Full Contact

by H. J. Bellus

  “Saw the photo of her walking out of a lingerie shop. Tell me, does she still love to wear black lace?”

  He’s goading me; that sweet cling to desperation stirs in his eyes. Fucking shit stirrer that he is. He wants me to believe he knows her intimately, and he possibly could. Jesus, no, he couldn’t. I won’t allow him to achieve his mission.

  Unease settles in my gut and my stare shifts from his to the people walking toward us.

  The bastard chuckles, places his hand on my shoulder, and has the nerve to place his other hand on his crotch, grabbing it. “Bitch was amazing in bed.”

  The red I see blinds me. Last poke to an angry bear. I push forward, grabbing the collar of his shirt and throwing him up against the wall. I make sure to slam his back into the brick wall extra hard, causing his eyes to go wide and a snarl curl on his lip.

  “One more word out of your mouth about her, and it doesn’t stop here. I’ll find you when the season is done, and we’ll fight like real men. Not like a little bitch, which is your style. Shut your fucking mouth, lick your wounds, and face the facts that you’ll never be me.”

  With that, I leave him with one swift elbow to the ribs. I see my dad heading toward us out of the corner of my eye. He probably thinks a fight has just broken out. I drill my eyes into Carson, letting him know he just started a fucking war. Can’t wait to see the crybaby in the regular season. I’ll be having a little talk with my defensive about a dirt nap and Carson. That is if he even plays.

  “Everything alright here?” Dad asks as they stop a few feet away. My parents exchange frowning looks, while Rowe stands there tapping her pom poms on her thighs. They all know how much I can’t stand Carson, but none of them know the real reason why. No one does but him and me. I’m not a goddamn nark. Keep shit I can handle to myself. We all have enemies in this profession. Rivals that piss us off. Players who pull a dirty trick behind the ref’s back. Me included. This time, though, Carson crossed a line that can never be forgiven.

  Hell no. He’s a dick who lit a match under my ass. I’d like to say.

  “Yeah, he was actually congratulating us, believe it or not,” I lie. Doubt anyone of them believes me. Especially my parents. I give my dad a look that says not here, not now, and grab Justice’s hand.

  With that, I guide us down the hall, out the door, and promise my mom we’ll be over for dinner this week before saying good-bye.

  Carson’s words brew inside me. Black lace has always been my favorite on her. He's had her. She's been keeping something from me for a while. Now everything is falling into place.

  We rode here together in my Range Rover, and once both doors slam, I grip the steering wheel fighting to settle myself down. It's all worthless. I blow.

  “Was Carson a good fuck?” I tilt my head, gaze locking angrily on her face. Her startled expression doesn’t come close to the value of shock and anger in my possession right now. I’m tipped over the edge, ready for answers, and she’s gaping at me like I’ve raised my hand to her.

  “What the hell kind of question is that?” Her voice wavers and she turns five shades of fuming red. I’ve seen this look on her before. She’s angry. Good, I’m boiling with a side of pissed off, and she best start talking.

  “I asked you a question. I’d appreciate an answer.”

  Guilt pounds through me as I turn away from her and crank over the engine. I peel out faster than necessary. The only sound is our heavy breathing.

  “You going to answer me?” I give her a side glance.

  She looks disappointed, and honestly, I can’t blame her. I did tell her our pasts needed to remain there. Sure, how she went about breaking it off with me was wrong, but it was years ago, and I should be executing my vow of leaving it buried. Can’t do it. I’m clawing my way through the dirt.

  The issue at hand is, if she slept with the only man I don’t get along with, we have a big fucking problem. There isn’t a chance in hell I’ll be able to swallow that one down.

  Exhaustion alleviates my frame of mind. Jesus Christ, what the hell am I thinking? She didn’t sleep with him; I know she didn’t. It’s his words that have tripped me up. I shouldn’t have let what he said get to me. I’m doing what the man wanted. Fighting with her and creating a wedge that will affect my performance. Son of a bitch.

  The remainder of our drive is done in uncomfortable silence. Her anger toward me unleashes the second I come to a stop outside her house and cut the engine.

