Linebacker's Second Chance (Bad Boy Ballers)

by Imani King

  After she’s done shaking, I stand and shed my clothes, my feet bare against the carpet in the cold little room. Pausing for a moment, I reach for the condom that I kept in my pocket this morning. But she turns to me and brushes her hand against my face. “I want you to come inside of me, Rowan. I’m clean--and I’m on birth control right now.”

  It feels like molten lava is pouring through my insides at the words she’s given me. She opens her mouth like she’s going to negate herself, like she’s embarrassed at what she said. But I just grin and stroke myself and push her back against the wall where she was. I press my cock against her entrance because I can’t bear it any longer. With one swift movement, I push inside of her and fill her completely. I let forth a deep, throaty groan and start fucking her, taking her waist with my hands and controlling each movement so she feels my full length with each thrust.

  “Shit, baby, you feel so fucking good. So sweet, so tight.” She whines and moans and thrusts her ass back against me. The walls of her pussy are tight as hell, hot and slippery and perfect against my shaft. Her body shakes with each thrust, my balls start to tighten as she begins to shake against me all over again. “I’m going to come fast, baby. But I want you to come for me again first.”

  The electricity that she alone creates is sparking hard inside of me, and I slow down so that I won’t end it before she does. I want to feel her tighten against me and release--and oh shit, she’s doing it. She moves her body so that her hips slam back against me, her ass quivering, her pussy swelling like it’s going to milk me dry.

  “Now, Rowan, now. Come inside my pussy. Please...” Her words come out in a demanding hiss, and boy am I ready to deliver.

  “Oh hell, woman.” I move my hand down to her clit and rub it in circles so she keeps shaking against me as I thrust into her hard, over and over again. “You belong to me, Cadence. Say it baby, and I’ll give you all of my come right now.”

  She cries out and whimpers like she’s trying to talk, but she’s coming again, shaking hard against my cock.

  “Say it, baby.” I groan, and I know I’m not going to last any longer. But fuck, I want to hear those words, especially if she’s leaving me in a matter of days. It’s the week before Christmas, and damn if I’m not going to *try to give her a reason to stay. I think of the necklace I bought her last week, sitting in my nightstand. I think of it dangling around her neck, showing the world that she’s mine. I think of her wearing that thing and nothing else. And then she says it.

  “I’m yours, I’m yours, baby,” she mumbles. I grip her hard and thrust inside of her, groaning as I release my seed deep inside her.

  This woman is better than anything, better than anyone before or since.

  I don’t say it. Instead, I just hold on to her waist and close my eyes. If she must leave me, she must. If she’s not ready, she’s not ready. But hell, I’m going to do my best to convince her she *is.

  As I’m still inside of her, I know it for sure know. This is the woman that I love, the woman that I should grow old with.

  She’s different. She’s a city girl, and every person I know except maybe for Star will say she’s a no-good gold digger, but they’ll carefully avoid the issue of her race because of how much money I do have.

  But I don’t give a flying fuck.

  Cadence was meant to be mine, just like this. And the whole world can jump off a cliff if they think otherwise.

  For the rest of the day, she stays in her nightshirt and drinks cocoa by the fire in the living room. It’s usually a big, lonely living room, and it feels even lonelier without a Christmas tree. But tomorrow, when I give her the necklace and let her know what I’ve been thinking, maybe it won’t be so lonely anymore.

  But for now, I let her work on her designs, and I carry the memory of our morning together as the snow keeps falling around us, like a thick white blanket that protects us from the real world outside.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The next day, I map out the project to its completion and read the rest of a romance novel I’ve been meaning to finish. The snow falls outside almost continuously, making it too white to see anything. We’re both glad that the man came to tend the horses, that we didn’t have to go out in the mess.

  I think about the comfortable time spent with Rowan, our feet entwined under a blanket, Eliza perched on top of the sofa that likely cost several thousand dollars, crushing the cushions. The time I spent with Eli was never like this. It was always fraught with expectations, with disappointments, with all the heartbreak we gave each other over the years we were together.

  With Rowan, I don’t expect anything. And I hope he doesn’t either. Though our silences are comfortable, sometimes it feels like there’s something he’s keeping hidden. He has hinted that he’s none too pleased I’m leaving, but he hasn’t mentioned it today. Maybe he’s letting it go, like he should.

  Forget a summer romance. This is even shorter. It’s a Christmas romance, and it will be over with the season, even if we both want it to continue. I need the time and space that I promised myself, and here I’m burying myself in Rowan, burying myself in sex and human contact that I so desperately needed. But there’s a bigger part of me that needs to heal. Maybe I should have been upfront, told Rowan about everything as soon as we first kissed.

