“So, Jade – your wedding was absolutely beautiful, and you were a stunning bride. Tell me what it’s like to be newlyweds.”
She and Trent exchanged a look, and then smiled, like they knew a secret we didn’t – exactly how a newly married couple should look, in my mind – and then Jade sat forward and began to speak.
Two hours later – about an hour after Jade left us to move on to something else – I walked out of the Bailey residence with footage from what I thought could very well be one of the best segments I’d ever done. We’d managed to strike a balance where Trent – and sometimes Jade – were very open, without giving more of them than anyone needed. I couldn’t wait to get home and re-watch the footage, but as soon as I got into my car after tossing my equipment bag on the passenger seat, I dug out my phone to call Ramsey.
And then immediately got sad, because… I couldn’t call Ramsey.
He’d managed to avoid any repercussions for sneaking out, but now that they were really into the swing of training camp, he couldn’t have any distractions. If there was an emergency, of course there was a way I could reach him. As excited as I was though, this was not an emergency.
I’d just have to tell him later.
Just thinking about him made my heart race now. Not that it was much different than I’d felt in Bali, but once again something had shifted. We hadn’t really said the words, but we were basically together now.
As he’d said, ready or not… here we were.
Eleven
“They overplayed their hand.”
“Sure as hell did. The very definition of doing too much.”
“I mean, some of us already saw right through their attempts to slander this woman, but for those who didn’t – this should make it perfectly clear.”
“I mean, it’s trash, is what it is. Everyone knew that Wil and Ramsey’s departure from their show on WAWG was too abrupt to not be messy, but neither of them has spoken negatively – not publicly at least – about the network or their executives. Clearly, they aren’t being granted the same courtesy by the Petty Betties in charge over there, because why is that station constantly playing gossip about those folks like they’re goddamned Spillin’ That Hot Tea?”
“If you ask me, it’s the same thing that a ton of folks do. Something goes down, and in an effort to get people on their side, they badmouth the other person first – that way, the rebuttal just seems like their point being proven. You can’t approach it, because the other person has made it seem like you’re going to lie, or you’re being messy, etc etc. You can’t clear your name because even that has already been painted to look like a problem.”
“And too often, that bullshit works, but not this time honey, hey!”
“That’s right baby, Arnez and Arizona are not here for the play-play. WAWG – specifically Sarita Price and Connie Blaylock, you’re clearly pressed because those white folks pulled out of the deal to buy your little network when your flop ass viewership dropped last month.”
“But implying that the amazing interview Wil released was somehow proof that she’s doing Trent Bailey and his wife? Please! We hope y’all stretched before you made that reach!”
“Hello! There wasn’t a lick of sexual chemistry in that interview video except between Trent and Jade Bailey, and that was hot enough to heat up the screen. I mean, come on – as messed up as it was that their privacy was invaded, we all saw those pictures of Ramsey Bishop giving Wil the business on that lil’ table. She’s getting all the dick she can handle. I’m sure.”
“Bitch. Listen. Round of applause for ol’ Wilhelmina, okay? Cause that Ramsey is a fine muhfucka – can you blame her for backing that ass up?”
“Not around here we don’t! After the way her ex dogged her for that lil funny looking white girl, Wil deserves. If you’re listening – girl, you betta work! Get your life!”
“Yaaaas honey! Based on my extensive research on the topic, Ramsey Bishop is the dick you deserve girl, congratulations!”
“Extensive research? Really Arizona?!”
“Oh yes, really! I have credible sources and all. I’ll give you that tea later.”
“Looking forward to it bitch. But anyway – back to trash ass WAWG – you tried it. When even the two supposedly scorned exes gave statements that an affair between Wil and Ramsey were not the cause of their breakup, you know you tried it!”
“Tried the absolute fuck out of it. And for what reason?”
“Pettiness. You know everybody thinks that shit is cute these days.”
“Until somebody delivers hands via NextDayAir.”
“Never fails.”
“Mmmmhmmm. But in any case, just to recap – nobody believes that shit, and I hope Wamsey sues the redbottoms off your feet for lying.”
“Wamsey? Ew, no. Wilsey. Wamsey sounds…”
“Cute as fuck, hater.”
“I was going to say childish.”
“Ya mama.”
I chuckled as Arnez and Arizona continued their signature banter. Their show was blaring from the speaker on my cell phone, which was still in the bathroom, where I’d placed it on the counter to listen while I showered. I was listening because I always listened, because I always – as they said – “got my life”. They were funny, and smart, and pretty socially conscious, so I enjoyed listening to their takes on whatever random topic they brought up on the show.
I certainly hadn’t expected to hear my name, but it was a pleasant surprise to hear the show of support. After another week of fresh slander, I needed it.
Chloe had brushed the new allegations off as nothing. She’d said “whoever” was behind it was overdoing it with the accusations about me and the Baileys, and she was right – nobody believed it. That, however, didn’t make it any less frustrating, especially since I hadn’t done anything to warrant what they were attempting to do.
I was pissed.