  “How dare you ask me a question like that? I’ve never spoken to Carson in my life, and if I did, it wouldn’t be a concern to you. Whatever he said to you back there was a lie. A lie I don’t give a shit about. What I do care about is, you proved to me you don’t trust me, and that hurts, Liam. So, in regards to your question, no, I didn’t fuck him.” She whips open her door, her blonde hair whirling around to where half of it lands on her face. “Does that make you happy?”

  I’m gutted. Knife to the chest.

  I don’t have a response. I’ve just tarnished and ruined everything we’ve built in the past month. I allowed him to take me out of my head. In a warped and fucked-up fashion it only pisses me off more. No reason in sight.

  “And for you fucking information, Liam, I’ve never fucked an NFL player except you, so next time a rival tries to rile you up, don’t take it out on me.”

  “Justice.” I go to grab her thigh, but she’s faster than me.

  “Don’t.” She leans down, pointing a shaky finger at me. “Don’t you dare. You’ve made your point clear. With one brutal jab to my heart. I hope you are happy.”

  I speak with a solid fist straight into the dashboard. I don’t feel a goddamn thing besides utter regret on the inside. A sorry right now would only be salt in an open wound. Justice grabs her bag from the backseat and then sets her glare on me.

  “Liam Blake, you can go fuck yourself.” She places her hand on the door, ready to slam it. “You are the biggest player of all baiting me back into this relationship only to take me down. Are we even now? Did you accomplish what you came here to do by showing me you can break my heart? I hope you're proud of yourself.”

  She doesn’t wait for an answer before she slams the door and strides to her front door. I don’t move until her figure disappears behind closed doors. I roar in frustration to nobody and everyone at the same time. I’ve never balanced a relationship while playing the pros. Never had to hear opponents taunt me with the woman I love, and what do I do? Throw it right in her fucking face the first chance I get.

  A flash of vibrant hot pink catches my eye when I go to back out. There are two huge potted plants on both sides of her door that weren’t there before. She loves hot pink roses. I’ll buy every single fucking one in the Boise Valley if that’s what I have to do.

  Cranking the wheel, I peel out, all the while knowing I could buy her anything and it wouldn’t come close to an acceptable apology. There are no excuses besides me being a complete asshole. I’m no better than the man who put these thoughts in my head.

  13

  Justice

  My brain is aching, and my eyes are burning. I didn’t sleep at all last night. What I did do to try and control my hurt and fury is something I never do. I drank, and now I’m the idiot paying the price.

  Hangovers are why I limit myself to a few glasses of wine when I feel the urge to have something. Which is rare. But this time I felt I had the right to be livid. I took it out on my body by indulging in two bottles and a couple of shots of my dad’s whiskey he left behind.

  I rub my temples and close down my laptop. It’s noon, and my work is done for the day. I’m thankful there isn’t much need for me to be in the office now that we are starting the season. It’s not like I won’t go in; I simply didn’t feel like it today.

  I’m so damn angry and hurt that hangover or not, I would have torn into Sage or anyone else who crossed my path if I had left my house, and I’ve learned the hard way to keep my personal life away from work. Although, my work is ent
irely different from my family’s; there aren’t guns going off or punches being thrown to throw a person’s mind off guard. The point being, when you walk out the door in the morning, you leave your personal life behind. Better yet, don’t mix business with pleasure, and that’s what Liam did.

  I can’t believe he had the nerve to ask me if I would do such a thing as sleep with Carson. I’m confused and hurt. We never even settled it, and it’s all driving me mad.

  We’ve never talked about trust, and that right there is the biggest issue standing in our way.

  That, plus I think we were both too caught up in connecting with each other when we should have addressed him not trusting me. Trusts are broken, and deceit leaves a long-lasting bitter taste in a person’s mouth. I get it. I do. But for him to accuse me of sleeping with the one person I know would hurt him stings badly.

