Love on the Highlight Reel (Connecticut Kings Book 2)

by Christina C Jones

  “Ah, hell,” I interrupted. Zone Report was Cedrick’s show. “I don’t take that shit seriously. I’ll be damned if I let him or any other sports personality dictate anything for me. I’m good.”

  He let out a dry laugh. “I see you’re stubborn like your old man.”

  “Yo, I’m nothing like you, old man.”

  “You are exactly like I was, son. Down to the arrogance, attitude, and acting out. Down to the fact that you’re about to let chasing behind some woman cost you your chance at a championship. I see how you’re running around, stars in your eyes. It’s the same look I had the year your mother cost me my last ring.”

  I sucked my teeth. “Oh, it’s mama’s fault, huh?”

  “Damn right it is! I had everything in place for her to have everything she needed, but she wanted to run around putting on parties for folks. Had folks thinking I couldn’t take care of my house, men sniffing up behind her. She had one job – take care of home, so I could focus on the field. She couldn’t even do that.”

  “You are so full of shit!” I shook my head, turning away from him to pick up the weight I’d dropped, to put back on the rack. “Again, I saw with my own eyes. She was a good mother. A good wife. And good at the career she needed to keep her mind off the fact that your ass was never at home when you should be. You can tell your version all you want – I know the real deal. You’re pathetic.”

  “There it is,” he laughed. “That weakness. But you go on, son. Ignore your sloppy catches, clumsy feet. With the way this team started out, the best you can hope for is a wildcard slot to get you in those playoffs. And if you want it, you’re gonna have to win. And you can’t guarantee a win because you’re worried about how soon you can get to your woman. I’ve seen it countless times. I want to see you get this ring. Want you to succeed. But you come talk to me when you lose it cause you were too busy being “in love”. You think this fool Eli really cares about you? You were a means to an end, son. You think it was coincidence that he assigned his daughter to you, knowing your history? He’s using her to get to you. So he can use you too.”

  “Man, you can…” I shook my head, sighing as I moved through the weight room. I was stopping just short of telling him to kiss my ass, but was trying to hold on the last vestiges of respect. Times like this, I wondered why I looked for the same from him.

  Instead of congratulations for the way the team had turned around since the beginning of the season, he was in here playing mind games. Trying to get me to what… be alone so I could “focus on the game”?

  “Be miserable by yourself,” I said, looking him right in the eyes. “I don’t need your advice, or your help. I’ve got this.”

  My father smirked, and lifted his hands in defeat. “Whatever you say.”

  When he was gone, I dropped my head into my hands, trying to get his words out of my mind. You’re just like your old man. You’re gonna lose because you’re not focused. She’s gonna cost you that ring. They’re using you. She’s using you.

  It was all bullshit, and I knew that, but it didn’t make it easier to brush the shit off. And he knew that. I’d watched him practice and perfect emotional manipulation with my mother, guilting her into acting the way he wanted her to act… until she broke free.

  And that’s what he’s still so pissed about now.

  She’d left, and moved on with her life, leaving him with two kids that except for his dimples, looked just like her. He piled his miserable bullshit on us because she was no longer in his reach, and then turned around and tried to make us hate her for leaving. But his lack of value for her made him underestimate the value she held for us. We were young, but saw that leaving him saved her from falling into the same perpetual unhappiness that surrounded him.

  I always came back around to: this is my father. I saw what Eli was like with Nicki and Nate – demanding, but encouraging. Firm, but open-minded. They were eager to please him, eager to meet his expectations, and make him proud. And the delight that shone through Eli when they performed at the high threshold he set?

  Whew.

  I wanted that.

  But I was realizing more and more, something my mother had tried to tell me. Something that I ignored. Nothing was ever going to be good enough, and it wasn’t because I wasn’t good enough. It wasn’t about me at all. It was just who my father was.

  From the moment she decided to leave, it was like my mother was immune to his malice. She was Teflon, never letting him stick to her, never letting that negativity seep in. When it came to what he thought, she just didn’t care.

