The Guy on the Left (The Underdogs Book 2)

by Kate Stewart

  “Clarissa, don’t.” I can hear the pain in his voice, his conflict, as I slowly start to unbuckle my jeans. “I’m going out of my mind. I want us back. And I’ve been a fool, but I can’t handle this anymore. I want this story. I want our story, this life with you so much it’s killing me. I’m not afraid to bare myself to you. You once said you would give me everything if I gave you all of me. I’m hoping that’s still the truth. Because this is all of me. My body, my heart, my life. It’s—”

  “Clarissa, stop!”

  Undeterred by the bite of his rejection, I seize the moment. It’s my time to prove I will fight for him, as he has for me. It’s time to show him that words aren’t a fool’s gold when spoken from the right heart.

  I love him. I believe in him. I believe in us, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make him see what I do, a future, together.

  Love requires a little bit of idiocy and a hell of a lot of bravery, and I’ll be the fool for him.

  “No, Troy, I’m not afraid anymore,” I shake my head pushing my jeans over my hips just as he charges me, and a sharp knock sounds on the door behind me.

  “UPS!”

  “Jesus Christ!” I shriek as I turn to see the man look up from his screen and into the living room with a clear view of my thong clad ass and bare love tassels. Troy’s already in front of me, blocking the man’s view before slamming the door in his face.

  Troy hangs his head, shaking it with a light chuckle. “What are the fucking odds?”

  On the other side of the door, we hear, “Troy, uh, hey man, I’m going to need a signature before I can leave this here.”

  Troy sighs, glancing back at me, cowering on the couch, blanket covering me to my neck before he opens the door and signs for the package. “How you doing, George?”

  “Not nearly as good as you.”

  “Do me a favor, and don’t mention this.”

  George replies breezily. “Never saw a thing.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  “Better not keep her waiting,” George says with a chuckle as I melt between the couch cushions.

  Troy shuts the door and turns to me with a million-dollar smile as I shrink under my throw. “That did not go as planned.”

  “And when have plans ever been in our favor?”

  “We just can’t win, huh?”

  He kneels down in front of me. “You were saying?”

  I cover my face with my hands, too embarrassed to look up. “I’m such an idiot.”

  “Yes, we are,” he says softly before scooping me in his arms. “Mom says we’ll grow out of it by the time we’re forty.”

  “Good to know.”

  I look up at him, his scent hitting me as he slowly carries me toward my bedroom. “I love you. It’s that simple and that complicated. I want to fight with you, and make up with you, and go to sleep with you, and wake up with you, and raise kids with you. And only with you. I miss you so much.” I press my lips against the hollow of his throat. “You think we’ll ever get our shit together?”

  “Probably not.”

  “We’re hopeless.”

  “Perfect fucking mess,” he says softly, setting me in front of my bed, brushing my hair back from my shoulders.

  “Forgive me, Troy. Please.”

  “I already have.”

  I slide my panties down my legs and stand completely nude in the bright light of day, my heart beating wildly as I stare at the man who spent months capturing my son’s heart and wholly taking mine in the process.

  “You’ve bared yourself to me in a hundred ways since you came into my life. I’ve fallen for every side of you, good and bad, I want it all. I don’t deserve you. I know I don’t. But I do respect you, Troy, more than you’ll ever know. I’ve never been more certain about any man. I trust you completely, and I’ll earn your trust back. I’ll earn you. I’m begging you not to give up. If you still want—”

  “One question.”

  “Anything.” I rasp out eagerly.

  “What took you so long?” he says gruffly before he crushes our mouths together.

  Our tongues duel hungrily as he grips my ass in his hands and squeezes so hard, I gasp into his mouth. He closes our kiss and pulls away, his arms pinning me to him. “I’ve missed you too, so fucking much,” he whispers before pressing a gentle kiss to my lips, “you’re all I see, all I can feel. I tried so hard to get over you, but I couldn’t, I never will. I’ll fight with you, I’ll make up with you, go to sleep and wake up with you, Dr. Seuss,” he chuckles, as my cheeks heat, my tears spilling over, “I’ll give you five babies,” he grunts, as I pull at his shorts before gripping his thick dick in my hands.

