Scored

by Valentine, Marquita

  She sighs. “Paige, I have known you your entire life. The only time you come around anymore is when you feel like you have to or there’s something wrong. Since you came early, I’m going with the second reason.”

  A dull flush climbs my throat. “I don’t—”

  “Don’t lie and don’t apologize. I haven’t always made you kids, especially you girls, feel welcome.” She lights a slim cigarette, moves to the sink, and raises the window. “Do you mind?”

  “It’s your house.”

  She eyes the cigarette, then me, and puts it out. “I only lit it because I’m nervous.”

  “I only came here because I’m nervous, scared, and mad at you for making me want to be your opposite.”

  Her dark eyes widen. “That’s certainly honest.”

  I wince. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry, baby. Never be sorry for the truth.” She moves, coming to sit beside me. “I have a lot to answer for, and a lot I don’t have to apologize for.”

  “It’s not about that. I know you did the best you could, and I always felt loved. Just… I met a man.”

  Momma smiles softly. “Ah.”

  “It’s not like I’ve never dated seriously before.”

  “No, it’s not, but those guys were jerks.”

  I nod. “Dallas isn’t a jerk. He’s cocky and larger than life and has an awful reputation with women, but in a good way, if that makes sense.”

  “The good ones usually do.”

  There is no way I’ll ask her to clarify the meaning of that statement. “He stopped doing things to have that reputation.”

  “Not all of them, I hope, for your sake. A happy sex life is a healthy sexy life.”

  Of course she went there. “I’m blissful.”

  “That makes me so happy for you.” She pats my thigh. “You make sure he keeps you safe and respects your—”

  “He’s perfect in every way.”

  Her brows rise. “Wow. Can’t wait to meet him.”

  “That’s the problem—you might not meet him because I told him I needed space.”

  Her chin drops. “You broke up with him?”

  “What’s with everyone saying that?” I shake my head. “No, I did not break up with him.”

  “Sounds like it to me.”

  “Would you just listen and comment at the end, please?”

  She mimes zipping her lips, locking them at the corner, and throwing away the key.

  “I pushed him away because I can’t handle the what-if’s or the fact he’s exactly like the men you fall in love with.”

  “Dallas is a baseball player? I haven’t heard of him… is he new?”

  “He plays in the NFL.” I wave my hands in the air, flapping them like bird wings. “It doesn’t matter what he does…. well, it does, but I don’t care. It’s just I’m in love with him and I’m scared.” I smack one of my flapping hands against my mouth. “Oh, God.”

  “That’s wonderful. You’ve never been in love before… not like this.” She sits back a little. “You don’t have to be me, Paige, and I certainly don’t expect you to follow in my footsteps. I chose a different path from most, and it rewarded me with the three of you.” She plays with my hair. “The thing is, sweetheart, none of us have to follow the path of another. We’re all supposed to make our own way in this world. And if your world has a football player in the middle of it, I say tackle the heck out of that guy.”

  “But what will Finley think?”

  “Finley will get over it—if she even cares at all.”

  “But she’s always warned me away,” I protest.

  “A woman’s broken heart will do everything it can to protect the ones it loves.” She smiles sadly. “You can’t live your life to suit your sister or me, or the fear of being labeled as a football groupie… or whatever they’re called. The world doesn’t have the final say in defining you. Only you have that power. Don’t let your fear take that away.”

  “Oh wow, that was beautiful. Thank you, Momma.”

  “You’re welcome. Now, tell me all the good things about your Dallas.”

  I start to list them, thinking of the kind things he does for me and his relationship with his family; how he protects my privacy even when it’s inconvenient… the way he loves me with his body—not that I’d tell my momma that—and the words get jumbled up.

  Finally, I look at her and say, “There’s just so many that I’d be an idiot to throw our relationship away. After the wedding, I’m going to go to his game and tell him how I feel.”

