Personal Foul (Moving the Chains Book 6)

by Kata Čuić

  She laughed while she threw the practice makes perfect proverb back at me when I begged one night.

  Yep. I begged for sex.

  I can’t believe this is my life, and I get to live it.

  “I won’t see you for a few days,” I remind her, brushing my lips over her nose, her cheeks, her closed eyelids, her ear as I fold my body over hers. “I’ve gotta fly out to Sacramento for the Sing Out gala, and then straight to Chicago for the game.”

  We’re so close to clinching a playoff spot. Mayview has kept his word. He’s been actually pretty decent for a few months. Obviously, that worries me.

  “I know the schedule,” she moans as I suck on her neck. “I work for the team, remember?”

  Because I work for the same team, I don’t have time to do what I want to do this morning. If Sing Out wasn’t such a good public charity that gives me the leverage of even better press, I wouldn’t be getting the clearance to head to Cali tonight. I’ve gotta be at the Sharks facility early to make up for my absence later this afternoon.

  I kiss Amira’s lips one last time to hold me over for a few days. “I love you.”

  “I can’t.” She sighs, her warm breathing fanning over me. “I can’t give you that. I’m at maximum emotional capacity, Alex. I don’t have room to process anything else.”

  I know she is. It’s a shit situation, but I’m trying to make the best of it. For all of us.

  “I’m not pressuring you,” I promise on a whisper. “I’m not gonna leave without telling you either.”

  The corners of her mouth lift. She wants to let go, but her whole life has been about other people controlling her. She needs more time to learn that she can trust me. That I’m not going to punish her for not bending to my will.

  “I’ve never been able to pleasure myself to climax without thinking of the first time you made me come,” she blurts.

  I blink at her. I can be a little late. “What?”

  She squeezes her eyes tightly shut. “I can’t tell you I love you, but I can give you that information.”

  My mind races with the implications of her admission. I can’t believe I’m going to ask this out loud, but… “What about with other guys?”

  She rolls her lips in and shakes her head slightly.

  “Amira?” I knead her breast like a fucking stress ball. If I have to go for her throat to get the truth out of her, I will.

  “No. Never with another man,” she whispers. “That would be unfair to everyone.”

  I honestly don’t know how I feel about that.

  The rational side of my brain reminds me that I let her go. I loved her and never told her. I shouldn’t have expected any loyalty. Not even in the privacy of her own bed. God knows there were a lot of women before her. The part of my brain that wouldn’t let me tell her I loved her screams this is a red flag. Proof of what I learned the hard way—women are not to be trusted. They’ll take and take and take from you and break your heart while wearing a smile.

  “You’ll give me that, but you won’t even look at me?” It’s the only thing I can think to say.

  She sighs again. “I wouldn’t want to cast any voodoo spells on you that might jinx you for all the flying you’ll be doing this weekend. You also can’t afford not to play your best on Sunday.”

  “I love your black eyes.” I kiss her again while I mentally kick the stupid part of my brain that’s fucked me over too many times. “I love being under your spell.”

  She cracks her eyes open. Just barely. “I have so many questions, but I don’t want to hear any answers until after she’s born.”

  I don’t have to push a watermelon out of a cherry-sized hole, so I can’t really argue about her using D-Day as an excuse. I’m nervous about it, too.

  “What if I give you answers without you having to ask?”

  She scrunches her face. “How will you know what to answer without knowing the questions?”

  I stare at her.

  She stares back. Blankly.

  I raise my eyebrow.

  She glares and reaches out a hand to smooth it down. “I hate it when you do that.”

  “I hate it when you tell me you don’t think I’m stupid, but then you turn around and treat me like I’m stupid,” I fire back.

  She sighs. Again. “I was wrong.”

  That stings, but I don’t pull away. I’m not running. “You can teach me how to be smarter. Call it payback for the sex lessons I gave you in college.”

  She smashes her face into the pillow to the point she might actually be trying to kill herself. Finally, she comes up for air before I have to intervene. “I don’t think you’re stupid. This is about the sex lessons in college.”

