“Tell me the truth, honey. I won’t judge. Are you still in love with Kirk?” Penny asks quietly.
I pause before answering. It’s difficult to explain. “Sometimes, when I’m feeling lonely, I miss...well, I miss what we could have been. We had a lot of really good years together when we were younger. Maybe a piece of my heart still belongs to the kid I fell in love with. But that person doesn’t exist anymore, and I’ve come to terms with that. After everything he put me through, I’m incapable of loving the man that Kirk turned into.”
“So, I don’t see what the problem is,” Jessa declares.
“Well also, I don’t want my ex thinking I’m only hooking up with his friend as part of some pathetic revenge plot.”
“Kirk’s opinion is moot…irrelevant…unimportant…inconsequential…” Lexi lists off descriptors on her fingers. “Guys, I’m running out of synonyms here. Help me out.”
Penny twists her mouth to the side, fighting back a giggle. She reaches across the counter and grabs both of my hands. “And, girl, we all saw Jude’s dick print. It would be a travesty to let all that premium quality man-meat go to waste.”
15
Iris
Jude is lying on the living room floor beside me, sweaty, half-naked and breathing hard. A part of my brain screams that there should be a whole lot of orgasms going on right now.
Smothering the wayward thought inside a straight-jacket of logic and self-control, I refocus my attention on my exercise.
I silently remind myself of the reason for our workout sessions—I want to lose a few pounds and Jude is focused on rehabbing his wounded knee. None of that has anything to do with using his spectacular body to relieve my sexual frustration. I’m not going to embarrass myself by using him as a hump-post again.
He seems to be making lots of progress since we started working out together, although he still has a long way to go. Right now, he’s clearly struggling with his last few leg raises, unable to stretch his knee straight out. He lets out a groan that rouses my girlie parts.
I overlook the visceral reaction. I climb onto my knees. “Let me help you.”
“I’m fine,” he says, neck muscles tight with strain as he tries the lift again. “I’ve got it.”
“Stop putting on a front,” I tell him. “I can see that you’re not fine. Let me give you a hand.” I position myself between his thighs. I slip my palms under his calf with a feather-touch, almost afraid that I’ll break him if I’m not careful. After a pause, my roommate hesitantly resumes the exercise with my support.
I ignore the way my skin heats upon contact with his and the way his manly scent fills my head. When I offered to help him, I didn’t consider how close I would be to his body. A terrible miscalculation on my end. Because now that I’m touching him, all those panty-wetting feelings from the other night are surging low in my belly.
Fuck, the look on his face is so hot. The conviction, the determination. I can’t help but imagine him investing that kind of energy between the sheets. Between my sheets.
Since I got a preview of Jude’s cock the other night, it’s been nearly impossible to turn off those damn porno-thoughts. Right now, they’re making another unwanted appearance. But this time, I’m his co-star. We’re together. Touching and kissing and feeling each other. My mind is getting a little carried away.
“You’re good at this.” He glances at me with one of those breathless smiles.
My undersexed vagina throbs, rudely reminding me that I’m stupidly horny. Cool it, girl. The novelty of that smile will wear off soon enough. At least I hope so.
“I’m no physiotherapist, but I, uh, I’ve done a little Googling,” I say nervously. God, I hope I don’t sound like a stalker, admitting that I’ve been researching his condition. “I watched this YouTube video about the best exercises for healing this type of injury. It was by this runner who dislocated his knee and got back out there just a couple months later.” I pause. This all sounds way silly now that I’ve said it out loud.
But if Jude thinks I’m being ridiculous, he doesn’t say so. Instead, he grins. “Aye-aye, Captain.” He salutes me. “I’m just here to take orders.”
His eyes drop to my chest. The way I’m bent over him, my boobs have rolled forward and my voluptuous cleavage stretches the neckline of my sweaty sports bra. His gaze lingers.
This isn’t the first time I’ve caught him with his eyes on my boobs. But he’s a guy and they’re boobs and they’re dangling right in front of him. He’s biologically programmed to take a peek.
