Iris’s sexy legs wrap around my waist. She swipes at the phone, growling viciously and making threats the whole time.
“What?! No!” Trying to keep track of both conversations is starting to become confusing, though. “Just take down my payment information, would you?” I start prattling off my credit card number from memory.
I swear, I don’t know how my free hand ends up on her ass, but suddenly, it’s there, cradling her globes, propping her up. Blood rushes through my veins like white rapids, funnelling straight into my cock.
The last thing I want to do is compromise my healing by putting unnecessary pressure on my knee. That’s the only reason why I tip forward, spilling the crazed woman onto the bed. That’s why I collapse on top of her, pinning her to the mattress with my pelvis as she writhes beneath me for her freedom.
I prop up my upper body on one wrist and clutch the phone in my opposite hand. She’s on her back, her skirt bunched up at the waist to expose a pair of perfect, satiny, voluptuous thighs. Her legs are parted, allowing me a perfect view of the wet spot at the crotch of her white panties. Her clit is a hard, tight nub imprinted against the thin cotton, practically begging to be kissed.
Fuck—I would devour that pussy like a gourmet-quality TV dinner.
I lift my gaze. Me and Iris lock eyes while the man is on the phone reciting his company’s user agreement…or privacy policy…or organ donation guidelines. I don’t even know.
All my attention is on this beautiful woman, the need in her eyes. And she’s not fighting me anymore. Instead, she’s staring at me, lips parted, chest heaving.
Did she just circle her hips? It was subtle but I’m pretty sure she just circled her hips, rubbing herself against my rock hard cock.
In the bravest moment of my 29 years, I give a little hip thrust just to test and see. She responds by lifting her pelvis, locking her ankles behind my back and circling again.
Well, this is an unexpected turn of events.
I close my eyes. I groan.
The man on the phone is a very unwelcome third party in this situation. He’s merrily spouting off some legal information I’m not even listening to. “Man, do you have all the information you need? Because I have some far more interesting shit to do.”
At my impatient words, Iris’s trance is broken. She freezes and her eyes widen like she just realized what she’s doing.
She unlocks her ankles and begins to wiggle her way up the mattress to get away from me.
Fuck!
I hurry the man off the phone and fling the device onto the nightstand before I lose the moment with Iris completely.
She’s disheveled to hell. Her chest is heaving violently. Her diamond blue eyes pin me with pure, unfiltered rage. “You wanna tell me what the hell that was all about?”
No. I wanna kiss you. My gaze falls to her mouth. I feel my face morph into a smirk.
The feeling doesn’t seem to be mutual. Not anymore.
“You don’t know anything about me,” she grits. She scrambles to sit up and tug her skirt into place. “You can’t just come into my home and start getting involved in my private business. That’s not what I signed up for!” She clambers to her feet.
I blink for a second, and then open my mouth, but she holds up a palm.
“I am not done,” she slowly and carefully enunciates. Her hand is trembling. Her voice is shaky when she talks again, and while each word is meant to stab me, she’s no longer yelling. This is no better. I think this tone is far worse. “I am independent, and I will never again rely on any man to take care of me.” She chokes on her last word, and she spins around, trying to hide the tears that spring to her eyes.
Well, shit.
I hop up, with my stiff leg nearly locking up on me. I make my way over to her before she has a chance to run. I wrap my arms around her, holding her to my chest as her body shudders with uncontrollable sobbing. Although she cries silently, I can feel her agonizing pain. It seeps from her pores, penetrating me deeply. This is a woman who is completely overwhelmed and past her breaking point.
I hold her until the crying subsides a bit, and then I guide her to sit on my bed. Whatever sexual tension that was brewing between us earlier is completely on the back burner now.
I grab the bottle of tequila from my bag in the corner. Cracking it open, I hand Iris the bottle. Her watery gaze meets mine before she accepts it, like she's trying to figure out my intentions.
My cock is still as hard as a steel rod but I'm not trying to get in her panties. I'm more interested in figuring out what the hell is going on in her head.