  I’m going to be really late. “Go on…”

  “I was wrong,” she repeats then takes a deep breath. “I thought I knew what I wanted—to lose my virginity without strings. I thought I could go through with your lessons, and not only gain you as my research study but also enjoy sex without catching feelings.”

  “You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know. You and Zack got together the same night.” It’s not a pretty memory, but I’m full of those anyway.

  She flattens me with those black, black eyes. “It wasn’t Zack.”

  “Zack was your side piece? Really? You’re admitting you pretended to need my help just to get me to be your guinea pig?”

  She raises a single eyebrow. “Now, you’re being stupid.”

  Yeah. I am. I was. She did a damn good job of pretending six years ago, but I knew she was as affected as I was by that single kiss. I was so close—so close—to giving in, but I didn’t. I taught her more rules, turned her away, and gave her to someone else. I let her down. The same as everyone else in her life who was supposed to do better. Now, she’s afraid to give me a second chance.

  She goes on with a brush of breath against my face, “I never believed in the whole concept of love at first sight. I didn’t even like you when we first met. I didn’t think an orgasmic fingering job and a single kiss would change everything, but I was wrong. It did. We became friends over time. You let me see hints of the real you. When you finally put your hands on me, I was already a goner.”

  I lace our fingers together between us. She doesn’t have to say those three little words. She’s telling me everything anyway.

  “You didn’t seem to reciprocate what I felt. You were hands-off that night with Zack. You let him fuck me while you sat there and watched. So, I moved on. I moved on, Alex. Yes, we’re living together. Yes, we’ve had plenty of sex, but I eventually learned what you tried to teach me. Sex doesn’t have to mean feelings. I’ve worked so hard to get where I am today. I have a baby to think about now. To put first. I can’t give you all of me again, only for you to change your mind at the first doubt that creeps into your head after I have a late session with a client.”

  I open my mouth to argue, but she slaps her hand over me.

  “Don’t. For all the confessions, all the coughed-up backstory, all the professions of love, I’m still not part of your life. Not really. I’m only part of the show you give the rest of the world. We hide away in this empty house and only interact with our coworkers. I’ve never met your family. She has. You’ve never introduced me to any of your friends. She’s part of your inner circle. You loved her first. That means something to me. Far more than how many women you’ve slept with that you never had feelings for. I’ve never wanted an arranged marriage, Alex. I don’t want a relationship of convenience either. Not because I’m pregnant and horny and not because you are compelled to help damsels in distress.”

  I wait a few heartbeats. She eventually removes her hand from my mouth but doesn’t say anything else.

  “Are you finished?”

  She nods.

  “It must feel good to get all that off your chest.” I don’t dare laugh. “For a psychologist, you really should know that it’s unhealthy to keep all those negative emotions bottled up.”

  She gl
ares at me.

  I almost laugh.

  “All right. I really gotta go now. I’m gonna be late.” I kiss her one more time. “I love you. See you when I get home.”

  “What?” she shouts when I roll out of bed.

  I grin as I hobble out of the bedroom.

  If she didn’t love me, she wouldn’t be so hung up on all that stuff.

  I know what I have to do, but boy, is it gonna suck.

  Time to break some more rules.

  Mostly, hers.

  A strange noise outside distracts my attention from the TV and my pint of ice cream. With gargantuan effort, I twist to glance out the large window that faces the front of the house. Not an easy feat with a stomach that’s near bursting.

  “Alex,” I hiss.

  Light snoring is the only response.

  He’s sprawled out in his usual spot on the sofa, his leg elevated on a throw pillow, an ice pack dripping down onto the silken cloth.

  Great. That’s going to leave water spots.

  I’m trying so, so hard not to be irritated by everything he does. It’s not easy. I’m perpetually tired, my feet, ankles, and hands are swollen. I have constant heartburn and have to pee every five minutes. Then, there are the nagging doubts that refuse to abate in the back of my mind, no matter how many times Alex says he loves me. He’s the most doting father I could have ever imagined, in spite of being absolutely exhausted and beat up from a long season. It’s not enough to quell my fears.