  Maybe it was time for me to follow her lead.

  After I got this ring, which would put us on the same level.

  He couldn’t keep acting like I wasn’t good enough after that.

  Twenty

  I woke up to the sound of my shower coming on. For whatever reason, it stood out from the noise of freezing rain hitting my windows, and I sat up, wondering if I was imagining it. I’d definitely gone to sleep in my apartment alone.

  I grabbed my cell phone, dialed nine-one-one, and left my finger poised over the send button, just in case. I climbed out of bed, padding silently across the carpet to my partially-cracked bathroom door to peek in… and breathed a quiet sigh of relief when I recognized Jordan’s mahogany-toned frame behind the glass door of my shower enclosure.

  I’d been worried about him for the last few days. He’d been present, but quiet, even though he swore nothing was going one. And tonight’s game… they’d barely pulled that one off.

  Jordan was a mainstay on the field. A player that the coaches knew they could depend on to do what he was supposed to do. But Washington had dominated, largely due to what was an apparent lack of focus on Jordan’s part. Fumbles, interceptions, dropped passes, you name it. For whatever reason, he was just off his game.

  The Kings managed a win, but barely, and I knew he had to be feeling… not-so-great about that. Especially since he was here, and I knew the team wasn’t flying back until tomorrow. Instead of questioning it, I let him have his time. My place was supposed to be a safe space for him too, which is why I’d given him a key.

  When he was ready, we’d talk.

  I got back into the bed, and twenty minutes later the bathroom door opened. Jordan came ambling out, moving slow like he was aching, but I still said nothing.

  He turned up the dimmer on the side of the bed that had become his, just enough to bend and plug up his cell phone charger. He sat down on the bed, in nothing but his boxers, facing away from me. That was when I decided I’d been quiet enough.

  I moved over to him, kissing his lower back before I moved up his spine, to his shoulders. Kneeling behind him, I wrapped my arms around him, putting my mouth next to his ear. “How does that feel for you? Me kissing your back? Does it feel nice?”

  He turned his head to the side. “Yeah, actually. How does it feel for you?”

  “Like I’m kissing on my man,” I grinned, planting my lips on the back of his neck. “Just kissing on you because I can. Displaying all kinds of affection.”

  Jordan chuckled – something it felt like days since I’d heard. “Yeah, you’ve been on your best girlfriend ever thing pretty tough.”

  “I don’t even think it’s that,” I said, resting my head on his shoulder. “Not anymore. I’m just doing what comes natural.”

  “Fake it til you make it, huh?”

  Immediately, I shook my head. “Nope. I was never faking it. More like… purposefully pushing through my own roadblocks. Thinking about it like a competition helped me overcome that pesky need to… not look like I cared so much. Wanting to touch, and feel, and make you happy is organic for me. The only difference is that I’m giving in to the urges now.”

  That time, Jordan didn’t just turn his head, he turned his whole body in my direction, looking at me with so much love in his eyes it made me feel a little breathless.

  “I caught a flight, cause I wanted to get back and see you. Needed to see you, af
ter tonight’s game.”

  I nodded, then kissed his face, his shoulder, and bicep before I moved under his arms to kiss his ribs, then just above the waistband of his boxers. “Are you sore?” I asked, laying on my back beside him, with my head against the side of his hip.

  He took a deep breath, then gave me a subtle nod. He’d taken a tackle that was downright ugly, and had needed a moment on the field before he got up. He was cleared almost immediately, but I could tell from the way he moved after that – he was shaken by it.

  When he didn’t say anything else, I kissed his stomach, then moved to straddle his lap. “If I see Andrew Bianci on the streets, I’m fucking his shit up,” I murmured against his lips, making him laugh again.

  His hand went to the nape of my neck, with his thumb stroking my jaw. He met my eyes again, the remnants of a smile still curving his mouth. “I really, really love you, Nicki. You know that?”

  “I do. Tell me what you need right now.”

  He shook his head. “Nothing. Just you.”