  I consider myself a good judge of character, and Carson Harrington has none. He’s been fined more times than I can count for taunting the fans after scoring a touchdown. He was arrested several years ago during the offseason for blackening his ex-wife’s eye. Douche was caught on camera and couldn’t fall back on any excuses or high-dollar attorneys. I’m well aware of the man and the things he can do. Not to mention the dirty play he pulled on Liam. The scumbag gives me the creeps.

  “Hey.” I look up from the spot on the floor holding my attention. My hands automatically rub up and down my thighs. Liam is standing in my doorway. He looks worse than I feel. Needless to say, the sight of him has my heart chirping.

  “Hi,” I mutter, my anger slowly fading, and my hangover is barely clinging on now that he’s here.

  “You really should start using the alarm system. It was installed for a reason.”

  I blanch on the inside. He’s right.

  “I need to write myself a sticky note and leave it on my pillow. Would that make you happy?” I can’t help the snark in my voice. My anger is flaring back up. More like hurt and pain caused by the man I love more than anything.

  He has to be telling me that out of concern. It’s impossible for him to know about the lingerie. I haven’t told anyone about it besides Danika, and if I did, I wouldn’t tell Liam unless I absolutely had to. I’d almost forgotten about it until he brought up my odd behavior the other day. It took me several days for a calming to settle in my stomach after receiving that box. I’ve slummed it off when I shouldn’t.

  Liam picks up one of the empty wine bottles that haven’t made it to the trashcan and waves it in the air. “Drink a bit too much?”

  “Are you going to chew my ass? Accuse me of being an alcoholic? And no, I didn’t get wasted with Carson or any other man last night.” I stand, sway a bit with my head spinning. It’s not spinning from the hangover. It’s rage.

  Liam places the bottle back down on the counter and grips the top of his team hat he has on backward. “Jesus. Not what I came over here for.”

  “Were you going to check my bed sheets?” I snarl.

  “You’re acting childish. Let me talk.”

  “Fine.” I cross my arms. “Speak, almighty number eleven. There. Is that childish enough for you?”

  “I’ll take every single one of your jabs. I deserve it.” He leans on the counter with his arms relaxed at his sides. “Saying I’m sorry isn’t good enough for the way I acted. I can’t stand here and make up some lame bullshit about not trusting you, because I do.”

  “You sure about that? Last night proved otherwise, Liam. I mean, accusing me of fucking a man like him. I’m not that type of woman. Never have been. I respect myself a little too much to go sleeping around. I respect my family. Honor them. And most of all, I care about you and the life I’ve dreamed about us having. We have nothing if there isn’t trust.” I take a step toward him, refusing to bottle in one single emotion coursing through me. I’m not about to keep them tucked away until something is said and done to trigger them. This shit needs to be cleared out. I’ve suffered long enough for my actions, and I’m not about to be persecuted the rest of my life for it.

  “I lost my shit last night. Took the hatred I’ve felt for a long time for Carson and dumped it on you. He lit me up the one way he knew how. Lesson learned. I’d take it back if I could. I’m sorry, Justice. Fuck, I’m so damn sorry.”

  I snap my mouth shut. It’s then I notice he really does look like hell. He has bags under his eyes indicating a sleepless night. Good. My fingers itch to touch him. I'm not giving in to him that easily. I roll it around in my head. I get it. Pressure does crazy shit to the psyche. But one thing needs to be made clear. I will not be his outlet to dump all of his anger and temper on. I’ll never be anyone’s punching bag in that sense.

  I drop my chin onto my chest, closing my eyes and rolling around what I want to say in mind. When I open them, I look him straight in the eye. “I get what you’re saying, Liam. I do. I understand how much stress we’ve been under. The thing is, I’ll never stay in a relationship where snap judgments are made, and I get the brunt of it. You hurt me. Nobody in the world besides you has the power to make me feel the way you did. I said some terrible things, too, and I’m sorry.”

  He closes the space between us.

  “Do you know how big of a man I felt like last night? A fucking coward. I’d take it all back if I could. What I do know is, I promise to never take out my aggression on you again. I’ll walk away and cool off before I do it again.” I hope he means it. This bottomless feeling inside of me hurts so bad I can barely breathe.

