by KB Winters
“Ah, you’re right. Forgive me. So, you’re the horse?”
He flashed a wicked grin. “Well, not gonna lie...”
I groaned and rolled my eyes.
Chance flipped us again, this time, his large body swallowing me up as he brought his face to mine. “You gonna deny it?”
I grabbed his ass, digging my nails into the hard muscles. “I might need to be reminded…”
He didn’t need any more encouragement before he pressed into me, and I gasped at the fullness while he lifted my leg to get better leverage. He grinned down at me, groaning in relief as he buried himself even deeper. “That help?”
“God, yes,” I moaned, my eyes fluttering closed as he thrust back into me, smoother and deeper the second and third time.
We fit together perfectly and moved so in sync that it was like being long-time lovers. Chance moved at a steady pace that drove us both insane. “Open those gorgeous eyes, baby,” he growled. “I want to watch your face when you come.”
I opened my eyes and bit my lip, trying to have some semblance of control. Didn’t work.
He pushed inside of me, and I knew he was closing in at the same pace as I was. I could feel every one of his muscles as they constricted like mine, our bodies humming, both ready for the rush of our release.
“You’re fucking beautiful.” He growled. My face went hot, but I didn’t know if it was from the compliment or the fact that I was about to come all over his cock.
“Oh, God, yes! Don’t stop.” I squeaked and my orgasm came crashing through me.
“Not. Stopping.” His body tensed up and trembled as he smashed his lips to mine. This was it. Heaven in a football uniform. My hips moved uncontrollably as we rode the waves of pleasure together.
Chance stayed inside of me as we recovered. Neither of us said a word but our eyes searched each other in a way that spoke volumes. Chance brushed my hair away from my face, dropping a sweet kiss to my lips before he rolled next to me.
As we caught our breath, Chance effortlessly pulled my body over to him and I nestled against his warm chest, closing my eyes.
“Ugh, I never want to get up,” I whispered, snuggling into his sweat-soaked skin. “I feel like a bowl of jello.”
Chance lowered his lips to my ear. “So do I, pretty girl. So do I.”
14
Chance
On my way to Harvest House on Monday morning, I took a detour and stopped at County Hospital to check on Aria. I signed in at the ICU desk and was told she’d been moved to a new room. The nurse led the way, and I saw that someone else had already stopped in. I was about to back away from the door when the woman glanced over. “Are you here to see Aria?” she asked, her voice soft like she’d been crying.
I nodded and took a step into the sterile room. “I brought this for when she wakes up,” I said, holding up the puppy dog stuffed animal I had tucked under one arm.
The woman nodded, giving me a watery smile. “That’s so sweet. She’ll love it.”
I eased into the chair beside Aria’s bed, casually glancing over the monitors positioned to her left. I had no idea what most of the data meant, but everything seemed to be ticking along nicely.
“Any news on when she’ll wake up?” I asked, my gaze drifting back to the woman across from me.
She gave a small shake of her head, sending her too-large silver hoop earrings quivering. “Not yet. The doctor checked on her about ten minutes ago and she said that she’s stable.”
I nodded and set the stuffed dog on the bed beside Aria. It was the same thing that Lacey and I had been told the day before when we’d stopped by after getting lunch. I kept telling myself that no news might be good news, but it was hard to keep repeating with the same level of belief. We all wanted something more concrete.
“You’re Chance Beauman, right?”
I looked up at the woman again, nodding. “Yeah. I’m volunteering at Harvest House,” I said, wondering if she knew why I was really at the non-profit. Court ordered. Volunteering. Same thing, right?
The woman’s expression didn’t give anything away. She gave me a polite smile. “That’s nice. I’m Hayley Fletcher, Aria’s social worker.”
“Oh,” I lifted from my seat, leaning over the small girl, to extend my hand to the woman. “Nice to meet you.”
