Jessa is bringing out the cake now. Callie calls out excitedly for her guests to gather round. Diana loops her arm through mine and pulls me toward the crowd. And this sense of inclusion I feel, this sense of acceptance and belonging, I like it so much.
Jude approaches me from behind and clenches his hands on my hips as we all circle round the cake and sing the Happy Birthday song to the special girl. Callie crawls onto a chair to bend over the table and blow out her candles. The crowd cheers when she gets all five candles out on the first try.
When she’s done, we watch her tear through gift bags and wrapping paper to get at her new books and toys.
Finally, she gets down to the last envelope. It’s small and a little wrinkled but Mr. Kingston handles it reverently. Diana holds Callie in her lap. Mr. Kingston sits beside them and pulls a handmade card out of the envelope.
“Callie, this one is from your daddy,” the man tells his granddaughter in a somber tone.
A tense hush falls over the yard.
Mr. Kingston clears his throat and begins to read. “My sweet Callie, I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it to your birthday party but just know that in my heart, I’m always right there, celebrating with you. I’m so proud of the person you’re becoming. I am your biggest fan, cheering you on from afar, waiting impatiently for the day I get to see you again. I hope all your birthday wishes come true. Happy fifth birthday, Angel. I love you today and always, Daddy.”
As Mr. Kingston concludes reading the note, I struggle to keep from shedding a tear. I glance around the yard and realize that I’m not the only one on the verge of crying. Diana cradles the child, stroking her hair, kissing the crown of her head as she whispers softly into her ear.
A while later, the adults get busy taking down the decorations and clearing away used paper plates. Cinderella tucks her paycheck into her cleavage and goes over to say goodbye to the birthday girl.
The princess brushes wild curls back from the child’s face. “I hope you made a biiigggg wish when you blew out your candle, Princess Callie.”
My heart cracks open when the child looks up at the entertainer with a hopeful, innocent gaze. “I did…I wished for a new mommy and a daddy.”
33
Iris
My body is still tingling all over, recovering from another round of world-class orgasms. This talented man is going to ruin me.
Tonight after the guests left Callie’s party, Jude coaxed me into reading him a passage from one of the steamy books I’m auditioning to narrate. We got so hot that we ended up fucking right there on the kitchen table.
Now, we’re in my bed. I’ve got my computer on my lap, scrolling sluggishly through some course material for yet another online class I’m taking. I’m struggling to keep my heavy lids open but I don’t have the luxury of going to sleep, not when I’m already so far behind.
Jude is surprisingly quiet. In fact, he’s been less of his playful self since Callie’s party ended. Tonight, Broody Jude is back.
Not that I blame him—today was intense. From Penny and Walker’s food fight to Callie’s wish for new parents, emotions were running high all over the place.
He shifts onto his side so he’s facing me. “I heard you talking with my mom today.”
“Oh?” I nervously lick my lips. “What about?”
“About the flower shop.” He pauses. “I think you should put in an offer.”
A shot of anxiety zips through my chest. I rise up on one elbow. “Jude, that’s crazy. I can’t put in an offer for the flower shop. I’m already in enough debt as it is. Who in their right mind would lend me money to buy a flower shop?”
“Me.” His face is impassive when he says it.
I blink. I shake my head. “Then obviously, you’re not in your right mind.” I joke even as my insides coil up into uneasy knots.
Jude sits up now, his glorious broad chest on display for me. “I’m serious, Iris. You love flowers. You love gardening—”
“I love cheese. But you don’t see me running off opening a dairy farm!”
“Hey, if you want to open a dairy farm, I’m on board.” Jude brushes hair from my face. “Anything you want to do, I’m behind you. I’m in your corner. So, I could be your partner…your silent investor…I could give you a loan…I could hand you a duffel bag of cash and fuck off.” I giggle at that. “Whatever you want, however you want it, I’m there.”
