Eligible Receivers (A Playing Dirty Sports Romance Book 4)

by Lane Hart

  If it were any other man in the bed with Kelsey, yes, but not my best friend because I care about him so much that I like knowing he’s content and satisfied by the woman we’re sharing.

  The problem is that I’m pretty sure that he doesn’t feel the same. He would rather have Kelsey all to himself.

  Well, screw that.

  I’ll just have to find a way to convince him that this threesome is a good idea, not just for the sex but for Kelsey to give us both what we’ve been missing — compassion and kindness from a beautiful woman who is genuine.

  After my epiphany, I climb out of the shower, dry off, and then put my clothes back on to head to bed, just because I know that if I strip down to my boxer briefs they won’t offer enough protection to keep my dick away from Kelsey.

  And even if I hate it, she’s right.

  For now, we shouldn’t fool around behind Cameron’s back while he’s hurting and worried about the future.

  I’m sure he’ll be better in no time after his surgery and then the three of us can get back to the incredibly hot fucking.

  Here’s hoping Cam has a very speedy recovery, not just for his sake, but for my own.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Cameron

  I wake up with my arm throbbing and try to rub it.

  That’s when my hand hits the cast and I remember the day before when I broke my fucking arm.

  Goddamn it.

  Then I hear the buzzing of a phone vibrating close by and realize that must be what woke me.

  Figuring it’s mine, I slap my left hand on top of the bedside table and feel around until I find the annoying device and bring it in front of my face to try and see who it is.

  Through blurry eyes, I read the all too familiar three-letter word and groan aloud because I really don’t want to have to deal with him right now.

  The phone finally stops buzzing in my hand but starts right back up again.

  Knowing I have to deal with him sooner or later, I remove Kelsey’s arm from my waist and push myself out of bed so I can head to the bathroom, shutting the door behind me to answer it.

  “Hello?” I say.

  “Cameron, I’ve been calling you since last night. Why the fuck didn’t you answer?” my dad barks into the phone.

  “The pain pills the team doc gave me made me crash early,” I tell him.

  “Pain pills? What the hell do you need pain pills for? Just tell them to put a cast on your arm and to let you play next Sunday!”

  “There is a cast on my arm because it’s broken in two places,” I tell him through gritted teeth. “The doctor said I’ll need surgery as soon as we get home –”

  “Bullshit! It’ll heal on its own. Suck it up for just one more week,” he orders.

  “It’s not my decision, Dad,” I remind him.

  “Like hell it isn’t! You need to show the team that you can soldier through a little injury like this so they renew your contract.”

  “My arm is broken in two places!” I yell at him. “I can barely move it, much less catch a goddamn ball!”

  “If you pussy out and sit on the bench, then your career is done and over! What are you gonna do then?” he shouts.

  “I-I don’t know,” I answer honestly as I close my eyes and comb my fingers through my hair.

  “I’ll tell you what you’ll do, nothing, because without football you’re an illiterate waste of talent! How are you gonna find a job in the real world when I had to spend thousands of dollars on tutors and bribe professors just to keep you eligible to play ball in high school and college!”

  I squeeze my eyes shut tighter as they begin to sting from the brutal sharpness of his words.

  “It’s not like I got hurt on purpose!” I exclaim, causing a line of dampness to streak down my cheek. “I don’t want to lose my contract or get traded, but I’m pretty sure that’s no longer up to me, or you and your bribes!”

  “I hope you enjoy being a disappointing failure –” he starts to say, but I interrupt him.

  “If anyone knows what’s it like to be a disappointing failure, it would be you, wouldn’t it?” I throw back at him, since he dreamed of making it to the pros but couldn’t. Instead of blaming it on his lack of talent, he blames his disappointment on my mother.

  The only response I get from him is the sound of a click when he ends the call, which is a relief. I don’t think I could deal with another word out of his angry mouth right now.

  How do I know my dad blames my mom? Well, other than the resentment he’s exhibited toward her my entire life. Because right after I went down on the field with my arm in agony, my first thought was to blame Kelsey, which was so fucking stupid. The fact that I can’t stop thinking about her and it distracts me is all my fault, not hers. And it wasn’t because I slept with her three times instead of just once or anything else. If I hadn’t been with her and Nix again Friday night and if she hadn’t been there in the stadium, I still would’ve been thinking about her.

  My broken arm was a random fluke that happened. There have been hundreds of times I’ve gotten tackled and never been hurt. It was just a coincidence that Kelsey came along right before, and I’ll never make the mistake of blaming her or anyone else for ending my football career.

  …

  Kelsey

  I didn’t mean to eavesdrop on the end of Cameron’s phone call. When I felt the mattress move as he got up, I was just going to wait for him to return to bed and see how he was feeling, ask if he needed anything. Then I heard him yelling in the bathroom, so I jumped up, worried that he was in pain…

  While I could only hear one side of the conversation, it was pretty easy to figure out that whatever was being said upset Cameron. If I had to guess, he was talking to someone close to him, and they must be angry that he got hurt. Like he said, it’s not his fault his arm was broken.

  The bathroom door suddenly opens, and then I’m standing face to face with Cameron whose eyes blink in surprise to see me standing here.

