“He crashed and burned,” Will says, laughing.
“Or he got some and isn’t interested anymore,” Brax follows up.
I stop walking and frown at him. “She’s not that kind of woman,” I snap.
“He crashed and burned,” Brax says to Will and they both bend over with laughter.
Fools.
With a shake of my head I walk toward my car, but they quickly jog up to me, one on either side.
“We’re joking, brother,” Brax assures me, laughter still in his voice.
“No, but seriously,” Will says grabbing my shoulder. I stop and turn to face him. “You like her, right? I mean, not just for a hook up?”
I look between my friends and heave out a sigh, “I do. She’s different.”
Brax smiles, but Will nods, as though he knows exactly what I mean.
“Then hold onto her ‘cause we can all hook up, but the special ones…” He shrugs. “There was only one for me, and if I hadn’t locked her down, I’d be fucked.”
“Aww, such a moving moment, I feel like I’ve grown a pussy,” Brax offers.
Both Will and I slap him around the back of the head laughing.
“Hey!” he protests, but we only laugh harder.
“Thanks for the advice, man,” I tell Will.
We clap hands and man hug before each heading to our cars.
Will’s words run around in my head. There was only one for him and that is Meg.
I wonder if Pixie is my one.
The fact I’m even considering it both scares and excites me at the same time.
“Fuck,” I breathe out as I crank my music up and drive off.
A week rolls by. A week of text messages and phone conversations. I’ve been trying to grab time here and there with Jasmine, and am more than ready to see her again. This woman is completely under my skin in a way no one else ever has been.
Brax has noticed a difference, Will has noticed a difference, and so has Eve. Although, she can’t place what the change is thankfully, as I only see her once a week. She’s nosy, big sister nosy, which means she wants to know everything and I am not willing to tell her just yet.
As I drive toward home, I glance out to the sea and wonder when I can bring Pixie to the beach. Seeing her in a bikini will surely drive me crazy, but also give me a taste of what I have to look forward to. I’m a glutton for this woman already. It’s been eleven days since she threw food on my dick, and yet it feels like it’s been forever.
I pull into my garage and recognize how different my Beach Drive house is compared to Jasmine’s apartment. I immediately want to bring her here, keep her here, protect her. The thought should scare me, but it doesn’t.
Sol: Hey, baby, how was your day?
I text her the minute I get out of my car as I head toward the stairs from my garage into my house. Entering the kitchen, I walk through the living room and up another set of stairs, making my way to the bedroom. I undress and jump in the shower. When I get out the first thing I do is check my cell.
Pixie: Busy, and now I’m heading to the restaurant for work.
Sol: What you been up to today?
Pixie: Helping my mom’s friend. Well, she’s kinda my other mom, but that’s a story for another day.
Sol: Sounds like we’ll have plenty to talk about on our date tomorrow.
I tease her.
Pixie: Wednesday Solomon… Our date is Wednesday!
I laugh to myself, imagining her cute annoyed face.
Sol: Alright baby, damn, I thought you’d be more excited to see me again.
I watch the three dots dance as she types. Then they stop, then start again. I’m dripping wet, having forgone the towel and I don’t even care, I need to know what her next text will say.
Pixie: I am looking forward to seeing you again. Very much so.
I smile at her response and wonder how many times she changed the wording. Women are strange, thinking if they let their emotions show they’re suddenly weak.
Sol: Good. Don’t work too hard. Text me when you get home, so I know you’re safe.
The second I send the text I wonder why I’m asking her to check-in. I’ve never even asked my sister to confirm she’s okay.
Pixie: As you wish ‘Boss’ but you know I’m a big girl, I’ve been getting home on my own for a few years now.
I can hear the teasing even though it’s a text. I smile and quickly type back.
Sol: Text me Pixie. No arguments.
I can almost feel the roll of her eyes as the next text comes through.
Pixie: Fine. Gotta go, catch you later.
I smile and reach to grab a towel, but realize I’m now dry. I throw on some basketball shorts and a tank and head down to my living room to turn on a ball game. I watch the repeat and wonder about Jasmine. The first time I properly looked at her, which happened to be after she dropped food in my lap, she took my breath away.
I’ve had my fair share of women. It’s the way it is with athletes, especially ones who are paid well. But not once, not ever, has a woman had such an immediate reaction from me. The contrast of her porcelain skin, against her short dark brown hair and bright blue eyes, did something to me.
The fire she spat at me when I was an ass made her so much more appealing, and then, the other night, the smiles she shared with me, they were genuine, honest, and beautiful.
The girl is small, at least a foot shorter than me, and has less ass than I’m used to, but her tits are perfect, and although I’ve only seen her in her waitressing outfit, I’d bet under it she’s rocking a body worthy of sculptures. Plus, she’s extraordinarily beautiful.
Her eyes are too big for her face, but they make her look delicate like a doll, and her thick, soot-black eyelashes make the blue pop. Then there’s the softness of her pale cheeks against the redness of her luscious lips. She’s the reason why portraits were first created.
My phone buzzes and it wakes me from the nap I was having on my sofa. I grab my cell and adjust my eyes to the light. That’s when I realize she’s not texting, she’s calling.
