Bad Ballers: A Contemporary Sports Romance Box Set

by Bishop, S. J.

  “Hey,” she said suddenly. “How’s your mom; how’s your dad?”

  I paused mid bite. I had forgotten that she’d met them. I finished chewing and swallowed. “Mom’s all right,” I said, shrugging. “She remarried two years ago.”

  “Oh, wow!” said Jamie, “What’s this, her third?”

  “Fourth,” I said. “You met Ray?” that was her second husband.

  Jamie nodded. “She got married again, not long after that,” I said. “Guy named Hank. This latest one is Vincent. He’s okay. She likes him.”

  “What about your dad?”

  I don’t know how I must have looked, but Jamie reached over, picked my hand up, and gave it a squeeze. “Still a wreck,” I said. I love my old man, but he’s never been the same since my mom left him. “He’s working his same job, living in his same home. But he’s a zombie. Talking to him is depressing.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Jamie, and I could tell she was sorry. It floored me. Karissa had met my parents, too, and afterwards had told me she never wanted to meet either of them again. “Your mother’s crazy,” she’d said. “And your father is pathetic.” Both were true. But Jamie wasn’t judging at all. She was simply asking after them, and her sympathy felt real.

  “Nothing to be sorry about.”

  “Do you think your mother’s finally found love? Do you think this latest guy will last?”

  I tried to smile, but I knew I wasn’t fooling anyone. “Is there really such a thing as love that lasts?”

  She was quiet a moment, but she stared into my eyes. She looked thoughtful and a little sad, and I reached out and cupped the side of her face, needing that contact with her.

  “I never stopped loving you,” she said. It sounded off-handed. Like a response that someone throws out as a “for instance.” But I was speechless. Jamie Anderson had never stopped loving me? She’d broken my heart, standing in my dorm room, telling me I wasn’t enough for her. She’d broken my goddamn heart, and here she was, telling me she’d never stopped loving me.

  “Even that night when you told me it was over?”

  “Especially then,” she said. “That was the worst night of my life.”

  Silence stretched between us, but I couldn’t have spoken if I’d wanted to. My mind was flooded with “what-ifs.” What if I hadn’t been such a jerk? What if I had told her I’d make her a priority? Hell, we’d be married now!

  “Come back to my place.” I said. I wanted her. I wanted her so badly it was painful. I wanted to fuck her senseless so she’d know how stupid we’d both been.

  I waited. I watched as she thought about it. I was sure she was going to say no. It was dumb of me to even ask.

  “Okay,” she said, finally.

  8

  Jamie

  The minute the words were out of my mouth, Caz had me flat on my back beneath him on the couch. His lips were hard against mine, his hands cradling my head. I kissed him back and arched up, pressing my crotch against his, and I felt his cock through his jeans: rock hard. Part of me wanted him right then and there. I rubbed myself against him. I wanted him here, now, and hard.

  He groaned low in his throat and pulled back. “Not here. My place.”

  We rushed out of the stadium. Caz pushed me up against his car, his kiss more of a tongue-fucking than anything romantic. “Get in the car,” he growled in my ear.

  I did as he said, burning with need. He started his Porsche and peeled out of the lot so fast he left tire marks.

  “Little Girl,” he said, his eyes on the road, shaking his head. “I’m going to give it to you so good.”

  “How good?” I asked, reaching over to slide my hand along his thigh. He hissed in through his teeth.

  “You remember the night of the Junior Ball? Where I bent you over the foot of your bed?”

  Oh god. I was wet just thinking about it.

  “Get ready for a deep dicking.”

  I shuddered, and my hand moved to cup him through his jeans. The car swerved slightly. “Careful, LG. You’re playing with fire.”

  “I like it hot,” I murmured, flicking the button of his fly open. I needed him to want me as badly as I wanted him. I needed him to burn for me. He didn’t stop me as I pulled down the zipper of his fly. Didn’t stop me as I undid his boxer briefs and slid out his thick, long… damn, it was just as I remembered it. Nobody had a cock more perfect than Caz – it was part of what had made getting over him so hard. I bent down and placed my mouth over the sensitive tip.