Iris drinks straight from the bottle. Something I never imagined this prim and proper woman doing. She takes another big gulp, choking the bottleneck in her tight grip, and then sucks in a shaky breath. Even at her worst, she’s fascinating to me. I sit silently, listening to her breath slowly even out, as she seeks comfort in the liquor and finds her version of calm.
“Did I—did I hurt your knee?” She dares to peek up at me from under pale, wet lashes. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I just…”
“My knee is fine.” I assure her with a small smile.
She takes another swig and cringes.
I perch next to her on the mattress. “What happened?” I ask softly.
She looks up at me, brows pinched. “Huh?”
“With you and Kirk. What happened?” I have to know. It’s been eating me alive.
Chewing on the tip of her finger, she shakes her head and drops her gaze.
I softly pinch her chin between my fingers to lift her face. “Iris, I need to know.” Because I've been struggling to keep my hands off of her in a show of loyalty to Kirk. I need to know if he deserves it.
Her eyes bore into mine for several long moments, maybe trying to figure out if I’m being genuine. She doesn’t trust me. Or, maybe men in general. I’m sure she has a valid reason.
She takes another swig of tequila for strength. “I dropped out of Penn State after I found pictures of him cheating on me.” I feel a stab of guilt through my chest when she says those words. Kirk and his philandering penis. Déjà-fucking-vu. “I came back home and finished my degree at a community college,” she begins. I already know that part. I was around in those days. “Kirk stayed behind. But when he didn’t get drafted, he followed me here, and I took him back. God, he was so convincing…” She laughs. It’s an eerie, remorse-filled sound. “We got married soon after that. I worked and supported him while he finished his master’s degree."
Her gaze bounces around the room and she sips again.
“Did I ever tell you this was my grandmother’s house? When she retired and moved to Florida, she left her house and sandwich shop to me. I thought it made more sense to move in here and renovate than buying a more expensive place. But now I’m paying for all the renovations. On my own.”
She momentarily buries her face in her hands and sucks in a breath.
“Anyway, I’d like to say Kirk and I had a few good years together, but as soon as he got his professor job, things went downhill fast. He was working late nights and growing distant. He’d snap at me for no reason. He was getting late night texts and calls. It took me longer than I’m willing to admit to figure it all out. He was lying all the time, and it wasn’t long before he began losing track of his own lies.”
She takes another deep, shuddering breath, and I find myself rubbing my hand over her back, desperate to soothe her pain. “Iris...”
She stares at a blank spot on the wall. I’ve never seen Iris Merlini look so lost. The sight nearly guts me. “And then, one Friday night, he came home from work and he told me it was over. Just like that. No warning. No grace period. Nothing. Just...done. He couldn’t sign the papers fast enough. And I’m still trying to figure out how he got the divorce processed so fast because as far as I know, these things take months, sometimes even years.” She looks at me, with a few fresh tears spilling from her shining eyes. “So cliché, right? Cheating husband havin
g an affair with a hotter, younger co-worker.”
“That fuckhead,” I spit. I grab the tequila bottle from her and take a swig of my own.
She leans into my side. I don’t think she even realizes it. I hold her tightly while her head falls to my shoulder. “God, it hurt so much. I felt so stupid. My whole life caved in on me that weekend.”
Her breath begins to deepen, and I feel her body relaxing into mine. She’s falling asleep in my arms. “I’m just so fucking tired, Jude. Tired of trying to keep my shit together when really, everything’s falling apart.” Her voice is softer and her words slower. “I bet you're really happy that my marriage crumbled. I'm sure that's what you always wanted…” Her words drift off as she fades into sleep.
I shake my head, but she doesn’t see me. "What I wanted was for you to be happy. Even though you never really liked me, I could tell you were a good woman, a good girlfriend…” I admit, inhaling her flowery scent and tightening my grip around her. “Iris, I just wanted you to be happy."