  But no one wants to hear about that particular kind of sadness. I glance at him after I finish the last page of my novel, though, and the words feel like they’re forming at the tip of my tongue. A romance like this deserves an explanation.

  This is why. This is why. This is why I can’t stay. I know this is what I need.

  “I—” I start. He looks up from his laptop, and I gulp away my fear. This isn’t how the plot is supposed to go. But real life is messy and horrible, and sometimes the story doesn’t make sense. “I have something to tell you.”

  “And I have something to give you. Maybe it won’t convince you to stay, but well, it’ll show my intentions.” He gets up, and my jaw drops down. I know that he’s been on this kick of wanting me to leave New York for him, and until yesterday, he pursued it with single-minded determination in nearly every conversation we’ve had. Before I can respond with what I need to say, he’s rushing off to the upstairs like he didn’t even hear me when I opened my mouth.

  My heart drops when I think about what he might want to give me. It couldn’t be a ring, could it? I twist my hands around and sit up straight on the sofa. Eliza shifts and looks at me like she might be worried about my sanity. And I might be worried about it too.

  After all, what woman says no to a handsome billionaire with a big cock... who knows how to cook... and eat pussy?

  Oh fuck, what am I doing? I can’t do this. Can’t say no to him, can’t explain what’s gone wrong in my life. Maybe I can—

  I start breathing hard, clutching at my chest, trying to calm the panic that’s rising inside of me. I throw the blanket off of my lap and leap to my feet, shaking with anxiety. And this is the image that greets Rowan when he comes back into the room. There’s obvious pleasure—no, beaming happiness—when he walks in the room, holding a little velvet box with a blue ribbon wrapped around.

  “What’s wrong, Cadence? I know you don’t want to stay—but I thought I would try one last time. I know this is right. Hell, I’ll buy you an apartment in New York. I’ll fly you between here and there. I’ll—”

  “Rowan, stop. I can’t stay here. Please don’t—” My voice cracks, and he comes over to me and puts the little box down on the coffee table.

  “It’s not an engagement ring. I know very well you won’t marry a man that you’ve really just started dating—”

  “I’m not—we’re not—are we dating?” I think back to the day before, when we road Rowan’s horses through the fields behind his house and up into the mountains. That—and all that came before it—might suggest that we were on a dating fast track. But we haven’t seen anyone else. This hasn’t been the real world.

  “As far as I can
tell, I think we’re dating, Cadence. And I want to give you this to show you that I’m serious about keeping on with you, no matter if you’re in New York or not. Hell, I’ll set you up in the guest house after all if you need some space right now.” He picks up the velvet box again, and there’s something so sad about it. In my little girl dreams, I’d always wanted a prince to take me away from the world and want me more than anyone. Eli had shown me that none of that was real, that I couldn’t have everything I wanted. In the world I lived in, this didn’t seem like it could be real. And it isn’t, because of the broken things deep inside of me. I put my hand on top of the box and push Rowan’s hand away. Confusion hits his deep blue eyes, and he knits his dark eyebrows together.

  “Cadence, you care about me. I can see it.” He puts his strong hands on my arms, and warmth sears through me at his touch, even in my state of mind.

  I smile. “It’s really that obvious?” He nods. My heart beats fast, and I’m afraid of the words I’m about to say. “Rowan—”

  “I don’t like your tone, woman.” His words are joking, but there’s worry hidden in his voice. “This is the ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ speech. I’ve gotten this one before—”

  “Stop for a second. Rowan, I know you’ve got baggage. I do too. But it’s different. What I’ve got is different.”

  “Whatever it is, it’s okay. I promise.” I purse my lips together, and I think of is body when it collides with mine. The last time we were together, we hadn’t used a condom, and there was something in his body language, the hopeful look on his face. It was idiotic of both of us, but God, that hope... It’s the worst thing of all. He puts the jewelry box down again and grips my hand. I wonder how many more times he can nervously pick it up and put it down. “You don’t even have to tell me. Hell, I’ll put the necklace away. It’s a necklace. It’s not a ring—”

  “Rowan...” I start, and my voice trails off. I think of a way to explain it. But there’s nothing easy about this, and it’s never something anyone wants to hear. But with his big, earnest blue eyes, I owe him an explanation. “You know I read romance novels, right?”

  He nods and smiles. “This has taken a turn. A good turn—right?” He smiles, and his dimples form. It would make me melt if I weren’t about to describe the most painful shit in my life.

  “Usually, in the damn novels, the woman or the man keeps a secret hidden from the person they care about. And it’s always annoying as shit. So I’m not going to do that to you. You’re right—I care about you.” I gulp and take a long breath, closing my eyes for an instant. “But I came here to escape my life in New York.”

  “What is it? An ex-boyfriend? Did he hurt you?” Rowan’s voice is serious, and I wave a hand to brush his words away.