  “Two,” I protest.

  “Three.”

  “Negotiations are now open,” he beams down at me. “You were hard-earned and well-worth it, I wanted to earn this, to earn you.” He slides his hands up my sides, caressing me, covering me with his muscular touch. “But I needed you in the same place. We had to be in the same place.”

  I press my forehead to his and nod. “I love you.”

  “God, I must have dreamed this a thousand times,” he murmurs, taking bites of my neck, my chest, soothing the sting with his lips before bringing his hungry mouth back to mine.

  I pump him in my hand as he kisses me with a surety we both share.

  Some things have to be learned over time, but the only thing I know for sure is, this man and I belong together. All I can do is be thankful at this point for every trial that led us back to each other. Though our timing was horribly off, fate made us so in the form of a little boy, the spitting image of his father, and our guiding light.

  The minute my back touches the mattress, he uses the movement to thrust against me, our collective gasps filling the room. Eyes locked, he rears back, before lining himself up and slowly pushing inside me. I grip his shoulders, widening my legs as he fills me slowly, inch by inch.

  “Fucking worth it,” he murmurs. “Every fight, every struggle, the wait, the pain, the ache, loving you, needing you, wanting you, missing you—all of it—worth it to get us to this point, right here.”

  Rearing back, he keeps us connected, eyes and lips, before filling me fully. My back bows off the mattress as he draws back, and thrusts in again so deep he steals my breath. We’re somewhere between fucking and making love, and all I can do is moan out his name.

  His eyes devour me, leaving nothing untouched until he again pulls back, his stare fixed on where we connect.

  We’ve deprived ourselves of each other for so long, in more ways than one, and this is an act of completion on the same level. There’s no turning back. I don’t want to know what life is like without Troy Jenner, ever again.

  “Troy,” I whimper as he pins my hands and thrusts into me, the headboard thumping against the wall.

  “Look at us,” he growls as he drives in again. I revel in the feel, in the filthy and beautiful sight of us connecting. It’s then we go feral, tongues tasting, hands exploring, skin slapping, slick while he fucks me wildly, and I match his thrusts. After a few deep drives, he pulls back and places one hand on my stomach the other beneath my ass and flips me so easily a giggle comes out of me, until he steals it away by driving in deep as I lay on my stomach. He pins me to the mattress, his hands on my hips as he rolls into me, so deep all I can do is cry out his name.

  “Goddamn,” he grunts out as I bask in the feel of his weight on my back, soaking up each second beneath him. Lips latched to my neck, he buries himself, thrusting up as my orgasm hits me like a tidal wave. I come so hard, my voice fails me mid-cry as the shudders run through me.

  “Fuck, baby, I’m going to lose it,” he draws out, turning me back over, cupping my heaving chest. “Beautiful,” he says watching my reaction to him before lifting my leg to his hip and pushing back in, tilting his pelvis for precision. “This time I watch you come,” he beckons, pumping in and out, in and out, massaging my breasts, tweaking my nipples, covering my stomach in a warm caress. His eyes
convey so much as he keeps his thrusts deep, pinpointing where I need him before licking the pad of his finger and pressing it against my clit. I crest on the verge as he rolls into his fucking before I detonate. Bliss ripples through me as my toes curl. His eyes flare when he feels me tightening around him again, coming apart.

  His thrusts pick up until he empties inside me, his body convulsing as he exhales a loud groan. I circle his neck with my arm, stroking the sweaty hair at his temple as we both try and catch our breath.

  “Worth it,” I murmur as he caresses my shoulder with his thumb.

  “So worth it,” he whispers back. “You and Dante, you’ve redefined my dreams. My everything is yours.”

  I smile so wide, I know I’ll feel it tomorrow, and a new and brilliant smile lifts his lips. “Are we going to tell Dante?” He pulls back to weigh my expression. “That we’re together?”

