by M. Robinson
“Jax Colton! How’s does it feel to break the NFL record for the most touchdowns during a game?”
I smiled at the reporter at the post-game press conference. “It feels great.”
“Are the rumors true?” another reporter questioned, bringing my attention over to him. “You’ve been a free agent all year, and the world is anxiously waiting for the big news. Are you signing a new contract with Dallas?”
I cocked an eyebrow.
The press didn’t mind their own damn business on a normal day, let alone on an occasion like today where all eyes were on me. This was the question of the hour—everywhere I went the press hounded me about my future with the NFL. The truth was I wanted to play with a team where I called the shots. I’d been with Miami for the last twelve years, and there was no thrill anymore. It wasn’t about the money to me. I had more than I knew what to do with.
I was the all-star quarterback.
The greatest of all time.
The motherfucking G.O.A.T.
Except, Miami wasn’t allowing me the liberties I felt I was owed. Therefore, I found a team that would. I’d been playing ball since I was six-years-old, and I didn’t know anything else. Being a quarterback was who I was. It was how I was made, and I was tired of playing for a team I didn’t feel challenged enough in.
I wanted the notoriety of coaching, of taking a team and making it the best it could be. The Super Bowl ring and the Vince Lombardi Trophy was always the end goal, and I wanted to win it with a team who were the underdogs. A team that had great bones but needed a leader.
I spent the last hour at this damn press junket, and all I kept thinking about was the Morelli Christmas Gala. I needed to unwind and have a fucking drink. I attended it every year. For the next hour, question after question was thrown in my face. The more personal it was, the better the ratings were. I knew how this game was played, having a love/hate relationship with the press.
“Jax,” the same reporter called out. “Do you think you’re ever going to settle down?”
I grinned. “Not anytime soon.”
The same journalist added, “You just celebrated your thirty-fourth birthday a few weeks ago. Do you see yourself getting married maybe? Starting a family? A son who can possibly carry on your legacy?”
I resisted the urge to tell him to go fuck himself. I came from a broken family. My parents were divorced, and I didn’t have a relationship with either of them. We spoke over the phone for birthdays and holidays which pretty much summed up our relationship. I was the only child, so football was my life.
The last time I saw my father it ended with heated words I didn’t want to get into. It had been over three years. My mother, on the other hand, I saw her a few months ago. She showed up at one of my games, asking for money. I gave it to her. I always did.
“Any of the model’s you’ve been seen with this last month finally catch your attention enough to possibly become a girlfriend?” another reporter questioned, bringing my attention over to her.
“I don’t have time for any distractions that include anything more than meaningless fun.”
To be completely honest, I’d never been in a relationship that wasn’t sexual. I fucked, plain and simple. I liked it that way.
No strings.
No bullshit.
No expectations.
I just wanted to play ball, and having women invade my privacy out of the bedroom wasn’t something I was ever truly comfortable with. It went along with the territory of being a public figure. I was God to these people. An American treasure. People loved me because I knew how to win, and they hated me because of it too.
Again, it came with the territory of being the best, and I proudly accepted that reputation over a decade ago.
Once the conference was over, I jumped in my truck and hightailed it out of there. Ready to get my night started with booze and women. Preferably a pretty blonde with a slender waist and luscious ass. I was a sucker for baby blue eyes.
By the time I made it to the gala, it was packed to the rim with guests, some I recognized, others I didn’t. I made my way to the bar and ordered a Jack and Coke before meeting up with some friends who were also invited to the gala. We hung out, drinking and shooting the shit about nothing in particular, before I needed a break from the stifling atmosphere. Excusing myself, I made my way out onto the empty balcony, wanting a change of scenery for a few minutes. It was hotter than Hell in there, and I wasn’t a fan of big crowds to begin with if it was out of the stadium.
Leaning my back against the railing, I rested my elbows on it, taking in the guests that were dancing inside when all of sudden music changed over to a slower beat, and I narrowed my eyes, trying to get a better look at the girl in the center of the dance floor with her back to me. Her long blonde hair cascaded down her back as her hips seductively swayed to the rhythm of the song. She was wearing a tight backless white dress that accentuated all the curves of her body, leaving very little to the imagination.
There was a tattoo in cursive font down her spine, and I couldn’t make out what it said but the desire to know was thriving in my mind. I stood there amazed and in awe of the woman dancing with all eyes on her as she slowly worked her hands up toward her head to run her fingers through her hair, holding it up in place.
Biting on my lip, I imagined her doing exactly that while she rode my cock and screamed out my name. The way she danced was so unbelievably fucking sexy, but it wasn’t like every other girl I was used to seeing. She wasn’t dancing for anyone but herself. She once again rocked her hips, spinning around, finally turning to face me.
She was beautiful. Fucking breathtaking, stealing all the air from my lungs as if it belonged to her. Describing this woman wouldn’t even do her justice. Her eyes were shut, oblivious to all the stares that were solely fixated on her. She didn’t give a flying fuck who was around, who was talking, who was dancing which only attracted me more to her.