And I’m struggling, too. I’m doing my best to keep my gaze off his crotch but my eyes eventually wander anyway and the thick bulge in his shorts is confirmation that I’m not the only one feeling this energy between us.
But I don’t act on it, of course.
Soon, we fall into a rhythm. I feel his eyes on me, but I keep my attention on supporting his scarred knee as he does the lifts. When I hear him breathing harder, I gently release his leg, giving him a well-earned break.
“How was that?” I ask, sounding breathy myself. “Too much?”
“No. No, it was good,” he answers, his half-lidded gaze on me.
Bats zip around in my stomach. We resume the exercises and I help guide his lift. I’m now kneeling between his legs again, my hands dangerously close to his upper thigh.
Lord, it’s so hot in here.
I see the strain in his face. He’s so determined. In a world where everybody’s looking for the easy way out, it’s really sexy seeing this man going for it, working so hard for something he wants. The least I can do is support him in this small way.
When he starts to struggle near the end of his set, I give him a little encouragement. “I’ve got you, Jude. I’ve got you.”
I still can’t believe I’m here, limbs all tangled up with my college nemesis. I’ve resented the man for years but now I’m starting to rethink everything. Maybe Jude was never the problem. Maybe he wasn’t Kirk’s immature jock buddy who sabotaged our relationship.
As Lexi pointed out at the bar, Kirk was a grown man, even back then. If he didn’t want to do something, he could have spoken up. If he loved me and put our relationship above all else, he wouldn’t have ditched me—he wouldn’t have cheated—regardless of what his friends were doing.
My thumb accidentally brushes over Jude’s inner thigh. I see goosebumps rise along his skin. His eyes flick to mine.
I lower his leg and look away.
My gaze moves out the back window just as the automatic sprinklers come on and start flinging water across the lawn. Jude somehow managed to fix the tree swing. Even with his injured leg. When Kirk lived here, he had promised to hire someone to do it but he never managed to fit it into his packed schedule, what with all his slutty philandering and such.
My roomie bites his lip. “Keep going, Iris.” His voice is deep and rich and course like sandpaper. “Let’s keep going.” I imagine him saying those words in a whole different context.
I swallow hard against my lust and resume the exercises. We keep pushing until he needs a break.
He’s staring at me.
“What? What are you looking at?” I know I’m a mess. I always am after my morning run, and I haven’t looked in a mirror since I left the house at dawn. I’m sure my hair is in a gross pile on top of my head, and my skin is still flushed and sweaty from the run.
He brushes back the damp hair that’s fallen into my face. “I appreciate you sticking here in the trenches with me these past few days. I’ve been enjoying your company.”
His touch resonates between my thighs.
“I’ve been enjoying your company, too.” I laugh nervously. “Wow, with the way we’re getting along right now, how come we couldn’t be friends in college?”
Jude watches me stoically. “Because you never gave a friendship between us a chance…and that sucked.”
I don’t recognize this man in front of me right now. I hate that I misjudged him all this time. Guilt w
eighs on me. “Well maybe…maybe we can try being friends now…?”
“I would like that, Iris.”
We smile at each other.
I want to lean down and kiss him. I wish I were brave enough to do that. But I’m not. So instead, I kneel between Jude’s legs and help him continue his exercise. The heat in my living room has become stifling, and I don’t know what to do about Jude staring at me, his gaze something like a spotlight on my body.
My stomach is a tangled mess, and in our weird position, I can feel his hard erection against my hip. I fight an incredible urge to press up against him further. I remain still as his eyes drop to my lips. I run my tongue over my bottom lip, preparing for him to put his mouth on mine.
Just before my eyes flicker closed, I see Jude look over my shoulder. “What the fuck?” he mutters in my ear.
I rear back, appalled by his reaction and ready to run. But then I follow his gaze.
Jude’s mom is peeping at us through my living room window. And her jaw is on the porch.