  “Yes.”

  Relief covers him, and he smiles before resuming his position on my chest. “Thank you.” His lips do the rest of his thanking as he positions himself between my thighs.

  “Already?”

  He rakes his bottom lip. “How much time do we have left?”

  “Forever?”

  “I can work with that,” he says, positioning himself and slowly pushing into me while we both watch.

  Four hours later…

  I scramble toward the headboard until I’m dragged to the end of the bed by my ankles. I’m covered in sweat from head to foot even after two showers. I’ve never in my life been so exhausted.

  “Troy, I can’t. I cannot possibly have more sex. Please,” I giggle as he flips me to face him. “I can no longer negotiate.”

  “Then I win by default. Shortest argument we’ve ever had. And now, finally,” he says, giving me a devilish grin, “we get to have make up sex.”

  Two hours later…

  “No. No. I beg of you. Please, Troy. Please. I love you, but I can’t, Oh, God!”

  One hour later…

  “Troy, please, your…sex drive is… inhuman. Haven’t…ah… you had…right enou—right there, right fucking there!”

  Thirty minutes later…

  His voice rumbles at my neck. “Baby, you can’t fake sleep, you’re ticklish.”

  “S-s-s-stahp. That better be your elbow. Oh, God. How? How, how, how are you hard again? How?”

  One week later…

  “To announce the New York Giants’ selection, two-time bowl winner Roy Hall.”

  Parker and I sit on the couch, our hearts beating in our throats as the old-timer walks toward the stage.

  “Thank you. For the sixty-ninth selection in the 2019 NFL Draft, The New York Giants select Troy Jenner, wide receiver, Texas Grand University.”

  Parker and I jump from the couch, screaming bloody murder as the camera pans in on Troy, who’s already hugging Pamela, tears shining in both their eyes while Dante jumps at their sides, his fists held high in the air. Troy whispers to Pam, who’s bawling, before he scoops Dante up in his arms. I hated that I couldn’t attend, but I have a school year to finish. I also have a house to pack and very little time to do it. Not to mention Parker is leaving tomorrow for two months. I need to get in as much time with her as I can because we’re family and both our lives are about to change, drastically.

  Troy whispers into Dante’s ear, and I can see him mouth, “Love you, Mommy!” When Troy winks at the camera and taps his watch, I know it’s for me. He’s telling me it’s time for us. Once we’ve fulfilled our obligations in Texas, our future begins. It’s amazing what can happen in a year, in a day, in a moment. And this moment helped to map our future.

  We had plans either way, because…I’m a planner. And no matter what happened with the draft, we had backup. But as long as we were together, it didn’t matter which plan we followed because I stayed confident knowing we would be fine either way. Troy gave me that. That peace of mind. It’s a gift that I don’t think he’ll ever fully understand.

  All our plans consisted of starting our family, it was the where that was up in the air. And the family addition negotiations are still ongoing. Nightly.

  Parker is still blubbering as the draft coverage goes to commercial. “God, that was awesome.”

  “Yeah,” I run my fingers underneath my eyes and nod. “He did it.”

  “He so did it,” she beams.

  I toss a couch pillow at her. “Lady, from the minute you met him you were team Troy, even when you tried to pull that tough guy bullshit.”

  “Fine, I admit I love him, now. He gives me hope.” She sighs. “And I can’t believe you’re moving to New York. Shit,” her voice cracks and then she’s crying again as I pull her to me.

  “How often do you fly through La Guardia?”

  “Like every three weeks.”

  “So, I’ll see you every month.”

  “Yes.” She nods into my shoulder.

  “And I’ll have your room ready.”

  “Okay.”

  “No more crying. I, for one, am done crying in 2019.”

  “Okay.”

  “Damn it, Parker, stop it,” I say, getting misty-eyed as the doorbell rings.

  It’s UPS, and I can’t for the life of me meet the eyes of the delivery man. I sign for the package, opening it to pull out a Giant’s jersey. I hold it up and inhale. Troy’s doused it with his cologne.

