by L. M. Carr
I laugh, remembering how, while on my knees with my face buried in the pillow, his words about loving that part of my body floated into my ears. With slow caresses, he grazed his teeth over the curve of my backside and bit lightly.
“I’ll never tire of looking at you.”
I close my eyes and inhale, sighing on the exhale. “And I’ll never get tired of holding you in my arms, smelling this…” I skim my nose along his neck and inhale deeply until I reach his jaw, nibbling lightly. “And kissing this,” I say, gliding my lips to his. “I love you.”
I feel Julian’s erection grow behind his gray dress pants as he deepens the kiss, pulling me even closer. My hands find their way to the blue material of his button-down, the color reminiscent of his eyes. Reluctantly, I pull away.
“We’re going to be late.”
“I can just cancel,” he says, returning his lips to my neck.
I shake my head. “This is important. You need to make these connections if you want to pursue signing the players.”
He huffs and pouts like a petulant child, then smiles. “I guess you’re right.”
I wink and step out of his hold. “I usually am.” The night hasn’t even begun and I can’t wait to get back. Back to the place where only we exist.
With a hand on the small of my back, Julian guides me to the elevator. When it arrives, he takes my hand in his and places a kiss on my knuckles. He drags his eyes to mine, a smile stretching across his face.
“What’s that look for?” I ask suspiciously.
Taking a small step back, Julian drops to one knee, then switches to the other.
“What are you doing?” I laugh, then it hits me. The movement of his body, the position of his legs… My heart skips a beat. “Julian?”
He stares at me, his gaze revealing more than love. It’s a glimpse into the future. It’s my unborn children who look like their father. It’s an endless, tranquil ocean. It’s my last breath on the day God calls me home.
“Addison…,” he breathes.
Moisture pools in my eyes as I struggle to swallow. “Are you…proposing?” I stammer as he returns to an upright position.
“Proposing?” he repeats, a glimmer in his eye.
My face heats as embarrassment washes over me when I realize I’ve misconstrued the moment.
“Do you want me to propose?” His tongue slides across his lips.
My brain wrestles with the answer as I blink repeatedly. I can’t decipher the look on his face. Hope and hesitation intermingle and compete for dominance.
“I… The way you… I guess I…,” I stutter, dropping my gaze to my painted toenails.
“Do you really think I’d propose to you in an elevator?”
His laughter makes me feel even more mortified than I already do. My hands fly up to cover my face, which I know must be bright red right now.
“Addison Jane,” he sighs as he removes my hands and grasps my chin, lifting my head back up. He smiles, those gorgeous blues shining with excitement. “When I ask you to marry me, there will be no hesitation, and it certainly won’t be in an elevator.”
The idea of marrying Julian was planted when we were kids. Although circumstances pulled us apart, there wasn’t a single day I didn’t think about him, my heart aching with undying love.
My chin quivers. “I’ll say yes when you ask,” I affirm before continuing, “even if it is in an elevator. The where isn’t important.”
“But you deserve the best.”
I smile. “I already have it. God knows how long and hard I have loved you.” Faint laughter arises. “Julian, I can’t remember a time I didn’t love you.”
“I’m sorry I wasted so much time.” His eyes cloud with sorrow.
I shake my head, determined to return the joy in his gaze. “No. If you want me to forget about the past, you need to do the same.”
The elevator stops and the bell dings, the doors sliding open. Julian reaches for my hand, but I hesitate. I want to lace my fingers with his, but I want to keep our relationship quiet for a while.
“Julian?” I say softly, unsure how he’ll react to my suggestion. “Would you be upset if we keep things quiet for now? With everything that’s going on, I don’t want us to be the center of attention. You need to stay focused.”
“You’re the most important thing in my life, Addison,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “The most important thing.”
I rush to stand in front of him, placing my hand on his chest. “And you are in mine, but think about it. People love gossip, and you just ended your relationship with Gigi. If we show up holding hands, everyone’s going to start talking.”