His offer is so generous, so sweet, I don’t even know what to do with it, how to process his kindness. After being deprived of warmth and affection for so long, all this gentleness is overwhelming.
“You’ve been struggling to get one of your business ideas to stick. I think this is the perfect opportunity for you.”
I open my mouth to object, to let all my doubts spill free but Jude’s lips come down on mine in a sweet, chaste kiss.
“I believe in you, Iris. And I’ll help you in any way I can.”
Hearing his words, everything gets knotted up on the inside of me. This man has so much faith in me. If I’m not careful, I could get used to it. Hell, if I’m not careful, I might start believing in myself, too. That doesn’t sound like such a bad thing.
“So can you promise me that you’ll think about it? You don’t have to give me an answer right this minute. Just think about it.”
All the emotions bubbling up inside me pour out of my body. I set my laptop aside and straddle Jude. I kiss him soft, slow and his hands caress my skin. My fingertips trace the dips and ridges of his masculine form as my lips take a path down his torso to his delicious V.
Even with the ache and strain in my muscles—several muscles I forgot even existed—I still want more of him. I always want more of him.
He groans when I stroke his erection and when my lips seal around the crown of his shaft, he rakes his fingers through my hair and pulls tenderly.
“Iris…” The strained sound of my name on his lips makes me feel like I can do anything, be anything. And I want to give him my whole damn world.
I swirl my tongue around the crown. I work my lips and cheeks. Suctioning, massaging, idolizing his thick, hard cock.
Before long, I’m frantic on my mission to give him pleasure. I brace his hard, muscled thighs for leverage and go all in. Gagging, salivating, messy.
His fingers are locked in my hair, controlling the rise and fall of my bobbing head. He keeps saying my name, taking me higher, making me wilder than I’ve ever been.
“Fuck, Iris. So good. Your hot, little mouth is so good.”
Eager for release, his hips rock off the bed. The tip of his cock hits the back of my throat again and again. My eyes burn, my head feels full, I’m struggling to breathe but as he pounds into my mouth on his quest for release, I’ve never felt more powerful, more adventurous, more free. He comes on a rough growl, shooting his seed into my throat and I swallow it all.
In an instant, he’s pulled me into his arms and spun me around so my back is flush with his hard chest. We’re lying together. He slides on the condom sitting on my bedside dresser and breaches me from behind. He cups my chin in his big hand and angles my face to kiss me just like that.
He’s spooned behind me. His pelvis grinds against my supple ass. He licks and kisses the back of my neck as he works my clit with his skilled fingers. He whispers sweet things in my ear. I feel tears forming on the rims of my eyes. Tears of pleasure. Tears of relief. Healing tears.
And I swear, this man is trying to break me, he’s trying to shatter something inside me. The fences and gates and barriers I’ve built to protect my damaged heart, he’s trying to tear them all down.
…I think I’ll let him.
We move together. Wild. Frantic. Careless. Chasing nothing but release. As we approach our climax, the sounds of our bodies slapping together mix with our moans of satisfaction.
“You need to come,” he grunts out, squeezing my breast, pinching my nipple between his fingertips. A serrated cry bursts from my throat and I know I’m right on the brin
k.
We come hard, bodies and hearts and dreams tangled up with each other.
Chest heaving with labored breaths, I roll over to face him, to kiss his gorgeous mouth. I can’t help staring at him and wondering how I managed to get this perfect man in my bed.
Jude's head is on the pillow next to mine. He’s so handsome in the shadowy room. “What are you thinking about, Petal?”
I focus on drawing a line along his collarbone so I don’t have to make eye contact. “I can’t believe I allowed so many years to go by since I’ve been with a man like this…”
It’s clear to me now—when Kirk stopped touching me, I should have let him go then. My body is not in fact broken. And it’s perfectly capable of reaching an orgasm. Multiple orgasms, thank you very much.
I’ve caught myself wondering more than once…if it’s so easy for Jude to do this to me, how come Kirk never could?
