Love In the Red Zone (Connecticut Kings Book 1) (38 page)

Screw it
…

“He’s big,” I poked my lips out giving off the air of being casual with that answer as my eyes landed on the crystal and floral centerpiece in front of us.

I heard Lashawn gasp next to me. “Big like how?” Then I caught when she retracted and frowned. “He
is
six-five and weighs two-hundred-forty-five pounds.”

My
neck jerked back this time. With one peaked brow, I questioned how she knew that information about
my
lover.     

“His stats are available on the internet. I see you don’t use it before fucking or sucking, J.” She balled her full lips as her chin rested on her upturned fist.

Though she meant nothing by it, that statement burned me. It reminded me of Trent’s fear of sleeping with me in the first place. It had been seven months since we’d been exploring each other physically and boy had it been an adventure. Trent was extreme in size and will. Before he decided to sleep with me, he held headstrong and since he made the move, he banged me senselessly. Trent and I had sex a lot and all over the mansion. Before he was picked up by the
Kings
officially, it was a regular occurrence for us to have sex at least twice a day. It was usually morning and night because of my work schedule. If I was off, one of those two sessions would be in the middle of the day, in one of the countless empty rooms in the house or his gym. They could be long sessions or short, depending on if Kyree was home and awake in the middle of the day.

Now that he was back and in Connecticut for longer stretches, often staying overnight, Trent would sneak home for two hours filled with passionate lovemaking or quick and hard fuck sessions before leaving out just as seamlessly as he came in while Kyree was lost in slumber. The man couldn’t keep his hands off of me. It made me wonder about his claim of sex not being a big deal to him all his life. I had yet to call him out on it because I needed it. I had shamelessly become addicted to sex with Trent. I never experienced anything like this in my life. I’d always been aware of my insecure state, but wasn’t aware of the raging jealousy in me. Those two lethal forces mixed with a well-known, well-hung, talented, and soon-to-be-rich-again man could only lead me down a road that would cost me my space in his heart.
And eventually home
.

I used sex with Trent to solidify my space in his world and to lower his guard to let me into his heart. Trent admitted to loving me, but for a woman with intense insecurities, the claim wasn’t enough. The problem was, I didn’t know what would be enough. I had no idea where in Trent’s universe I ultimately wanted to be other than in his universe. It was logically implausible, but it didn’t cure my need of him. I was admittedly, obsessively in love with a man I genuinely adored and was paranoid about screwing up the leeway I’d made in his life.

I shook my head, frustrated by another mark of my insane jealousy. “Anyway. Big in the penile sense. His dick used to be too big for me—still could be too big for me—but I keep up with it well.” I smiled proudly.

Smugly because it was the truth and a sudden revelation. Trent’s whole body was enormous to a small woman like me.

With a dazed expression, she could hardly get out, “Can he fuck?”

“Like a champion.” I nodded with my eyes fixed on my Aunt Magness’ heels click-clacking against the floors, headed our way.

I stood. “Aunt Maggie.”

I greeted her the moment she arrived. When she withdrew, she patted my jaw gently.

“Jade you’ve always been the prettiest little thing.” I tensed at that. It had been a point of contention in my and Lashawn’s childhood. Aunt Magness always compared her to me until I got pregnant the year before Lashawn. I always thought it was my eye color: the one defining feature for black folks that made you “prettier” or “better.” Aunt Magness’ eyes were just as brown as her daughter, Lashawn’s, and you would think she’d be sensitive to the comparison. The two sisters had the same parents and Aunt Magness didn’t get the exotic eye color trait my mother had from their mother. “I swear, you get prettier and prettier the older you get. You still have that cutesy fit shape. Good for you, dear.”

She smiled broadly with examining eyes. I wanted to bring Lashawn into the conversation and note while she was only one year younger than me, she’d had one child too, and with the exception of a little gut, Lashawn had maintained a nice, sexy figure too, unlike Aunt Magness. But I dismissed the idea, wanting to move this event along. I knew all week to prepare for this level of hypercriticism, pretentiousness, and faking-the-funk-foolery for the next three hours.

