Hope for Us (Hope Series Book #3) (6 page)

I played if off, but the fact she wants to keep our … whatever, quiet, threw me. Not that I wanted to announce it on the video board, but why keep it a secret? After everything, she still made everything difficult. 

I hugged her goodbye when they left, but a few days passed and no word from her.

I wanted to talk to her. I wanted to check on her. See how her day went. See how all her days went. Hell, I wanted to hear her voice, but I was chicken shit about what I would hear. When I used to call her, back when we were friends, her voice made me smile. The way she said my name felt good. Like I knew seeing my name on her caller ID made her day better. She did the same for me. To the point where I would be disappointed for a minute when it wasn’t her calling my phone. Now, I let out a sigh of relief when I looked at my phone and it wasn’t her. I didn’t have the time, patience, or energy to pursue her.

That’s what I told myself daily, but in reality, I didn’t want to hear her rationale about why we shouldn’t be together.

I spent a lot of time working with Towson after practice, but with him on the first team, when I got into the game, the second team guys weren’t as sharp or precise with their routes. It made my throws look inaccurate. By the time I adjusted, my time was up. The first preseason game, I played well. Not as good as I hoped, but good enough.

I expected to hear from Carrington the morning of the game. Back in school, I looked forward to hear game day pep talks. I settled for a call from Jack. While I enjoyed hearing from him, it wasn’t the same.

After the game, I got a text message.

I took a while to answer. I didn’t know how to respond. I wonder how long it took her to come up with it. The next day I replied.

The Monday after the first preseason game, Coach named me starter for the second. Towson and I had developed our timing and quick rhythm due to the extra work after practice. Even thought I was excited about playing, I couldn’t get Carrington out of my mind all week. I wanted to invite her and Jack to the home game, but would she even want to go? 

As the week continued, my work in practice grew more unstable. Towson and I became automatic, but not so much with the other guys. I knew I wouldn’t be successful unless I spread the ball around. Thursday after practice, Towson and I started our extra work, and a few guys stayed out to watch, but none of them joined.

It sucked they chose to watch this session. I couldn't throw for shit.

When I overthrew Towson for the fourth time, an easy up and out, he stopped and headed back to the line of scrimmage, but not in position, he headed straight for me.

“You letting that shit get in your head out here. What’s it going to be like at the game?” Towson asked as he tossed the ball back. He threw it underhanded, but with some aggression.

“It was one throw. I’m good.”

“Seriously, you’re going to give me the ‘it’s one bad throw’ excuse? Forget it. I’m done.”

“Dude, where you going?”

“If you’re not here, why should I be here?”

My head dropped and I shrugged my shoulders. My brain wasn’t in it. I felt sorry for myself. It wasn’t one thing. It was everything. New team, new guys, new situation, and add my confusion over Carrington on top of all that and I wasn't handling any of it well. I wanted to go back to the time when I didn’t feel like I had to prove myself to each and every person, at each and every step.

“Towson, wait.”

He stopped and turned toward me. I rifled a pass right at his numbers. He dropped his helmet and caught it. The guy had some good instincts.

He jogged toward me.

“You have to give the guys time to adjust.”

“I don’t get it. Isn’t the goal to get better? Why are they letting some misplaced loyalty prevent them from succeeding?”

“J, what would you do if you were them? You have Brent and Parker trying to secure their position, and two rookies trying to make the team. Maybe if you’d been around during OTAs they would be quicker to see what was going on, but you got here two weeks ago.”

“Why did you pick a side so early?”

“Well, because I’m the best wide receiver in the league.” He grinned. “I need a passing quarterback. It’s purely selfish.”

“Modest, too.”

“None of the greats are?”

“Good point.”

“Is this all about the guys?”

“Oh, we’re sharing now?”

“Listen, I’ll put up with whatever girly shit we need to if it gets my quarterback back in the game.”

“You married? Have a girlfriend?”

“Married? Are you serious? I’m twenty-two.” He grinned, “But, yeah, I have a girlfriend.”

“How long you two been together?”

“Four years.”

I looked up surprised.

“Yeah, I know,” he said and shrugged his shoulders. “Why?”

“You can’t relate.”

“Try me.”

“You ever met someone who you wanted to be with and they wanted to be with you, but you still can’t find your way together.”

“This is some serious romance novel type shit.”

“Shut up." I swatted him on the shoulder. "I’m serious.”

“We talking about the cutie with the kid.”