Well, I’m starting to think that maybe the problem was never me. I am beautiful and I am healthy and I am strong. And after years of believing the contrary, it might take a while for me to fully absorb these truths but day by day they will sink in gradually.
I take a deep breath, and Jude’s cologne brings me back.
“I always knew you were too good for him,” my lover whispers, fingertips playing across my skin.
I freeze, caught off guard when Jude mentions my ex.
I hate the smallness in my tone when I admit, “I always thought you wanted us to break up.”
Jude gently strokes my cheek. “I did…” he confesses. “But only because he didn't deserve you.
34
Jude
The thin paper crinkles beneath me when I shift my weight on the exam table. I had been putting off getting that second opinion, afraid of what I might hear. What if this other doctor doesn’t agree with the first? I’m not sure I’m ready for that kind of letdown.
Originally, I’d just planned to wait and drive back to Iowa to see my physician there at the end of the month. That would have given me another few weeks of ignorant bliss.
But Iris convinced me that I need to face this head-on. Otherwise, I’m just delaying the inevitable. By knowing one way or another, at least I can then begin preparing myself for the outcome.
Her logic makes sense. And when she offered to come along to the appointment with me, that sealed the deal.
So, here we are, sitting in the office of a renowned orthopedic surgeon in the city. We made the two-hour trip super early this morning, after a call from the doctor’s receptionist, telling me they had an unexpected opening.
The man has reviewed my records and taken his own scans for good measure. Right now, Dr. Woodbridge is nodding thoughtfully and examining the x-rays he has clipped to his light board.
He asks me to fully extend my injured leg and then bend it as far as I’m comfortably able to. He looks impressed. “Your anterior cruciate ligament is healing on pace. Seems like you’re following your physiotherapy programs to the tee,” he comments.
“To the tee, doc. I’ve even added a few extra exercises, all approved by my therapist, of course.” I flash Iris a wink where she’s sitting in one of the guest chairs by the door. She grips the arm rests of her chair, her smile restrained with wary anticipation.
The doctor gives me warning gaze. “Good. Because, even if you’re feeling great, it’s imperative that you give the new ligament time to heal, so you don’t rip the graft. The next four months or so will be key for restoring your knee function to your pre-injury state.” He takes a breath. “And once you hit that nine-month-mark, I think there’s a good chance you could play ball again.”
When I look at Iris, she’s biting on her lip to rein in her smile. But it’s there. I see it in her swollen cheeks and her glittering eyes. And her exhilaration only heightens my own excitement.
The doctor’s words replay in my head.
I’m going to play ball again I’m going to play ball again I’m going to play ball again.
Dr. Woodbridge flips on the bright overhead lights and begins scribbling on his prescription pad. “You should consider investing in one of these braces.” He hands me a prescription. “With the dislocation, there will always be a risk of a repeat, but this type of brace will help. And it’s light and flexible enough to play in.”
I swallow, my hand nearly trembling as I take the paper from him because what he’s saying is almost too good to be true. “So…you’re telling me I could play next season?”
The stern-looking man gives me a warning look. “Let me just be clear—there are no guarantees with this type of injury. However, with continued, dedicated rehabilitation and physiotherapy, you should be able to play football again.”
My heart is booming so hard inside my chest, the receptionist can probably hear it all the way from the waiting room. The doctor doesn’t seem to realize how much his prognosis means to me. With one single sentence the man set all my blurry hopes and dreams back into sharp focus. “I’m tempted to hug you right now,” I warn him.
He holds up a hand. “Spare me the unwanted physical contact, would you?” There’s laughter in his voice.
I shake his hand with a hearty pump instead. “Thanks, Doc. Seriously, thank you. You have no idea what this means. You have no idea.”
He claps me hard on the shoulder. “You just keep doing what you’re doing, son. And you can thank me by getting the Paragons to the playoffs next season.” With that, he’s headed to the door.