  The Sharks lost in the last round of the playoffs. It was a good run, but the guys are taking it hard. For the past few weeks, Alex has been catching up on much-needed rest for both his mind and his knee. In between fulfilling my pickle cravings and spending an exorbitant amount of money on Louboutin flip flops for my swollen feet. I didn’t even know Louboutin made sandals.

  I hate to wake him now, but there’s a strange car in the driveway.

  I shake his shoulder gently. “Alex. Someone’s here.”

  He awakes with a start and glances at his wrist. He doesn’t wear a watch. “Is it time already?”

  “Time for what?” I heave myself off the couch to follow him as he limps to the front door. “I’m not in labor.”

  Yet. I’m due in two weeks. God help me if I go over. I will beg the obstetrician to end this misery.

  He throws open the door and calls out, “You guys made good time. You’re early.”

  An unfamiliar male voice calls out, “Your brother really detested the first rest stop, so we avoided them as much as possible.”

  Brother?

  I shake Alex’s shoulder for a completely different reason as I hide behind the door. “Alex! Is your family here?”

  “Yeah.” He aims a tired smile at me. “You said you wanted to meet them, so I invited them.”

  “Are you kidding?” I hiss. “I’m due in a few weeks! They don’t even know about me! They don’t know about the baby! I look hideous!”

  Alex chuckles then leans over to press a soft kiss to my cheek. “You look as gorgeous as always.”

  Approaching footsteps divert his attention outside. “Thanks for taking a weekend off of partying.”

  A new voice laughs. “You’re just lucky my season’s been over for a while, or I wouldn’t have made it.”

  Alex grimaces, but it’s really a smile. “Band geek.”

  “Dumb jock.”

  Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.

  That must be Jimmy.

  I’ve been standing here like a statue panicking for too long. What I should have been doing was waddling up the stairs to make myself decent. I’m wearing a thin tank top and maternity shorts. No bra. “Alex! Stall them! I have to change!”

  He glances over at me. His eyes widen. “Shit, yeah. Davey loves boobs.” He grins. “He gets that from me.”

  In the blink of an eye, Alex whips off his t-shirt and pulls it over my head. It barely covers my protruding stomach.

  A man who looks like a younger carbon copy of Alex steps in the door and bursts out laughing. “Stop telling people he gets it from you, showoff.”

  Alex glances over his shoulder at Jimmy. “You’re just jealous you can’t get up to an eight-pack.”

  In another blink of my widening eyes, Jimmy pulls up his shirt to reveal a sculpted washboard that definitely rivals Alex’s.

  “Nice,” Alex admits. “You’ve been working hard. Now, stop showing off for the love of my life before I call your secret love at State and rat you out.”

  Jimmy drops his shirt and his grin. “You don’t have Sophie’s number.”

  Alex tsks. “Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy. You should know me better by now.”

  Jimmy rolls his eyes on a sigh, then steps forward, extending his hand around his big brother to me. “You should probably know I’m the smarter, more charming brother. I’m so sorry you’re going to spend the rest of your life with this asshole. I really hope the kid takes after you and not him.”

  “Yeah,” Alex chuckles and steps aside. “Real charming.”

  Jimmy gets a mischievous glint in his eye before lifting my hand to his lips. He raises his eyebrows and speaks against my skin. “It is an honor to finally meet you, Amira. Congratulations. I’m really excited to be an uncle, so thank you. Also, I’m really sorry it took my brother this long to pull his head out of his ass.”

  I’ve been so caught up in the rapid-fire back and forth between the brothers, watching and dissecting their interaction—which is a great distraction for ignoring that Alex casually called me the love of his life—that it takes me a few moments to process Jimmy’s words.

  “You…you know me?”

  “Yeah?” Jimmy’s confused expression ends with a wince. He glances at Alex. “Was I not supposed to admit that?”

  Alex smiles. “It’s fine. She knows I’ve been crying on your shoulder for the past six years.”

