Love In the Red Zone (Connecticut Kings Book 1)

by Love Belvin

  The tears sprouted again. I winced internally at the rawness of that declaration. Trent wasn’t good at letting people in, much less, exposing his innermost to prove you were in.

  “That weakens the core of my protection, Trent. I can only protect what I feel I have. You didn’t look like ‘mine’ up there,” I cried into my hand, unable to look at him, I could feel his pain emanating from him.

  “It was wrong. I’m wrong. That security is just as tricky as ego. It makes you feel invincible and take risks that could get you in dangerous trouble. I’m sorry, Jade. I swear, I am.”

  I didn’t understand why well enough to explain, but the tears stopped. My chest expanded at his earnest attempt at repentance.

  “I hate her,” I swore, feeling no older than Kyree. “I swear I do! I deleted every one of her songs from my iTunes! That bitch better not let me run up on her—”

  The air from my lungs was stolen when Trent pushed back from the shoulders and yanked my legs up in the air in the rapid sequence. His face was in my sex, and tongue swiping my clitoris. My throat worked without my prompting to swallow. I glanced down to see him on all four over me, His shirt still on, jeans around his knees, as he kicked his boots off. The medallions hanging from his neck slapped into the backs of my thighs and butt. He pushed his stiff tongue into my nub and I knew what he was doing.

  Trent wanted me to come fast, hard, and without effort. His long arms shot up to my tits and his hands massaged their way to my tingling nipples. His thumbs circled before flickering the peaks. I understood in an instant, it was his way of quieting my threats. Soothing my rage. My first thought was to call him out on it. But that quiet yet powerful whisper in the recesses of my psyche told me to yield to my husband’s desire to have me escape the pain of his error. In no time I was writhing beneath him, my groin quickened with the collection of pleasure that shot through every cell in my body when I exploded in his face. A double entendre action: he was on his knees, submitting to me, forcing me to spill out on his face.

  Trent carried me from the bed and led me to the shower where he stripped us and pulled me underneath the shooting faucets. He wrapped his long and corded arms around me and breathed into my neck. Before long his tongue was in my mouth, and I welcomed him in helplessly. He reached behind me for the body wash. Then his hands were all over spreading the lathered bubbles on our pinned bodies as I stood on my toes, kissing him in between small breaths. I loved this man, and he loved me. Even now, when I could question his sexual deeds after his earlier mishap, I understood him.

  Trent needed to come home where we’d established a private oasis of peace. It was our protective asylum where we originally cultivated our love. It’s where we instantly received intimacy. His desire for sex tonight was the tool he used to unman me so he could refuel from what he perceived to be my strength. And I gave it to him freely. I wanted to cocoon him in the realm of security he deserved, but never received.

  So, when he lifted me from the floor, backed me against the wall, and wrapped my legs around his tapered waist, I easily received him when he sunk into my core. In here, Trent was home in more than one way. Together, we’d have to come up with a plan for him to feel secure outside of these walls…of his home. But in the walls of my heart and sex is where he would spend the remainder of his days as my husband.

  “Who is she to you?” I whispered into the darkened room.

  I could feel Trent shift next to me on the bed. “No one anymore.”

  “Don’t give me that bullshit, Trent!” I spoke through gritted teeth. “There’s been too much I’ve allowed to go unanswered. So many burning questions I’ve been wanting to ask, but feared to because of you not trusting me. And now…” I hesitated. “I’m your wife.”

  “You are,” he agreed softly. “You can”—he swallowed hard—“ask me anything.” It was another mark of his distrust.

  “How long were you with Brielle?”

  “On and off for like four years—off when I was locked down, of course,” he supplied bitterly.

  “But on and off before.” I breathed, unable to believe I was married to the man Brielle had written a Grammy-winning song about. It was unreal and made me question almost everything now that I’d come down from the shocking pain of discovering it. “Were you in love with her?”

  “I loved her. She was a decent human being.”

  “Don’t save my feelings,” I gritted.