12
Jude
Walker is all manly grunts and growls as he struggles to untangle himself from a web of pink and yellow yarn. “What kind of sorcery is this?” The string tightens with each of his tugs and his fingertips are turning blue.
Beside me, Cannon yelps like a wounded yorkie when he stabs himself in the palm with a crochet hook. “Jeez, isn’t there somebody I could just write a check to? ‘Cause I really don’t see how me puncturing an artery with a sewing needle is gonna serve the greater good today.”
The nursing home’s sunny-faced activities director bounces from table to table. She wears a beaming smile as she checks in on all the merry-faced groups spread out throughout the room.
She frowns when she gets to our table. “Cannon, you know the rules,” she scolds. “You can’t buy your way out of bonding day. This activity is mandatory for all the residents and their families.” Without waiting for a response, she turns away, her bob haircut snapping like a wobbly gray mushroom cap on her head.
From a recliner nearby, our grandfather swings us a gaze. He motions the director over and whispers too loudly. “Who the heck are all those dimwits?”
The woman blinks back her smile. “Your grandsons, sir.”
Our grandfather nods morosely. “Ugh, figures…” He throws us another disinterested glance before drifting back into his nap. Looking vindicated, the director smirks at us and springs away.
Gramps has lived in this nursing home for the past few years. Alzheimer’s disease has beaten him into nothing but a shell of the grandfather we grew up with. It’s painful to watch but I have to admit that being here for him in this way makes me feel a tiny bit better.
Apparently these so-called bonding activities take place once a month here at the nursing home. Since my parents are off on another of their monthly romantic one-day getaways, Callie is hanging out with Lexi while my brothers and I are here to represent the Kingston family.
The three of us probably all look like fools, knotted up in knitting thread and squeezing our tall asses into these tiny chairs that practically have our knees tucked up under our chins.
At least the neon green yarn fluff in Walker’s beard is distracting from his ugly flannel shirt today. “I quit,” he proclaims, slapping his mess of thread down on the empty chair beside him. “I can’t afford to lose all blood circulation to my thumbs. I’m a farmer. I need my hands.”
“Shush. Stop whining,” I mumble. My own knitting project is a hot mess on the table in front of me but I’m not complaining because frankly, I’m just happy to be out of the house. Especially after the fiasco last night turned into.
Beyond a doubt, things got out of control last night. I had no right doing half the out-of-place shit I did in Iris’s house. But the worst part? I’m having a really hard time regretting any of it.
In fact, each time I replay the lurid incidents in my mind, a molten rush zaps through my blood. I remind myself that there is nobody more off limits than a friend's ex-wife. Iris isn't just some chick Kirk dated back in college or someone he hooked up with at a frat party. He married her. They had a house together. They planned a future.
This sexual tension between me and Iris has got to stop. Right now.
But if being in a room full of respectable grannies, crocheting and sipping tea, doesn’t tame the raging beast in my pants, I’m not sure what will.
Shouldn’t the fact that she’s my friend’s ex be an instant buzzkill? Or the fact that she was my college rival? But getting her hot and submissive beneath me was satisfying as fuck, especially after the Cold Hard Bitch routine she’s been doing since the day I walked through her door. And Kirk’s absence of interest in reviving our old friendship really isn’t helping with my lack of remorse.
The little old lady sitting next to Walker regards him with an adoring smile. “You’ve got a little thread in your beard, honey.” She fondles his chin and plucks out the fuzz with her wrinkly fingers.
“Th-thanks.” My brother’s discomfort is hilarious.
I snort.
Cannon’s holding a wad of tissue to his wounded hand. He stares at me with concern. “How are things going with you, man?”
I shrug and lean back in my chair. “Just been focused on my recovery. Therapy every day. I’m on my fourth therapist now.”
Cannon chuckles. “I’m scared to ask what happened to the first three,” he spits out snidely.
“Fired their asses,” I say with zero regrets.
“Why’s that?” Walker eyes me skeptically.