  He has?

  “More like ignoring my advice,” Jimmy laughs.

  Alex pops his eyebrows. “How’s Sophie?”

  “Fuck off,” Jimmy mutters.

  Alex grins and opens his arms. “Good to see you. It’s been too long.”

  They hug. Actually hug. Not like the bro hugs that I usually see from men.

  The heartwarming sight brings tears to my eyes. For all their joking, it’s obvious they adore each other. Apparently, they also confess things to each other that most men don’t enjoy discussing. I choose to focus on the warmth of their relationship instead of the warmth unfurling in my chest from Alex’s admission that at least one person he’s close to has known about me all along.

  They break apart.

  Alex glances out the door. “What’s taking them so long?”

  “Davey doesn’t want to get out of the car,” Jimmy admits with a frown. He walks to the open doorway and calls, “Davey! Look! Alex is here!”

  Panic piles onto my emotional overwhelm. I might be a clinical psychologist, but I have virtually no experience with people on the autism spectrum. I don’t know what to do, what to say, how to act. I don’t want to upset Davey or offend Alex’s family in any way.

  Alex stands in the doorway as well. Then, he steps outside.

  I peek around the door.

  Alex’s parents are crouched in front of the open back door of a luxury SUV. Another carbon copy of Alex sticks his head out of the opening to glare at the house.

  Alex holds his arms out. “Davey! Come on, man! Don’t leave me hanging!”

  The youngest brother’s blue eyes light up and a smile softens his angry expression. He practically pushes his parents out of the way to sprint to Alex.

  They wrap each other in what looks like a bone crushing hug. Davey hides his face in the crook of Alex’s neck.

  Alex rocks him back and forth and murmurs, “I miss you, buddy. I’m so happy you came to see me.”

  “Are you okay?” a low voice whispers beside me. “Did we do something wrong?”

  “Is she crying?” Alex asks while still holding onto Davey
for dear life.

  I touch my cheek. It’s wet with tears.

  “I’d cry, too, if I was carrying your baby.” Jimmy sighs. In addition to his appearance, he also apparently inherited Alex’s flair for drama.

  Alex laughs then pulls back to grin at Davey. “She cries over car commercials. It’s all the pregnancy hormones hijacking her brain. She’s fine.”

  Davey’s gaze lands on me. His eyes widen. They’re the same startling blue as his brothers.

  “She’s pretty, huh?” Alex sounds so proud. His voice becomes firm. “She’s your sister. Hugs and kisses on the cheek are okay, but nothing else. You can’t touch her the way I can touch her.”

  “Does he understand?” I whisper to Jimmy. He already feels like an ally in this foreign world of merging families.

  “We think so,” he whispers back. “It might take him a while to learn something new, but he responds to his name and simple directives. No speech though. Be prepared for a lack of personal boundaries for the next few days until he gets the hang of it. Alex wasn’t kidding. Davey loves boobs. We think it’s a sensory thing. He likes the way they feel. Sort of like built-in stress balls.”

  I nod. I have plenty of experience with setting boundaries and being firm yet gentle.

  “Okay, okay. I’m ready,” a female voice says outside. “Where is she? Where’s the mother of my grandbaby?”

  Alex blinks. “What the hell is that?”

  “It’s a diaper tower,” his mom announces proudly. The monstrosity of pink taffeta ribbon and fake flowers comes into view before she does. “I made it for the shower tomorrow.”

  Alex’s head slumps between his shoulders. He raises it to glare at the woman who’s still just out of sight. “That was supposed to be a surprise. Thanks, Mom.”

  “Are you out of your mind?” She gasps then steps into the house. Old pictures don’t do her justice. She’s a wisp of a woman compared to her large sons. She’s a wisp of a woman compared to me. Petite, waif-like, and completely opposite to her offspring with blonde hair, green eyes, and a creamy complexion. She’s an all-American beauty to my Middle Eastern darkness. “You can’t spring a surprise like that on a woman who’s going to be surprised by labor pains any day now!”