  The truth in his words was… dizzying. Jordan had never required much from me, and in the current iteration of our relationship, that concerned me. When we were together before, if I had to describe the type of girlfriend I was, I would say…minimalist. I didn’t do laundry, or make posters, or participate in clumsy college threesomes to “keep him interested”. I never let myself seem thirsty for his attention. Never did the things I saw other girls doing when we were way too young to be thinking about doing those things for college boyfriends. The stuff we were supposed to do because “if we didn’t, another woman would”.

  And he wanted me anyway.

  I’d forgotten the understated power in that.

  I guess I was making up for that now, with my best girlfriend ever-ness. Only, I wasn’t concerned about keeping him from getting away. I just wanted to make him as happy as his steadfast pursuit of us had made me.

  There was power in that too.

  I pressed my lips to his as I pushed his boxers down, grinning when he lifted up to let me get them past his hips. Sleeping panty-less had become second nature for me, and so had wetness whenever he was around, so it was only a matter of pulling my short nightgown up around my hips to sink onto him.

  Because I knew he was aching, I was gentle when I pushed him back onto the bed. I rested my hands on his chest as I rode him, closing my eyes when he brought his hands to my hips. I rode him harder as his fingers dug into my flesh, moving my hands to grip his shoulders for leverage.

  “God you feel good,” he groaned, grabbing my hips to still my movements while he was still buried deep. I grinned, and instead of moving up and down, rocked against him in subtle circles. That circular friction was so, so good. I wound my hips, grinding harder as he released his hold to snatch my nightgown over my head.

  His hands went to my breasts, cupping and caressing, squeezing my nipples between his fingers. I arched into his touch, and he raised up, covering one of my areolas with his mouth.

  I grabbed the back of his head, keeping him there as his tongue flicked and play with my nipple. He sucked it hard, pulling it between his teeth, nipping me, then lapped it with his tongue to soothe the sting.

  It was delicious – distractingly so. Soon, I lost any sense of rhythm and just rode with abandon, savoring the way he filled me, stretched me, completed me, as we made love.

  I didn’t complain when he flipped me onto my back, teasing me with the head of his dick on my clit before he plunged into me again, filling me up. I loved having him on top of me, dominating me with strong, confident strokes that took away my breath. He pushed my legs up, propping my feet on his chest and spreading me wide.

  My heart started racing when he put both hands between my legs, coating his thumbs in the wetness I was pouring out for him. One thumb went to my clit, rubbing it in tight circles that made me light-headed as he pounded into me. The other went lower, much lower, and I bit my lip in anticipation as he pressed it against my tightness, rubbing back and forth, coaxing until he pushed it in for a second penetration.

  I nearly came up off the bed, and he just grinned, showing me those damned dimples and perfect teeth. He’d worked up a sweat, but I felt too damned good to mind a single drop as he worked on top of me. My breaths grew more and more shallow, thoughts less and less coherent as he stroked, deep and hard, and pleasure coiled tight in my core, threatening to bubble over.

  And then, it did.

  It hit me with a jolt, making me jerk and clench around him, spurring him to slam into me with a growl. Both hands went back to my hips, holding me tight against him as he pumped into me, filling me with the warm essence of his orgasm. Spasms of pleasure rocked me as waves of climax rushed through me, making me tingle from head to toe before it centered between my legs, where we were still connected.

  He wrapped his arms around me, collapsing on top of me without pulling out. “I needed that,” he mumbled into my neck, his words sluggish, like he was already barely awake.

  I smiled to myself, and draped my arms over him.

  “Yeah. I had a feeling.”

  “You look ridiculous. Adorably so,” I told my father, poking at the fake belly protruding from him, filling out his Santa costume. When he told me he would be playing Santa Claus, I’d assumed he meant metaphorically. But here he was, with a big fake beard, in a bright red suit.

  He shrugged. “The kids like it, my dear. And once upon a time, so did you.”