“They didn’t fucking believe in me,” I announce simply. “They were just going through the motions and that pissed me off.”
I need a physiotherapist who takes me seriously because my entire future is on the line. At the end of the football season, if I’m still not able to play, I’ll need to retire or get cut. I’d convinced myself that I’d get back in the game no matter what. But the more time that passes, the more physiotherapists I go through, the harder it is for me to keep my hope alive.
It messes with my head, working with assholes who think I’m just wasting my time, that my career is done. Attitude is everything. It’s the very foundation of the seemingly impossible things I’m trying to accomplish. So, I have no qualms about showing my naysayers the door.
Walker’s new lady-friend still can’t take her eyes off him. “Such a nice, manly jaw you have.” She brushes her thumb back and forth on his chin, offering a gingerbread smile along with her molestation. “But you could use a shave.”
He slowly eases out of her grasp and shifts his chair back a touch.
The annoyed-looking man beside her gives Walker an apologetic glance. “Aunt Delores. We’ve discussed this. You can look at all the pretty boys but no touching.”
My attention turns to the worried expression Cannon throws me. “You sure you’re not pushing yourself too hard? I mean, they’re the experts. If they say you should ease up on yourself, maybe you should listen to them.”
“Football is my life, Cannon. Playing ball is my dream. It’s the only thing I ever wanted, ever since we were kids. You know that.”
“I know that, bro. It’s just…” He cuts himself off. He drops his head and shakes it.
Damn, it hurts. My own brother is giving up on me. When I need someone in my corner more than ever. That freaking hurts.
And because he’s pissed me off, I’ve decided not to tell him about the piece of blue and silver yarn he has all tangled up in his stupid man bun.
Noticing my tension, Walker changes the subject. “How are things with Iris?”
I blow out a breath. Well, that’s a loaded question.
In the past twenty-four hours, I’ve spied on her private phone conversation, insinuated myself into her finances, rubbed my sausage all over her while making a payment arrangement with her debt-collector, got her all boozed up on tequila and then ended up sleeping on the couch once she passed out drunk in my bed…
So, how are thi
ngs with Iris? “Things are great,” I say flatly.
My brothers share a look.
Cannon plants an elbow on his knee and glares at me. “Dude, I put my neck on the line with Lexi to get you that rental,” he says threateningly. “Please don’t make me regret it. Don’t be an asshole.”
I flinch.
Walker expertly translates the expression on my face. “Looks like it’s a little too late for that.” He chuckles.
Cannon pinches the bridge of his nose and inhales. “Christ, what did you do, Jude?”
I shrug a shoulder. “Some guy was hounding her for money. I overheard the conversation. Stepped in and made the payment. She got all mad.” No big deal.
“Whoa! Back up there, buddy.” Cannon sticks up a hand. “What guy?”
“Some debt-collector asshole,” I spit out.
“You somehow mysteriously found out a debt collector was hounding her and you stepped in and made the payment…Why do I feel like there’s more to the story?”
Oh, there is more to the story. Much more. But I know Cannon would chew my head off if he finds out exactly how things went down.
This is all getting too much for me to handle. “I’m looking for somewhere else to stay,” I tell them.
“Why’s that?” Cannon asks challengingly.
Because it’s awkward as hell, living with my friend’s ex-wife.
Because she hates my freaking guts.
Because just the thought of her makes me sprout a woody.
The instructor clears her throat from the front of the room. “Okay, everyone. It’s evaluation time!” she announces with an excited clap. “I’ll be coming around the room to take a look at everyone’s progress.”
I glance down at the tangled heap on my lap. Well, shit…
A low murmur fills the room as the people around us hurry to tie up loose ends on their various projects. The instructor begins making her rounds.
Cannon leans close to me and lowers his voice. “Give this living situation a shot before doing anything rash. She needs this more than you think.”
Mister Baller: A Small Town Enemies-to-Lovers Sports Romance (Bad Boys in Love Book 2) Page 8