She shook my hand and we both settled back into our respective chairs. Her eyes landed on Aria and a sadness flickered in her eyes. “She’s such a sweet girl.”
I smiled. “She’s special, that’s for sure. What happens in a case like this? I don’t know much about how the foster care system works.”
Hayley glanced up at me. “To be candid, she’s probably not going to be able to return to her foster home. They have two of their own children, in addition to two other foster children. Both of the parents work full time, the father is a long distance truck driver, and I’m afraid Stephanie won’t be able to take care of Aria as she’ll need special attention and a lot of rehab when she’s released from here.” She paused and shook her head slightly as though struggling to get her emotions back in check. “As of right now, I don’t know what’s going to happen.”
My heart twisted in my chest and a surge of emotion threatened to overwhelm me as well. The idea of Aria waking up and having to move again was almost too much to swallow. From the small glimpses I’d gotten of the girl, she’d been through enough in her short life.
“I’d like to pay for her medical bills and aftercare,” I said, meeting Hayley’s misty eyes. “I want her to have the best care available. No caps. I’ll foot the whole bill.”
“That’s very generous, Mr. Beauman.”
“Please, call me Chance. Here,” I paused and reached for my wallet. I tugged out a glossy business card and handed it to Hayley. “That’s the number for my accountant. I’ll give them a heads up but go ahead and call and they’ll make sure it’s all taken care of.”
Hayley nodded. “Wow. Thank you, Chance.”
I pushed up from my seat, patted the back of Aria’s tiny hand, and leaned in close enough to hear her soft breathing. “Hang in there, Aria. You got this.”
With a final smile at Hayley, I slipped from the room.
The mood at Harvest House was low, like a heaviness landed on my shoulders as soon as I stepped in the door. Lacey and Missy had a large group of kids gathered in the activity center, and the sounds of tears and sniffles reached me all the way at the entrance. I braced myself and walked closer with my shoulders back. Someone had to be strong for these kids.
Lacey glanced up and our eyes met for a moment. She’d been crying as well. I wanted to go to her and wrap her up in my arms. I’d been aching for her since the minute I finally tore myself from her bed and left her apartment the night before. We were entering into limbo, an odd where-do-we-go-from-here place. There were no commitments on either side, but I knew an awkward conversation was likely brewing in her pretty little head.
“We’ll keep you in the loop in regard to Aria’s progress and remember we’re here for you. If you need to talk, let one of us know,” Missy said, concluding her speech.
Lacey gave a sad smile in agreement and the kids got up from their chairs. Matt, the activity director for the boys, took his group out the side door that led to the gym. I crossed the space and fell into step beside Lacey as she gathered the girls in a semi-circle. “All right, ladies, let’s get our journaling done and then we can make some pretty cards for Aria.”
The girls all nodded and mumbled as they went to take their places at the circular tables. Lacey had explained that journaling was a mandated part of the after school—or, in this case, summer—program as a way to help the kids cope with their situations and have a healthy outlet for stress and big emotions. It also helped alert the staff to any underlying issues. Sometimes big problems lurked under the pages of the faux leather journals they all carried with them.
As the dull buzz died down, I brushed my fingers along the outside of Lacey’s arm. “How
ya holding up?” I asked.
Lacey’s eyes were glossy as she met mine. “Hanging in there. I called Aria’s social worker a few minutes ago for a status update.”
I pocketed my hands, wondering if the woman had told her about my offer to pay for Aria’s treatment. “I stopped by on my way here.”
Lacey smiled. “Really?”
Aha. So she didn’t know about the donation. Good. “Got her a stuffed animal for when she wakes up.”
“That’s really sweet, Chance.”
I shrugged. “She’s a good kid. What happened to her is awful.”
Lacey’s hair was down today and when she reached up to tuck some strands behind her ear, I had to wonder if she’d done that on purpose. For me. Memories of our sexy weekend came back to me. The way she’d tossed her hair down, begging me to take her… damn. It wasn’t the time or the place, but it was hard not to want her all over again.
