Encore: A Reverse Harem Romance

by Lane Hart

  “Um, okay, sure. I’ll go grab everything and bring it out here,” Kelsey declares.

  “I’ll help!” Cameron and I say simultaneously. And with one shared look, we communicate the same telepathic message.

  Game on.

  Chapter Two

  Kelsey Tyler

  My husband came to the Christmas party with his boyfriend.

  A few weeks ago, I never would have expected to have such a ridiculous thought, but there it is.

  Lathan was just moments ago sitting on Quinton’s sofa holding Pax’s hand, and I’m not sure which of the two men looked more in love. And I’m happy for them. I am. Even if I’m a teeny, tiny bit jealous.

  The truth is Lathan was never legally my husband, and it’s not like he ever led me on.

  The idea that he could ask me to marry him just for his dying mother but suddenly decide he wanted us to be together was another one of my crazy delusions when it comes to men.

  Boy, do I feel stupid now. And a little tipsy. Okay, maybe more than a little. I lost count of how many green and red Jell-O shots I had, but they were so yummy! I’ll definitely have to give Callie kudos for them tomorrow. Unless I spend the morning with my head in the toilet.

  “Kelsey?”

  The sound of my name reminds me that I’m standing in the kitchen, dreaming longingly for something I want but can never have.

  “Kelsey? What do you need me to grab?”

  “Yeah, sorry,” I say with a shake of my head as I turn to my left and find big, tall and incredibly hot Cameron Hines towering above me just inches away. Even though he’s wearing the ugliest sweater I’ve ever seen, it doesn’t distract from his handsomeness. And don’t even get me started on his chin-length blond surfer waves. Gawd. It should be illegal to be so sexy. “Do you guys want to snack on the brownies or cookies?”

  “I think I could eat both,” Nixon answers, pulling my eyes over to him. Standing at the same height as Cameron, his shoulders are just a little wider. His dark, piercing gaze holds a glint of mischief that shouldn’t send a thrilling jolt to my lower belly. “Did you make them?” Nixon asks, and I force myself to stop staring at him and look at the plate of desserts on the kitchen island instead.

  “Ah, yes, I did,” I reply.

  “Homemade or out of the box?” Cameron questions with a single arched blond eyebrow.

  I scoff, feigning indignation before I look up into his light blue eyes and tell him, “My grandmother’s homemade recipes, thank you very much.”

  Cameron wets his plump bottom lip with his tongue before he says, “Then I definitely have to try them.” Eyes locked with mine, he reaches over to the plate and picks up a chocolate chip cookie, lifting it to his mouth to take a slow, lingering bite.

  “Me too,” Nixon says before he grabs a cookie for himself and devours it. I watch every single second of their chewing too like it’s the greatest show on earth.

  When my mouth goes dry, I realize belatedly it’s because my jaw fell and never got back up.

  “Mmm,” Cameron moans. And when I glance over, I find that his eyes have drifted closed. “So good.”

  “You-you think so?” I ask, having to clear my throat to keep speaking. “Can I get either of you some milk or…”

  “Milk would definitely hit the spot,” Nixon says.

  Glad to have something to do other than stand there and stare at the two men like a brainless twit, I turn to the fridge and pull out the carton of milk and then step over to the cabinet to pull down two glasses.

  And jeez, these two are incredibly intimidating to be alone with. Not that we’re alone, alone. Quinton and Callie are right down the hallway, and Brady’s sleeping peacefully in his room. Not that I think we’ll see those three again tonight…

  Why are Cameron and Nixon still here? Everyone else left, but these two stayed for some strange reason. When one of them comes up beside me as I pour the milk, I nearly spill it, making me think their entire purpose in being here is to see just how flustered they can make me as I continue to embarrass myself.

  “Did you make these too?” Nixon asks from behind me, so I assume it’s Cameron crowding me before a hand reaches in and grabs the full glass.

  “Make what?” I ask while pouring the second one.