  CHAPTER 28

  Dallas

  I’ve been reduced to the status of wedding crasher. Although technically, with a personal invitation from the bride, I’m not sneaking in to eat free food and drink free booze with the hopes of ending the night by sleeping with a bridesmaid or two.

  There’s only one maid of honor I’m interested in, and she’s wearing a classy but form-fitting dress in Seattle Seahawk green, which I hate. To be fair, Layton isn’t a Seahawk fan—at least not that I’m aware of, but still… that color makes me see red.

  I frown.

  Layton spies me from the other side of the country club’s ballroom and surreptitiously points to the right. I crane my neck around, easily spotting Paige over the heads of nearly everyone there.

  She’s standing with her sister and two other people who have to be her mother and brother. They are all grinning and eating from plates the size of my palms. Their smiles are too alike to not be related.

  I want to go to her right then and there, but I must be patient. Layton assured me she would find a way for Paige to be able to talk to me alone, without her family around. A family that still doesn’t know we’re dating, or Finley would have had my ass as soon as she spotted me when I walked in an hour late.

  Country back roads contain more tractors than cars or passing lanes… and one should plan accordingly.

  Layton crosses the room, calling Paige’s name, and I duck behind a tall potted tree they’ve brought in to be part of the décor. Peeking through the leaves, I watch as they talk, Paige’s face growing worried.

  Suddenly, Layton starts heading my way. I almost panic and reveal myself until they feint left at the last second. I count to ten and follow them, trying to appear casual rather than like a fucking stalker.

  Aiden steps in front of me, and I lose my line of sight. It’s all I can do not to clock the bastard. The team needs him too badly tomorrow night. “Going somewhere?”

  “Gotta take a piss.”

  “Men’s room is that way.” He points behind me, signature glass of scotch on the rocks in the same hand. “Unless you’re looking for something… or someone else.”

  He knows why I’m here and from the look in his eyes, he knows exactly where they’ve gone. “Layton let you come today?”

  “Layton’s too fucking proper to rescind an invitation.”

  “You didn’t have to mess with her mind. All you had to do was tell her the truth.”

  Aiden snorts, swaying a little. He’s drunk. I’ve never seen that fucker drunk before game day. “The truth would have sent my baby girl where she didn’t belong. I did her a solid.”

  “Your baby girl?”

  “It’s what I’ve always called her.” He smirks. “I did the right thing this time.”

  “Are you saying you lied or told the truth?”

  He throws back the rest of his drink and wipes his mouth with the side of his hand. “I’m saying I did what was best for everyone involved. Now she’ll have her fairy-tale life with Prince Dickhead.”

  Which means that Joe didn’t cheat and is a standup kind of guy. “If you did the right thing, why is he a dickhead?”

  Aiden chuckles. “These country-club types are all dickheads except the ones who aren’t.”

  “I don’t have time for your double-talk bullshit, or to figure out if you’re stalling for time just to mess with me.” I step past him.

  “They went to the ladies’ room. There
’s a dressing chamber in the back,” he says. His dark blue eyes sharpen. “Don’t fuck up your chance. You got me?”

  “Yeah.” I stride to the ladies’ room, pushing Aiden and his drunk ass out of my mind.

  * * *

  When I get there, Layton is pacing up and down the hall, biting at her nails. When she spots me, she rushes over.

  “What took you so long?” she hisses. “I’ve got her locked in, and she’s pissed at me.”

  Paige pounds on the door. “This is not funny, nor is it the time to get back at me from when I accidentally locked you in the janitor’s closet.”

  “Accidentally on purpose you mean,” Layton shouts, then lowers her voice. “We were fighting at the time.”

  “Who are you talking to?”

  Layton’s hazel eyes go wide. “No one. I’m simply reminding myself of your betrayal. Just because we wore the exact same dress didn’t mean you had to ban me from prom.”

  Paige groans. “Not this again.”

  “Anyway, can you two stop fighting long enough for me to talk to Paige?”

  “Dallas?”

  Layton grins and kisses me on the cheek, wiping away the lipstick she left behind. “Good luck. I’m rooting for y’all to win… also, that door locks from the inside, too.”