I swing my legs over the edge of the exam table and Iris is there, waiting for me with watery eyes and open arms. “I’m so happy for you, Jude.”
I pull her to me, bury my face in her hair. The well of emotions I’m feeling threatens to pour down my face. I’m barely holding it back. “Thank you, Iris. Thank you for being there for me.” I ease back to look into her eyes. “I needed you when I had nobody. And you were there for me.” My chest is full of awe for this incredible woman.
Words scratch at the back of my throat, trying to climb their way out. Words that would sound crazy if I ever said them out loud. Words that she’s not ready to hear.
Urgently, I crash my mouth to hers so I don’t have to say anything, so I can show her how I feel without ever using words.
The kiss turns wild and dirty. Iris grates my scalp with her fingernails. My hand ends up under her skirt. I nudge her thighs open and run my knuckles along the seam of her panties. Just as I’m about to push the scrap of lace aside, she pulls back, breathless. “Baby, Dr. Woodworth just gave you some really good news and I don’t think he’d appreciate it if we repay him by corrupting his examination table.”
I chuckle with my lips against hers. “I think you’re probably right.”
We make ourselves decent and leave the office, my arm slung around her shoulder, her finger hooked in the belt loop of my jeans. As we’re waiting for the elevator, I tuck her against my side and put a kiss in her hair. I love the way my shy girl blushes for me.
We’ve got a sports talk radio station playing as we drive back toward Crescent Harbor. As per usual, the announcers are trying to stir up shit. Listeners are calling in to rag on the Paragons and their shitty performance over the past few weeks.
Fuck these assholes.
“I can’t take this anymore.” I grip the steering wheel with white knuckle force. I point my chin at my phone sitting in the center cupholder. “Call in,” I instruct Iris.
“What?” She narrows her eyes at me.
“Grab my phone and call the radio station.”
“No way.” She titters nervously.
I take my eyes off the road to pin her with a demanding look.
Her shoulders slump with resignation. She picks up the phone and dials the number.
When my call goes through, Iris holds the speaker close to my lips. I don’t hold back.
“All you shit-talkers are gonna have to eat crow. Very soon. Because I’ll be back on the field. Maybe even before the end of the season. And we all know that
Kingston-Masters-O’Ryan are a fucking force when we hit the field together.”
“You stand by that, Kingston?” The announcer demands.
“I stand by it.”
“Folks, you heard it here, first. Paragons tight end, Jude Kingston, will be back on the field soon. And he’ll be kicking ass.” I hear the challenge in the man’s voice. “We’re holding you to that, Kingston.” My phone is beeping with another call. It’s my agent already on the line.
“Go right ahead, man.” I disconnect the call with the sports announcers and switch lines to answer Paul.
My agent’s voice booms through the line. I hear the restrained excitement in his tone. “Kingston, I just heard your little performance on-air. What the hell was that about? Is it true or were you just blowing smoke?”
I chuff. “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire, Paul. And you know I’m fire!”
Yes, I sound like an overconfident douche. But you can’t hold it against me. After wading through a fog where my future was a muddled mirage ahead of me, I finally see a clear path forward.
I feel good. I feel like my old self, only better.
Paul wants all the details. I give them to him, repeating the doctor’s prognosis. The man hosts a mini-celebration right there on the phone line and he says shit like, I knew you could do it…Fuck what the haters said…It was only a matter of time until you got back on the field…
Yeah, because he wasn’t the one trying to get me to hang up my dreams and go rot away at a desk in a human resources department.
Anyway…
I’m on a high as I end the call and nothing can get me down.
Iris gives me an uneasy look from the passenger’s seat. “You made some pretty bold assertions there.”
“Assertions I can back up.” I snap a wink.
“How are you so sure?”
Mister Baller: A Small Town Enemies-to-Lovers Sports Romance (Bad Boys in Love Book 2) Page 19