He scratches the scruff on his chin. “Fine, but when we get back home, things are going to be different. You’re mine, and I don’t care who knows it.”
Warmth spreads throughout my entire body, reaching down into the depths of my soul. I lean in and kiss his cheek. “I’ve always been yours…”
“Deep inside, I always knew that.”
As we walk into the restaurant, a hostess, wearing an authentic Hawaiian dress, welcomes us. Julian bends his neck when she offers a lei, and I do the same.
“Table for two?” she asks, smiling.
“Actually, I have a large table reserved in the back.”
Looking down at the iPad on the wooden stand, she scrolls until she sees the name. “MacIntyre?” Julian nods. “Right this way.”
Julian gestures for me to go first, then follows. Through the glass doors, which are etched with a colorful floral design, I spot a table tucked away in the corner. My eyes widen in disbelief when I see Alonzo Richie sitting there. Panic shoots through me. Why didn’t I tell Julian about the kiss? What if Alonzo mentions it? What is Julian going to say when he finds out? Because I know he will eventually.
I slow my steps and glance over my shoulder. “Hey, I’m going to use the ladies’ room. I’ll meet you back there in a few minutes.”
“You sure? I can wait.”
“No.” I touch his arm, nodding to the back room. “You go. I’ll just be a minute.”
“All right.” He cranes his neck, looking into the room. “I think I see Richie in there. It’ll give me a chance to talk to him before the others arrive.”
Shit!
I nod, smiling faintly as Julian continues toward the reserved space. My eyes travel from the back of his head, the light brown hair closely cut, down over his back, to his tight backside, his legs moving in long, confident strides. His arms, long and muscular, swing, displaying his confidence, his broad shoulders giving way to a trim waist.
I am one lucky bitch. I can only pray my luck doesn’t run out tonight…
I swallow nervously when I look beyond Julian to find Alonzo looking down, his thumb scrolling through his phone. On shaky legs, I dash into the bathroom and shoot Alonzo a brief text.
Today didn’t happen.
I receive no reply.
Ten minutes later, I emerge from the bathroom and walk to the back room, determined not to let my one moment of indiscretion ruin the night. The more I think about it, the more I realize I should’ve mentioned it to Julian. He would’ve understood. I was upset about Asher, and Alonzo just happened to be there. It’s not my fault he mistook my needing comfort for desire.
I don’t want Alonzo. I never did. The night I slept with him is fuzzy. After I’d consumed too many martinis at a work function, he’d offered to give me a ride back to the hotel, and I somehow ended up in his room. I only remember the achy feeling between my legs when I woke up the next morning.
Once sober, I was ashamed. Hearing the water running in the shower, I had dressed quickly, but Alonzo stepped out, naked. My eyes dropped to his dick, eyes widening. I knew why I was so sore.
All these thoughts run through my mind as I approach the table. I flick my eyes between the two men and smile tightly when Julian looks at me, standing.
“Addison, you know Alonzo Richie, don’t you?”
I nod,
shifting my eyes to Alonzo. “Of course. He plays with my brother.” I raise my eyebrows. “Nice to see you.”
In true gentleman fashion, Alonzo rises and holds my gaze. “Good to see you. How do you two know each other?”
“We’ve known each other since we were in elementary school,” I reply, taking a seat beside Julian.
The narrowing of his eyes and slight clearing of his throat reveal Julian’s displeasure with my answer. I lower my hand and touch his leg reassuringly, silently asking for forgiveness for downplaying our relationship.
I pour myself a glass of water and listen as the two men talk about the events leading up to tomorrow’s game. I interject when I have something to contribute, but I mostly remain quiet.
When Alonzo excuses himself from the table to take a call, Julian turns to me. “Is everything okay? You seem…distracted.”
I plaster on a smile and place a gentle hand on his thigh, caressing. “I’m fine. I guess I’m just tired. It’s been a busy week…and I haven’t gotten much sleep these past few nights.” I wink.
If someone were watching, it would appear as though we’re carrying on a friendly conversation. No one would suspect that I want to ravage his body the moment we are alone.