“Carrington, yeah. We’ve known each other for eight years. We knew we wanted to be together from the first minute we meet, but I fucked up and it didn’t work out and even now, when nothing is preventing us from getting together, it’s still not happening.”

“Have you asked?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean. Have you asked her to be your girl?”

“It can’t be that simple.”

“Wouldn’t it be funny if it was?” He stood with his hands on his hips grinning. “What’s the worst that could happen? She says no and then you’re no worse off.”

“We’re not in elementary school. It’s a little more complicated than will you go steady with me.”

“Yeah, of course, but it has to start with a decision, which is simple, and then you work out the complicated stuff after that.”

I looked at him with wide eyes. His chest puffed up like he laid some wisdom on me.

“You want to run some routes or you have more girly wisdom to impart on me?”

“Yeah, that’s probably all you can handle for now. We’ll get into more in our next session.”

He shoved the ball in my stomach. “Ugh.”

He ran back to get his helmet and got set.

“Hut.”

Towson took off and ran straight down the sideline. I placed the ball in front of him, and he caught it in stride for a touchdown.

It is simple.

After practice, I had a few hours until curfew so I drove over to Carrington’s house. I should have called first, but I didn’t want to give her the chance to make an excuse or say no.

I stood on the porch and rang the bell. She peeked around the corner and ducked back into the kitchen.

She knows I saw her, right?

A minute later, she came around the corner with a fake smiled plastered across her face and my heart dropped.

This wasn’t easy, but all I had to do was ask her a question.

“Hey,” she said as she opened the door.

“Hi.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Uh, Jack here?” That wasn’t the right question.

“No, he’s spending the night with a friend.”

I ran my hands through my hair and looked to the right of the porch.

“You want to come in?” She asked.

“Sure.”

She stepped back and I caught a whiff of tomato sauce coming from the kitchen.

“You hungry?”

“Yeah. It smells good.”

“Well, you’ve had it before. My famous spaghetti.” She smiled and I felt relieved to discover she had good memories of us together.

“I remember.” I followed her and sat on a stool near the counter and watched her finish making dinner.

She rinsed the pasta and stirred the sauce and despite all we needed to talk about and all we needed to settle, her every move turned me on and in an obvious way. I was happy I had on jeans. 

“Jackson.”

“What?”
Pay attention, Jackson.

“What do you want to drink?” She asked.

“Water is fine.”

“I have beer.”

“No alcohol the night before a game.”

“Oh yeah. You're starting tomorrow. Aren’t you supposed to be in meetings or something?”

“Coach said we’ve been working hard so he gave us some time off until curfew.”

“What time’s curfew?”

“Lights out at eleven.”

“You have,” she looked at the clock in the wall, “five hours.”

“Plenty of time,” I said.

She bit her lip and turned her attention back to her food.

She handed me two glasses of water. Our fingers touched and I almost dropped them. I stood for a minute looking at her and wondered what to do with them. She pointed to the table and I walked over as she followed with two plates of spaghetti. I set the glasses down and took a seat. She set the plates down. 

She headed back to the kitchen, opened the oven and the smell of garlic filled the kitchen. She retrieved the bread, cut it and brought it to the table. She slid in the seat next to me and our legs touched. She placed her hand on my knee.

“Sorry.”

“No problem.”

We ate and I tried to think of something to talk about. Anything to get my mind off watching her lips suck on noodles. Pure torture.

“You ready?" she asked.

"For what?" I grabbed a napkin and whipped my mouth. Was I drooling? I felt like a horny teenager.

Football man. She's talking about football.

“Yeah. I’ve been practicing with the first team all week.”

“How’s it feel? Getting to know a new team and all.”

“It’s strange. Fighting for a job. Humbling.” 

“Well, you looked pretty good last week.”

“That’s with the second team offense against the second team defense.”

“I heard some piece on the news about how you and Towson are putting in a lot of extra work after practice.”

“Yeah, he’s great. Freak of nature talented. It’s the other guys who are proving to be a little hard to convince.”

“Well, they’ll come around. You just go out there and do what you know how to do.”

“That’s what James said.”

“He’s a smart kid. They are going to name you the starter for the season. You deserve it, besides Sampson has too many limits. He’s nowhere near as talented as you are?”

“Wow. I need to come around you more often. I always loved your pep talks.”

“Doesn’t it seem like a lifetime ago?”

I reached out and touched her arm. She looked at me, and I stared into her eyes.

I waited for her to pull away or look away or both. I figured she would start in on how I needed to slow down or how she wasn’t ready. One of a million excuses she had used in the past, one of a million tactics she had employed to avoid the topic of us.