  “Are…are you okay?” I ask him.

  “Yeah, fine,” he says while lowering his eyes to the phone in his hand to avoid mine.

  “Is everything okay? It sounded like you were yelling…”

  “That’s just how most calls from my dad go,” he admits on a sigh, and understanding finally dawns, why Cameron is always so focused on winning and being the best. I bet his father has put that pressure on him since he was a little boy.

  Unsure of what to say to him, I throw my arms around his neck to hug him, making sure I’m careful not to put any pressure on his injury.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper to him.

  “Not your fault,” he mutters as he rests the side of his head on the top of mine and winds his arms around my waist to hug me back.

  “If you ever want to talk about it…”

  “I don’t. Really,” he says. “Thanks for the offer, though. And I didn’t tell you last night because I was drowning in my own pity, but I’m really glad you’re here.”

  “I’m glad I’m here too,” I tell him.

  “When we get home, will you stay with me tonight?” he asks, then tacks on, “I mean, it’s hard to do most things with my arm in this cast.”

  “Yeah, of course,” I agree with a nod against his chest.

  Before I even bring him up, Cameron says, “I’ll invite Nix to stay too.”

  “Okay,” I reply, feeling glad that I didn’t have to ask. “And I’ll fill you up with cookies and apple pie.”

  “Can’t wait,” he says with a kiss to the top of my head. “I guess I’ll go ahead and get a shower.”

  “We’ll need to cover your cast,” I tell him as I pull back. “I bet the hotel’s shower cap will work if I put some tape or something around it to hold it on.”

  “I could just hold my right arm out of the shower and let you do all the dirty work for me to make sure it stays dry,” Cameron suggests with a small smile.

  “Sure,” I agree. “Let me run down to my room and gra
b my toiletries and clothes, then I’ll be right back.”

  “Okay,” he agrees. “Thanks.”

  Since I slept in my clothes last night, I use my fingers to comb my hair down and then set out for the elevator, hoping no one sees the hot mess I am in the hallways.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Nixon

  “Kelsey coming back?” I ask Cameron when I roll over after hearing the hotel door click shut. He’s still standing in front of it.

  “Yeah, she’s gonna help me get a shower,” Cam replies.

  “How’s the arm?” I ask.

  “Same. It hurts, and it’s completely worthless.”

  “Is your dad being a dick about it?” I heard someone’s phone vibrating a few minutes ago and assumed it was Cameron’s asshole of a father.

  “God, yes,” he groans as he shoves his fingers through the front of his hair to sweep it back from his face.

  “Don’t let him get to you,” I say, even though such a notion is probably impossible.

  That man seems to be an expert on how to get under his son’s skin. Not that I would know what it’s like since I grew up without a father, but I can’t imagine it’s easy. Ever since I met Cam our first year playing together for the Wildcats, he’s been driven by the need to make his dad happy and prove his worth or whatever else on the field. Cam doesn’t talk about it, but I’ve met his father plenty of times after our games and know he likes to bitch about every little thing Cam does wrong on the field. It’s the only thing that makes me feel guilty when I have more receptions or touchdowns in a game. But I’m certain that no matter how well Cameron plays, it’ll never be good enough for dear old dad.

  “Did you fuck her last night?” Cam snaps, glaring at me with his jaw clenched so tight I can see the tick in his cheek. And because I know my best friend, his tone isn’t just from jealousy but his attempt to change the subject because he’s still hurting from his phone call.

  “I’m wearing all my clothes,” I point out while plucking at the collar of my t-shirt.

  “Just answer the question, asshole,” Cam huffs with his good hand braced on his hip.

  “No, I didn’t. After you passed out, I took a shower, and then Kelsey and I both fell asleep.”

  “Another shower?” he asks with an arched eyebrow since he knows I had one in the locker room right after the game.

  “Yeah, I needed a release,” I admit.

  “You better not fuck her behind my back,” Cam tells me. And without saying it, I know he specifically means through his surgery and recovery, however long it takes.

  And while I may be a fierce competitor with my friend, I’m not a total jackass. Cameron’s injured, possibly facing losing his team while having to deal with his asshole father, so I’m not about to try and take his girl too. Not that I could even if I wanted too…

  “I won’t, I swear,” I tell him. “Besides, Kelsey would never go for it.”

  “I know that,” he grumbles as he shuffles into the bathroom and shuts the door. But if he was so certain, he wouldn’t have even brought it up. He doesn’t trust Kelsey yet, at least not one-hundred percent. I don’t either, especially with the trust issues that have been ingrained in me after being burnt by my family and women over and over again throughout the years. But when it comes to Kelsey, I’m already at ninety-nine percent. She’s never done anything to make me think she would screw me over or try and take my money. And that’s probably one of my favorite things about her, right after her sweet smile that projects her genuine kindness, and of course her curvy, sexy as hell body that she’s too shy and modest to ever flaunt.

  It’s a surprise to myself that fucking her isn’t at the top of the list of things I like about Kelsey. Sure, the sex is great and all, but now I’ve slept with her twice all night without anything going on between the sheets. My feelings for her already go deeper than what’s between her legs. And while that’s scary all on its own, the worst part is I’m pretty sure Cameron feels the same way about Kelsey.

