Mr. September: A Single Parent Romance (Calendar Boys Book 9)

by Nicole S. Goodin

  “I’m only really interested in giving you a treat.” I growl as I stand at full height and cross my arms across my chest.

  She gasps and I chuckle.

  “I’ll go pack a bag then,” she says.

  ***

  “You miss the game, slick?”

  I smile as I take her in. She’s lying on my couch, her feet in my lap as we watch one of my all-time favourite movies, Coach Carter. I’m such a cliché basketball guy – at least that’s what Morgan tells me.

  She looks so relaxed, like she doesn’t have a care in the world. She looks as though she feels safe, which is no small feat given the things today has thrown at her.

  “Yeah, I miss it. It’s not so bad since I still get to coach, but I miss hanging out with guys my own age – I miss that team spirit.”

  “So why don’t you coach the main team?”

  I huff out a laugh. “They’re the top team in the country, Morgs, I doubt they’d be interested in even hearing me out.”

  She shakes her head at me, her eyes shining like she’s privy to some secret I’m not. “You just wait, I bet you’ll get there – if that’s what you want, you’ll get there, slick.”

  I’ve never really thought much about it. I’d love to coach the pro players. I would, but after my injury, I haven’t had time to dream too big. I had to deal with my career being over, and then I had to adjust to being the coach of the next generation of basketball.

  It’s not that I don’t like working with the youth team, because I do – but coaching the pros would be a whole other ball game – excuse the pun – it would be a challenge, and I’m sure the time will come when I want a challenge that size again.

  “I guess we’ll see,” I reply as I tickle her feet.

  She shrieks and throws her legs off me. “Oh my god, don’t touch my feet, they’re so ticklish!”

  I grin wickedly and she backs up as far as she can, until the arm of the couch is pressed against her back. She hurriedly tucks her feet underneath her body.

  “Brody,” she warns as I prowl closer. “No!” she cries, a huge grin on her face as I grab hold of one of her thighs and drag her back towards me.

  “Are you ticklish anywhere else?” I taunt her as I run my other hand up her side.

  She shakes her head furiously, but she’s lying, I can tell.

  I slide my fingers under her top and lightly drag them over the exposed skin I find there. She writhes below me, a laugh bursting out of her.

  Her hands are grabbing at mine as she tries to escape.

  “Stop!” she giggles, “I might pee myself.”

  I chuckle and rest my hand on her rib cage, my fingers stilling.

  She relaxes after a few beats and wipes at the tears in her eyes. “You’re a monster.” She grins.

  “Sure am, baby.”

  I slide my hand further up her jeans-clad thigh, and she watches the movement with an intensity that wasn’t there a moment ago.

  She’s willing me to keep going, so I do, the hand under her shirt sliding around and over her bra. I can feel the lace under my fingers, and it makes me want to rip the shirt from her body so I can see it for myself.

  “You’ve had that shirt off half the day, what’s it still doing on now?” she murmurs.

  She makes a good point.

  I reluctantly pull my hands from her body and lift the hem of my shirt over my head before discarding it on the floor beside the couch.

  She sits up, her hands already roaming over the parts of me she was studying so closely earlier.

  I sit back, my legs wide and tug on her until she climbs into my lap.

  She brings her face to mine, her warm breath fanning my face. I press my lips to hers, and what starts out as a slow, lingering kiss, quickly turns into something far hotter and heavier.

  Her nails dig into the skin on my shoulders and I welcome the sharp pain.

  I grip her ass and lift her so she’s closer, pressed against me and sitting on my dick that is now undeniably hard inside my jeans.

  She reaches for the hem of her top and begins to lift it over her head, revealing a strip of the creamy-coloured skin on her stomach.

  “Are you sure about this, Morgs?” I ask, my voice husky.

  I want her to be sure, damn sure, because I know exactly where this is heading – with me inside her.

  She smiles wickedly and pulls her top the rest of the way off.

  “You’re about the only thing I feel truly sure of today,” she whispers as she clasps my jaw in her hands.

  My hands splay across her back and I feel her skin break out into goosebumps.

  “I just want everything to be perfect for you,” I whisper back.

  She laughs softly. “I don’t need perfect, but you know what? You’re as close as I’ve ever seen.”

  She leans in and just when I think she’s going to kiss me, she nips at my bottom lip, tugging it into her mouth.

  I growl deep in my throat, and I’m on my feet in as instant, her in my arms.

  She gasps, her legs wrapping around my waist and holding on tight.

  I stride across the room and press her against the wall with a thud, my mouth slanting down on hers, rough and possessive.

  “I’ve wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you,” I growl. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you in that bar. It was embarrassing.”

  My lips graze over the skin on her throat, and she rolls her head back, moaning.

  “So… I wasn’t… just some damsel in… distress to you?” she asks, her words coming out in short, sharp, pants.

  “Not even close,” I growl, “ask Liv, I couldn’t focus on anything but you.”

  I’ve got her hands pinned above her head, the pressure of my body against hers is the only thing stopping her from sliding down the wall.