  “Oh, my God,” Parker says, her eyes tearing up. “He had that delivered at the exact right moment.”

  “Well, to quote my son, ‘duh.’ He is their employee. Sweet, isn’t it?”

  Parker nods, tears still running down her face as I sniff the jersey.

  “I love this cologne. I need to find out the name of it. I would bathe in it.”

  “That’s all you have to say?”

  “Uh, I like the jersey?”

  “Uh huh, and?”

  “Go, Giants?” I raise my fist for a little extra enthusiasm.

  “Babe,” Parker swallows. “Look again.”

  I turn the Jersey back and forth and shake my head. “What?! Out with it already!”

  “One more time,” Parker insists, her eyes as wide as her smile.

  I turn the jersey over again when it finally hits me.

  MRS. JENNER

  “Dad! Someone’s at the door!” I hear Dante call as I sink into my freshly-filled tub.

  “Then go get it, son!”

  “I’m filming!”

  “Where’s your mom?”

  I roll my eyes. “I’m in the tub! Can you two stop yelling and get the door?”

  “Dad!”

  “Get the door, Dante! I’ve got Toby with me.”

  I tense up. “You don’t know who it is, don’t send him to the door!”

  “I’m setting up the intercom, so we don’t sound like the damned Costanzas anymore!”

  “Who’s the Costanzas?” Dante asks.

  “Google it.”

  “I’m filming!”

  “Jesus,” I say, grabbing my towel. “Shut up, shut up, you two or you’re going to wake the baby. I’ve got it!”

  I can hear the nervousness in my husband’s voice when he hears the irritation in mine. “I’ve got it, baby. Stay in the tub.”

  “I’ve got it, Mom!”

  I sigh, covered in suds with one foot out of the tub. “Somebody, please just get the door!”

  And that’s when Zoe, our three-month-old, decides to speak up and our one-year-old joins in, doing his own impression of a Costanza.

  “I used my key!” Parker calls out from the entryway. “Merry Christmas, Jenners!”

  “Mom,” Dante calls, “You woke Zoe up.”

  “This is ridiculous. You sure this is what you want?” Troy says behind the door.

  “Hell, yes, stop whining and just get your sexy ass in here.”

  “This probably isn’t safe. Where did you come up with this twisted fantasy?”

  “Uh, nowhere in particular.”

  “You’re a sick woman. This i
s your Christmas present?”

  “Yes. Troy, the candles are lit. The sex police are asleep, and Auntie Parker is on watch. Your mom and Luis will be here in seven hours. Need I say more?”

  “I’m coming.”

  “What’s taking so long?”

  “I feel like an idiot.”

  “It’ll pay off. I assure you.”

  “Baby, I’ve done some shit in my days, but this…”

  “Days I don’t need to know about.”

  He pauses behind the door. “Good point. Let’s never have that talk.”

  “Stop stalling and get your butt out here.”

  “Is this about the new gardener? Is he putting the moves on you? Cause I’ll kick his ass.”

  “He’s like…sixty years old.”

  “You and I know age ain’t nothing but a number.” Just as he says it, the bathroom door bursts open, and my man stands at the threshold wearing nothing but a leaf blower, his fists on his hips, his head cocked to the side.

  Laughter bursts from me as he points the hose in my direction. “I knew it. This is payback for something.”

  “Not at all,” I manage to say as he stalks toward me. I lift my hand to stop him and circle my pointer in demand. He narrows his eyes but slowly turns, giving me full view of his perfect ass before turning back to give me the better view.

  “I really would have preferred a cape.”

  “No, this is much better, even better than my fantasies.”

  “Yeah? You like this, weirdo?” He turns again as I nod repeatedly. “This is what turns my wife on?” I nod and nod as he models my present. Yes, I bought a leaf blower and had my husband open it in front of my children and best friend—the only other person who would understand my fantasy. Sue me.

  “So, this really is more for you than me, huh?” He’s smiling, and it steals my breath. He would do anything for me, even wear a power tool buck naked on Christmas Eve.