The Play Maker (The Sideline Series Book 1)

by L. M. Carr

  Julian chuckles and looks at me, his gaze roaming from my face, to my bare legs, then back up, stopping at my lips.

  “What?” I ask, lowering the glass bottle.

  A half-smile appears as he reaches for the long strands of my ponytail, letting the hair slip through his fingers. “I missed this.”

  I quickly reposition and snuggle against his chest. “Me, too. A lot.” A warm feeling settles in my heart when his hand caresses my shoulder. I look up into his eyes before he places another soft kiss on my lips.

  “It’s been a long time since we ate shitty food and watched a game together. I miss just sitting on the couch on a Sunday afternoon with you.”

  “Don’t get too used to this.”

  A pained expression forms in his eyes. “What? Why?”

  “Well, seeing as we both work on Sundays…”

  He snorts. “Oh shit. You’re right. I forgot about that.”

  I nod sadly. “Yeah, unless I’m scheduled to cover one of your games, I could be anywhere in the country on that day. I usually fly out Saturday afternoon and return Monday morning.”

  “That sucks!” he huffs, grimacing. I thoughtful look crosses his face. “Maybe you can quit, and I’ll have the organization hire you as a team consultant or something.”

  I actually laugh out loud, slightly affronted. “You’re kidding, right? I love my job and wouldn’t quit for anything!”

  “But you don’t have to work. I’m going to make enough money.”

  I jerk back, brows furrowed. “Wait. Are you suggesting I forfeit my career so I can stay home?”

  He reiterates his statement with an arched brow. “You don’t need to work.”

  Guilt consumes me, remembering he said he’d resign from his position for me. I doubt he was serious. Besides, I would never allow him to do that. “Julian, I work because I love what I do. I love the game of football and want to be a part of it.”

  I wonder if he’s forgotten about the petition I started junior year of high school, which would have allowed girls to join the boys’ football team. Despite having a record number of signatures, my father convinced the school’s administrator and athletic director, as well as the board of education, that it was too dangerous for a female to be on the field. I think he was more concerned that I would get injured and not be able to play soccer, thus losing my scholarship.

  “I guess I had this vision in my head of us being together like when we were in high school.”

  “Julian, why do you keep bringing up high school?” I shoot back quickly, unable to contain the slight feeling of exasperation. “That was so long ago.”

  “And then college.” He sighs. “It kills me to think about—”

  “Then don’t think about it!” A thought lingers. “You keep saying the past is over, so let’s leave it there. If we’re going to make this work, we need to live in the present and look toward the future.”

  A deep breath escapes. “That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day. Well, actually, the second best.”

  “Second?”

  He nods, a roguish grin appearing. “The first was when you said you were going to come and I felt you tighten around me.”

  “Oh…that. That was nice,” I agree, reaching for my phone and clicking the app to preview my tentative work schedule for the upcoming season. Sighing, my hope diminishes with each scroll of my finger because Houston is only listed twice. Once on week four and again on week eleven.

  “I’m going to talk to Wes this week about making some adjustments. Maybe he can switch me to Thursday night games instead. I’d much rather stay local this year, even if it means I have to cover fewer games.”

  “You’d do that?”

  “Of course. Listen, while I don’t want to quit my job, I do want to support you, Julian.”

  “Thanks, baby.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Do you have any plans for the fourteenth?” I ask as I pour two cups of coffee while Julian stirs the eggs in the pan.

  “Valentine’s Day?” he counters. “Not that I know of. I have a couple meetings in the morning, but other than that, I’m free. Why?”

  “I have the Hearts for Houston charity ball that night.”

  Carrying our plates to the table, Julian nods and sits, reaching for the cup of coffee I’ve set in front of him. “I was asked to speak at that.”

  My eyes widen. “Really?”

  He gives me a tight smile, nodding.

  “So you were going to be there anyway?” I don’t know why this surprises me so much.

  “Yep… I might need a date, though.”

  I shrug casually. “I guess you can be my ‘plus one’.”

  He sets the cup down and laughs. “You do realize we’ll be seen in public together.”

  The week after we got back from Hawaii, my interview with Julian aired, immediately thrusting us into the spotlight. Even Terry Bradshaw, the former Steelers quarterback and co-host of Fox’s NFL Sunday, tweeted about our on-screen chemistry. So we’ve decided to keep a low profile until things die down and the media finds somebody else to dwell on and exploit.

  I shrug. “I think we’re ready.”

  “If you really want to spend our first Valentine’s Day together with a bunch of strangers, I’m down.”

  It sounds absolutely dreadful when he puts it like that. “We don’t have to stay long. I just need to make an appearance.”

  “Do I have to wear a tux?” he asks, grimacing when I nod. I lift my leg under the table and graze his calf with my toe. “But just think about how much fun I’ll have getting you out of it.”

  “Addison…,” he warns, his eyes darkening. “You’re doing it again.”

  “What am I doing?” I ask seductively as I slide a piece of bacon into my mouth.

  “Making my cock hard.”

  “Am I?” I tease, sliding my foot higher. “So sorry. I know how much you hate when that happens.”

  “Get over here.” His words are authoritative and eyes fierce, suggesting I have no choice.