“Thanks, auntie. I’m sure you’ve been well. You sure look it.” I offered the million-dollar smile my mother spent years grooming.

It was also supplied with insincerity. Aunt Magness’ shape wasn’t the most flattering. While beautiful, she was overweight and her shape couldn’t hold a candle to Lashawn’s. But she cleaned up in a formal two-piece red dress suit, no matter how loud and inappropriate it was for this setting. 

“Oh, I’m good sweetheart.” She pulled out her seat to sit and I did the same. “I’m glad to see you today. Usually, you’re just dropping off and picking up Kyree from my place. I never understood why I didn’t see much of you. Now, I know.” She gave a practiced wink.

And just as my head was about to blow from my shoulders at that implication, I felt gentle hands on my shoulders.

“Hello, Mom.” I breathed my surprise at what was in front of me and then what was behind once I peeked over my shoulder. I stood to greet her properly, hugging then taking her at the arms after withdrawing. “Thanks for inviting me today.”

Yup. I’d learned how to pretend from the best: the woman who my features mirrored closely.

“Darling, I’m so glad you and Ky were able to make it.” My mother’s smile was blinding and her green irises clear and hypnotizing. Gosh, she was flawlessly beautiful. “Was Trent able to make it?” Those greens held hopeful.

I shook my head, my smile faltering. “No. It’s just Kyree and me.”

I wouldn’t invite Trent to a fundraiser. It wouldn’t have been the smart thing to do, seeing who he was and what I’d been trying to prove to him I wasn’t. Absolutely not. I would never invite him somewhere to spend his money.

“Oh, well that’s just too bad. I was looking forward to introducing the girls to him. They were thrilled when I told them my daughter is dating Trent Bailey.” Her head tossed back slightly to emit a hearty cackle, one delicate enough for public display.

And there it was: her motive for inviting me. It was all in the name of Trent. I didn’t represent Trent…wasn’t even his girlfriend. The last blogger report I read stated he was single, out of the public’s eye, and only interested in resuming his crown on the field. That hurt, but was true.

“Well, Kyree and I will have to do.” I made sure to maintain a smile that included my eyes to hide the teeth in that remark.

“Scoot closer, Jade.” My aunt patted my place setting at the poshly decorated table. “I want to chat with you.”

Swallowing hard, I obeyed. My regard swung to Lashawn, who had finally snapped out of her stupor from my candor about my lover’s appendage, curious about her mother’s agenda. My mother slid graciously into the seat next to her sister. So, there you had Lashawn, me, Aunt Magness, and my mother.

“As your auntie I just want to offer you some pearls of wisdom about men.”

“Especially a man of Trent’s stature,” my mother interjected, hardly able to hide her excitement.

“Or,” my aunt qualified, “the attention span of one. Men like a woman with a stable mind. She can’t be all over the place with her focus. Even if you’re not working, you need to be busy.”

“That could include with his brand or building your own,” my mother added.

My aunt continued, “It doesn’t matter what it is; you have to make yourself appear occupied and not idle.”

“And that it complements his agenda,” my mother interposed again.

“Oh, absolutely! Do you understand, pretty girl?” My aunt’s hand patted gently over mine.

I smiled tightly, understanding the implication. My aunt was suggesting I figure out what to do with my life, a challenge I’d been plagued with since Ryshon was incarcerated three years ago. I’d been in a daze, not having any drive and feeling overwhelmed with my qualifications to do so much, thanks to my mother’s aggressive parenting in keeping me enrolled in countless activities as a child. It wasn’t until a year and a half ago that something in me sparked and I realized I had to get off my ass and obtain a career for my child’s sake. Ryshon’s illegal ambition could not and would not maintain me for long. I’d been silver-spoon bred involuntarily with expensive taste. I was raised to be a woman he couldn’t afford, much less entertain. That revelation was the mark of my current enlightenment period and shame of what my life had become.

