FORCE: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

by Vivian Lux

  He still hadn't said anything, but the shame in his eyes as he watched me pity him was almost as devastating as what I was seeing. "Casey," I breathed again, not knowing what to say. "Who did this to you?"

  He looked away.

  The sickening realization punched me in the gut yet again. "Your brothers. Has this happened to your brothers too?"

  "No," he croaked. "I keep them safe."

  "So you..."

  "I could take it. They can't. They're too little." He swung his long legs off of the bed and sat, shattered , his blond head cradled in his hands. He wasn't quite a man yet, but his shoulders slumped with the weight of a burden that even the strongest couldn't bear. I futilely reached out my hand as if I could take it from him, catch it before it sent him crashing to the ground and crushed him underneath.

  "You can't say anything, Lexi." His voice was a broken, ragged thing. "If anyone finds out, they'll take them away from me again. They'll separate us and then I won't be able to keep them safe."

  He whirled on me and I saw terrifying violence under the surface of him. "You have to promise me, right now Lexi. Never tell anyone, do you understand?"

  "Never tell, anyone!"

  Chapter 1

  Lexi

  The air was heavy with the threat of snow, I breathed in the smell of it, that little extra bite in the already frigid air. The dull gray sky was flat and indistinct and the whole world seemed to hesitate and wait for the weather to make its next move.

  I hunched my shoulders and pulled down my cap, grateful for the little extra warmth my riot of red curls provided. But when the wind whipped them into my face, I cursed my hair like always and hurried across the concourse towards the coffee shop on the corner. Getting to campus early and grabbing a cup of coffee at La Colombe was my own special treat to myself, a treasured ritual I had developed over the course of my first semester. I could usually depend on being the only student there.

  I liked the impersonal bustle of the office workers, silent and surly over their electronic devices. No one called to each other. Everyone minded his or her own business. It was a world I appreciated and understood well. So unlike the forced sociability of college life.

  Plus I needed coffee. Badly. This morning's study group was going to be awful, and I needed caffeine fortification.

  She's going to hate me. She's going to cry. This is going to suck and the whole group is going to lay the blame for kicking her out at my feet. I pushed the intrusive thought aside. It couldn't be helped. It had to be done.

  I stepped up to the counter to place my order. Dark roast. Black, no sugar. I don't fuck around when it comes to my coffee.

  As I waited by the counter, anticipating that first life-giving sip, I thought I heard someone say my name. But that couldn't be. No one knew me here. That's why I came to this shop specifically. It was far enough outside of campus and into Center City that no one should know me here.

  "Lexi?"

  There it was again. With dull trepidation, I turned to face Sean Gibbs' eager, hurt eyes. "Where have you been?"

  I swallowed, readying myself to let him down as gently as I could. It was shitty of me to have stopped calling. I knew it. But being the frigid bitch was a lot easier than trying to explain why we couldn't keep seeing each other.

  I was saved by the call of my order number. I practically leapt for the steaming hot cup, scalding my tongue eagerly as I gulped down the first sip.

  Sean was waiting for me to respond. He was planted in the lobby, a knit cap pulled down low over his normally mussed up dirty blond hair. It made it easier to not see it. Blond was my weakness.

  "Sean." I took a deep breath. "It's not working."

  He hung his head. "Can't we talk about this?"

  "Here?"

  "Please, Lexi."

  "Can we at least get out of everyone's way?"

  He moved quickly over to an empty table and stood there waiting. I gritted my teeth in irritation. I should have known he wasn't going to go easily. He was the kind of guy I dreaded. Eager, sensitive and romantic. The kind I always ended up shattering a million different ways when they realized I could never love them. But what they didn't realize was that it was for their own good.

  I'm bad luck.

  And the sooner they realized it, the better off they were.

  "What isn't working?" he whined. "I call you, you don't call back. I text you, you don't text back, we sleep together, you're out the door two seconds later. I'd say it was you who wasn't 'working!'"