  “I’m in love with you. The only woman who make me sick with the thought of her being with another man. The only one I feel the need to protect as much as she protects me. Brielle was fun before I pulled the blinders off. We had good times, but she wasn’t…stable for me.”

  “Am I stable for you because I’m always here in your home?”

  “You’re stable for me because you’re always the same intense blazing woman every time I come home, I call, and when we’re away. Brielle helped me design the mansion and even paid to have it decorated, but it never had this homey feeling and realness until you came.”

  “Why did you finally break it off with her?”

  Trent went to detailing a threesome between him, Brielle, and the other woman trying to extort them. It was a heady story no Brielle fan should have to bear. I couldn’t believe we were speaking of the same person: she always maintained a good girl image.

  “That threesome setup exposed a lot of her to me,” he explained. “That’s when the blinders came off and I saw things for what they were. Nobody likes to be fooled, especially a man raised in this game. I’ve seen all types of game from women, was trained to peep it. It messed me up that I missed that one. You don’t have to be in love with someone to be hurt by them.”

  “How did you survive two years after losing your endorsements and going to prison?”

  I’d heard rumors about Trent losing big while doing a lengthy Internet search last winter after learning about his time away, but no one reported him actually hitting rock bottom.

  “I was always smart with my money. My biggest purchases were the properties, and I bought them out the gate when I got signed and the endorsements started rolling in. But even before I got arrested, I was set up on an annual salary. Eighty grand was millions for a poor kid from Camden. After I learned how much private planes, yachts, and villas cost for a dozen people—because you know when you’re paid everybody wanna roll—I opted out, only splurging on special occasions like my birthday or when I got a new endorsement deal. I got a tight financial team around me and banked most of my money. Of course, it costs to have smart people working for you, but once this house got done, I laid low.”

  He took a deep breath. “When I got sentenced, my salary from my trust went from eighty to fifty. That covered my monthly expenses like food, property taxes, utilities, and stuff like that. I had some dividends coming in from my DiFillippo’s investment—”

  “You own that?” I gasped in shock. I wondered why he took us to such a fancy restaurant that wasn’t exactly in the vicinity.

  “Part owner with a few others. And that’s what I was surviving off of when I met you.”

  Things got quiet as so many revelations ran through my mind like how him tossing his furniture just before being sent to prison was an act of him cleansing himself of Brielle, but apparently fell back into it with her once he was released. How could we continue with so many hidden secrets? I didn’t hold anything back from Trent. Why couldn’t he be just as transparent. So many questions ran through my mind. Fears that would destroy me if they came to fruition. But out of all the doubt, there wasn’t any regret. I wanted this man and would have to love him through this mess he’d made.

  “Trent…”

  “Yes, baby.”

  “No more.”

  “No more,” he repeated with conviction.

  “No more secrets from here on out,” I warned.

  “You have my word.”

  That pledge sounded so sure. Whether or not it was, time would tell. Trent had his demons before I came.
Most of which wouldn’t go away so quickly. I had to have patience with him. Our truths, pasts, and old habits didn’t run as fast as our passion for each other. We burned with it. Now we’d have to let everything else catch up.

  ~Sixteen

  I chewed my lips as we perused the paint aisle in Lowes. Trent was on my heels with Kyree sitting on his hooded shoulders. I guessed the kid was just as used to Trent wearing hoodies while out as I was. They shared cotton candy we picked up after having dinner out. I wanted him here while I picked out colors I wanted for three of his six guest bedrooms at the house. Kyree’s room was completed days before Christmas, an easy task, considering he and Trent chose the theme and cool and fancy furniture. Those two were in a fantasy land, making it hard for me to distinguish the twenty-seven year old from the seven year old. Christmas night, I had to come into Ky’s room to wake Trent and have him come to bed. The sight of his six-foot-five frame on a full-size bunk bed was comical. Having to drag him so far to the master suite had me reconsidering our agreement to move Kyree further down the hall—more like midway—for privacy reasons. Trent said I’m too loud during sex. Go figure.