  Storing that bit of information for later, I unlock the door, open it wide enough so I can get through, and step inside. The room is dim, but my eyes quickly adjust as I shut it behind me and find Paige standing in front of me, looking bewildered and… happy to see me? That can’t be right—not that I won’t go with it. I just expected a different response.

  “What are you doing here?” she asks sharply.

  And that’s the response I was expecting. “It’s been eight days.”

  I lock the door from the inside, then start tugging at my tie because I hate wearing neck-nooses. “You were supposed to text me,” I remind her.

  “Maybe I forgot your number.”

  Is she flirting with me? “Maybe I should remind you of it… and other things.”

  “We can’t have sex at my best friend’s wedding,” she says, but I notice that not only has she stopped backing up, but her nipples are hard little points poking through the top of her dress.

  “Sure we can. All I have to do is pull out my cock, then all you have to do is lift your dress and spread your legs. I’ll take care of the rest.”

  Chest heaving, she licks her lips, her gaze dropping to my groin, where my cock is fully erect and ready for her pussy. “You expect me to just fall back into your arms?”

  “If you fall, I’ll catch you, or bend you over the ottoman so it’s not an issue.” I grab my dick by the base and squeeze, making a big show of it, because I know it will get her going. “I’m so hard for you, Paige.”

  She whimpers. “This doesn’t mean that we’re not going to talk.”

  “Fine. Have your people call my people.” I stalk the rest of the way to her, grabbing her shoulders and slamming my mouth against hers.

  She attacks me, pulling at my shirt, ripping at my pants until her hot little hands are around my erection. I tug on her dress, trying to be gentle as I struggle to make her tits pop out the top so I can get her nipples in my mouth.

  Finally, one pops out. I cover it with my hand, then drop my fingers down to pinch it. Unable to take it a second longer, I dip my head, taking a hard, sweet nipple in my mouth to remind it I’m the one who owns it.

  Paige moans so loudly that I’m sure they can hear her over the music, but if they can’t… I shove my hand between her legs and find her hot and wet. So wet.

  With my free hand, I dig through my pocket and pull out a condom, nearly ripping it open with my teeth in my hurry to get it on. Paige helps me roll it down, then that sexy-as-fuck woman pulls up her dress and spreads her legs.

  I lift one of her thighs, position my dick at her entrance, and drive in slowly, almost blowing at the sound of her satisfied sigh. I keep playing with her clit, wanting her to be with me the entire way. I’ve been blessed with stamina, but I have been cursed not to have Paige in my bed for over a week.

  Her pussy clamps down on me and I grunt her name, then pick up my pace, pushing into her and pulling out just far enough to drive her crazy enough to dig her fingernails in me.

  She chants my name, but I want to hear her scream it. I thrust harder, hike her thigh higher, and press her against the wall. The one breast I managed to get out of her dress bounces hard with the movement. I don’t have enough hands to play with it and this position doesn’t allow for much flexibility, so I concentrate on making her come.

  “I’m going to come. I’m going to come,” she almost shouts.

  “Come for me. Come all over my cock.” I flick her clit. “It’s yours. I’m yours.”

  She tenses up for a split second before screaming my name so loud my ears ring. I join her two thrusts later. She sags against me, and I enjoy the weight of her while my orgasm pulses out of me.

  “Oh, my Lord. Would you look at me?” Paige shrieks, pushing me away. “I have a hickey on my neck and my makeup is smeared.”

  Confused, I look behind me and find a floor-length mirror. Damn, I wished I’d spotted that before. I put my attention back on Paige even as I get rid of the condom. “You have a couple of hickeys on your tit, too. You don’t plan on flashing anyone, do you?”

  “You… oooh.” She smooths her dress down and mutters something under her breath before shoving past me. “I can’t go in there looking like I’ve been rode hard and put up wet. I still have to try to catch the bouquet and do the bridesmaids’ dance… and give a speech at dinner.”