16
Jude
Iris graciously opens the front door, despite being very obviously embarrassed. My mother just caught us in a very compromising position on the living room floor.
So now, I’m hard and Iris is sweaty and she won’t meet anyone’s eyes.
“I’m so sorry, Dear,” my mother gushes to Iris as my roommate ushers her inside. “I didn’t realize you two would be…busy,” she cocks her head to the side feigning innocence.
I’m too focused on adjusting my erection in my sweats to call her out on it.
“We weren’t…we were just…it’s not.” Iris grapples for a justification.
Mom holds up a hand, trying to hide her very pleased smile. “No need to explain yourself, Iris. You’re both adults.” Her eyes swing to me. “I apologize for showing up unannounced, but my son here seems to have forgotten how to answer his phone. After four days of him ignoring me, I got worried.” She pauses to shoot a glare my way.
“It’s no problem, Mrs. Kingston. I got all sweaty. I need to grab a quick shower.” Iris pinches her spandex yoga top away from her damp skin. “So I’ll let you two catch up.” She darts up the stairs, and I have to hold in my laughter. Her discomfort is adorable.
When Iris is out of sight, my mom whispers, waggling her eyebrows. “She got all sweaty, huh?”
I groan, scraping my palm down my face. “Christ, Mom! No. Please don’t.”
She laughs heartily. “Oh lighten up! I know how these things work.”
“I’d rather not hear about that,” I grumble.
Unsure what my mom might say next, I lead her into the kitchen and hopefully out of my blushing roommate’s earshot. I don’t want my mother embarrassing Iris any further. Or traumatizing me permanently with stories about her sexual history.
I sling an arm around her shoulder and drop a kiss in her blonde hair. Being off the grid has been nice, but I should have known better than to leave my Mom’s calls unanswered. “Sorry to worry you, Ma.”
She lifts the bag swinging from her arm. “Well, I brought some of my famous lasagna. Have lunch with me and you’re forgiven.”
I drop down into a chair at the breakfast nook, needing the rest after my back-to-back workout sessions. My mother rummages around the cupboards until she finds what she needs. She sets a heaping plate of lasagna in front of me before taking a seat with her own plate.
“So…you still trying to deny there’s something brewing between you and Iris?”
I shake my head fervently. “No, it’s not like that,” I promise between bites of pasta.
“Well, why not? She’s gorgeous, delightful, and she has a good head on her shoulders.”
Oh, God. She’s about to jump into another one of her talks. “Mom, no. Don’t get your hopes up here. I have no interest in her like that. And she’s not interested in me. We’re just…friends. Barely.”
My mother’s shoulders drop in resignation. “Okay, okay. I’ll step back, and mind my own business.”
Grateful that Ma is relenting, my shoulders relax. “Where’s Callie Bear today?”
The subject of her granddaughter brings an instant smile to my mother’s face. “At kiddie yoga with her Papa.”
I laugh to myself. Growing up, I never expected Dad to be the kind of man who’d end up taking his grandkid to kiddie yoga. “He adores her, doesn’t he?” I scoop up some more lasagna.
“Callie’s an easy kid to love.”
“You and dad are doing an excellent job with her.”
“We’re trying,” she says with a little shrug. “But we’re getting older. Your Dad has finally retired but my health hasn’t been great. It’s difficult for me, keeping up with her energy.”
I guess I never considered how much caring for a child must be taking out of my parents. They’re not getting any younger. I reach across the table to hold her hands. “Look—if you need anything, just let me know. I’d be happy to help you out any way I can.”
My mom shakes her head. “I just don’t understand how Gabby could just walk away from her child when she needed her most.” Eli’s wife up and left as soon as he got arrested and we’ve barely heard from her since.
“Not all mothers were wired like you, Mom.”
Her eyes remain on her plate as she pushes her lasagna around. “Eli won’t talk about her. He won’t talk about anything, actually.”
My brow jerks up in surprise. “Eli? When did you talk to Eli?”
My mother looks up and nervously licks her bottom lip. “Your father and I…we’ve been going to visit him. Once a month,” she confesses.