  We were having the other rooms Trent and I decided to occupy painted, and now that we had decided on which ones to dress, I needed to move on to the colors. Trent made it clear he had no concern of the details as long as the work got done. I didn’t like bearing the total weight of the responsibility. It was his house after all, and he should have a say. So on one of his rare nights home with us, I brought him here, “at the last minute.”

  It was a new year and the Kings had just won the Conference Championship, which meant they were going to the Super Bowl. I didn’t know much about football, but never got bored at any of the Kings’ games I attended and tried hard to keep up with the success of the season to best manage Trent’s emotional state. I knew he had a lot wrapped up in his return to the game.

  “What do you think about this Anjou Pear for the second guest room?” I handed him the swatch. “My thought is to go with a neutral shade, but with a splash of color to break the monotony of the white.”

  Trent paid two glances to the swatch before handing it back.

  “All good,” he answered before accepting the ripped piece of cotton candy Ky hand fed him.

  “I was thinking it’s either that or this Bittersweet Stem. It’s softer than the Anjou Pear.” I handed him the swatch and Trent pretty much gave it the same amount of attention as the first. “Okay…” I breathed, going back to the kiosk.

  Maybe it was a bad idea doing this with KyKy here. He has even less detail preservation.

  The pair began giggling behind me as I twirled my hair hanging over my right shoulder with my fingers. There was more than color swatches I needed to discuss with him. I had little time, too. Trent was leaving soon for the Pro Bowl and would be away for almost a week. There was a conversation we couldn’t have over the phone.

  “Ummm… Trent,” I started.

  “Yeah, baby?”

  “We need to chat about something.”

  “What’s that?” I heard Ky laugh. “You being mad stingy, dude,” Trent playfully scolded.

  I cleared my throat and scanned the surrounding area for privacy. Then I backed up so I was closer to them while they horseplayed.

  “I’m not on BC.”

  He continued zig-zagging in the aisle with Kyree on his shoulders. “What? What’s BC?” Trent asked.

  “Because!” Kyree shouted. “BC is because, TB!” He laughed proudly at his own joke.

  I rolled my eyes, growing somewhat frustrated. It was one thing to have one child to deal with, but oftentimes when these two were together, I had two children to manage.

  “It’s what women—not girls—use to stay child-free,” I tried.

  Then I watched them intently. Trent Milly-Rocked with Kyree still on his shoulders, reciting the chorus to the song.

  Yeah, this was really a bad idea.

  “Trent,” I lowered my now annoyed high pitch. “Are you hearing me?”

  “Nah,” he replied doing some combo move to add to the dance, his face contorted with his tongue extended out of his mouth. Suddenly, I was reminded of his sexual agility, too. That annoyed me even more. “What’s that, babe?” His eyes were to the floor as he moved.

  “It’s what I need in order for you to not have a second little person to entertain while I’m out shopping,” I hissed.

  All of his six-feet and five-inches straightened at that. Trent turned to me with troubled eyes. At first, he didn’t speak, just stared at me…my body. I wore harem styled sweatpants with wedged sneaker boots, and a fitted black t-shirt under a black leather motorcycle jacket.

  I mocked his eye action to ask why he was looking at me like that.

  “What’re you saying?”

  “Nothing, but we should be more careful.”

  He inched closer to me, his face hard. With anger? Confusion?

  With a lower tone, he spoke again. “Aren’t you on the pill?”

  My eyes perused the surrounding area again. Trent was more than a full foot taller than me, so even with caution, his voice traveled.

  “No.” His eyes went wild. “I told you I switched to different ones over the years because I have an allergy to them. Some made me nauseous, gain weight, moody, gave me headaches, dizziness, made my boobs sore…all kinds of stuff over five or so different brands.”

  “C’mon, J. There has to be one that works for you.”

  “The one that didn’t give me any of those symptoms totally wiped my libido completely out.” I placed a hand on my hip and swung my neck. “That issue suit you?”