  “Rode what?” I ask.

  “Never mind.” She pulls up her top and pushes her boob inside at the same time. “Did Layton know you were coming?”

  “She’s the one who invited me.”

  Paige narrows her eyes. “I am so going to get her back.” She grabs a tissue and starts dabbing at her face. “My momma is out there—well, she won’t care what we did in here as long as we practice safe sex, but Finley is out there and Bond too. And my sixth-grade teacher… my Sunday school teacher. The preacher of my momma’s church.” She looks close to tears. “Everyone who has known me since I was a kid is here. I wanted to talk to you first, not resort to the only thing we’re good at doing with each other.”

  The buzz of my orgasms fades. Fuck. I’ve only made things worse for her, for us. Shit. Fuck. Shit. “What can I do to help?”

  “Wipe the lipstick off your mouth and shirt.” She grabs a clean tissue. “Button your pants, stick your shirttail in, and go out there and act like you didn’t just have your way with me.”

  “So we’re still on that, huh?”

  “And for the love of God, do not talk to Aiden. He’s drunker than a raccoon in a whorehouse on a Friday night and is in a snit.”

  “I have no idea what any of that means.” I’m not going to point out that her accent is so thick I can only catch the meaning of every other word. “But I get what you want—for me to leave.”

  “Exactly. Go on.” She shoos me away, mumbling as she fixes her hair. “We’ll talk later in private.”

  “Whatever you want. Your rules, remember?” Before she can jump on my ego and decimate it into the ground, I unlock the door and step outside.

  “I’m so done with this bullshit,” I mutter and take out my phone. I don’t know how to get through to her. Obviously, sexing her up isn’t a permanent solution. Although, it is a consensual one, so there’s that.

  What would Darcy do? That pansy-assed fucker would probably declare his love in a poem or some shit.

  Layton grabs me. “How did it go?”

  “She kicked me out.”

  Her dark brows draw together. “That bites.” She perks up. “Try doing a grand gesture for her. Something that overshadows anything that has ever been said about you and the Double D’s.”

  “You want me to go live on my Facebook page?” I joke.

 
; Layton smiles. “Why not? Unless you can think of someone with a bigger following who would help you.”

  CHAPTER 29

  Paige

  The next morning, I sit cross-legged on the sofa with my computer in my lap. Layton said that part of my super-awesome duties as her temporary replacement is to maintain the Facebook page dedicated to the event space at work.

  With a scowl on my face, I log in and answer questions, comment on pictures with a bubbliness that feels alien, and because I’m a sucker for pain, I search Dallas’s name.

  “Good morning, sunshine,” Momma says, sweeping into the living room. Her dark red hair is piled on top of her head, and she’s wearing a flowing robe with a flower print on it. She’s also holding a tray filled with homemade biscuits and cinnamon rolls. “Hungry?”

  “Starving.” I take a cinnamon roll—because who doesn’t need all that sugar and calories to go to their hips?—and cram a quarter of it into my mouth while I click on the first link that pops up. It’s a live notification that Dallas is being interviewed by Becks Ham. Yes, she’s majorly obsessed with David Beckham and everyone, including me, knows who she is.

  “Is that him?”

  I turn to her, almost not wanting to watch. “Yes.”

  But I look toward the video at the sound of the interviewer’s voice.

  “Dallas?” Becks prods, keeping her toothpaste-commercial-worthy smile wide as she sits across from the man I love. He looks so good in his suit, his shoulders so wide that his jacket looks like it will split at the seams if he flexes hard enough. “C’mon. Can you tell me if the rumors about a special lady in your life are true? Promise it won’t go any further than our millions of viewers.”

  She winks at the camera.

  I roll my eyes so hard I’m surprised they don’t fall out of my head.

  “Actually, there is someone special.” Turning to the camera, he stares straight into the lens. “Bright eyes, I love you. I want to be with you, out in the open. I want to show you off and kiss you in front of the camera after the game—win or lose. But you know it’s going to be all wins for the Renegades.”