Hard to Score

by K. Bromberg

  He leans back and our eyes meet. I feel like so many things pass between us. An acknowledgment that there is definitely more here than just sex. That this has been time well spent. Exasperating and sexually frustrating but well spent. That emotions are running deeper than we’re willing to let our words express.

  But even unspoken, the weight of the moment is still there despite the playfulness a moment before.

  And then without saying another word, Drew suddenly rises off me and walks away.

  “What the hell?” I say confused, but then quiet with a scrape of patio furniture and a sound of metal on metal. “What are you . . .” My words fade when I see Drew walking toward me, hands unbuttoning his pants, then one hand on his cock.

  “Blocking the door. After waiting two weeks and six days, I definitely don’t want to be interrupted.”

  My body hums with an anticipation I don’t think I could ever put words to as he drops to his knees before me.

  “There are things I’ve been dying to do to this body of yours, Brex. Things I want to touch.” He grabs my legs behind the knees and spreads them apart.

  Good thing for boho skirts and their easy access.

  “Certain locations I want to lick.” His fingertips trace their way up my inner thigh to their apex and run over the top of my panties.

  I moan from his touch. It’s almost unbearable having him so close yet feel so damn far away.

  Much like it has the past twenty days.

  “Places I want to fuck.”

  His eyes lock on mine as he dips his head down, hooks my panties to the side, and then licks his way between my seam.

  I cry out. Buck my hips. Fist my hand in his hair. Lose all sense of everything but the warm, wet heat of his tongue dipping into me. Tasting me. Pleasuring me.

  His groan is an aphrodisiac in and of itself.

  But it’s not like I need much to detonate. The back and forth of the past few weeks have been a slow simmer, a fireworks show without a grand finale, and this right here—Drew’s tongue—is all I need to ignite and then explode.

  It’s in my soft sighs and fisted hands as he licks and sucks and pushes me easily into the oblivion I’ve been teetering on since Miami.

  It feels like forever ago but when I crash hard over the edge, all time is erased.

  The palpable frustration.

  The searing foreplay.

  The agonizing waiting.

  Because it’s just me and Drew and a deep-rooted connection I’ve never felt before with anyone else.

  His eyes find mine as he rises from between my thighs. His grin is arrogant and his eyes are laden with lust.

  And when he pushes into me ever so slowly, when my name falls from his lips in a sigh of desire, I know Drew Bowman owns more than just my body.

  He owns my heart too.

  Every damn piece of it.

  And with that acknowledgment, I feel like I can finally breathe.

  BREXTON

  “I’M DYING HERE, KINCADE.”

  “Dying is hardly the term that comes to mind when I think of a starting NFL quarterback who is making more in one year than most people make in their lifetime,” I say with a lift of my brows, as Chase sits across the conference room table from me and shakes her head. “But what do I know?”

  “I don’t find that amusing,” Justin says.

  “And the GM with the Los Angeles Chargers isn’t exactly amused with your performances over the last two games, so maybe instead of dying here, you need to step it up out there on the gridiron.”

  Chase narrows her eyes and I write out “Hobbs” on my notepad and slide it across the table. She emits a laugh and rolls her eyes.

  “You’re supposed to have my back,” he complains.

  “No. Finn is supposed to have your back. I’m just the sidepiece who’s trying to get you action without any commitment from you for the long-term.”

  “If we’re talking in dating terms I should tell you ahead of time, I don’t date. I prefer to fuck and move on.”

  “Lucky for her.”

  “That was low.” He laughs.

  “And you need to learn how to treat a woman properly,” I deadpan. “I think you need to keep your focus on the field, Hobbs. Sell yourself there, because no one is going to want to take on your salary if you’re not backing it up with your play.”

  “So you’re still working on it then?”

  I laugh. It’s all I can do at his relentlessness. “Something like that.”

  And when he hangs up, Chase looks over at me and shrugs. “Please don’t tell me that’s the fucker who has put that extra bounce in your step because if he is, then you seriously need to have your head examined.”

  “I have higher standards than that,” I tell my little sister.

  “Not always.”

  “Screw you.” I throw my pen at her and she dodges, so it falls with a thump on the floor as her laughter rings out. “Should we talk about you and your standards?”

  “Honey, so long as they’re hard and last long, that’s all I need.”

  “Jesus.” My father coughs the word out as he sticks his head in. “I think this is a conversation I don’t need to be any part of.”

  “Wise move,” I mutter as he backs away and closes the door to the conference room.

  “You’re just as crass as Hobbs is.”

  “I like to call it truthful. You need the fancy words and small gestures. I, on the other hand, need some back-bending sex, with a pat on his ass when I pass him face down in the bed as I leave, with no promises or words spoken. Simple.”

  “You’re so full of shit.”

  “I wish I weren’t, but it just makes things so much easier in the long run.” She crosses her arms and leans back in her chair. “And since it isn’t Hobbs who has your cheeks full of color, who, pray tell, is it?”

  “Ah, so that’s why you decided to come and sit in here with me.”

  “What do you mean?” She feigns innocence.

  “You’re the worst liar of the lot of them. Who asked you to try and get it out of me? Lennox or Dekk?”