  “The Jell-O shots?”

  “Um, no. Callie made those. Not that she could have any with alcohol in them, being pregnant and all, but she thought the red and green cups would look festive…” Good lord, now I’m rambling, I think to myself as I put the milk away in the fridge and let the chill cool my overheating face before I shut the door again.

  “Mmm,” Nixon says when he evidently throws one back. “These are good. Can’t taste any alcohol in them, though.”

  “Oh, well, she did make a virgin batch. Maybe it’s those,” I say as I turn around with the glass of milk to offer it to Nixon. After he takes it from my hand, I pick up one of the green cups of Jell-O and toss it back.

  “You’re right. All I taste is the fruity lime flavor,” I tell him.

  Nixon does another shot and says, “Damn, that’s good. Let’s bring them with us to the living room too.”

  “Sure,” I agree, lifting the tray filled with cups. “I’ll carry this if you two can bring the desserts.”

  I don’t even wait for a response before I slip out the doorway and into the living room, wanting to escape the confines of the usually massive kitchen that those two somehow made feel way too small.

  Chapter Three

  Cameron

  As soon as Kelsey’s out of the kitchen I go over and poke my index finger in the center of Nix’s chest.

  “Back off,” I warn him in a hushed whisper.

  Smirking, he gives me a one-word response. “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “No. You haven’t won shit yet,” he replies.

  “This isn’t a game,” I tell him through clenched teeth.

  “It is whether you like it or not. But don’t worry, Cam, you can’t win them all,” Nix says with a grin before he grabs a tray of cookies and strolls out of the kitchen.

  Since I can’t physically make him leave the house so that I can be alone with Kelsey, I guess we’ll have to wait it out and see what happens.

  Picking up the plate of leftover brownies, I pop a square into my mouth and carry them out to the living room where Kelsey is sitting in the middle of the sofa with Nixon to her left. Of course, I take the right side after I place the brownies on the coffee table next to the Jell-O shots. My long legs sprawl out so far that my knee is just an inch away from Kelsey’s tall boots. And I have to say that I’m really liking the way the hem of her dress moves up her thigh when she’s sitting, showing that gap of sheer hose between her boots and dress. I’m so close to her that I can smell the sweet scent of cupcakes coming from her, making my mouth water.

  “Oh, um, I thought you two would want the recliners. That's Quinton’s favorite spot to watch television,” Kelsey says, sitting on the edge of the cushion with her back ramrod straight and legs pressed tightly together.

  “Nah, it’s comfier here,” I say as I stretch my arm over the back of the sofa behind Kelsey and knock Nix’s arm away. “Besides, it’s easier to reach all the food.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Kelsey says, and she doesn’t appear to have any idea why Nix and I are both crowding her, looking tense and nervous by our close proximity.

  Why does that notion make my cock twitch behind the zipper of my jeans?

  Probably because the women I’m used to spending time with are never shy. Jersey chasers don’t waste a second getting their hands and…other body parts all over my body, without me having to raise a finger. So actually being the aggressor for once is exciting, heating up my natural competitive urges to conquer and dominate. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed the thrill of the chase and how the victory is even sweeter when I have to earn it. And I am going to earn it.

  I have no fucking clue why Nix won’t give up on pursuing Kelsey, other
than he enjoys winning, especially when it means defeating me. That’s exactly why I’m not gonna lose, because sleeping with Kelsey or any other woman isn’t a game. She’s a person with feelings and shit.

  And I may die if I don’t get to see the curves hiding under her green dress tonight.

  …

  Nixon

  Whatever it takes, I plan to cockblock my best friend with Kelsey. She’s not some random girl he can call dibs on, fuck once, and that be the end-all. It doesn’t work that way since Kelsey is a smart, sweet, beautiful girl who can make her own damn decisions about who ends up in her bed. And that someone is gonna be me.