“Did she look good? Better, I mean?”
I nodded. “Her color looked better.”
“Good.” Lacey wrapped her arms around herself and nibbled on her lower lip as she surveyed the room. The girls were all scribbling in their journals. I wondered how many of them were writing entries about what had happened to their friend, Aria. How many of them had similar stories from their own lives? Maybe not themselves being hurt in the crossfire, but maybe they’d seen things? Heard them? Lost parents, siblings, friends to senseless violence in the poverty stricken pockets of the inner city.
As a professional football player, I’d been a part of lots of team-sanctioned charity outings and volunteer work over the years. It never hit me in the heart like it did now. Just watching the girls write in their journals, through the tears and sniffles, almost brought me to my knees.
“You okay?” Lacey asked, setting her hand on my arm.
I twitched at her touch and tried to force a lighthearted smile. “Yeah. Sure. You?”
She nodded but couldn’t muster a mirroring smile. “I have a phone call to make. Would you mind staying here with them for a few minutes?”
“Hey, you’re the boss,” I replied, shrugging my shoulders.
A small smile flickered across her lips at my playful answer. We exchanged a knowing glance and then she sauntered off in the direction of her too-small office, closing the door behind her.
I considered the girls and went to sit beside Ashley, one of the oldest girls in the group. She had to be thirteen or fourteen. She was the only one not writing in her notebook. “You all done?” I asked, settling into the chair beside hers.
She looked over at me and shrugged her slim shoulders. “Sure.”
“I wasn’t much of a writer in school either,” I said, folding my hands on the desk. “I barely made it through most of my classes.”
“Really?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
Ashley sighed and dropped a glance to the closed notebook before her. “I don’t like writing in my journal. I know Miss Lacey likes us to try but it’s hard for me. I hate writing.”
“I get that. What do you like to do?”
She considered me out of the corner of her eye, as though weighing whether or not she could trust me with the truth. “I like basketball.”
“Sweet. Me too.”
She laughed at this. “But you’re a football player.”
I flashed her a smile. “Well, I didn’t say I was any good at it.”
Ashley smiled. “I bet I could beat you.”
“You wanna try?” I wiggled my eyebrows at her.
She hesitated for a moment, still unsure, but then nodded vigorously.
I pushed up from my chair, hitching my chin at her. “Come on then. Let’s get out of here before Miss Lacey catches us.”
Ashley followed me to the front of the room. I stopped and turned back to address the room. “Hey, who’s up for some basketball?”
Libby, one of the smaller girls, popped her head up from writing. “We can’t. The boys are playing.”
I smirked at Ashley. “What do you say we put aside our tournament and take on the boys instead? I bet we could cream ’em.”
A wicked smile flashed over her determined face and the other girls cheered at the idea.
I waved my hand at them, beckoning them forward. “All right, come on, ladies. Let’s go have some fun!”
15
Lacey
Once inside my office, I released a breath that I felt like I’d been holding on to all morning. Seeing Chance again was more intense than I’d expected. After he’d driven me home on Saturday, he hadn’t left again until Sunday afternoon. We’d spent the entire weekend together—most of it lost for hours at a time as we tangled together in my bed—and when he finally left, I found myself wishing he had stayed.
Dangerous desires.
By Monday, I’d managed to convince myself that we needed to pump the brakes and put some space between us. However, that was easier said than done since we’d be working together for the next month. But then, he’d walked through the door and those arguments fell apart again. It was all I could do to keep my hands to myself.
Especially, after he’d confessed to having stopped to check on Aria before showing up for work.
I propped my elbows on the edge of my desk and raked my hands through my hair as I leaned forward into them. “What are you doing, Lace?”
The last twenty-four hours had been like living in a bubble. There was only Chance and me. No one else. I wasn’t worried about his life in the NFL or the incredibly low odds that we could even make a relationship work. Hell, I hadn’t even wondered if he was looking for a relationship.