  “Oh, fuck…” Caz started cursing, which meant I was doing a good job. I slid my tongue down the length of it and back up.

  “You’re going to get us killed.” His voice was terse, and I laughed. It vibrated up his shaft, making him groan. When I made as if to leave, his hand came down and tangled in my hair; his hips strained up against his seatbelt, filling my mouth. I hummed my appreciation, and he cursed again.

  “Goddamn. Your mouth. God, that mouth,” he was muttering. But he tugged my hair firmly, and I let him go, sat back, and buckled my seat belt.

  “Oh no, you don’t,” Caz murmured. “Take off your pants. Now.”

  “Now?”

  “Don’t make me ask twice, Little Girl.” His voice was all gravel.

  My body hummed in anticipation, and I peeled my leggings down. Caz swore low when he saw I wasn’t wearing any underwear. “Oh, fuck yes. Turn this way. Open for me.”

  “I’m going to ruin your seats…”

  “Fuck the seats.”

  I spread my legs. Caz reached down, sliding his hand up the inside of my thigh, his fingers brushing against my molten core. “Damn, baby. You’re soaking,” he murmured. “Open more.” I did, and one finger sunk deep. I cried out as he slid another finger inside me. Caz’s thumb reached up to swipe at my clit. I cried out.

  “Oh, baby, the things I’m going to do to you,” Caz murmured. He withdrew his hand and gave the steering wheel a sharp turn, veering violently into a parking space. “Pants on. Let’s go.”

  I slid my leggings back on and then my shoes, and as I leapt from the SUV and closed the door behind me, I was instantly slammed up against it. Caz’s mouth came down hot over mine. He rocked against me, leaning down to insert a muscular thigh between my legs. I whimpered into his mouth.

  He grabbed my hand and tugged me into the apartment building. We didn’t wait for the elevator but took the stairs. Three times, he stopped climbing to push me against the wall and kiss me some more. Then we were out on the landing and inside his apartment.

  It was all boxes – he hadn’t unpacked yet, but thank god, there was a bed. Caz shut the door, and in a quick move, had my ass in his hands and was lifting me up against the door. His teeth grazed my ear and then bit hard. I moaned. I was burning up. All flame. All need.

  He whirled, strode into the bedroom, and tossed me onto the bed. He was on me before I could move. He spread my legs and drove his hips into mine hard; one hand slid up my shirt to palm my breast through my bra. His mouth trapped my moans.

  With a growl of frustration, he took his hand away. “Off,” he said, getting up off me. “Get those clothes off. All of them. Now.”

  I didn’t make a dance of it. I stripped everything off and didn’t even have time to look at his face before he had me on the bed again, groaning as he kissed me. God, I could kiss Caz forever – but that wasn’t what I wanted. I yanked at his hair, and he laughed against my lips. “Oh, that’s how you want to play it, baby?”

  Next thing I knew, he’d tossed me higher up on the bed. His head went between my legs, and his mouth was on me. Oh Fuck! Oh my god. Caz took a long lick between my lips, his tongue swirling around my clit until I screamed.

  “Oh yah, baby. Scream for me,” Caz murmured against the inside of my thigh. His fingers filled me, his tongue swirled at my clit, and I realized I was begging him.

  He stopped suddenly and stood back, staring down at me, prone. “Don’t move,” he said, and in one move, he stripped off his shirt, re
vealing an incredible set of washboard abs, perfect pecs, and chiseled arms. His pants were next, and as he freed his erection, my mouth went dry. It was huge and imposing. I wanted it bad.

  He was back on me a moment later, kissing me, the hot head of his erection parting my lips and sliding through them to burn against my clit. I whimpered, wild with need, thrusting my hips up to meet his, to take me in.

  “Shhh, little girl. Let me handle this.”

  He reached down and grabbed my wrists in his hands. In one deft move, he flipped me so that I was face first on the quilts, my ass in the air. His hands ran across the smooth, muscled globes, and two fingers dipped downward, finding my heat and filling me from behind.

  I bit my lip. I wasn’t sure I could take him this way. I hadn’t had sex in months, and Caz was huge. But I wanted him so badly. I strained against his grip my hips rising to meet his hand.