I tilt my head to the side as I fill in the blanks. “Cannon and Walker don’t know about this, do they?” I’m sure they don’t. They would have mentioned something to me.
“They think your father and I have a monthly standing date. So they don’t question it when we ask one of them to babysit and disappear for a few hours.”
I lean across the table to catch her eyes. “Mom, why would you hide something like this? It makes no sense.”
Her stare glazes over. “I know that you and your brothers are angry over what Eli did. Especially Walker. I didn’t want to stir up any arguments.” She pins me with a determined look. “But regardless of what Eli did, he’s still our blood and us Kingstons, we take care of each other.”
And now here’s yet another wave of guilt. I haven’t been there for my brother in a time when, undoubtedly, he needs me. “You’re right, Ma. You’re right.”
We spend a few more minutes making small talk. When we’re done eating, I thank her for lunch and walk her out, but my head is spinning as we pass through the living room.
My eyes flick toward the spot I was laying on the floor with my roommate an hour ago. It felt right, having Iris right there beside me, offering support in her own way.
Anybody else would have believed me when I said I was okay, that I didn’t need help. They would have believed my brash smile. But not Iris. She saw my truth. She accepted it. Even though it wasn’t pretty. And most importantly, she didn’t hesitate to step in and help.
Having to lay there and appear unaffected while this woman put her soft hands on my body and wiggled around in those tight ass pants. Her skin glistened, and my eyes followed more than one bead of sweat that dripped into her abundant cleavage. She’s a goddamn temptress and doesn’t even know it.
Would I have kissed her if my mother hadn’t interrupted? Hell, would she have kissed me?
I guess I’ll never know.
17
Iris
Well?” My mother asks, spinning the styling chair around. I examine her work in the mirror, my eyes flicking over my made-up face and my freshly-styled up-do. “Say something, baby girl.” She gives my shoulder a little shake, an eager note in her voice.
The highlights were a good decision, I think. My skin appears brighter. It might be the facial treatment. My eyes look sharper, but I’m not sure about the makeup, though.
“Do you think it’s a bit…much?” I ask doubtfully as I focus on the blood red lipstick. “I don’t want to seem like I’m trying too hard.” Makeovers can be so over-the-top sometimes. And I’ve never liked drawing too much attention to myself.
It’s been years since I’ve pampered myself like this. Of course, I’ve come in for a few haircuts, but there are enough months in between each visit that Mom likes to publicly point out my split ends.
And when your mother owns and operates the only full-service beauty salon in town, you really have no excuse to walk around looking raggedy. When I’d called her rambling anxiously about the messy situation with Jude, she’d insisted that I report to her beauty salon pronto. So, that’s how I find myself here at Lucille’s after hours on a Tuesday evening.
“Don’t think of it as a makeover. ‘Makeover’ is such a disempowered, misogynistic word,” my mother says sagely. “You’re a businesswoman. Think of it as a…a re-branding.”
“A re-branding?”
“Yeah, companies do it all the time. Why can’t you?”
I stare at my reflection under the bright salon lights. “I guess I like that way of looking at it.”
When I signed the papers ending my marriage, I made a commitment that I was going to overhaul my life. I’m not really sure I’ve lived up to that promise up until now. This makeover—er, rebranding—is the next logical step.
“And the date?” I meet my mom’s eyes in the mirror. “Do you think I’m jumping into that too fast? I mean, my divorce just got finalized.”
The old Iris wouldn’t have even considered dating at this point. It’s just too soon. But the new Iris nearly got biblical with a professional football player on the living room floor after watching him parade his eight-pack around my house for weeks.
Look—I’m horny, okay?
And it’s messing with my head. Bad. Because under normal circumstances I wouldn’t be lusting all over Jude Kingston. I know better. But the sexual tension between us has been insane since we started working out together.
Mister Baller: A Small Town Enemies-to-Lovers Sports Romance (Bad Boys in Love Book 2) Page 10