“Pixie,” I answer, loving the fact she wants to talk to me.
“Solomon,” she breathes my name out and not in a good way.
I jolt up to sitting, completely awake now. “Pix, what is it?” I demand, standing and searching for my car keys.
“Someone is… s-someone’s following me,” she puffs out—clearly she’s been running.
“Where are you?” I’m jogging through my house and sliding into my Porsche 911 GT3 and racing out of my house before I can even think clearly.
“You know the Safeway at New Holly?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m waiting inside the store. He’s in here too, but I should be fine if I stay in here, right?” I can hear the fear in her voice, and it makes me drop my foot on the gas and break every speed limit to get to her.
“Yeah, you’ll be fine, baby. Hold on, don’t leave, and I’ll be there soon,” I promise her.
The journey should take twenty to thirty minutes, but I get there in fourteen. My car growls to a stop and I rush inside searching the aisles for both Jasmine and the dick who has upset her. The moment I see her my shoulders relax slightly, even though the adrenaline is still pumping hard through my veins.
“Baby, are you okay?” I ask, rushing toward her.
“Y-yeah,” she stutters, and her obvious fear kills me.
“Is the dude still here?” I question, pulling her small frame into me and searching the store with my eyes.
“No, he l-left,” her voice quivers and anger surges through me at her fear.
I’m torn, part of me would have liked to have given him an ass whopping for scaring any woman, the other part is simply glad he didn’t try anything with my woman.
My woman? Understanding sinks into me and I realize I’m not fighting it.
“Come on,” I order softly, dragging her behind me.
“Is this yours?” she whispers when I get
back outside to my car. Only then do I notice I didn’t lock it as it gains some stares.
“Yeah, I needed something fast.”
She smiles and the moment I realize it’s genuine a weight lifts off my chest. Once she’s inside I get back behind the wheel and take off.
“Thank you… for coming for me.”
I slide my fingers between hers and rest our joined hands in her lap as I drive. I don’t answer her, I don’t think she’s ready to hear what I have to say.
“Where are we going?” she questions after a few minutes.
“I’m taking you home. To my home,” I confirm.
Chapter 6
Jasmine
I don’t say anything when he announces he’s taking me to his house. Maybe I should, but the truth is, I want to go with him, not because I want sex, although it has been a while, but because I want to get to know him better. My only real experience of football players is in the media, and although I don’t want to be another notch on Solomon’s bedpost, I also don’t want to risk missing out on something spectacular because of fear.
We’ve spent all our time over the last week texting and calling one another and I like him, I really like him.
I listen to the car rumble down the road and remain silent, the warmth of his hand holding mine makes my heart beat a little faster. We round the bend into Beach Drive and he slows, gliding his car into a gated home.
Wow! This house is amazing. God, he must have been disgusted with my place.
“Stop it,” he orders.
“Stop what?” I question quietly.
“Stop thinking. I felt you tense the moment I pulled up to the gates. It’s just a house, Pixie,” he says looking into my eyes for a moment and I’m mesmerized by him.
We exit the car and Solomon grabs my hand, guiding me into his home.
Immediately, I look down at my worn-out black shoes. “I should take my shoes off,” I murmur.
“Your shoes are fine,” he dismisses my concern. “You hungry?” he asks pulling me into the kitchen.
“Yeah,” I answer, my tummy taking that moment to come to life.
He chuckles and pulls out some ham and cheese from the fridge. “A sandwich good for you?”
I nod, taking a seat at his kitchen counter.
Solomon gets to work making two sandwiches, his fingers move so fluidly, so delicately for such a big guy. Shoving a plate in front of me he nods toward it. “Eat,” he commands, and I do. He does the same and we both sit eating in silence.
I should feel uncomfortable, oddly I don’t.
Once I finish the last bite, Solomon clears away my plate, grabs my hand and once again drags me with him.
I tug my hand back. “You know, you have to stop pulling me around like a small child.”
He looks over his shoulder and takes in my narrowed eyes and pursed lips, but all it does is cause him to laugh, so I narrow my eyes further.
“Baby, I only want you to relax. I needed to put food in your stomach before I could let you chill. Now that’s accomplished, my main priority is pulling you down on the sofa with me, switching on a film, taking off your shoes and rubbing your feet. It’s clear you need it.” Solomon’s soft smile makes me melt and I want that, I want those things with him.
I follow his lead. He seats us both on a soft gray sofa and hands me a white cushion which is so fluffy I want to hug it and take it home with me. “Put this behind your back and give me your feet.”
I do as I’m told, but once the film has started and my feet are in his lap, I can’t help but question our situation. “What are we doing Solomon?” My words are soft and slightly breathy because he’s doing things to my feet which no one has ever done before and I feel like singing with glee.
“We have to label this?”
His answer surprises me. I thought he would know his intentions, after all, his actions have been clear. Unless I’ve been reading him all wrong.
Oh God, I bet I have. I’ve never been good reading guys.
I remember when I was a sophomore in high school and went on a date with Ancel. He was a basketball player and super-hot. I thought he wanted to date me, to make me his girlfriend. I realized when I was halfway through my food at Five Guys—food which I paid for—the only thing he wanted was sex.