But, still. So far, Chloe’s plan had worked. Instead of being tagged in ugly posts about being a gold-digging homewrecker, people were now scraping up every picture of Ramsey and I they could find, tagging us as #relationshipgoals, #friendshipgoals, and a slew of incredibly corny quotes about your best friend becoming the love of your life. In fact, most of the “negative” things I was still seeing were of a similar vein, except the captions under the pictures said stuff like, “this is why you never trust your man’s “play sister””, “this is why my nigga can’t have “friends” that look like this”, etc. And I mean…I felt that.
Ramsey and I were innocent friends, until we weren’t.
In any case, the last two weeks had been leaps and bounds better than that first day, especially since releasing my interview with Trent and Jade. Finding out that they were happy with the end result – and thought the affair rumors were ridiculous – gave me a burst of good energy I desperately needed.
Getting to Naima’s to hang out with her and Ashley was going to give me another one.
I hoped I wasn’t getting on their nerves though. Even once Ramsey and I started getting hot and heavy, I made sure it didn’t interfere with me kicking it with my favorite cousin –slash-best friend just as much as I always did. I’d never been the girl to drop her friends for a man, and didn’t want to start now. But, with Ramsey being basically on lock-down at rookie camp, I feared I was doing the opposite. Between Naima, my parents, and phone calls with Soriyah down in the Bahamas, I was always up under somebody if I wasn’t working, to keep me distracted from the swirling news stories.
Where I was usually splitting time five ways – with myself, with Ramsey, with Naima, Soriyah, or my parents – now it was just three, and somebody was bound to get tired of my ass sooner than later.
Hopefully, that day wasn’t going to be today.
I’d just walked into my closet to pick out something to wear when Arnez and Arizona gave their outro, and then my phone went silent.
Can’t have that.
I tossed the two dresses I was deciding between on my bed,
then went to the bathroom to grab my phone and start some music. No sooner than I’d pressed play did my doorbell ring, and I groaned. Of course somebody was coming by before I had any clothes on.
I grabbed my robe from the hook in the bathroom and tied it tightly around me as I headed to the door. Whoever it was practically laying on the bell, which agitated me, and I was ready to curse out whoever was on the other side until I peeked through the peephole.
“Ramsey, what are you doing here?” I asked as I pulled the door open, feeling a slight sense of déjà vu from when he’d shown up in the middle of the night a few weeks ago. This time though, I hadn’t been stewing with ridiculous anger over him having a sex life before me, and I was excited as hell to see him.
“Two day break before pro camp,” he said, sweeping me up into his arms as soon as the door was closed. “I hope you don’t have plans today.”
I quickly got an answer for why he said that – less than a minute after I answered the door, we were naked in my bedroom, and he was ripping open a condom with his teeth.
And then a second condom.
And then a third.
By the time he finally went limp, it was hours past when I was supposed to be at Naima’s, and my phone had chimed with a text in her specialized tone, but no phone call – a clear sign that I was, indeed, getting on her damn nerves.
From my place beside him on the bed, I looked over at Ramsey in the daylight shining through the window, smiling at his closed eyes and the slow rise and fall of his chest. Even if he was getting plenty of sleep, I knew he had to be physically exhausted. The workouts he usually did were tough, sure, but they were nothing compared to the conditioning he needed to be in shape for the NFL. As he slept, I examined his nude body, noting the changes that were already apparent in just two weeks. Layers of fat cut and replaced by thicker muscle, wider biceps, more defined abs.
I was still admiring when my phone did ring, and I scrambled out of bed to grab it and shut it off before it woke him up. Snatching it up from the bathroom counter, I silenced it first, then took notice of the name and number on the screen. I took a deep breath, and then let it keep ringing as I grabbed a tee shirt and yoga pants to put on. I snuck past Ramsey as he rolled over onto his stomach, muffling the soft snores that had been filling the room.
Out on my back patio, I pulled my phone out to return the call I’d missed.
“Wil! I’m so glad you called me right back,” my realtor gushed, from the other end of the line. “We got an offer on the house – adorable couple with kids and a dog, need a place as soon as possible, since one of them is starting a new job.”
I forced cheerfulness into my voice – not that I was sad about the house, I just would rather not deal with it at all – to respond, “Oh, great. How much?” She told me a number that was just under asking price. So close, in fact, that I responded, “I accept,” before I recalled that it wasn’t solely up to me.
“I already know you want to ask, what did Mr. Hayward say,” she started, in a knowing tone. “Well, since he was the one unsatisfied with the last two offers, I went to him first this time. He accepted as well. So… congratulations Ms. Cunningham, you just sold your house.”
I expected to feel much more comforted than I actually did. I was glad to have it over with of course – it was the last thing connecting me to Darius. But more than relief, what coursed through me was… sorrow. I never expected an adventure we took on together, in love, to end up like this. As much as selling the house empowered me to move on, it reminded me that I – we – had failed.
It wasn’t a good feeling, at all.
I arranged a time to come in to sign my paperwork, and then leaned against the deck railing as I stared across the yard, at nothing. I don’t know how long I stayed out there, but when I felt Ramsey’s arms come around me from behind, it was a welcome shift in energy.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. He hadn’t even seen my face, but he knew.
I laid my hands over his, urging him to hold me tighter. “The house sold. I have to go sign the paperwork tomorrow.”