  Trent rolled his eyes as Kyree tapped on swatches in his reach.

  “I’m not trying to be funny here. It’s just been on my mind a lot because…it’s what we do…a lot. And when we do…we’re so wild with it the last thing in our heads is prevention.”

  “What other options are there?”

  “C-o-n-d-o-m-s,” I spelled.

  “Oh, hell no!” he grunted.

  “Trent!” My eyes shot up to Kyree.

  “Oooh! Trent said a bad word!” Kyree sputtered in laughter.

  I was convinced my son thought he and Trent were peers. At times like this, I saw why.

  “I’m just saying…” He exhaled haughtily with flared nostrils. His eyes darted below my waistline. “It’s officially mine now. If I wasn’t suiting up before I put a ring on it, I ain’t doing it now.” He scoffed again.

  My eyes circled the area and caught an oncoming Asian couple.

  “Trent!” I whispered hard through clenched teeth again.

  The couple appeared in his peripheral, now passing him.

  “My bad,” he lowered his tone. “We shouldn’t even be discussing this in front of the little homie anyway. Let’s table this for now.”

  “Until when? After Ky goes down and you swell up?” Now I was being sarcastic.

  Trent didn’t respond. His face went placid, an expression that told me he was no longer comfortable with the conversation. He moved to pass me, leaving the aisle.

  “Very adult-like, Trent,” I hummed underneath my breath, not intending for him to hear me.

  I grabbed a few more swatches I liked for other rooms with the topic still playing in my head. An unplanned pregnancy was a real issue for me. It would always be a reminder of when my life began spiraling out of control. It was the act that made me feel stupid, thinking having a child at nineteen by a kingpin-ambitious thug was a good idea and would bring me happiness. The next time I had a child—which wouldn’t be anytime soon—it would be planned and wanted. Children shouldn’t be conceived in error no matter if it is by a reckless teen. Having children before you’re prepared to could prove detrimental to the child. My recent bout of homelessness was evidence of that. Of course, Trent had no appreciation of that because he didn’t have children and could afford a barn full of them now.

  With a heavy sigh, I left the kiosk and took off, lo
oking for my guys. I saw them waiting for me at the door. When we walked out together, I heard Trent mumble angrily under his breath. I turned to find him glancing into his phone.

  Now ahead of them, I asked over my shoulder, “What’s that about?”

  “Damn JJ…still tryna get me to do this Super bowl celebration party with him.”

  “Really? When?”

  He tapped into the phone as he walked and mumbled, “On the 25th.”

  I gasped, stopping in my tracks. “That’s in two days, Trent.”

  “I know. I ain’t beat for it, though.”

  “Why?”

  “Because, man.” He lifted to pull Ky from his shoulders now that we were near the truck. “Those things get wild. I know we’re blessed to have this opportunity, especially with me being out of the league for like two years, but…”

  “But what?”

  “I ain’t that dude no more. That shi—stuff don’t interest me anymore. And I told dude no, but he went on ahead and planned it anyway. Now, he tryna shoot me deets—the same ones we used to do back in the day—thinking it’s going to entice me. JJ got the game messed up.” He scoffed, his face falling into a cute smirk as he pulled the keys from his pockets to let us in.

  “I’ll pack,” I informed while opening my door. “We’re going.”

  I caught Trent’s jaw drop just before I slid into the truck.

  I closed the door behind us and pushed my palm into it.

  “You sure you wanna do this?” I studied her eyes for the slightest evidence of hesitation. It wasn’t too late to flake out.

  She slid her little frame draped in a black catsuit, hugging her voluptuous body, a black leather vest, and cranberry high heeled booties that drew more attention to her fat peach. I didn’t like her outfit choice, but wouldn’t dare cry a word of disproval because I knew Jade would rip me a new one if I tried. Her face was made up with smokey eyes and a deep burgundy lip color that made her mouth look fuller, reminding me of what her lips looked like with my dick inside. Jade opted for her jet black curly weave, adding to her mysterious diva look. My dick started to swell.