million words of gratitude as I shoved the test into the box and discarded the package. I washed my face, exited the bathroom and ran into my bedroom, sitting on my bed. I sobbed quietly, allowing the relief to settle in my heart.

  “Doesn’t it?” Curt’s question pulls me back to reality.

  “Doesn’t it what?” I ask, blinking feverishly.

  “Your schedule… It looks good this season.”

  I hum and nod in agreement.

  LeighAnn pulls out her phone and gushes about her baby girl, swiping through the album. With a huge smile, she boasts, “She’s the sweetest baby!”

  “When she’s on your nipple, maybe. Other than that, she’s got one hell of a set of lungs.” Curt smiles.

  She smirks and shakes her head. “That’s because you make the poor girl sit through SportsCenter all the time. She wants to hear your voice. Not the TV.”

  I laugh at the thought of Curt sitting at home, his infant daughter on the couch next to him, trying to explain the rules of the game.

  “You should see all the Patriots onesies this baby has.”

  I smile. “Well, they are the best team in the NFL.”

  “What? You don’t have confidence in your man?” Curt jokes with a raised brow, bringing the bottle of beer to his lips.

  “Oh, I know Julian can do it.” I sip my water. “He’s lining up the right players, building a championship team.”

  Curt leans over. “Come on, AJ. Throw me a bone. Who’s he got so far?”

  I mime locking my lips.

  “Rumor is a lot of younger players want to play for him.”

  I nod. “And a few older ones. I think some who are probably at the end of their career want to go out on top. They’re working hard to make the cut.”

  “Ugh! You’re killing me. Give me one name!” He holds up his index finger. “Just one. How about Richie? I heard he wants in.”

  I’m saved from further interrogation when the hostess walks over and ushers us to our seats. I grin and stride to the opposite side of the table where Janine sits and pull out the chair to her right.

  “Oh, I’m saving that seat.”

  I frown. Are we in middle school? I shift down to the next seat and sit next to Shannon, another reporter who transferred to our office a few weeks ago. We engage in small talk about her transition to Houston, her favorite sports and her boyfriend playing hockey in St. Louis.

  “How does a long-distance relationship work?” I ask, thinking about Rence and Mallory. It can’t be easy to see the person you love only once every few weeks. Then again, if Julian ended up coaching in California or something, we would make it work. Maybe I would transfer to another network or cover local sports. Regardless of what we had to do, we would find a way.

  “Because we both travel for work, we try to coordinate our schedules so we can at least meet up once every two weeks. It doesn’t always work out, but we do what we can. We FaceTime every day. If we decided to marry, I’d quit my job.”

  I gasp. “You’d quit?”

  She smiles. “Absolutely.”

  Seeing a tall figure approaching out of the corner of my eye, I draw my eyes away from her. My heart nearly stops when Justin pulls out the chair next to me. I shoot a scowl down the table to Wes and Curt.

  “Addison,” he says, his eyes connecting with mine.

  I sneer at his use of my full name. Only Julian calls me that. “It’s AJ.”

  “Oh, I thought you go by Addison now.”

  “Only my fiancé is allowed to call me that.” I raise my left hand and display my ring.

  Janine sucks in a breath. “Oh, my god! Is that vintage?”

  Insulted, I lower my hand and glare at her. “It’s been in my fiancé’s family for years.” My thumb grazes over the diamond, and I make a mental note to visit the jewelers to have the ring sized and the prongs secured.

  Justin slides his arm around the back of Janine’s cha
ir, then leans over to kiss her. “How’re you doing, babe?”

  She smiles and moans in return. “Better now that you’re here.”

  I found out that Justin had slept with Janine the weekend I’d gone to San Diego for my brother’s birthday. I remember Justin telling me about meeting a woman and fucking her all night. Turns out, he was telling the truth. What an asshole! And to think I actually felt badly for him.

  When my phone chirps, I pull it out of my bag. I read a text message from Rence.

  Hey. Can you talk?

  My hands fly over the screen, typing, as I see the three gray dots appear, letting me know he’s also texting.

  It’s about time! I’m at dinner. Can I call you when I get home?

  His message comes through simultaneously.

  Eric called. Mom died.

  I gasp, my mouth going dry as my mind races. How? When? Where? I can’t believe this! I rise quickly, apologizing to the table, and rush to the exit to call my brother.

  “Hey,” Rence says somberly.

  “What happened?” I choke out, eyes filling with tears. “Was she sick? I mean…I know she had issues, but did she—”

  “She was hit by a car.”

  “Oh, my god,” I sigh, imagining her lying in the street, alone, drawing her final breath.

  I listen intently as Rence provides details, explaining how it was an elderly man who had a massive heart attack, found dead in the car the next day.

  “So, what happens now?” I ask.

  “We go home and bury her.”

  When our father passed away, our mother handled everything. I wouldn’t even know where to begin or whom to contact. It’s not like my mother had much family or many friends. She was a callous, cold-hearted bitch who stood by and did nothing while her husband psychologically and physically abused their children. Her selfishness knew no bounds, so she couldn’t have been too surprised that once Rence and I left for college, we never returned. No birthdays. No holidays. Nothing. We’d both distanced ourselves as much as possible and ignored her “woe is me”, often irrational calls.

  But she was still my mother.

  I return to the table, grab my bag and say a quick goodnight to all, citing a family emergency.