“What are you doing here?”
I jump, looking over my shoulder and grimacing at Rence, who looms above me, arms crossed, feet shoulder width apart, scowl on his face.
“She’s here with me,” Julian answers, giving Rence a hard glare, then following him with his eyes as my brother occupies the seat Alonzo had just vacated. “Is that going to be a problem?”
He leans forward and places his elbows on the table. “Tonight is about football. Nothing more, nothing less.”
My brother inhales sharply and glances at the bar. I peek over, seeing the redhead sitting there, sipping a drink.
I look back at Rence. “You can ask her to join us.”
He huffs, his chest rising and falling. “She’s fine where she is.”
I narrow my eyes. “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you.”
Tensions rise when my brother snaps, “What part of football only don’t you understand, AJ?”
Julian holds a hand up. “Rence, you owe your sister an apology. I’m not sure what your problem is, but she doesn’t deserve this treatment. Whatever beef you have with her, stow it until later.”
Rence exhales, tugging at his beard before offering apologetic eyes. I meet his gaze and nod subtly. Something is going on with him, and I need to find out what. I hope it doesn’t have anything to do with the woman at the bar.
Slowly, the other men trickle in and join us. Introductions are made, some of the players already knowing each other and giving bro hugs. Unfortunately, judging from the looks I’m getting, everybody knows who I am.
I keep my distance from Alonzo, who sits across the table and to my right, although I can feel his eyes on me. A massive amount of food and beverages are ordered, and while we eat, the players chat about their goals in the NFL, stats and performance.
Chaz Perkins, a three-year veteran wide receiver from Miami, pounds down bottles of Budweiser and attempts to dominate the conversation about his record in college and the NFL.
“Yo, Coach, how much is your budget to field a team? Because my contract in Miami is almost up, and I’m ready to head over to Houston. I’d sign a two-year deal for twenty or twenty-five.”
Rence chokes on his drink, coughing a few times. “Million?”
As belligerent as can be, Chaz lifts his chin. “That’s what I said, old man. I’m surprised you’re even here. Aren’t you about ready to retire?”
My brother runs a hand through his unkempt beard and glares at the young player. “How old are you?”
Chaz laughs lightly and looks around, thinking he’s got the support of the others. His smartass smile fades when he looks at the grim face of the men around the table and realizes he is on his own. “Twenty-four.”
Rence leans on the table toward him. “If you want to live to see twenty-five, I suggest you throw down a fifty-dollar bill for all the beer you’ve drunk and get the fuck away from me.”
Like many young players in the league, their egos are bigger than their mouths and they don’t know when to stop.
“Yo, you gonna let him talk to me like that, Coach?” Chaz demands, clearly feeling disrespected.
Julian holds his hands up and shakes his head. “It’s your funeral, man.”
Chaz clenches his teeth and stands abruptly, pushing away from the table, his chair scraping against the floor as he rises to leave. “You know what? Fuck y’all. I don’t need this shit.” He strides out of the room, wobbling slightly.
Julian’s gaze scans the faces of the remaining men before landing on me. He laughs a little. “Houston, we have a problem.”
“Who the fuck does that kid think he is? What a cocky little shit!” Rence chimes in, looking up from his phone. “I can’t stand those rookies who come up thinking they’re better than everyone else.”
“He won’t last long in the league,” Luis Santana comments, his voice low. I whip my eyes to the other end of the table and the man who has been quiet throughout dinner.
“Most rising stars fall fast and hard,” Tyreek Smith continues, then winces, realizing he’s just pointed out the biggest elephant in the room.
“Yeah. Look what happened to you, Coach,” Alonzo quips with a chuckle.
From the corner of my eye, I see Rence’s shoulders tense before he lifts the bottle of beer to his lips. His gaze remains focused and unwavering as he looks at me. Guilt consumes him, just as it has since the day he tackled Julian. It was a hit that was heard throughout the country.
“Down by three with nine seconds left, can Julian MacIntyre get the ball down the field for the win?” the announcer said as the penalty flag was thrown.