  I looked at him steadily. He was a good-looking guy, of that there was no question. Broad swimmer's shoulders, a nice flat stomach, deep blue eyes set wide and guileless across an open, honest face. He was funny, smart and determined. I should be able to like him more. I should be able to love him.

  I wished I could force myself to love him.

  "You're right, Sean. I'm not working. Because it's not worth it to me to keep it up. You should find someone else." The hurt in his eyes was replaced with rising anger, letting me know that my words were not having the effect I wanted. "Find someone who is right for you, Sean," I begged, feeling my fragile composure starting to break apart. "Someone who can love you the way you deserve."

  He opened his mouth and closed it. Over and over, like he was swallowing back horrible, hurtful things he wished he could hurl at me. I closed my eyes, readying myself to accept his abuse. I deserved it.

  Instead he sighed raggedly. "They did warn me. 'Don't go after Alexandra Delaney,' they said. She's a frigid, heartless bitch."

  There it was. I exhaled. It was a relief to finally hear it. "They were right," I agreed. "I wish you had listened to them."

  When I opened my eyes, he was still standing there. But not for long. He turned deliberately and walked slowly to the door. He struggled for several moments against the winter wind as he tried to push it open. I cringed, feeling guilty for the wind robbing him of his dignity. Another man I ruined. Another man who attempted to melt the ice around Alexandra Delaney's heart and failed miserably.

  I took a sip of my coffee and watched him finally succeed in escaping the coffee shop. When he was sufficiently far away, I grabbed my bags and headed into the morning.

  Chapter 2

  Case

  Manual windows and manual transmission. The old Jeep was a piece of shit, and Case was proud of it. If he was going to be forced by the winter to drive a cage, he wanted to make sure it was the least comfortable crapbucket on the road. No going soft just because the snow was flying.

  She had texted him while he was still in his bunk, still trying to clear last nights dreams from his head...and his sheets. A text from Lorraine was the best possible way to do the clearing for him. With her tight lips wrapped around his cock, he might have a prayer of forgetting the red curls that still lingered in his brain like a mirage.

  If it hadn't been for the dream though...Case gritted his teeth at the address she had sent him. Ridge Ave, near Roxborough. A part of Philadelphia he studiously avoided. Coming up here brought him perilously close to the old house and all the bad that came with it.

  He moved in his seat, trying to find a comfortable position for his still twitchy cock. The dreams had him addled and frustrated. So much so that he was willing to risk being this close to his childhood nightmare.

  He shifted gears savagely, and the Jeep made a horrible grinding noise in protest. It was stupid. Five years should have been more than enough time to blow the memory away. The memory of right before he told. That sweet, teenaged memory of when she had told him she loved him, her creamy thighs wrapped around his waist while he kissed her like his life depended on it. At that time he really believed that it did.

  Five years, and all the shit that had happened meanwhile, well it should have been enough to drive the memories from his head. And in the daylight, it usually was, especially when he was deep inside a willing lady. But in the dark, his treacherous brain liked to take him on a tour of the past, and all the horror, and misery
that came with it. He could usually preempt the evening's programming with a fifth of Jack.

  Guess I didn't drink enough last night, he thought grimly, though the slow pounding in his head begged to differ.

  Lorraine was right where she said she'd be, the Wawa parking lot across from the bus stop. Case took a moment to appreciate the four inches of bare thigh between her denim mini skirt and high black boots. Chicks' legs seemed impervious to cold, he marveled. Unlike their tops, which always seemed to be freezing. Lorraine was no different. He noted sadly that her spectacular bolt-on tits were hidden under a puffy down jacket.

  When she caught sight of his busted down Jeep, her eyes went wide and she quickly inhaled the last puff of her cigarette before flinging it away. She leapt into the passenger seat with more grace than eight AM should allow and greeted him by cupping her strong barmaid's hand around his cock. It immediately stirred to life, still riled up after last night's dreams.