  I open my eyes and look into his. “I came here after I had a miscarriage.” My voice breaks on the last word, like it always does. Even in the time I’ve been here, the pain feels raw and angry when I speak the word. I feel the pain again, physical and emotional, the pain I’ve been ignoring, pushing away.

  “Cadence, I’m so sorry.” Rowan isn’t a sobbing, voice-cracking mess like I am, but his eyes are shiny, and he squeezes my hand hard. “That doesn’t—”

  “Before you say that doesn’t matter, please let me finish.” I take a deep breath and try to pull my hand away, but he won’t let me go. “I can’t have a child. The man I was with before, Eli, we tried for five years.”

  He knits his brows together again, and he pulls me closer. It’s the sweetest reaction, the one I never got from Eli through any of this shit. “You’re so young—”

  I let out a sharp laugh. “Yes. I’m only thirty-two. I kind of feel like that’s old. I wanted a big house full of kids. Eli didn’t believe in marriage, but he wanted children too. He wanted the same things, and we tried for two years before any doctor would take us seriously. Then it was tests after tests after tests, and then injections. And then IVF. I had the last embryo transfer in early November, and it worked at first. Until it didn’t. You know how people say, ‘You can’t be a little bit pregnant?’ Well, you can. That was only the second time I actually got pregnant, but it didn’t stay. I was a little bit pregnant, but only for the smallest amount of time.”

  Rowan runs his hands over my arms and holds me, and I feel like I might start crying and never stop, like I might break completely. I could have waited to tell him—I know that. He could easily tell me that we aren’t on that track, that wouldn’t be bound for that sort of thing if I stayed, that he doesn’t care. But to me, and I know to him too, there’s no denying that we would get there if I were to stay.

  “Thank you,” he says. “You didn’t have to tell me that.” He pulls away, and his eyes are serious, with none of that spark that’s usually there.

  “Rowan, I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with you. And I can’t—” My breath stops for a moment, and my throat goes tight. The words came from somewhere deep inside, somewhere I hadn’t even opened up since I met Rowan. Tears start to run down my face, and I hang my head and let them fall. I know I’m not a pretty crier, but unfortunately I’m not going to scare Rowan away with puffy eyes and runny mascara.

  “You’re pretty sure, are you?” He pauses, and I realize he’s still holding me, even though I feel far away. He takes my hands in his. Next to him, my long artist’s fingers feel small and delicate. Hell, next to all of him, I feel small and delicate, and there’s no man who’s ever made me feel that way. At five foot seven and a size twelve, no one has ever made me feel quite so sweet, just like he says I am. “I’m exceptionally, totally, and undeniably sure that I am in love with you, Cadence.”

  I start sobbing openly and lean my head against his shoulder. “I’m broken, baby. I’m broken.” I choke the words out. “I lost everything I wanted, and I have no control over it, and I’m not ready for something like this. I’m not ready for a love like this when I feel like I don’t deserve it.”

  “I know, baby girl. I know you feel that way. I won’t—I can’t—push you. But my God woman, you’ve been the brightest light I’ve ever seen—”

  “Oh Jesus, just stop.”

  “Stop what?”

  “Being perfect,” I say, wiping tears away from my eyes.

  He smiles, maybe a little sadly. “I am not that at all.”

  “Just take me upstairs.”

  “That I can do, sweetheart. That I can do.” Rowan sweeps me up into his arms and carries me to the stairs. The unopened jewelry box sits unopened on the grand old coffee table next to Rowan’s glass of expensive whiskey.

  It should be that way. It’s the promise of a brighter future. And that happy ending just doesn’t exist, not for me.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  When we wake the next morning, the snow has fallen again, thick and deep like a blanket over the plains behind my house. With everything that’s happened between me and Cadence, I hadn’t checked to see if the flurry would change to anything else again. But we’re here again, stuck inside, and after a whole lot of talking that leaves both of us in a strange place.

  Cadence is still asleep, and I catch myself looking at her again. Her chest rises and falls, and the look on her face is calm. Her eyelids flutter as if she’s dreaming, but her brows aren’t knit tight like they were last night when she told me about the thing I’d been wondering about for the last few weeks, that thing that weighed her down unnaturally.

  If I could take it all away, I would.

  But I can’t. There’s no cure to this pain, no way to make it end for her. So much time, so much loss. No wonder she came here, no wonder she took this job.

  I brush the smooth skin on the side of her neck and trace my fingers down her shoulder, down to the tank top she wore to bed. I just held her. For the first time, we just slept together, nothing else. I held her until her body fell calm, until her breathing became heavy and deep, until her mind slipped into sleep. It was better without making love, just sleeping, just holding her and letting her know t
hat I’d be there for her when she woke in the morning. That man—the man who left her—well, he was never there, it seems, not really.