  “I don’t know what he said to you, Liam. You need to keep away from him and anyone else who will try to get under your skin. He’s not a nice man. Don’t you dare play me again.” I take the final step toward him with my hands going to his chest. “I’m not going to lie and say it doesn’t still hurt. I’m gone the next time it happens, no matter how much I love you. Without trust and communication, we have nothing, no matter how grand our love is for one another.”

  “I do trust you. It’s my reactions I don’t trust, and that’s on me. Something I’ll never let get in the way again.”

  “How can you promise that, Liam?” I tilt my head to the side, staring up at him.

  “Because there’s no way in hell I’ll ever lose you again. I’d walk through hell before I let that happen.”

  “Okay, then, I’m trusting you’ll keep your word,” I whisper, hoping if I put the one word that builds a foundation to many things out there, he’ll grip it tightly in his hands.

  Liam reacts by placing his hands on my hips, tugging me to him, leaving no space between us. He drops his forehead to mine. There’s no speaking, no kissing. All we do is take each other in.

  The silence of my house wraps around us, promising and coaxing us to fall into each other. Relationships have ups and downs. Lord knows I’ve experienced this firsthand with my parents. The road will always be bumpy. However, my being in this man’s arms will always come above everything else in my life.

  I close my eyes. Both of our breaths are shaking. "Thank you," I say barely above a whisper.

  "For what?" he replies, voice low and husky.

  "For being you." My voice wavers on the verge of tears. I’m elated to be rid of the tension between us.

  I lean in and kiss his warm lips softly at first. Soft isn’t good enough for him. He cradles my head in his hands and pulls me into a fiery and passionate kiss while my arms work their way around his neck.

  When we pull apart and open our eyes, our gazes are deeper than they ever have been. Mine full of the next chapter in our lives, his full of desire.

  I’m lifted off my feet with no warning. My legs dangle and fight to wrap around Liam’s waist. He groans into my mouth, not breaking contact with my lips as my ass lands on the hard surface of my kitchen island. Liam leans in, forcing me back until my spine is pressed against the marble.

  He breaks our connection. “Liam,” I moan. I want him so bad I ache in places only he can ignite.

  “Shhh, baby. Let me take care of you. I�
��m going to erase yesterday and cement my promise never to repeat history.” The man stands at full height, towering over me. He tosses his hat to the side and then reaches behind his neck, swiping his shirt off. I hear his zipper go down and lift up enough to see him place his hand down his pants. I lick my lips at the sight of him squeezing his cock. I swear it’s the man’s habit.

  “Am I going to be getting a show?” I ask, quirking up an eyebrow.

  Something fierce goes up in flames inside of him. With his free hand, he reaches for my booty shorts, yanking them down in one pull. My panties are next. I reach up with my right foot to run it along his bicep as he continues to squeeze and stroke his rock-hard cock, exposing myself to him in the process. “Fucking hell,” he mutters as he glues his eyes to what waits for him between my legs.

  God, we must be a sight. One I stock away to memory. I’m dripping wet, he’s stroking his dick, and at this point no one or nothing outside of this house matters. All I care about is that I could explode watching him. My hangover and anger are long forgotten.

  His million-dollar hands dig into the flesh of my hips, pulling me to the edge of the counter. My skin tingles when he slides his hands down my legs, grips my ankles, and slings my legs over each of his shoulders, spreading me wide. His head dips low. I feel his warm breath against my heated flesh. I’m dying for him to touch me. The bomb inside of me starts its countdown when he plunges two fingers inside of me, causing me to arch my back off the counter and scream out his name. His tongue glides up and down my wet folds coupled with the vibration from his growls. His fingers work relentlessly inside of me.

  “Liam. Oh, my God! Liam.” My hands go to his hair, tugging and pulling. “I’m so close.”

  I feel him smile against my pussy for a split second, then his teeth graze my clit, setting me off. I writhe under him, forcing his face further down, riding out every last sensation. My body collapses against the island.