  Honestly, I can’t remember the last time I ended up with a woman like Kelsey who I trusted enough to sleep overnight with. There’s no limit to the robbery sluts will commit after a round of mediocre anonymous sex. I’ve had my watch stolen, my wallet, hell, even my phone if I took too long in the john to take a piss afterward.

  I’m a healthy man in my prime who enjoys several rounds of sex in one night. It would be great to go to bed with a trustworthy woman so we can fuck, sleep, maybe even cuddle before fucking again and then waking up to my absolute favorite — morning sex. Unless I lock all of my valuables in a safe before going to bed, that shit won’t happen with just any woman.

  Kelsey’s the real deal. Quinton trusts her enough to not only live in his house but to take care of his infant son. And she seems like the type of woman who, if treated right, would let a man keep coming back for more.

  One-night stands get the job done, but it would be nice to have a few repeat performances where I don’t have to rush to get out the door and I can take my time exploring and learning all the right buttons to push on a woman while having that person know exactly how I want it too. I’m not talking about getting serious or shit with a chick, but having a reliable fuck buddy to count on instead of jersey chasers only after my fame or money would certainly have its benefits. That’s not something I’ve ever had before thanks to being in a career where I’m always practicing or traveling.

  I love football and the success I’ve had the last few years playing professionally. But the biggest downside is having a face that every gold digger knows on sight.

  Maybe I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure Kelsey doesn’t give a shit about how much money I make a year. And something tells me that she knows there are no “periods” or “innings” in football and can actually tell the difference between offense and defense.

  “So, Kelsey, who are you pulling for tonight?” I look over and ask her.

  Without taking her eyes off the television screen, she says, “Um, the Cougars I guess since they’re not in the same division as the Wildcats. The Titans are, so if they win, the chance of the Wildcats going to the playoffs declines.”

  Cam glances over at Kelsey before arching an eyebrow at me in surprise. The woman does know at least a little bit about football.

  “Favorite player?” I ask her.

  “Jordan Warren,” she answers without even having to think about it.

  “The Cougar’s middle linebacker?” Cam asks in confusion since most football fans, especially women, usually only know the main players on offense, the big playmakers, quarterback or wide receivers like me and Cam who score the touchdowns.

  “Yeah, Jordan’s not only the best defensive player in the league three years in a row, but every year he also sponsors a summer camp in six different cities across the country for kids with physical handicaps, since most regular camps can’t accommodate their wheelchairs.”

  “Wow,” I mutter since I didn’t know any of that, and now I feel like a complete tool for never using my notoriety and income for an altruistic cause other than signing a donation check for a charity here or there.

  “Well, you’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” Cam asks Kelsey, laying it on thick and making me roll my eyes. He’s trying way too hard, and a girl like her is bound to pick up on it. She’s already sitting between us so rigidly that I’m not sure if she’s even breathing properly.

  “Sit back and relax, Kelsey. Cam won’t bite, but I might just to see if you taste as good as you look,” I tease her, and damn if she doesn’t immediately comply while sneaking a peek at me and flashing me a smile from behind the curtain of her long hair, telling me she’s one of those girls. It’s been a while since I’ve been around the type, but I know them when I see them. The quiet, shy obedient girls who love to take orders because it means they don’t have to worry about messing up and doing the wrong thing. And I fucking love to be in charge, issuing the orders.

  “So tell me what you like doing when Quinton doesn’t have you babysitting, cooking, or decorating,” I say, forming it in a command and not a question.

  “Well, I’ve got one semester to go before I graduate from the University of North Carolina at Wilmington,” she starts.

  “Really? What’s your major?” Cam butts in.

  “Early childhood education,” she glances over to him and answers.

  “So you want to be a teacher?” I ask.

  “Yeah, little kids, like pre-school,” Kelsey answers with a nod as her shoulders relax a little, telling me she’s getting more at ease on the sofa between us. Her ambition also explains why she would be so enamored by a football player who has a charity for little kids.

  “Does that mean you want to have lots of kids?” Cam asks.

  “Ah, I guess so,” she replies. “Maybe.”