  “Me.” She gives me a cheesy grin that confirms I’ve been the topic of discussion when I haven’t been here.

  “That’s the biggest load of crap I’ve ever heard.”

  “Why all the secrecy?”

  “It’s not secrecy, it’s just . . .” I sigh and shake my head. “This one matters, Chase.”

  Her head startles. “Haven’t they all?” She chuckles.

  “And that’s why the secrecy. Thank you for proving my point.”

  “No. Wait,” she says as I snap my laptop closed and gather my papers. “You’re being serious.”

  I take a second before I meet her eyes. “I know my love life is a joke to you guys. I get you don’t understand it. I’m more than aware that I date—a lot, that I fall in love, and then out of love—a lot. But there’s something about this guy, Chase.”

  “Like what? He’s a god in the sack?”

  “There is that.” I make no attempt to hide the grin that slides onto my face. “But it’s more than that.”

  “Like what?”

  “You wouldn’t understand. You see men as an itch to scratch. As someone to use for some stress release when you’ve decided you want to take a minute to stop conquering the world. You’re intimidated by anyone or anything because you have plans, and nothing is going to get in the way of that.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Kincade. I wasn’t aware you’d gone back to school to get your degree in psychology,” she teases with an annoyed edge to it.

  “It’s true. When was the last time you had a relationship? When you looked forward to talking to someone just because, and there was no ulterior motive to sleep together?”

  My little sister stares blankly at me and then huffs out a breath. “Just because I’m different than you, doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing.”

  “Exactly,” I say with a nod.

  “So what if I have a list of th
ings I want to accomplish before I fall down the rabbit hole of love? It’s not that I don’t believe in it, it’s more that I don’t want to be sidetracked by it.”

  “And I understand that and I love that about you . . . but that means you don’t have a clue how I feel when it comes to this.”

  “Then explain it to me. I’m not emotionally stunted. I’m just busy—all the time—and feelings get in the way of my drive.”

  I stare at Chase, at the one who wants to conquer the world, and smile softly. “He scares me. The way he makes me feel. The way he makes me want. I’m terrified that letting outsiders know about us, will ruin what we have.”

  “But isn’t that the test of any good relationship? Being able to withstand the outside influences and pressures?”

  Always practical, she has a point there.

  A point I’m not ready to feel out yet but know we’ll have to tackle very soon.

  BREXTON

  “THIS IS JUST WHAT THE doctor ordered,” Jules says, as she lifts up the glass of wine and takes a healthy sip. Her auburn hair bobs as she does a little wiggle and a smile.

  “A ridiculously long honeymoon to the Mediterranean was that rough, huh?”

  “No. Not because of that.” She rolls her eyes and swats at my arm. “More like I feel that the wedding consumed my every waking second for so damn long and now that it’s over, I can breathe again.”

  “Well, everything went off without a hitch. It was gorgeous.” I look around the outdoor farmer’s market where we’ve taken up space at a table somewhere between a florist and an organic produce stand. People mill about from vendor to vendor on this warm evening. “And Mildred? She is incredible, and I’d like to thank you for seating me at her table.”

  Jules laughs. “She’s one of a kind.”

  “She definitely is.”

  “Thank you for meeting me for a drink. I know you’re crazy busy and time is sparse, but I’m glad to get to see you, even if it’s only for a few minutes.”

  “I’m glad you called. It was—”

  “Don’t look now,” Jules says, prompting me to look in the direction her eyes are focused.

  “What?”

  “Don’t look yet. Two o’clock. A drop-dead gorgeous guy.”

  “You told me not to look and then gave me directions where to look.” I laugh and wave my hand at her. “You’re married now.”

  “Not for me! Jesus, seriously?” She laughs. “I’m talking about for you.”

  I level her with a glare. “Just because you are deliriously happy, doesn’t mean you get to try and fix me up.”

  “Oh my. Is there nothing sexier than a super-hot guy who’s a dad? And he’s buying flowers. Probably for his wife. What a good man to show his daughter how she should be treated.”

  “Mm-hmm,” I murmur, more than aware of how Jules takes one tiny thing and runs with it.

  And running with it, she is.

  “I mean look at his biceps flex when he picks up his little girl. Could you imagine arms like that framing you as he hovers over you and—”

  “TMI and especially from a married woman.”

  “Honey, I’m picturing Archer over me, not him, but uh—you should picture it because damn. Those arms. That ass. That height.” She lets out a long, low whistle.

  “Whatever.”

  “I mean why does that make my uterus clench as if it’s going to beg him to make it full?”

  “Down, girl.” I laugh but turn to look at the object of her attention more to stop her from going on than anything.

  But my laugh fades into confusion when the man and little girl turn to face our way.

  When I see his face.

  When I realize—

  “Isn’t that Drew Bowman?” she asks.

  So many thoughts cloud my head. All I can do is nod as I take in the little girl in his arms with the same eyes and coloring.

  We’re having a long practice tonight. I’ll call you later.

  His words from earlier run through my head as confusion grows. And anger.

  “Drew!” She waves to him and his head snaps our way.

  He freezes for a second—his eyes locking with mine as his expression falls.