“Facemask by the offense. That moves the Texans back to the thirty-two. We all know the strength and accuracy of MacIntyre’s arm, but that’s a long way to go. He looks awfully calm out there for a rookie, though.”
I stood on the sidelines, my hand coiled tightly around the microphone and nerves on high alert. The numbers on the scoreboard had bounced back and forth all game, and although the Chargers were up by three, Julian was determined to hand them another loss, keeping their undefeated record intact.
Watching the team in the huddle, I was sure Julian was reviewing a play he helped design. He clapped his hands together, the team jogging back to the line of scrimmage. He looked to the left, then the right as the men before him bent down in position.
The center snapped the ball between his legs. Julian ran back, looking down the field. Because time was ticking down, all the receivers rushed toward the endzone. Seeing a defensive tackle rushing from the left, Julian rolled to the right and cocked his arm back, throwing the ball down the field.
He never saw Rence coming.
My brother led with his shoulder and drove into Julian. Massive arms wrapped around the star quarterback’s waist, Rence pummeled Julian down to the turf, his two hundred and fifty pounds of solid muscle coming down on top of him. The audible crunch made me want to vomit as my hands flew to my mouth.
Half the stadium jumped to their feet and watched as the tight end bobbled the ball slightly, then dove into the endzone. Everyone else kept their eyes on Julian, grimacing, hands on mouths, waiting to see if he’d get up after that horrifying tackle. An eruption of cheers rumbled through the stands as the Texans emerged victorious, but their star quarterback lay motionless.
My hand covered my mouth in horror. “Oh, my god! Julian!”
Rence lay on top of Julian for a second, then jumped to his feet. The camera zoomed in on my brother’s face, his expression dark and ominous. Rence’s eyes shifted to the scoreboard before he ripped off his helmet and angrily threw it down. He stomped toward the locker room, bypassing the medical team rushing onto the field toward a writhing Julian.
When one of the medical team r
aised a hand and waved frantically, the injury cart drove onto the field. Tears flooded my eyes when a brace was secured around his neck and he was carefully placed onto a stretcher, then driven off the field to the waiting ambulance.
I didn’t care that I was supposed to interview players from the winning team. All I cared about was getting to Julian, even though he was no longer a part of my life. I ran through the throng of people on the sidelines. I didn’t care who was in my way. I had to get to him. The paramedics were getting ready to load him in just as I arrived.
“Excuse me,” one of the EMTs said. “You need to move.”
I reached for Julian’s hand. Because he couldn’t turn his head, he looked at me out of the corner of his eye, tears welling.
“Julian,” I sobbed, stroking the helmet on his head, hoping he could somehow feel my touch. “I’m so sorry!”
“Lady, you have to move.”
“I can’t! I’m his…” I choked on my own words when I saw the moisture from his eyes seep out as he stared up at the clouds floating in the beautiful blue sky above.
“I hate you. I fucking hate you so much.”
I gasped and stepped back. Julian hated me? But I wasn’t the one who caused this. Rence was the guilty one—not me. The fierce declaration broke my heart into a million pieces. Like a shard of glass, each piece sliced through my chest, leaving irreparable damage behind.
The EMT shoved me out of the way as Julian groaned and cussed in anger as the stretcher was loaded into the ambulance.
With round, shocked eyes, I stood there, stunned, as they slammed the ambulance doors shut. My eyes remained glued to the vehicle as it rushed away, praying his injuries weren’t life-threatening. Even though he hated me, I couldn’t imagine this world without Julian in it.
The startling sound of deep laughter pulls me from the momentary trance. I look up from the martini glass I’d been staring at to see Julian glancing at me, concern on his face.
I smile and nod at his unspoken question, then I pick up my glass and guzzle down the last few gulps.
I try to quash the tension with a bit of humor. “Oh please, Rence. Who are you kidding? You’re still cocky! I’m surprised that lei fit over your big head! Besides, some stars are bigger than others and will always shine brighter, even when their time has come to an end.”