Sitting here catching the underlying message in my aunt and mother’s heeding, I realized I still hadn’t made a call on my future. What career did I want to take on? Before Trent, my last ambition was becoming a nail salon owner. Now that I was done with my hours and had a taste of managing a relationship with a well-known figure, no matter that he’d fallen from grace, my goals had shifted.

I took a deep breath, maintaining that smile and even angled my head for persuasive measure.

“Thanks for that. I will keep it in mind.” I peered them both in the eyes as I placed my other palm over my aunt’s on my hand.

The two sisters turned and eyed each other, confused. Lashawn to the left of me was conspicuously quiet.

“Well, honey,” my mother’s eyes bounced between mine and her sister’s in an attempt to keep their crusade of probing alive, “how is Trent?”

That question was similar to Lashawn’s, only without the sensual amendment. 

I took a deep breath and widened my eyes as I gathered my answer mentally. “Well, he’s really smart, infectiously funny, inexhaustibly generous, oh-so fun…extremely private—”

“How is he with KyKy?”

“Great.” I pouted my lips and stretched my eyes. “They get along like buds.”

My aunt sighed. “So, he’s a good father figure to Kyree,” she stated, relieved.

An enthusiastic smile opened on my mother’s flawless face.

“Uh, no.” I delivered emphatically. “Kyree has a father.”

“But he’s not available—”

“Good or bad, Kyree has a father who he knows. Whether he’s a good influence or not has nothing to do with my son and everything to do with my decisions. I’m not in the market for a replacement, neither will I ever be. If I can find someone who is accepting of Kyree, it would be my fortune. But his life is already established, and good or bad, it’s a consequence that I will be held accountable for.” I didn’t breathe in between my words and could feel my face inflamed in anger.

“Oh. Okay, pretty girl,” my aunt cooed. “That’s just being responsible.” She patted my hand again, attempting comfort she couldn’t provide.

“Well, let’s just stick to you and Trent. What’s it like living with him?”

I didn’t want to answer that. Unlike with Lashawn, I didn’t know how. It was obvious that Kyree had shared our living arrangement with her at some point while visiting. I tried catching my breath, my muscles clenched all over. 

“He’s not the big mean ogre living behind a wrought iron gate like he used to be—at least I hope I’m not now that I have a thawing princess in my life.”

My neck snapped around to find that familiar baritone.

Trent stood with both hands tucked in his pant pockets, his impassive eyes bore into me. He was angry…or slightly. Either way he was a pleasant and timely presence. And
oh, my
… He was hella handsome! Trent wore a blue two-piece suit with the sleeves rolled up his corded arms. His crisp white dress shirt was tucked in neatly, hiding the impression of his rolling abs. His cognac oxfords had my stomach doing flips. And his freshly cut goatee had me swallowing hard. Trent was stately, carrying all the elegance and bearings of a member of this club. He knew the protocol of dress for this event, reminding me of his adult experience in a privileged world. The Trent of today was in direct contrast to the man from last night who in a squatting position, wearing basketball shorts,
Timbs
, and a baseball cap to the back,  spread my legs wide on the island countertop in his kitchen and ate me like dessert.

“Trent!” my mother leaped to her feet and rounded the table to him. “I thought you wouldn’t be able to make it.” Her tone was distressed, but eyes glittered with the beam of excitement and relief.

She went to embrace Trent, something he accepted, minus the spine curling bend he’d give me; I was relatively the same height as my mother. He wasn’t engaged enough for that because he was too busy searing into me with an impossibly annoyed and handsome gaze.

“You invited me,” he noted. “Of course, I’d come.”

I stood from my seat and stepped into him as my mother left his big fold.

“Hi.” I breathed in his delicious and familiar scent, vowing to buy two bottles of whatever he was wearing today to keep it in stock.

“Hey, Jelly,” he murmured just loud enough for me to hear.

That lit the inferno ignited by mere words. I was turned on by Trent with little effort from him, another unique quality he possessed over me.