  “Take me to bed, Coach Owens,” she whispers.

  I chuckle; I plan to do exactly that. My hands release hers so she can hold on to me as I carry her up the flight of stairs that lead to my bedroom.

  Her face is buried in my neck, her arms wrapped around my neck and shoulders, and I can’t even recall a time where I felt this content.

  Basketball fulfilled me, but not like this.

  Being with women has never been a bad thing, but it’s never been this intense – all consuming.

  I know that already, even this early on, I’d do anything for this woman.

  I stop before my bed and unhook her legs from my hips so she can stand on the ground.

  I have to hunch my shoulders and dip my head to get our faces level, but I don’t care. I’ll deal with a crook neck if it means I get to kiss her any time I like.

  I kiss her once, softly before taking a step back so I can really look at her.

  I don’t want to miss a second of what’s about to happen.

  She stares at me for a few beats with those pretty green eyes, her gaze lingering longer on my chest than anywhere else.

  I undo the button on my jeans and slide down my fly; I’ve never been so eager to be rid of a pair of pants in my life.

  I tug them down my long legs and stomp them to the ground.

  “You’re just so tall.” She sighs, her voice dreamy.

  I laugh. I certainly am.

  “Tall does it for you, huh, Morgs?”

  She nods her head slowly. “Sure does.”

  She does it for me too, but right now, she’s wearing far too much clothing.

  She must feel the same way because she starts stripping off her own jeans, and before I can say ‘holy shit’ she’s standing before me in only her white lace bra and a black thong.

  That’s it. That’s my limit, the most I can take.

  I’ve got her pressed against the mattress two seconds after my eyes land on her, and I’ve got my boxer briefs on the floor only a few seconds after that.

  Her bra follows and her thong is right behind it.

  I don’t care how good they look on her body, they look infinitely better off.
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br />   We don’t say a word to one another. Not as she reaches down to stroke my hard length, or as I work my fingers in and out of her until she writhes.

  The only sounds as I sheath myself with a condom and push deep inside of her are her soft moans of pleasure.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Morgan

  It’s days like these that I wish I had at least one good girlfriend, so I could call her and tell her about the spine-tingling, toe-curling sex I’ve been having.

  I’d tell her everything about Brody.

  I’d tell her how safe he makes me feel – how protected. I’d tell her about how his touch sets me on fire and how I’m falling in love with him.

  I’d tell her how completely consumed I am with him.

  I don’t think about anything else while I’m with Brody, not about Chad, not about the creep from the bar – not even about my son.

  I only think about him, us.

  Now, that might not be the first paragraph in the ‘how to be a good parent’ guide, but I figure after sixteen years old being a dedicated single parent, I’m owed a few nights of being selfish.

  I grin as I toss my phone into my handbag.

  Brody text me earlier and it was just three words, ‘Come back already’. He sent it thirty seconds after he finally let me leave. I’ve read it about fifty times since.

  I had to run out on him earlier; I had to work this afternoon, and I knew he had to go to practice anyway.

  I have to go and pick up Ethan when it’s over.

  I giggle to myself as I think about what an absolute chore it will be to see his sexy coach again.

  I glance in my rear-view mirror several times as I drive across town to make sure no one is following, something that is apparently a habit for me now.

  No matter what I tell Brody about relaxing, I can’t seem to truly relax when I’m alone.

  I told him that the white car was nothing, but the more I think about it, the more it becomes something.

  I’ve had two more phone calls where no one was there when I answered too.

  Brody seems to have forgotten about that happening the other day when he answered my phone, and I’m not about to remind him either.

  I love how protective of me he seems to be, but I don’t need him any more on edge than he already is.

  I thought for a minute there that he was going to insist on coming to work with me this afternoon. If it weren’t for the fact that my assistant was going to be there, I think he would have.

  I turn off towards the gym and a white car pulling in behind me catches my attention.

  My heart pounds as it turns off the main highway behind me.

  I press the accelerator a little heavier into the ground, but the car keeps pace with me. It’s flashy and expensive-looking, the silver horse on the front grill is shining at me like a beacon.

  I can’t make out the driver through the heavy tints, but I’m about to panic and call the officer who gave me his direct line when the car turns off, leaving me with a racing pulse and a feeling of stupidity.

  I need to calm down.

  I’m being stupid. There are about five million white cars around, and I don’t even know if the man who tried to drug me drives one or not.

  There is no reason for me to believe that this guy would come after me.

  I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.

  If I say it enough times, maybe I’ll start believing it.

  I need to give myself a pep talk.

  The white car I think I keep seeing is nothing more than a coincidence. I know nothing about cars – I doubt I’d be able to recognise if the car I saw each time was the same or different, and the calls with no answer are probably nothing more than a dodgy phone line from someone who’s trying to view or list a property.

  I need to make myself believe that the man who tried to drug me isn’t coming after me, because I can’t expect Brody to be at my side twenty-four seven to calm me down, and right now, that’s all I can think about… getting to him and breathing him in.