  Yes. You’ve been caught in a lie.

  He recovers quickly but not fast enough. I catch his shock at seeing me there.

  “If I were single I’d climb that man like a tree, Brexton,” she murmurs as he makes his way over to us.

  And for some reason, it’s not Drew I stare at as they move, but it’s the little girl. The blue of her eyes. The brown curls that bounce in her hair. The way her little fingers curl around his pointer finger.

  My heart is in my throat as so many scenarios race through my mind. Is this why Drew has kept me at arm’s length?

  Because of her.

  Drew has a daughter.

  I don’t even know how to put words to how I feel—confused, hurt, overwhelmed, surprised—and yet all of them ride a tidal wave through me as Drew steps up to our table.

  “Ladies,” he says and surprises me when he leans forward and presses a chaste kiss to my lips. “Hi.”

  My heart sighs through the confusion. How can he act like nothing is wrong, like this isn’t a big deal, when it truly is?

  He kept this from me.

  He lied to me.

  “Jules,” he says turning to my gobsmacked friend as she looks at me then back to him with a knowing smile on her lips. “Good to see you again. I hope married life is treating you well.”

  “You two—do you—are you . . .” She points from him to me and back.

  “Something like that,” he says with an easy charm and a warm smile. One that I also have plastered on my face but is nowhere near being sincere.

  “Who’s this?” Jules asks the question that has been owning my mind despite Drew acting as if there is nothing odd here.

  “This,” he says with a dramatic flair and a roll down of his hand, “is my niece, Miss Charley.”

  Oh, fuck.

  Not his daughter.

  No.

  His niece.

  Maggie’s daughter.

  It takes a second for my brain to process this newfound information but when Charley giggles, there’s no need to.

  The sound is pure joy and the smile that it puts on Drew’s face is even better.

  “Hello, Miss Charley,” Jules says as she reaches out to shake her hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you, but I must run.”

  “No. Jules—”

  “Sit. Stay. Take my seat, Drew. Make sure Brexton here drinks another glass,” she says with a wink and a smile and before I can utter another word, she’s gone.

  We both look after her and then back toward each other with astonished looks on our faces—before we laugh to fill the suddenly awkward silence.

  When I turn, I find Charley studying me. She’s a gorgeous little girl with curious eyes and a crooked smile just like her uncle. “What’s your name?” she asks.

  “I’m Brexton.” I squat down so I’m at her level and hold my hand out. “Nice to meet you, Charley.”

  She looks at my hand but instead of shaking it, comes forward and gives me a huge hug that surprises the hell out of me.

  “You’re pretty,” she murmurs as she plays with a strand of my hair.

  “Thank you. You are too.”

  When I look at Drew, he has a strange look on his face as he watches our interaction.

  “We got flowers for Nana,” she says and points to the peonies that Drew set on the table.

  “They’re gorgeous. I bet they smell pretty too.”

  “They do.” She nods and reaches out to touch their petals.

  Drew clears his throat and I glance over to him. “Today is Charley and Drew day,” he says as he holds his hand out for Charley to come to him. She moves to him and he hefts her up into his arms with an ease that says he’s completely comfortable with her.

  I stare at them, uncertain how I feel. My heart is warmed by his
obvious ease and love for his niece. Who doesn’t love a man who loves children?

  At the same time though, if she is this big part of his life, why hasn’t he mentioned her? How come he’s felt the need to keep her a secret from me?

  The thoughts erode at the feeling of security I’ve had when it comes to him and us.

  “Brex?”

  “What? Sorry.” I shake my head and snap from my thoughts.

  Drew studies me and concern glances through his eyes. “I said we were about to go feed the ducks at the park and then head back to my house.”

  “It’s sleepover night,” Charley says and throws a fist into the air.

  “Sleepover night?” I exclaim.

  “It’s jammies and juice and Jenga.” Her eyes are wide with excitement. “Can she come too?” She turns to Drew and asks.

  He tugs on her hair and she giggles.

  “Would you like to join us?” Drew asks.

  “Thank you, but I don’t want to interfere with your time.”

  “Uncle Drew says it’s nice to include people. We never want to make someone feel sad. So let us include you.” The innocence in her eyes and voice are everything that is good about kids.

  “Yes,” Drew says and reaches across the table to squeeze my hand until I meet his eyes. “Let us include you.”

  “I don’t want to—”

  “I want you to.” His voice is soft, his smile is warm and inviting.

  “I want you to, too,” Charley pipes in. “Except for the sleepover part. Nana says boys and girls aren’t supposed to sleep over at each other’s houses.”

  I laugh, because it’s something Brenda said many times when we were kids. “Your nana is very right.” I wink.

  “Then you’ll come with us? For ducks and dinner at least?” Drew asks.

  My smile says it all.

  BREXTON

  “SHE REALLY IS A SWEETHEART,” I say as I look at Charley. She’s lying across the couch at his house, snuggled in unicorn-print footy pajamas, with her head on a pillow propped in Drew’s lap.

  Drew looks down at his hand where he absently plays with her curls and smiles softly. “She is. She can also be a stubborn devil but it seems she was on her best behavior for you tonight.”