  “Greedy girl,” he murmured. His teeth scored the back of my neck and left lightning in their wake. Then he removed his hand and I felt it, the head of his cock, probing my entrance, coating itself in my slick wetness before pushing slowly, so slowly. Oh god, oh god. He was filling me inch by slow inch, so big I thought I was going to split in half, but my body accommodated him.

  When he was halfway in, he slid out again and then pressed in a bit further. Then out, slowly. Oh fuck. He slammed into me, sheathing himself to the hilt. I cried out at the sensation, electric, amazing.

  He murmured into my hair and shushed me. His hand reached under my hips to pull them a bit higher, and then he was moving: deep, powerful, slow strokes that shook me to my core. I was whimpering for purchase, arching beneath him. Over and over, he fucked me, and when I thought I couldn’t take any more of the vicious pounding, he stopped and flipped me onto my back.

  “God, Jamie,” he said, his eyes boring into mine. “Your body. How I’ve missed your body…”

  I reached for him, nearly crying. I was so close…

  He growled and came down on top of me, sliding back in with a vicious down-stroke, and I cried out, tilting my hips up so that he hit just the right spot.

  “Oh, Caz! I… Oh god, Caz!” His fingers bit into my hips, and I wrapped my legs around him. He filled up every single inch of me, hitting every nerve until I was nothing but sensation, my body screaming for release. I was begging, keening, and his rhythm was picking up. Higher and higher he took me, deeper and harder…

  I saw stars and a world-rocking explosion that sent me shooting upward in a firework blaze of release. I felt him grow impossibly big inside me, and he let out a low groan, burying his face in the side of my neck. He unloaded, hot and violent, deep into my womb.

  “Jamie, Jamie,” he murmured my name into my hair, both of our bodies shaking with the last spasms of the most intense orgasm of my life.

  “Jamie,” Caz breathed. He stared down at me, his eyes wide with bewilderment. “Holy hell, Jamie, I think you killed me.”

  I couldn’t respond.

  * * *

  I spent the night wrapped up in Caz’s arms, held close to his chest. In the morning, we woke up early and got dressed. Caz had to make it to practice, and I’d left my car at Gillette. We grabbed bagels and coffee at Dunkin Donuts. I was a bit put out when Caz wore his hat low over his face so he wouldn’t be recognized. But it was hard to feel anything other than amazing. Last night had been so incredible. I was sorer than I’d been in…hell, since the last time we’d done something like that.

  We got back in the car. I ate my bagel and tried to talk to him. It wasn’t until I asked him about his practice, and he didn’t respond, that I realized he wasn’t listening to me.

  I looked over at him and said his name again.

  “Hmm?” he said, not taking his eyes off the road.

  When we got to Gillette, Caz got out of the car and went around to his trunk to grab his gear bag.

  Juggling my coffee and my keys, I went to say goodbye to him, but he was already striding off toward the stadium. Not even a backward glance in my direction.

  I stood there a moment, not sure how to react. I knew what this was. It was so familiar, had happened so many times in college. Caz had flipped the switch. Last night, he’d been mine. Today, he belonged to the Patriots.

  I headed toward my car, trying to snap out of the funk I felt coming on. You knew this would happen, Jamie. Fernanda was right. The only way this is going to work is if one of you has changed.

  It was clear from last night in bed, and this morning at the stadium, that Caz hadn’t changed a bit. Had I?

  Maybe I hadn’t – but I knew two things: 1) I wanted to keep Caz. 2) I needed to finish this season strong. So I was going to need to learn how to compartmentalize.

  * * *

  I don’t know what happened. I don’t know if it was the mind-blowing sex last night or because it had been followed by such a terrible morning, but I felt different. I didn’t have trouble that afternoon at practice. In fact, I was amazing. Incredible even. Coach was beaming at me the whole time, and even Noemi came up and high fived me after a phenomenal corner kick.

  “Get ‘em, girl,” Fernanda said to me as we headed into the locker room after practice. “Or did you already get some?” She laughed and winked at me, and I smiled at her – but I couldn’t wink back. Not when I didn’t know where things stood with Caz.

  As if thinking of him had summoned him, my phone buzzed.