  I grinned. That was one of the few traditional hallmarks of growing up with Eli Richardson. Mine and Nate’s little brains were challenged and stretched to the limits, but he still fed a belief in the extraordinary and magical, from the tooth fairy to the Easter bunny. And, Santa – even though he made it clear that Santa only delivered. Eli paid.

  “They definitely seem to be enjoying themselves,” I agreed, looking around. We were back in the same room where we’d held the royal ball, only now it was filled with a “winter wonderland”, which was the theme I’d chosen for this year’s party.

  About half our roster of players – everyone who stayed in Connecticut for Christmas – was in attendance, along with their families, but this event wasn’t just about them. A large portion of the guests for today were families in need – before they left here, many of those needs would be met.

  Eli didn’t put on a party without a charitable aspect.

  “Are we ready to have the players pick their family?” Mel asked as she walked up, looking radiant in her “Mrs. Claus” dress. She was finally starting to develop a soft curve to her normally flat belly, but she insisted it was her weakness for cravings, not the growth of the baby, causing the change.

  Any of the players could opt out of our “Secret Santa” style arrangement, but they rarely did. The players randomly, anonymously chose a family, looked at their list of needs, and wrote a check. The Kings foundation charity would have a busy next week processing those checks, plus the donations from the Front Office execs and my father himself, and then disbursing appropriately. They called and paid light bills and rent, sent volunteers to shop for kids school clothes and toys, filled refrigerators, took some of the pressure off medical bills, helped catch people up on tuition. It was all an important part of making sure that the underserved in this community didn’t stay that way for long.

  “Yes, but can someone else do it? You’re making me nervous, being up on your feet this long.”

  Mel immediately brushed off my father’s worried words. “Oh please, Eli. I’m pregnant, not invalid. I’ll be fine.”

  “And I believe you,” he said soothingly, pulling her into his arms. “But… have someone else do it.”

  She let out a heavy sigh, and cut her eyes in his direction, but his expression was stern. “Fine,” she groaned. “I’ll get someone else.”

  “Thank you.” He kissed her forehead, letting his lips linger so long it was a teensy bit uncomfortable for me to watch, so I turned away, scanning the room.

  My eyes l
anded right on Jordan.

  He and Trent Bailey were in the middle of what was basically a pile of boys aged five and up, and a few little girls sprinkled through, all clamoring for attention. They were talking and laughing with them, autographing whatever the kids shoved their way, without ever seeming annoyed, or frustrated by it.

  I smiled.

  This was the type of thing I – and the media – loved to see.

  Since working with Chloe, the change in Jordan was obvious. He’d partied some, because parties were fun, but nothing had gotten out of hand. No overindulgent drinking, no crazy pictures, no fights. Today’s engagement with these kids was something Jordan would have always done – had been doing since he joined the team – but it sure was nice icing on the media darling cake.

  He must have felt me looking at him, because he glanced up, meeting my gaze. He gave me a slow, inappropriately sexy grin, then tipped his head, motioning for me to meet him in the hall, outside of the crowd.

  I looked back to see that my father and Mel were still wrapped up in each other, talking, not concerned about anything or anyone else. I slipped away while they were occupied, into the relatively empty hall. The only other people out there were engaged with their smartphones, not paying me any mind, but anxiety still crept up my spine as I waited for Jordan to show.

  I damn near bit my lip in half trying not to yelp or scream when he approached me from behind, putting an arm around my waist. I barely knew what was happening before I was off my feet, getting hustled into the same bathroom that had been ground zero for major change in our relationship just two months ago.

  “You look good as hell,” Jordan said, backing me against the sink.

  “I look like a Christmas ornament.” The glittering green fabric of my dress bunch around my thighs as he pushed my legs open to step between.

  He grinned. “A sexy one though.” I closed my eyes as he pressed his lips to mine, relishing the way-too-short kiss. When I opened my eyes, a silver chain hung in front of me. I didn’t even need to look down to know that three charms would be attached – a silver football helmet, with #88 engraved on the back, a flat silver football engraved with Jordan’s name, and a silver lighting bolt.