But now… in the light of Monday… every single doubt and worry came screaming back to me.
One thing was clear, no matter how much I wanted him, I couldn’t have him. He wasn’t for me. A social worker and an NFL player didn’t mesh well together. How could they? His lifestyle consisted of wealth and fame, filled with first class travel and lavish hotels. Meanwhile, I was trying to help children who came from families that barely had enough money to buy food.
Our lives couldn’t be more opposite. And while opposites might attract, they also tended to implode along the way.
“Okay, Lace, get it together,” I chided myself. I straightened in my chair, pulled my hair back into my normal clasp, and pushed up from my desk. I threw my shoulders back and went for the door. I had my hand on the knob when my phone rang.
I leaned over the desk and swiped it up from the base. “Hello?”
“Lacey, there’s someone on line two for you,” Missy’s voice announced over the line.
“Oh? Okay. Thanks.”
I pushed over to the correct line, hoping that there wasn’t more bad news, another shooting or some negative change in Aria’s condition. “This is Lacey Hart.”
A chirpy woman answered, “Hello, Lacey. My name is Laura Ridgely, I do Chance Beauman’s PR.”
PR? Why was this coming to me? Hadn’t Missy said she’d be handling all the PR stuff in regard to Chance’s court ordered service?
“How can I help you?” I asked, shooting a leery glance out the window on my door.
“As you probably know, Chance is covering the medical expenses and extended care costs for the little girl involved in the shooting—”
“What? He’s doing what?”
“Oh… I assumed you knew…” the woman hesitated, obviously flustered to find out we weren’t on the same page.
“I had no idea.”
“Right. Well, he has that all taken care of with his accounting team. However, his agent called me after getting the call and wants to see how we can spin this into a nice piece of PR for him. As you know, he could use a little good press right now.” She gave a tittering little laugh that raked down my spine.
Was that all this was to him? PR? A chance to get back in the good graces of the public before football season started again?
A scoff formed on my lips but I tried to keep my voice in check. “I’
m sorry, I don’t think I’m following. How does that relate to his court-ordered mandatory work at Harvest House?”
“We were wondering if we could bring in some cameras and maybe take some footage of him with the kids. We’d use the photos to run alongside a piece for the media. I figured it would be good PR for your organization as well. Get the word out about your work there. That kind of thing.”
“Hmm. I see.” I craned around again. Where was Missy? Why wasn’t she fielding this call?
“We thought we could even do something with the girl in the hospital. We could set up a fundraiser to help her family.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “I’ll think about it. I would have to speak with her social worker as well as her current foster family.”
“Right, of course. Well, let me send you my information and we can cook up something and really leverage this terrible tragedy…” she continued rattling off ideas and her email address but I tuned her out.
Leveraging the tragedy? What kind of ambulance chaser said something like that?
When I hung up with the woman, I was shaking.
The worst part of it all was the sudden realization that I’d let Chance get so close—so intimate—when the reality was that I didn’t know him at all. Was his sad story about growing up poor with a single parent even true? Or was that part of his PR shtick as well?
Maybe it was all a lie. He’d been sentenced to work at Harvest House and set his team into motion to use the opportunity to raise his star power and public opinion of his reputation. A photoshoot with a girl in a coma oughtta do it.
I shook my head angrily, scoffing loudly to myself.
And I was just a bonus. A prize to keep him entertained while he did his time.
Disgusting fucking douchebag.
I flew from my office like a bat out of hell and went out to ask Chance exactly what in the world was going on. I stopped short, realizing that the tables were all vacant.
Missy left her office, staring down at the phone in her hand.
“Hey, Missy,” I called, flagging her down. She stopped and looked up, quickly pocketing the device in the front of her slacks. “Why did you send Chance’s PR person over to my line? I thought you were handling all the media hoopla for this?”