  "Good," she rasped in her husky smoker's drawl. "You're ready for me."

  He pulled around back of the Wawa parking lot, right by the dumpster and threw the Jeep into park. He leaned back and made to unfasten his jeans, but her deft fingers were already doing the work for him. She had him free in a moment and went to work on his cock with an almost mechanical detachment.

  Case leaned back in the seat and laid his hand on her head. The silky black strands were too different from the hair in his dreams and he felt himself go slightly soft. Lorraine paused, and then redoubled her efforts, licking and slurping like the champ she was. Case squeezed his eyes shut and took his hand away from her head. It was easier to keep the fantasy alive if he wasn't touching her.

  It took forever.

  When he finally spent himself into her mouth, they were both irritated. "Just drop me off at the front," Lorraine sniffed. "I need a coffee anyway."

  "Fine." Case grumbled. What did she expect, fireworks? She texted him, she blew him, she left. That had always been the deal. Besides, her cigarette smell was starting to make his stomach turn. He wanted to ask her what brand she smoked, but was too afraid of his reaction if it was the same as his mother's.

  Fuck. Why did he think of her? Lorraine paused, looking at him, waiting for something. What the fuck did she want, a kiss on the cheek? "Bye?" Case said, staring straight ahead.

  "You are such a fucking asshole."

  He threw the Jeep into drive. "You're so right," he smirked. She snorted and slid out of the passenger door.

  "That was the last time! Good luck finding someone else to suck your dick!"

  "Don't worry about me sweetheart. I'll be just fine." She always said that.

  She gaped at him as he pulled away, leaning over to yank the door closed as he did. He had wasted enough time on this bullshit anyway. If he hadn't been all horny from his dreams last night, he wouldn't have even shown up in the first place, he told himself. Her blowjob had only bought him a moment's peace. The minute he found release, the bad thoughts came flooding back. Especially this close to the old house.

  It was a last ditch attempt to sober her up. His grandparents had just given her the house and wiped their hands clean.

  As if a junkie could keep house.

  But they had told themselves they had done all they could, and so they were able to flee to Florida with a clean conscience. The four of them had moved their plastic bags from the trunk of the car they had been living out of and into the neat little Cape Cod on the quiet block.

  For about a week he had been able to believe they could be a normal family. That it had had the effect on his mother that his grandparents hoped. She had even cooked dinner for them that first night, while he eyed her warily from around the corner, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  A week. That was all it took before she was off again. Only this time she didn't have to worry about parking the car somewhere where her sons wouldn't be noticed. Nope, having a house meant that she could go cruise the bars much more easily now. No one needed to know about the three hungry boys she left at home.

  "We have a home now," he told Hunter and Jonah that night, as he tucked them in on the bare mattress they shared in the tiny bedroom. Their frightened faces looked mutely up at him, nodding without understanding.

  They were still young enough to want their mother.

  He was old enough to know better.

  "You're safe. I'll be just downstairs. You call if you get scared, kay?"

  Hunter, older by fifteen months, nodded with a wisdom no six year-old should show. "Do you think she's gonna come back?"

  "Of course she is," he lied. "She loves you."

  He had curled up in a pile of clothes by the front door. The dark house was strangely peaceful and gradually his eleven year-old body relaxed into the nest he had made. It took him a long time to realize that the noises outside were just the normal noises of a quiet neighborhood in the evening. They didn't mean his mother was coming back. They didn't mean she was going to come storming through the door, drunk and high on god knows what and ready to lash into him for ruining her life. They didn't mean she was going to come in with some random man who was going to knock his head sideways for looking at him funny. No, these were normal people, with normal lives and normal children who had mothers and fathers who got up and went to jobs and bought groceries. He didn't have to fear them, so long as they didn't intrude.

  He rolled over in his nest. He had let the boys have the only mattress. The furniture in the house had been sold off to finance his grandparents' move. Briefly, he wondered if they knew it would mean there would be no beds for their grandkids to sleep in. They had given his mother money for furniture. She was out spending it now.