  I rise from the chair and close the gap, hips swaying. I stand before him, my chest at eye level.

  “Now what?” I murmur as he shifts in his seat to face me. His gaze drops to my hard nipples and he licks his lips.

  “Take off your shirt.”

  I cross my arms over my body and reach for the hem, lifting, exposing my stomach, then breasts.

  Leaning forward, he places his hand on the small of my back, brushing his nose over my soft skin and inhaling, then he sucks one of the pink buds into his mouth.

  Pushing my hand through his hair, I rest it on the back of his head, encouraging him.

  “Mine,” he whispers, caressing my back with his fingers. “This was always mine.”

  My eyes close as guilt resurfaces, remembering how many times I gave away what he claims is his.

  I pull away and look down at him. “Stand up,” I command, taking control of the situation.

  Because I’m close, his chest slides against my skin as he stands, his cock rock solid against my abdomen.

  “You’re still hard.”

  He stares at me darkly.

  I take a small step back and drop to my knees, positioning myself before him, gaze never leaving his. “Maybe I should do something to relieve you,” I suggest.

  My hand glides over the outline of his length as I inch upward until I reach the waistband of his basketball shorts, pulling down gently. His erection springs free.

  “Goddamn,” I mumble, staring at his beautiful cock.

  Will I ever get used to seeing it? Feeling it in my mouth? Feeling it in my core, then waking up sore in the morning?

  I wrap my fingers around his thick girth, stroking up and down using an even, steady motion. “How does that feel?”

  He groans, then replies, “Good, but it would feel even better with your mouth around it.” Dragging his fingers through my hair, he clutches the back of it. “Suck it.”

  I part my lips.
My tongue darts out to lap up the bead of moisture dripping from the head.

  He thrusts forward and plunges his cock into my mouth, hitting the back of my throat and making my eyes water. I try to pull back and release my hold on him, but he grips my hair tighter. While some would consider the action barbaric, I love it.

  “This is yours, baby. All yours.”

  Using a combination of hard sucking and firm stroking, I continue to pleasure him until he shouts and explodes, his hot seed sliding down my throat.

  After helping me to my feet, Julian slides his hands around my neck and pulls me in for a long, deep kiss, his tongue exploring my mouth. The moan he lets out suggests he can taste himself.

  “Your turn,” he says, walking me backward toward the kitchen table.

  My body is desperate for his touch, but Naomi and I have appointments at the salon for manicures and pedicures. If I had thought about it sooner, I would’ve booked a deep-tissue massage for myself. Ever since Julian and I reconnected, my muscles have been thoroughly worked over.

  I wiggle away from him. “Raincheck?”

  He frowns. “Raincheck? Why?”

  I hold up my hands and notice his eyes drop to my long fingers. His forehead wrinkles. “You want a ring?” he asks.

  “What?” I squawk, puzzled. “No! Why would you think that?”

  Gently pinching the tip of the fourth digit on my left hand, he wiggles it back and forth.

  “Oh, my god! Nooo.” I shake my head. “I was talking about my nails. Naomi and I have mani/pedi appointments today.”

  Julian chews on his bottom lip, holding back a smile. “Oh. I thought—”

  I cut him off with a quick kiss.

  He looks a little embarrassed, so I comb my fingers through his hair and offer a small smile.

  “Things are a little rocky with Nolan and she needs a friend.”

  With a slight huff, he steps back. It’s the same expression I remember when I had to go home on Saturday nights back when we were in high school. I fully understand his need to be with me. I feel it, too. Like we’re making up for lost time, but Naomi could really use some girl time.

  “Stop!” I offer a kiss, hoping to smooth out the harsh expression on his face. “Naomi has been there for me every time I needed a friend.” I flash him a look, hinting that some of our therapeutic sessions were about him. “She’s the only person I ever confided in.”

  He blinks thoughtfully, then follows me into the bathroom. “After your appointment, why don’t you invite them to dinner. I know this great place.”

  “You always know a great place!” I tease, reaching in and turning on the shower. As I climb in, I listen to him boast about this restaurant he knows. Our conversation continues as I quickly wash.

  Once I’m done and dressed in a black shirt and jeans, I gather my belongings, kiss him and stride to the door. I glance back and smile when he opens the drawer of his nightstand and retrieves a legal pad, a pencil and his iPad, which suggests he’s going to spend some time creating new plays for the team.

  “Don’t work too hard,” I say, knowing it’s all in vein. Julian has never known how to take it easy.

  He gives me a small grin. I wonder if he’s thinking about when we used to sit in his living room to do homework. While I struggled through a Physics assignment, he’d always breeze through his. Because he always completed his homework first, there was always time to scribble new plays on a blank sheet of paper.

  §

  “Ready?!” I call, walking into the apartment. Two empty bottles of wine and the aluminum takeout containers sitting on the counter provide clues about her evening.

  I head into my room and look at the mess. I chuckle, thinking about how mortified my parents would be at the condition of my living space.

  The wall to my left separates my bedroom from the bathroom, and the sounds coming from the other side reveal that my roommate is not alone. I cringe, then snort, remembering all the times she overheard my nights with Justin.