“You need me to come with you?”
“No. I’ve got it.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
When he turned me to face him, I didn’t even bother trying to shutter the emotion in my eyes, because I knew I didn’t have to. It had occurred to me, in Bali, that this was a testament to the man Ramsey was – giving me room to finish mourning, letting me work through my heartbreak at my own pace, without being an asshole about it.
“You want to talk about it?” he asked, and I shook my head.
“Not particularly.”
“Okay. Can I say something though?”
My eyebrow lifted. “About the house sale I just said I didn’t want to talk about?”
“Nope.”
“Okay, then what?”
A grin spread over his face as his hands slid down my waist, to my butt. “Your ass looks good as hell in these pants. I need you to take them off.”
“Oh my God,” I giggled, squirming in his arms as he pulled me into his chest. “It’s only been a few weeks, and you’re acting so sex-starved.”
He chuckled into my neck as he grabbed the waistband of my pants, trying to tug them down. “Your fault. If it wasn’t so good, I’d be able to stay out of you.”
“You make it sound like a struggle,” I teased, ducking out of his arms and back into the house before he could successfully get my pants down outside. That didn’t deter him though – he easily corralled me back to the bedroom, making quick work of removing my clothes and putting on a condom before he plunged into me again.
“It is a struggle,” he grunted against my lips, as I hooked both legs around his waist. “I don’t think you understand how damn good you feel.”
With my eyelids squeezed shut, I shook my head. “No. I don’t think you do.”
His movements stilled. “Open your eyes.”
When I did, he was looking – staring – at me in a way he often did, as if everything good in the world had originated from me. And then just as quickly, it shifted to pure lust as he lowered his mouth to my neck, then my breasts. The feeling of his teeth, then tongue, on my nipples made me squeeze my eyes shut again as a gasp of pleasure fell from my lips.
“Hey!” he said, with more bass than I was expecting. “I told you to open your eyes.”
Oh.
So I opened them, and he met my gaze again as he pushed into me, deeper than before, scrutinizing my reaction as he filled me up, then murmured “Good girl” to me. My mouth opened, but I didn’t – couldn’t – make a sound other than a high-pitched whine as he burrowed further. When he pulled back, then dove in again, my eyelids fluttered, but I stayed the course, earning myself a smirk before he shook his head, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth as he watched me.
“See?” he asked, making me whimper as he started with a steady rhythm to his stroke. “The faces, the sounds you make… this is why I always want to be inside of you.” He finished that statement with his mouth right against my ear, in a tone that sent a shiver up my spine. He put a hand between my legs, coating his fingers in my arousal before he moved them back to my clit, rubbing me there in circles that felt so good it was impossible to keep my eyes open.
“Ramsey,” I managed to sound out, in a breathless whimper that made him groan.
“Yeah, Champ?”
He stopped moving to give me his attention, and I lifted my hands to cup his face. “You can’t keep saying these kinds of things… doing me like this… unless you’re prepared for me to never leave you alone. Waiting in your bushes and shit.”
“I don’t have any bushes, baby,” he grinned.
I lifted my shoulders. “Then… in your shower. In your cabinets.”
“Silly ass,” he chuckled, then dropped his lips down to mine. “Glad to hear you’re satisfied with my performance.”
I smiled back at him. “Very… I’m confident that yo
u have a long future ahead of you here.”
“Welcome back to the land of the free.”
I was happy as hell to be able to toast to that with Reggie and Clay, raising my glass of bourbon to bump theirs before taking a sip. This was actually Reggie’s third full day as a free man, but I’d been in training camp the day he was released, and then as far into Wil as I could get on the second day, which was part of my break. So today, even though it was Thursday, and random as hell, we celebrated.
Besides, he’d been occupied with his more immediate family – His mother, and Chloe and the kids – those first two days anyway.
Tomorrow morning, I’d be reporting to pro camp with the rest of the team, for more conditioning and practice to get us ready to start on a good note, by dominating in the preseason games. Tonight though, I was having a real drink with Reggie – something I’d never had the opportunity to do, since he got locked up when I was still underage.
I considered it Clay’s fault that it was happening in a goddamned piano bar though, of all places. All because his latest client was Logan Lewis – the special guest on the keys tonight – and Clayton had made what I knew was a half-hearted vow to come to the next show he did in Connecticut. He probably wasn’t really expecting it to happen soon, since Logan was gearing up for a tour with a neo-soul artist named Dani. But a promise was a promise, so here we were at Onyx, which wasn’t half bad – especially to Clayton.
We were among a limited amount of men who weren’t there with a woman, which apparently made us hot commodities. Clayton was reveling in it, but my heart and Reggie’s were both elsewhere, so we were chilling. The place had a good vibe, good food, good music, which made it enough for me to have a good time without risking what I already had.
“So how does it feel, man?” Clay asked Reggie, when he finally wrapped up his flirting session with our pencil-skirted server. “The world is a lot different than it was twelve years ago, huh?” This was their first time meeting, but they’d heard enough about each other through me that they easily fell into a friendly energy.
Determining Possession (Connecticut Kings Book 3) Page 23