I held her gaze and she smiled. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Her face softened and she placed her hands on top of mine. Then she did something I would have never expected in a million years.

When Jackson placed his hands on my arm, I gritted my teeth to keep from pulling away. We were moving too fast, but the look on his face made me pause. I didn’t know what came over me. I wanted to feel him next to me.

I placed my hand over his, and he tensed. He must have thought the same thing. I ran my hands up his arm. I stood and placed my hands on his shoulders as I straddled his lap. He spoke, but I cut him off when my lips sought out his. I didn’t want to talk. Didn’t want to dissect. Didn’t want to figure out whether what I was doing was a good idea or not. I didn’t care where the need came from. All I knew was that I needed to feel his hands on me.

I adjusted myself on his lap. He groaned when I pulled him closer but shifted away from me. His arms remained at his side, and he lips seemed stiff and tentative. I grabbed the back of his neck and pressed my lips and kissed him harder. I licked his bottom lip and again, he tried to speak, but when he opened his mouth my tongue darted inside. Our tongues touched and a burst of flavors washed over our taste buds.

He ran his hands up my back, and I moaned. They traveled back down my side and gripped my hips. He lifted me, pushed his hips out and sat me back down on his growing hard on, and we both groaned from the pressure. He leaned into the kiss and our tongues darted in and out. He pressed down on my hips more and I whimpered. I drew my head back and opened my eyes, afraid of what I would see. I didn’t want this to end. I didn’t want my mind to get in the way; I wanted to feel him inside of me.

His expression held confusion. Even through his jeans, I could feel how much he wanted me, too. It felt amazing. His eyes transformed to a lustful gaze, but something in his brain made him hold back.

I reached down and pulled my tank top over my head. I sat there pushing on his lap, topless, my nipples standing at attention, and it was more than any man could resist. A grin spread across my lips, and he sighed. I knew I had him. He gave in. He nodded in defeat, grabbed my ass, and stood up with me in his arms. I pressed my chest up against him and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. I tugged on his earlobe as he carried me out of the kitchen.

“Bedroom’s back there.” I didn’t even recognize my own voice, my tone filled with years of pent-up passion and lust. I had dated and had sex in the last few years, but none of them compared to being with Jackson. None compared to the best I ever had.

I planted kisses down Jackson’s neck as he carried me down the hall. He found the bed and laid me down. I pulled on his t-shirt and he removed it while kissing down my neck and chest. I tried to sit up. I wanted to see his body, feel his chest, but after a quick glimpse that wasn’t near enough time, he pushed me back down and grabbed my breast with his hands. He squeezed them, while he placed small, wet kisses around the curves. He alternated, giving them both attention. He licked my nipple with his tongue, and I would arch up to meet him, and then he stopped and switched directions. I whimpered in frustration. He grinned as he teased me.  I stifled a scream, which lead to a moan; his touch was excruciating and so hot.

He kissed back up my chest as his erection, covered in his jeans, pressed hard into me. I opened my legs to get his center as close to my core as possible. I hated the layer of clothes that kept us apart. I reached down to unbutton his pants, but he grabbed my hands. He kissed them and placed them over my head while covering his lips with mine.

He placed his hand flat on my stomach, and he sat up next to me. He grabbed the top of my pants and panties in his fist and pulled them down in one smooth motion. His knuckles grazed between my legs on the way. I gasped. He deposited them on the floor and ran his hand back up my leg. No grazing and no tentative touches this time. His fingers went straight for my pussy and pressed inside me as his thumb pressed on the outside. His other arm lay over my stomach pressing me into the bed and restricting my movements. He worked his hand in and out of me. I grabbed on to his neck, dug my fingers into his skin as I came with a low moan from someplace deep inside of my soul, like nothing I had ever felt before and it scared the shit out of me.

My body shook and a sheen of sweat sprung out over my entire body, as I came down from the most intense orgasm I had experienced ...well, since the last time Jackson and I were together. My thoughts were all jumbled. My brain went back there to the time when we were so in love and so connected and with all that came the pain. It was all mixed up together and it hurt. My insides clenched when I felt Jackson shift and his tongue found my center.

My brain said wait, stop while my body craved the amazing sensation that eclipsed to another level.

Jackson sensed my hesitation.

“Carrington, baby, let go,” he whispered as if talking to my soul. I whimpered with every movement of his tongue. I bit my lip and tried to hold it in, but it was no use. I crashed hard.