I pull my feet away, tucking them under my butt. “I’m not willing to start anything unless I’m clear on where it’s going.” Solomon opens his mouth but I hold up my hand. “Let me be clear, this doesn’t have to be going anywhere for me to stick around…“ I shrug, “… but I need to know what you want from this. So I will know if I’m on your page,” I explain, happy with myself for being calm, even though I know if he tells me he only wants a hookup, I may cry into his plush pillow.
“Do you feel this?” Solomon asks, gazing into my eyes.
I know what he’s asking, but something stops me from telling him the truth. “Feel what?”
His gaze drops from me, and immediately, I feel cold. “Then you don’t feel it.” I can hear the disappointment in his voice, and I want to grab his arm and cry out, tell him I do feel it, but I can’t, something is stopping me and I don’t exactly know what it is.
“Why don’t you tell me what you feel?” My words are more than simply a question, they’re a plea. I’m scared now, scared he will end this.
“I feel us,” he tells me, thumping his hand over his heart. There’s no hesitation in his words, no confusion nor denial. He knows what he wants and apparently, it’s me. “I feel you in here. It’s fucking crazy,” he states, jumping up from the sofa and placing both hands on his head. He looks up at the ceiling. “Fuck knows what it is, but from the moment I saw you I knew I wanted more.”
“I want more, too.” It’s my first admission and it feels great.
Solomon turns to look at me, his eyes hold wonder and a level of uncertainty I know I placed there. “You do?”
I nod. “I don’t need to know forever, but I do need to understand if you just want a hookup or casual regular sex…” biting down on my bottom lip my gaze drops to my feet, “… or if you want more. Something exclusive.”
Grabbing my hands in his, he seats himself back on the sofa. “I don’t know where this is going, but I know I don’t want anyone else right now, and we haven’t even had sex. Damn woman, this has never happened to me before. You’re driving me crazy.” The last part is whispered and I lift my eyes, looking at him again.
His hand slides around the back of my head and he pulls me in for a kiss, but unlike the first one he gave me, this is harder, deeper, and as he tugs on my short hair I suck in a breath, opening my mouth and inviting him in. Solomon claims my mouth without hesitation, slipping his tongue in. We duel for dominance and he wins every time, but this is a game I don’t mind losing.
Solomon’s hands move down to my ass, gripping hard as he hauls me onto his lap. We don’t break our kiss for even a second as I slide in place and his dick presses against me. I’m in a haze, this man has infiltrated every part of me and I can’t think straight. His smell, his feel, the groan he makes as I gently bite his lip, it surrounds me, taking me over, nothing exists beyond him and his kiss.
He pulls away, both of us heaving for breath, dragging in as much air as we can while we come to our senses. I’m torn between being glad he calmed the situation down and annoyed he’s stopped us.
“Tell me about your family,” he orders.
I tilt my head, trying to work out where this question has come from.
Touching my lips, I try to see if there’s anything in his eyes telling me he wasn’t enjoying what we were doing. He pulls my hand away and kisses the tips of my fingers.
“I want to calm down.” He breaths heavily. “Don’t want to rush this, baby,” he offers. “I do want to get to know you more, though. We’ve chatted on the phone, but now you’re here…” he shrugs, “… it seems like a good time to ask you about your life.”
I smile, pleased he explained his sudden turnaround
. “My mom died last year. Cancer,” I inform him. It’s easiest to get it out like I’m talking about someone unattached to my heart. “I have no siblings, no father. Now it’s just me and Wanda.”
His gaze is intense, like he’s committing everything I tell him to memory. Like I’m the only person in the world. His hands travel from my lower back, up my spine, stopping on either side of my neck. Easing me forward, he kisses my lips again, gently, softly, there’s no urgency to his kiss, just passion.
“You miss her,” he states against my lips. I nod, unable to speak. When I open my eyes we are so close that we’re practically sharing the same breath, and it’s beautiful. “Tell me about Wanda,” he orders gently, peppering kisses along my neck.
“S-She… I-I,” I stutter, struggling to tear my mind from his lips on my throat.
He chuckles, his lips kissing my throat and it sends shivers across the whole of my body. Sitting back, he gives me about six inches, but it’s enough for me to breathe and for my foggy brain to kick in gear.
“When I was little, around five, Mom and I moved in with Wanda. I think we met her through the homeless program…” I pause but he doesn’t ask me what I’m talking about so I continue, “Anyway, I’m also pretty sure my mom and Wanda were a couple.”
There’s a flicker of surprise in his eyes, but still, he remains quiet allowing me to talk. He’s listening, really listening to me, and it makes me feel precious.
“They never told me for sure. I think they believed it would cause problems.” I shrug. “Wanda runs a homeless shelter, King’s Hope,” I explain. “Mom and I always helped out. I’ve been volunteering there since I was seven. It’s a way of life for me now,” I tell him, shrugging again.
“Tell me what you meant when you said they believed it would cause more problems.” His words are gentle, but his intention is firm.
Touchdown: A Quick Snap Novella Page 4