I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly becoming dry from the vision before my eyes. My gaze traveled down her body. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and I could see her nipples peeking through her clingy dress. She had the tiniest waist with her hips curving out. An hourglass figure, exactly how I preferred. The front of her dress was a deep V down her chest, and I could see another script tattoo on her collarbone along with one down the side of her ribs.
I immediately wondered just how many tattoos this woman had as my eyes wandered up to her face at the exact moment we locked eyes from across the room. It was like she could feel my intense stare on her. I actually sucked in a visible breath, seeing her bright blue eyes for the first time. I’d never seen eyes quite like hers—they were literally mind-blowing.
She looked so angelic, although I could tell she was anything but pure simply based off the way she was eye-fucking the shit out of me in that moment. She cocked her head to the side, narrowing her gaze into mine. Taking me in as much as I took her in seconds ago.
The music changed to a much faster beat, and the dance floor quickly began filling up again. Crowds of bodies started to surround her, but she didn’t let that deter her regard over me. Slowly, she walked toward my direction, parting through the men and women.
Never breaking our deep connection.
I was still leaning against the railing, one leg placed over the other while I raised my glass to my lips. Imagining the way her skin would feel beneath my mouth.
She was as intoxicating as the liquor in my hand.
I watched the way her hips swayed, the way her tits bounced, the way she licked her lips, making my dick twitch at the mere sight of her striding toward me with a finesse I’d never seen on another woman.
When she stepped out onto the balcony, she slid the door closed behind her. Angling her body in a certain way that only made me want to devour every last fucking inch of her.
From her lips.
To her nipples.
To her fucking clit.
The smell of the night air, the aroma of he
r mixed in with a scent I couldn’t place, something tempting, sinful, devouring all my senses where the only thing I could think about was how much I wanted to kiss her mouth.
Without saying a word, she gradually eyed me up and down with a fascinated expression until she locked eyes with me again. Grinning like a damn fool, I waited. Trying to play it off like she wasn’t having an effect on me when, in fact, she was consuming every last fiber of my being.
“The line at the bar is at least twenty people deep. How about you be a gentleman and share your drink?”
I didn’t give it a second thought. I nodded for her to come over to me, and she didn’t waver. In four strides she was standing in front of my face, and I knew right then and there…
This girl.
Was fucking trouble.
The way she looked at me consumed me in ways I never thought possible, but that wasn’t what captured my attention the most. It was the sincerity in her gaze. She wasn’t looking at me, she was staring through me.
She bit her lip as if she could read my mind and what I was thinking. Handing her my drink, she took a couple sips before giving it back to me. She left a lipstick rim around the glass where her mouth had been, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to drink from the same spot she just had to taste her mouth.
“So, Jax Colton, do you normally stand outside on the balcony at parties and stare at women dancing?”
It didn’t surprise me that she knew who I was, most people did. “Only when they look like you. Besides, I wasn’t the only man who was enamored by you.”
She smiled, arching an eyebrow. “Like what you see then?”
“I’d be dead if I didn’t.”
She giggled in that girly yet adorable way.
“What’s your name?” I was caught off guard by my own question. I never cared much for women’s names. Even when they were screaming mine. Cocking an eyebrow at her, I awaited her response.
“Sophie.”
I shook away all the new and unfamiliar thoughts and feelings from simply hearing her name and turned around to face the view of the city instead. She stood close to me, spinning to observe the sight in front of us like I was.
However, I couldn’t keep my eyes from gazing at the side of her face, wanting to look at her for as long as I could. I cleared my throat and swallowed hard, knowing that her heart was beating just as fast as mine. I was having an effect on her too.
“Are you from around here?”
I could see her trying to hide back a smile. “No.”
“Where are you from?”
“Dallas.”
The pull she had on me was something I couldn’t overlook. I needed to know everything about her.
“How old are you, Sophie?”
“Old enough for you to share your drink.” She grabbed it out of my hand again. “What kind of question is that?”
“You look young.” I eyed her cautiously.
“I’m legal, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“How legal?”
“Twenty-two. Is that too young for you, old man?”
I scoffed out a chuckle, I couldn’t help. Enjoying her feistiness right from the start. People usually kissed my ass, especially women.
“Old man, huh?”
“I mean, you are what? Almost forty?”
I could tell by her tone she was teasing me. “Thirty-four is closer to thirty than forty.”
“Your age doesn’t bother me, I prefer older man.”
“I see.” I grinned. “Daddy issues?”
She laughed. “Hardly. I won’t call you daddy if that’s what you’re into.”
“No, I’d prefer you call me God.”
She laughed again, much louder that time. It resonated in my chest.
“Humble much?”
“Sweetheart.” I leaned in, close to her lips. “I wasn’t referring to the way I can throw a football.”