  Noting the time, I knock on the closed door and gently remind her about our appointments.

  “Coming,” she squeals, giggling.

  “I’m sure you are!” I shoot back humorously.

  I return to my room and plop onto the unkempt, queen-sized bed. Scrolling through and deleting work emails, I click on the group email from Wes. I scan the contents about everybody’s schedule, which reminds me that I need to speak to him about adjusting mine. I really want to be here for Julian, support him in any way I can. This job is his chance to prove himself and make a comeback after his career was cut short.

  I click the next email and open the attachment. A blurred image appears, covering the entire screen. I pinch my fingers on the glass to reduce the size.

  My heart nearly stops. It’s me, naked, on my knees, performing an intimate act. My shorter hair is fisted in an unidentified man’s hand, and the red highlights confirm it was taken years ago.

  Tears spring to my eyes and I inhale sharply, instantly regretting the time in my life when I lived with reckless abandon and freely gave my body away. It was a time I tried to distance myself from the Hamilton name and jump off the pedestal so many had put me on.

  Startled, I look up when Naomi, naked, suddenly closes my bedroom door.

  “I’ll be ready in five minutes,” she calls.

  Returning my attention to the image, I close the attachment and read the sender’s name, but neither the name nor the email address is familiar. There is no correspondence to accompany the image…just the God-forsaken picture.

  A million questions surface. Who took it? Why was it sent to me? Who else has seen it?

  I suck in a breath when I think about Julian.

  Repulsed by the idea that he might somehow see this image, my emotions surge as bile taints my tongue. When a deep, intense ache consumes me, I rub my hand over my pounding heart.

  “Oh, my god! Why?” I repeat the words over and over as I wrack my brain about what to do. Should I tell Julian about the email? Or should I delete it and pretend like I never received it? “Fuck!” I scream, banging the back of my head against the headboard.

  Naomi rushes into the room. “What the hell? What’s wrong?”

  I burst into tears and place a hand over my face, shielding me from the shame and guilt I feel.

  She sits beside me on the bed, pulling my arm down. “AJ, did something happen with Julian?”

  Julian… My entire world is going to crash and burn. He’ll be disgusted by the person in the photo and want nothing to do with me.

  She grasps my shoulders and shakes lightly. “AJ! Talk to me!”

  Digging the heels of my palms into my eyes, a shudder rips through my chest. “I can’t… I can’t believe this is happening to me.”

  “Are you pregnant?” Naomi asks gently.

  I shake my head and flick my eyes to my best friend’s. The love and acceptance we’ve always had for each other assures me I can trust her.

  “I… I got an email today,” I stammer, entering the passcode into my phone as I sniffle and wipe my nose with my shirt. “It had a name and email address, but I don’t know who it is.”

  The transformation from best friend to attorney happens before my very eyes. “What did it say? Let me see it.”

  I continue to tap and scroll until the sickening image appears. “Oh, my god. I can’t even…” I take a deep breath and look at her with pleading eyes. “Just remember I’m not this person anymore.”

  Naomi reaches for my phone. “It’s probably not as bad as you think…” She looks down, eyes widening. “Holy shit. Is that you?!”

  I nod, my chin quivering. “I don’t remember it. I mean, I know it’s me, but I…I can’t remember who the guy is.”

  “And you have no idea who sent it?” I shake my head. “Did you try sending a reply?”

  “No.”

  “Where’s your computer?” Naomi asks quickly, her brain already working in overdrive.

  “At Julian�
�s.”

  Naomi jumps up and rushes out of the room, hollering, “Forward me that email.” After a few minutes, she returns with her own device.

  “What are you going to do?” I inquire.

  Her fingers furiously tap against the keys before she pauses, stares at the screen and hums. “The IP address seems to be broken. Let me try something else.”

  When my phone dings, I look at it like it’s going to bite me, wondering if it’s a text message from the anonymous sender. I sigh in relief when I see Julian’s name. I open the message and smile when I see a meme of a Golden Retriever looking out the window, a sad look on its face. The caption reads, When you’re waiting for your owner to come home.

  A moment later, a second message comes through.

  You own my heart.

  I want nothing more than to take the elevator up to his apartment and tell him about the email, but I don’t want to upset him. Besides, I really want to find out who sent it and uncover their motive

  “I emailed the IT guy our firm uses.”

  My eyes widen in disbelief as I place a hand against my chest. “What? You sent him the email?”

  Naomi tosses me a wry look. “Of course not! I emailed him the IP address and asked him to find out what he could.”

  A sense of relief settles my heart. “What should I do in the meantime?”

  Apologetic eyes stare at me. “I don’t know, but promise you’ll let me know if you hear from this motherfucker again. There are laws against this kind of bullshit.”

  “Okay.”

  “Do you still want to go get our nails done? We don’t have to.”

  “There’s no point in us sitting here, waiting.” I push myself up and walk to the door. “I’m going to get to the bottom of this and hang the fucker.”

  “Atta, girl,” Naomi cheers as she follows me out.

  Chapter Nineteen

  It’s been a week since I received that email. A week that I’ve been nervous about checking my email with Julian in my presence.