  “Do you have many brothers or sisters?” I ask her. “I bet I have more.”

  Smiling, Kelsey says, “Just one sister, so you probably win.”

  “Older or younger?”

  “Older,” she answers with a frown. “I haven’t seen or heard from her in a few years, though, ever since she ran off with this guy who runs a motorcycle club.”

  “Oh, wow. I’m sorry to hear that,” I tell her since she’s obviously sad about it.

  Waving a hand through the air, Kelsey says, “Enough about me. I want to hear from you guys about what it’s like being two of the best receivers in the league.”

  “I’m currently ranked seventh, and Nix here is way back at twelfth,” Cam brags to her, making me want to punch his smug face.

  Chapter Four

  Kelsey

  Cameron and Nixon keep me on edge for the rest of the game, asking me a million questions about myself like I’m the most interesting person on the planet when, in fact, the opposite is true. There’s nothing fascinating about me at all, so having two famous, professional football players act like it for the last hour has been incredibly strange.

  That’s why I’m relieved when Cameron mentions needing some water so that I can escape the wide receiver sandwich I’ve been smushed into and get some much needed air.

  “Let me get that for you,” I offer, getting to my feet before he can refuse.

  “I’m heading to the john, so I can get it on the way back,” Nixon offers as he also stands up.

  “No way. I wouldn’t put it past you to piss in my bottle,” Cameron declares when he jumps up.

  “Fine, whatever,” Nix mutters but doesn’t deny the allegation before he takes off to the small, half-bathroom right off the living room, and Cameron starts to follow me into the kitchen.

  “I can get your water,” I tell Cameron. “One with the cap fully intact so that you won’t have to worry about any foul play going on.”

  “Thanks, but you don’t have to do that,” Cameron says. “I need to stretch my legs anyway, so you just show me where they are.”

  “Sure,” I agree as we cross the threshold into the kitchen.

  “Kelsey, wait,” Cameron says as he grabs my elbow. When I turn to face him, he grins and points up. “We’re standing under the mistletoe…”

  My neck cranes to look up at the archway above us, and sure enough, there’s the mistletoe I hung earlier today. The room spins around me either from the alcohol or from the thought of Cameron Hines' lips on mine. I wobble to the left on the hee
ls of my boots before Cameron grabs me by the elbow to help me catch my balance.

  “It’s okay. You don’t have to kiss me,” I assure him since I refuse to be part of any pity make-out session ever again like I was with Lathan.

  Leaning down, since he’s more than a foot taller, he softly asks, “What if I want to kiss you?”

  That causes my jaw to hit the carpet as I blink up at the wide receiver in disbelief. He didn’t really say…

  “What was that?” I ask again, rather than make a fool of myself by jumping to any wrong conclusions. The next thing I know, Cameron’s hand is in my hair and then his lips are on mine, tasting of cookie and lime. He doesn’t start slow either. The wide receiver sprints headfirst into tongue action, which I’m not complaining about at all.

  Wow, he’s an amazing kisser, and my reaction to my first kiss with a strictly heterosexual man in over a year becomes embarrassing when I moan into his mouth.

  Before I can even feel ashamed of my response, Cameron’s other hand grabs my hip and pulls me against the heat of his hard body, which is when it becomes obvious that he’s starting to become affected by our kiss too. Either that or he’s got a cucumber tucked down the front of his pants.

  If anyone had told me earlier today that I would be standing here with Cameron Hines’ tongue down my throat, I wouldn’t have believed them.

  Is this really happening? I know the alcohol was getting to me a little. But my arms are definitely around a man’s neck, and there’s a hand in my hair, a mouth on mine, and another hand on my hip. No, make that ass. There’s a giant hand now squeezing my ass.

  Why in the world would Cameron want to kiss me?

  That’s when the truth hits me.

  I was one of the few, maybe the only single woman at the party tonight since all the football players brought their wives or significant others. When everyone left, that made me the default.