She smirked, licking her lips and the scent of whiskey and her assaulted my senses.
“Then you’re referring to the way you can throw you dick around?”
It was my turn to laugh, big and throaty. “Only one way to find out.”
“Wow. You only just met me and you’re already throwing yourself at me,” she playfully taunted.
“Would you prefer I lie and say I don’t want to fuck you until you can’t walk in the morning?”
“So I’ll be staying until morning?”
“Darlin’, you can stay as long as you want.” I couldn’t believe those words just left my mouth.
What the fuck?
The crazy part was, I meant them.
“You’re just a southern boy at heart, aren’t you, Jax?”
“You seem to know all about me and yet I know nothing about you.”
“Well, that’s kind of unfair considering the whole world knows about you.”
“You a football fan, Sophie?”
“You could say that.”
“Who’s your favorite team?”
“Dallas of course.”
I smiled.
“Are the rumors true?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“Oh, come on, I won’t tell anyone I promise. You can trust me.”
“If I tell you, will you come home with me?”
She mocked with a wink. “Only one way to find out.”
“I may have to sign with them now that I know you live in Dallas.”
“Are you always this much of a charmer?”
“Only for you, darlin’.”
Handing me back my glass, she added with a nod, “Thanks for the drink.”
Now allowing me a chance to answer, she turned to leave, but I found myself grabbing her arm to hold her in place.
Our eyes connected.
“Where do you think you’re going, Sophie?” I asked, as if my whole world was about to walk away from me.
She smiled.
“So I got another smile.”
She laughed, earning me another huge smile and I groaned, setting my hand over my heart, bowing my head in a dramatic gesture.
“Now you’re just playing with me, baby.” Before I could give it too much thought, I unexpectedly pulled her toward me, bringing her into my arms where she just felt right. “I’ll ask again. Where are you going?”
“Why does it matter?”
“Damn, I take two steps forward and three steps back with you. Is that the way you’re going to play it?”
She smirked.
I reached over, softly gripping the back of her neck and bringing her closer to me.
“Is it true what they say about football players?”
“What do they say?”
“That you’re as aggressive and controlling in the bedroom as you are on the field.”
I rasped against her lips. “Come home with me and find out.”
She softly gasped. “Is it that easy for you?”
I didn’t falter—I loved the way she was looking at me. “You tell me.”
“How do I know you’re not going to kidnap me?”
“How do I know you’re not going to kidnap me?” I repeated, stifling a chuckle.
“You’re like what? 6’3 and two hundred and something… I think you maybe out of my league.”
“But I could go the whole nine yards. I don’t like to lose.”
“I’m not a trophy.”
“I beg to differ.” With my finger, I lifted her chin to look deep into her eyes. “Come home with me, Sophie.”
She narrowed her eyes at me for a couple of seconds before she stepped back and nodded. “Lead the way.”
I grabbed her hand and did exactly that.
Knowing in that moment…
I. Was. Fucked.
* * *
Thank you for reading ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS YOU!
Jax Colton will eventually get his own book. But for now you can start reading in this world right now, with Second Chance Contract by M. Robinson.
Alta Hensley
Chapter One
Lyriope
This should be mine.
The dripping chandeliers, the gowns, the diamonds, the exclusive money that oozes from every crack of the mansion. Black and gold decorations with a pop of red represent the Morelli family. Rich with undertones of blood.
Not my family… but it should be.
“This was a bad idea,” Sasha Morelli says as she stands next to me, nervously running her finger along the edge of her champagne glass. “I should have never snuck you in here. You’re going to get caught. We’re both going to get caught. I don’t think you realize how much trouble we could get into.”
“I know it’s not safe to be here, and I know what happens if I’m caught. I’m quite aware the bastard does not belong at a Morelli Christmas party,” I tell my cousin, wishing I didn’t have to be brought in through a back entrance.
Sasha’s not supposed to know about me, but she does. Most Morellis aren’t supposed to know about me, but a few secretly do. She’s just the only one who doesn’t ignore the fact that I exist.
“I hate when you call yourself the bastard,” she says.
“But it’s exactly what I am.”
“It sounds harsh, and I don’t even know why you want to be part of this family. It’s fucked,” she says. “You care too much about them.”
She’s right. I should be past my Daddy issues by now. I shouldn’t care what they think… but I do.
I obsessively do.
I watch my secret half brothers and sisters work the room with a skill and finesse you can only be born with. Yes, they’ve had the grooming, but there is so much more they have that I don’t. They represent wealth, power, and everything I desire. Dresses and tuxes worn that cost more money than I will ever see or even come close to having. They possess everything… and I have nothing unless I earn every cent on my own.
They have the Morelli name.
I do not.
Jealousy is an ugly bitch. I know this, but the green-eyed monster takes hold and refuses to let go. I’ve tried to walk away and never look back, but I can’t. The claws of the beast hold me in place—looking in from the outside.