  A good friend would back off and let him have her now that he’s in such a shitty place, but I can’t do that. I won’t screw him over by going behind his back, just like I agreed, but that doesn’t mean that I’m letting him have her, even if Kelsey was willing to give me up.

  …

  Kelsey

  When I get to my room, I go ahead and pack up all of my things in case we’re running late for check out by the time I help Cameron shower. Remembering the awful call Cameron got from his father, it reminds me that I didn’t call my mom yesterday, something I always do at least once a day, because if I don’t, she worries about me.

  Pulling my phone out of my purse that I left in my room last night, I find not one but three missed calls from my mother which makes me feel like a horrible daughter.

  Even though I’m in a hurry to get back up to the room with Cameron and Nixon, I press my mom’s name in the contact list and put the phone up to my ear. She answers right away.

  “Kelsey! Are you okay?” she asks frantically.

  “Hi, Mom. I’m fine, just been busy and forgot to check in,” I tell her.

  “You know I worry and think the worst if I don’t hear from you,” she says.

  “I’m sorry but at the last minute, Quinton and Callie asked me to come to Boston to watch the baby, so I had to get packed and hurry to the airport. We didn’t get to the hotel until late last night, and then it was a whirlwind getting ready for the game and finding a ride to the stadium…”

  “You’re in Boston? You flew?” she gasps. My mom is a worrier, always has been, and I know it’s because she loves me.

  “It’s no big deal, and we’re coming home today,” I explain.

  “Call me as soon as you land, and don’t forget!” she exclaims.

  “I won’t.”

  “Kelsey, you’re not still pining after that liar who left you for another man, are you?”

  “God, no, Mom, and I’m not upset with Lathan, so you shouldn’t be either,” I say to her, although it’s pointless. I never told my family that I knew our marriage was fake and just a favor to Lathan for his dying mother. Instead, I told them that a man from Lathan’s past came back into his life and that I’m happy for them. I’d rather my friends and family think I was left than admit that I lied to them about the whole thing.

  My parents are very conservative churchgoers who would never forgive my lie of omission, and god, I can’t even imagine their reaction if they found out I’m sleeping with two men. My older sister was the wild one in the family. She ran off with some biker, and we rarely hear from her. So that means I’ve always been the “good” child, never getting into trouble, making perfect grades in school, going to college to start an honorable career teaching. And it’s not an act, just who I am, or at least who I used to be before I slept with Cameron and Nixon.

  “I better go so that I can get a shower and get packed to catch my flight. I’ll call when we land,” I tell my mother.

  “Be careful! Love you, Kelsey,” she says.

  “Love you too. Sorry for worrying you,” I tell her before I end the call, adding one more reason to the list of why what I’ve been doing with two football players needs to come to an end soon, no matter how much I don’t want to stop seeing them.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Cameron

  “Morning,” I hear Kelsey say from the other side of the hotel bathroom door over the sound of the water running in the shower when she returns to the room.

  Before Nix can distract her, I yell, “In here!” so that she’ll come on in.

  The unlocked door cracks open a second later when Kelsey peeks in.

  “Come on in. I’m just letting the water get warm,” I say as I use my good hand to grab the waistband of my boxer briefs and shove them down my legs so I can kick them off.

  “Oh, okay,” Kelsey agrees as she takes a hesitant step into the bathroom and shuts the door behind her. After a moment of awkward silence, she says, “Here, let me he
lp you cover your cast.”

  Kelsey reaches for one of the towels on the shelf above the toilet and then gently holds my arm out to wrap it around the cast. Then, she opens the shower cap package, tearing a hole in the top to slide the plastic up over the cast and the towel.

  “I’ve got hair ties in my bag that I think will fit around the top to secure the plastic. Be right back,” she tells me before she leaves and then quickly returns with a zippered pouch full of tiny shampoo and body wash bottles on one side and a hairbrush and comb on the other. That’s where she reaches in and grabs a few elastic hair things.

  “You sure those will fit?” I ask her.

  “Yeah, they stretch, see?” she tells me as she slips the first one up over my hand and cast to the crease of my elbow to hold the plastic down over the towel and cast. The second tie she puts around my wrist where the towel and plastic starts. “It’s not perfect but I think it should keep most of the water off as long as you try to hold your arm out of the shower curtain.”

  “I can do that,” I agree, impressed with her cover since it’s better than anything I could’ve come up with.

  “Go ahead and climb into the shower, and, um, I’ll get undressed,” Kelsey says as she lowers her eyes, telling me that even after several nights together she’s still shy about getting naked in front of me. Maybe because this time I’m not all over her like our last shower back at the house. This one is just her helping me wash myself because of my stupid broken arm. Not that I don’t want her now, because I do. It’s just, after talking to my dad and worrying about surgery and getting cut open, my heart’s just not in it.

  “Even though I’m not slamming you against the wall this time, I still want you,” I tell Kelsey just so she doesn’t have any doubts about that.

  “What? No, I mean, your arm is broken, and that’s not important to me right now anyway,” she explains in a rush.