  Hey, sexy. I want you back in my bed. But busy tonight. How’s Thurs?

  I was travelling to Portland on Thursday for a game on Friday.

  No problem. Come to NOLA on Sat for Sun game? Pool, food, hotels? Hot sex? I’ll get you a ticket?

  I blinked at the text, trying to decode Caz’s shorthand. They were playing the Saints on Sunday. Caz was inviting me to New Orleans for the game and was offering to get me a ticket from Portland.

  Yes. I’ll email you my info.

  9

  Caz

  “I hear Argozzi is out for the season,” Vic said, tossing back the last of his Miller Lite before signaling the bartender for another. “So that’s one less lineman to worry about tomorrow.”

  “I’m not worried.” Burke eyed the fresh beer the bartender set down. “But that’s the last beer you’re having before the game tomorrow. Are you serious right now?”

  “It’s a Lite goddamn beer,” muttered Vic. “I don’t see you giving Caz a hard time.”

  “Don’t bring me into this,” I said. “I’ve been nursing this damn thing for a half hour.” I waved my Sam Adams at the two of them.

  Burke smirked. “Any word on when your lady is arriving?”

  “After the conference, I think.” I checked my Rolex. Jamie’s plane was set to land at about 4 pm, and the conference started just after 3:30. I had a feeling she’d arrive right as things finished.

  “Fuck me,” murmured Vic. “Please.”

  Burke looked to where Vic was looking and said quietly, “Uh oh.” Interested, I looked as well.

  “Shit,” I muttered.

  Karissa strode past the entrance to the hotel bar, sauntering up to us like a cat that had spotted prey. I had to agree with Vic. She looked hot. New Orleans is humid, even in October, and Karissa was dressed for the weather, wearing short, black shorts, red Louboutins, and a billowy, red silk blouse. Her hair tumbled in thick waves down her back. She looked camera ready. I eyed the blousy top. Not her usual style. She usually wore her clothes skin tight.

  “Hey baby,” she said, slinging her arm around my shoulder and planting a slow kiss right along the ridge of my cheekbone. Shit. What the fuck was she doing here? She hadn’t said anything to me about showing up in New Orleans, and if she had, I either would have told her no or not invited Jamie. Fuck.

  “Caz, boy, you better introduce me,” said Vic, biting his lip at Karissa and murmuring, “damn girl,” beneath his breath.

  Karissa preened at the attention, and I made the introductions and then excused us. Pulling Karissa to the side, I said an
grily, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  “Press,” Karissa said succinctly. “You played so well last game. It’s all anyone’s talking about right now. All eyes are on you this weekend, which means all eyes will be on me.” Her eyes dared me to contradict her. I didn’t have the energy for this.

  “Just stay out of the way,” I said. “You don’t talk to anyone. People can speculate all they want, but we’re not lying.”

  Karissa smiled and reached up, patting my cheek. “I know,” she said, and sauntered away, laughing. I pulled my phone out and texted Jamie. K is here. Use back entrance. I’ll send someone to show you to the room.

  * * *

  Not everyone does the press conference. The fact that I was included in the list was a pretty big deal. I followed Dash Barnes, Burke, the coach, and Clay Aarons, the Pats’ special team captain, up to the table that had been set up in one of the hotel conference rooms.

  As we entered the room, the cameras went off, and I tried to keep my expression neutral. But fuck, was I tense. Press conferences usually made me a bit anxious, but the added stress of having Karissa and Jamie in the same place…

  As if my thoughts had summoned her, Karissa appeared out of the crowd of reporters. As Coach and Dash went about shaking hands with some of the press, Karissa sidled up to me, touched the side of my face, and kissed my temple before darting toward the side of the room. The cameras caught the whole thing.

  As the interviews got underway – most of the questions (thank god!) were directed toward Coach and Dash. Occasionally, I got to chime in, but mostly, I was just there to look good.

  At one point, Burke nudged my thigh with his, and when I looked up, he was looking toward the edge of the crowd. Karissa. She was visible in her bright red top, and she alternated between beaming up at the table, patting her stomach, and staring down at her hand with this strange, sappy smile. Fuck, fuck, oh fuck!!!