  The night crept by slowly. He had gotten in the habit of staying up while his brothers slept. It was necessary when they were living in the car, especially if his mother was too passed out to wake up when the cops knocked on the window. The only time he had allowed himself to fall asleep had led to the court appearance. They had been separated because he had been weak.

  He had only just gotten them back. When his mother had gone before the judge and sworn that the house would make everything better, the judge had, for some reason, believed her and granted her custody once more. Hunter and Jonah and Casey were back together again, the way it should be. If it meant he had to stay up all night, he was going to be sure they were safe.

  He wasn't going to let them be separated again.

  Case slammed the door to the Jeep and sat back in his seat. The smell of Lorraine's cigarettes was still swirling around him, dragging him back into these old memories. He rolled down the window angrily, letting the snow-heavy air flood his nostrils and blow away the past. He looked out of the window at the clubhouse and wondered if any of the brothers of the Sons of Steel MC were awake yet.

  He had found new brothers to replace what he had lost. But the girl with the red curls was still missing.

  Chapter 3

  Lexi

  There was nothing left in my coffee cup. I gripped it with both hands, denting it slightly and tried not to lose my temper. After my run in with Sean, this was a bit more than I could take.

  The rest of my group stared at me, waiting for the leader to speak. No one was going to stand up to her unless I did. I had to do the dirty work.

  Second person I needed to reject today. And it wasn't even 10 AM yet.

  "Christa, you haven't been prepared for a single meeting yet," I began.

  The young mother sat up straight in her chair, readying her excuses. I felt a twinge of guilt. She was trying after all. I couldn't imagine balancing a new baby with my class work. I knew she was struggling, but fair is fair.

  I held up my hand, half to silence her, half to regain my own composure. I had to stick with the script the group prepared. I prepared. The script I wrote in my head last night as I stared at the ceiling, then ran by the group before Christa arrived, late as always.

  "And it's affecting our work. The project is due next Thursday and it
represents a third of our grade. I think I speak for all of us when I say that it would be best if you found a different group to work with." I looked at each face at the table in turn and received only blank stares.

  Christa gasped. "How'm I supposed to find another group? Everyone's probably almost done already!"

  I sat back in my chair, trying to mimic composure. "I'm sorry, but that's what we've decided. We'll let Professor Benson know to take you off our group list."

  Tears welled up in her eyes and I swallowed. I couldn't be here if she was going to cry. I would lose it and let her back in immediately. And that wouldn't be fair at all.

  Her jaw worked like she wanted to say something and I clenched my fists. But I was spared having to defend myself when she suddenly gathered her books and bags and flounced out of the room. I could hear her noisy sobs echoing down the marble hallway of the library and felt a wash of relief. It was over.

  Not quite, I realized as Fiona turned back to me and shook her head. "Damn Lexi. You're cold."

  "What do you mean, me?" I shot back. "We all decided. This whole table."

  "I know, but," she looked back at the door Christa had slammed behind her. "Damn," she finished lamely.

  I pressed my lips together, biting back the protests. First Sean and now this. I am NOT cold. I am fair. I do what is right. It wasn't right how she was sponging off the rest of our work. And it wasn't fair to keep stringing Sean along when it wasn't going to go anywhere. Why am I always the bad person when I try to do what is right, huh? Will someone tell me that? Will someone please answer the question I have been asking for the past five years?

  Instead I said, "Shall we get to work?"

  Michael, Pradnya and Ahmed all immediately rifled through their bags for their weekly contributions, but Fiona kept staring out the window. I don't know what she thought she was seeing. The second floor windows of the library meeting rooms looked out into the bare, windswept courtyard of the college. If she was looking for the dejected form of Christa trudging silently through the cold, she was dreaming. I inhaled sharply, pulling myself back together. I didn't have time for that kind of pathos.