  I’m coming to rely on him far too much, I’m falling for him too quickly, but how could I not? He’s gorgeous, kind, caring and he looks at me like I’m something special… he’s not put off by the fact that I have a teenager at home, and he makes me feel like my heart is going to leap out of my chest with nothing more than a smile.

  I pull into the carpark, shut off my engine and hurriedly rush into the building. Practice still has half an hour to go, so there are hardly any cars in the carpark, but I’m not willing to wait out here for Ethan – I’m shaken now.

  I cross the carpark and almost jog into the foyer, my heels clicking against the hard floor.

  I let out a deep breath at the sight of him.

  He’s wearing his signature baseball cap on his head, and his long, defined muscles look familiar and comforting.

  He hasn’t even seen me yet, but I instantly feel at ease.

  I’m being silly.

  I’m fine. No one is following me. I haven’t inherited a stalker.

  This time I believe it. I can reason with myself when Brody is near.

  I don’t know how long I stand there silently watching him interact with the boys, but when I hear a noise behind me, it startles me only a little bit, rather than making me jump out of my skin like it would have when I first arrived.

  Practice is nearly over, and some of the parents are probably turning up to collect their kids.

  I smile to myself as I think about talking to the mums about Brody – I know I shouldn’t… they already look at him like a piece of meat, I should definitely not share his sex life with them, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to brag about him anyway.

  I really do miss girl talk.

  I stroll away from the window to see who’s arrived.

  I glance once more over my shoulder, and I see Brody looking in my direction, he’s not looking at me though, he’s frowning at something over my shoulder.

  I take another step and collide with someone.

  “Sorry, I…” The words are out of my mouth before I see who I’ve crashed into.

  Chad looks down at me, his hands on my shoulders and a smile on his face.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice surprised.

  “Same as you. I came to watch Ethan.”

  I’ve spent more time watching my son’s coach than I have actually watching him, but I’m not about to tell Chad that.

  I also don’t like that he’s here. I can’t say I’m totally shocked – after his inappropriate comments at the café, I didn’t think I would get away that easily, but I don’t like him being here. He’s never been supportive of Ethan playing basketball, but there’s nothing I can do about it. He’s got as much right to be here as I do. I just have to wait this out – hope that he’ll get bored like he usually does and disappear back to his real life – wherever and whatever that might involve.

  The difference between now and then though, is Brody. I know that, and so does Chad.

  He’s like a spoiled child that wants all the toys for himself even when he’s not playing with them.

  He doesn’t want me, or his son, not when it really comes down to it, but he doesn’t want anybody else to have us either.

  He’s a narcissist. Always has been, always will be.

  “Can’t you just go back home?” I ask, an edge of begging to my voice.

  He smirks arrogantly. “Oh, c’mon, princess, I just got into town, you want me to leave already?”

  I huff out a laugh. “Yes. I do. Is that so hard to believe?” I shrug off his hands, and step backwards, but he steps with me.

  “I don’t think you really want me to leave, Morgan… I think he wants me to.” He tips his head over my shoulder, and I know he’s referring to Brody.

  I don’t look, because that’s what Chad wants me to do. Instead I cross my arms across my chest and try to remember how to be the confident, self-assured woman I am when Brody is around.

 
I need to channel her big time right now.

  “What makes you think I want you to stay?”

  His blue eyes sparkle, and I get the distinct impression I’ve just walked into a trap of some sort.

  “Same thing that made me stay years ago… we used to have fun, Morgan… we could have fun again.”

  Yeah, it was real fun when he slept with me, let me believe we could really have something, and then rode off into the sunset.

  That was so much fun for me.

  “I’ve got someone else to have fun with now.”

  His eyes narrow and harden, and I know I’ve really pissed him off with that statement.

  I don’t know why – he’s never laid a finger on me – but when he looks at me with that feral look in his eyes, I feel intimidated.

  “You think that prick can give you what I can?”

  “What?” I demand, finding strength from some place inside me that I didn’t know existed. “A shitty relationship and a non-existent father figure? You really set the bar high.”

  His eyes are still dark and intense, so I take another step backwards, and this time he doesn’t follow.

  He stares at me hard for a long moment and then his expression softens, and he grins wide at me.

  I hate how handsome he looks when he smiles.

  “I can be better than that, Morgan, I want to be better. I want my family back.”

  If I had a dollar for every time I’d heard that, well… I’d probably only have about fifty bucks, but still. This isn’t new, and as per usual, it’s nothing but total shit.

  I thought we’d moved on from this when Ethan and I moved away, but it’s becoming apparent to me now that his sudden reappearance has more to do with the fact that I’ve moved on than it does with him suddenly wanting to be a dad or boyfriend.

  “I’m not interested, Chad.”

  “Are you sure?” He presses, stepping towards me again.

  I back up a few steps but there’s nowhere for me to go now, not without turning and running like a scared little girl, and I won’t give him the satisfaction.

  “Are you really sure, Morgan? I see the way you still look at me.”

  I hate that he knows how attractive he his, but even given how easy he is on the eye, I feel nothing for him. There’s no attraction, no connection – he’s just some guy who donated me some sperm once.