My eyes rolled back in my head, and I gripped the blanket under me with one hand and Jackson with the other as I cried out. It hurt and felt so good all at the same time and my brain didn’t know how to process it.

When I regained feeling in my body, I opened my eyes and found Jackson watching me.

“You okay?”

I wasn’t sure how to answer him. His concerned freaked me out. I didn’t understand what happened and I felt any answer I came up with would be inadequate to describe how I felt. I remained silent. He climbed up next to me and pulled me into his arms. I turned to my side and wrapped myself around him and rested my head on his chest.

I hoped he didn't feel the silent tears that fell from my eyes as he held me tight.

I wasn't sure how much time elapsed, but I was yanked out of my own thoughts when something vibrated against my hip. I lifted my head as he fished his phone out of his pocket.

“You have to go?” I broke the silence.

“Yeah, curfew in thirty minutes.”

I sat up and a chill clued me into my nakedness. I scooted off the bed and grabbed my robe hanging on the opened bathroom door. I secured it before turning to face Jackson, but he had his head buried in his own shirt, pulling it over his head. He stood up and put his phone back in his pocket.

I walked over and grabbed his forearm and squeezed. He looked down at me and kissed me on the top of my head. I lead him into the hall way and toward the front door.

“Have a good game. I know you’re going to do great.”

“Thank you. I’ll just go out there and do what I know how to do, right?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

“Yeah, well, you know. I’m a stupid jock, sometimes it doesn’t sink in the first time.”

“Then I’ll keep saying it.”

He smiled and leaned over and kissed me soft on the lips. I squeezed his arms, and he wrapped one around my waist, laid his hand flat on my ass and kissed me harder. I held onto him as my knees went weak.

When he broke off the kiss and opened the door, I regained my composure.

“I’ll call you tomorrow after the game. Maybe you and Jackson can come by next week and see my new place.”

“You found a place?”

“Brenden, my assistant, found it. It’s out in Glendale near the stadium. It’s nice.”

“Your assistant, huh?”

“Yeah, in case you didn’t know. I’m a big time NFL quarterback.”

I laughed.

“I heard that somewhere.”

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” he said and planted another quick but knee buckling kiss on my lips. “Thanks for dinner.”

“Bye,” was all I could manage.

I closed the door but sat on the steps and watched him stroll to his car, get in, and drive away. The longer I remained on the steps, the more confused I became about what had happened between us.

I shook my head and put my face in my hands, but then drew them back. My hands smelled like Jackson. I groaned and headed in the kitchen. The half-eaten spaghetti remained on the table. I put the dishes in the sink when my phone buzzed on the counter.

I took a photo of the half eaten plates and sent him a reply.

I finished cleaning up the kitchen, went into my room and flipped on NFL network for background as I turned on my computer. I opened Facebook and did a search for Jackson Latre Mitchell. It only brought up his fan pages. I scrolled through some of the photos and read some of the treads from his fans. Everyone loved him. He had over a million likes on his page. I wondered who ran it for him.

I switched over to Twitter and found his verified account and read his tweets from today. 

His praise for his teammates touched me.

I caught a glimpse of his gorgeous face and bright blue eyes on the HD television. I turned up the television and listened to the commentators talk about Jackson and it seemed like they were talking about someone else. Not the man who made my insides explode with his fingers and his tongue. I got all tingly inside thinking about how he felt pressed up against me. How his fingers knew how to touch me. My brain struggled to give up control, but the way he touched me, and his suggestion for me to let go was all I needed to shut off my mind and let my body take over. It was scary but freeing at the same time.

My issues with control stemmed from my relationship with Josh, but this wasn’t the same thing. Tonight wasn’t the same thing. Tonight, it wasn’t so much about what Jackson needed, but more about what I wanted.

The guys on the show were discussing what Jackson had to do to win his job and one guy said he had one game to prove himself. Another guy shook his head and said he had one series to prove it.

I couldn’t imagine the type of pressure Jackson was under. Maybe he needed tonight, but didn't he already have enough pressure without me adding to it?

When we sat down to dinner, it did feel like old times. Maybe he needed that tonight. A no pressure situation to put his mind at ease for what he had to do. I was happy I could provide that for him, but surprised after doubts and fears had consumed me all week.

I had gone back and forth about what I wanted and what I thought Jackson wanted and always at the top of my thoughts, how what we were doing would affect Jack.

Maybe I could use a little less thought and go with my feelings for a while.

See how that worked for me for a change.