Love on the Highlight Reel (Connecticut Kings Book 2) (33 page)

I always came back around to:
this is my father.
I saw what Eli was like with Nicki and Nate – demanding, but encouraging. Firm, but open-minded. They were eager to please him, eager to meet his expectations, and make him proud. And the delight that shone through Eli when they performed at the high threshold he set?

Whew.

I
wanted
that.

But I was realizing more and more, something my mother had tried to tell me. Something that I ignored. Nothing was ever going to be good enough, and it wasn’t because
I
wasn’t good enough. It wasn’t about me at all. It was just who my father was.

From the moment she decided to leave, it was like my mother was immune to his malice. She was Teflon, never letting him stick to her, never letting that negativity seep in. When it came to what he thought, she just
didn’t care.

Maybe it was time for me to follow her lead.

After
I got this ring, which would put us on the same level.

He couldn’t keep acting like I wasn’t good enough after that.

Twenty

I woke up to the sound of my shower coming on. For whatever reason, it stood out from the noise of freezing rain hitting my windows, and I sat up, wondering if I was imagining it. I’d
definitely
gone to sleep in my apartment alone.

I grabbed my cell phone, dialed nine-one-one, and left my finger poised over the send button, just in case. I climbed out of bed, padding silently across the carpet to my partially-cracked bathroom door to peek in… and breathed a quiet sigh of relief when I recognized Jordan’s mahogany-toned frame behind the glass door of my shower enclosure.

I’d been worried about him for the last few days. He’d been present, but quiet, even though he swore nothing was going one. And tonight’s game… they’d barely pulled that one off.

Jordan was a mainstay on the field. A player that the coaches knew they could depend on to do what he was supposed to do. But Washington had dominated, largely due to what was an apparent lack of focus on Jordan’s part. Fumbles, interceptions, dropped passes, you name it. For whatever reason, he was just off his game.

The Kings managed a win, but barely, and I knew he had to be feeling… not-so-great about that. Especially since he was
here
, and I knew the team wasn’t flying back until tomorrow. Instead of questioning it, I let him have his time. My place was supposed to be a safe space for
him
too, which is why I’d given him a key.

When he was ready, we’d talk.

I got back into the bed, and twenty minutes later the bathroom door opened. Jordan came ambling out, moving slow like he was aching, but I still said nothing.

He turned up the dimmer on the side of the bed that had become his, just enough to bend and plug up his cell phone charger. He sat down on the bed, in nothing but his boxers, facing away from me. That was when I decided I’d been quiet enough.

I moved over to him, kissing his lower back before I moved up his spine, to his shoulders. Kneeling behind him, I wrapped my arms around him, putting my mouth next to his ear. “How does that feel for you? Me kissing your back? Does it feel nice?”

He turned his head to the side. “Yeah, actually. How does it feel for you?”

“Like I’m kissing on my man,” I grinned, planting my lips on the back of his neck. “Just kissing on you because I can. Displaying all kinds of affection.”

Jordan chuckled – something it felt like
days
since I’d heard. “Yeah, you’ve been on your
best girlfriend ever
thing pretty tough.”

“I don’t even think it’s that,” I said, resting my head on his shoulder. “Not anymore. I’m just doing what comes natural.”

“Fake it til you make it, huh?”

Immediately, I shook my head. “Nope. I was never faking it. More like… purposefully pushing through my own roadblocks. Thinking about it like a competition helped me overcome that pesky need to… not look like I cared so much. Wanting to touch, and feel, and make you happy is organic for me. The only difference is that I’m giving in to the urges now.”

That time, Jordan didn’t just turn his head, he turned his whole body in my direction, looking at me with so much love in his eyes it made me feel a little breathless.

“I caught a flight, cause I wanted to get back and see you.
Needed
to see you, after tonight’s game.”

I nodded, then kissed his face, his shoulder, and bicep before I moved under his arms to kiss his ribs, then just above the waistband of his boxers. “Are you sore?” I asked, laying on my back beside him, with my head against the side of his hip.

He took a deep breath, then gave me a subtle nod. He’d taken a tackle that was downright ugly, and had needed a moment on the field before he got up. He was cleared almost immediately, but I could tell from the way he moved after that – he was shaken by it.

When he didn’t say anything else, I kissed his stomach, then moved to straddle his lap. “If I see Andrew Bianci on the streets, I’m fucking his shit up,” I murmured against his lips, making him laugh again.

His hand went to the nape of my neck, with his thumb stroking my jaw. He met my eyes again, the remnants of a smile still curving his mouth. “I really,
really
love you, Nicki. You know that?”

“I do. Tell me what you need right now.”

He shook his head. “Nothing. Just you.”

The truth in his words was…
dizzying.
Jordan had never required much from me, and in the current iteration of our relationship, that concerned me. When we were together before, if I had to describe the type of girlfriend I was, I would say…
minimalist.
I didn’t do laundry, or make posters, or participate in clumsy college threesomes to “keep him interested”. I never let myself seem thirsty for his attention.  Never did the things I saw other girls doing when we were way too young to be thinking about doing those things for college boyfriends. The stuff we were supposed to do because “if we didn’t, another woman would”.

And he wanted me anyway.

I’d forgotten the understated power in that.

I guess I was making up for that now, with my
best girlfriend ever
-ness. Only, I wasn’t concerned about keeping him from getting away. I just wanted to make him as happy as his steadfast pursuit of
us
had made me.

There was power in
that
too.

I pressed my lips to his as I pushed his boxers down, grinning when he lifted up to let me get them past his hips. Sleeping panty-less had become second nature for me, and so had wetness whenever he was around, so it was only a matter of pulling my short nightgown up around my hips to sink onto him.

Because I knew he was aching, I was gentle when I pushed him back onto the bed. I rested my hands on his chest as I rode him, closing my eyes when he brought his hands to my hips. I rode him harder as his fingers dug into my flesh, moving my hands to grip his shoulders for leverage.

“
God
you feel good,” he groaned, grabbing my hips to still my movements while he was still buried deep. I grinned, and instead of moving up and down, rocked against him in subtle circles. That circular friction was so,
so
good. I wound my hips, grinding harder as he released his hold to snatch my nightgown over my head.

His hands went to my breasts, cupping and caressing, squeezing my nipples between his fingers. I arched into his touch, and he raised up, covering one of my areolas with his mouth.

I grabbed the back of his head, keeping him there as his tongue flicked and play with my nipple. He sucked it hard, pulling it between his teeth, nipping me, then lapped it with his tongue to soothe the sting.

It was delicious – distractingly so. Soon, I lost any sense of rhythm and just rode with abandon, savoring the way he filled me, stretched me,
completed
me, as we made love.

I didn’t complain when he flipped me onto my back, teasing me with the head of his dick on my clit before he plunged into me again, filling me up. I loved having him on top of me, dominating me with strong, confident strokes that took away my breath. He pushed my legs up, propping my feet on his chest and spreading me wide.

My heart started racing when he put both hands between my legs, coating his thumbs in the wetness I was pouring out for him. One thumb went to my clit, rubbing it in tight circles that made me light-headed as he pounded into me. The other went lower, much lower, and I bit my lip in anticipation as he pressed it against my tightness, rubbing back and forth, coaxing until he pushed it in for a second penetration.

I nearly came up off the bed, and he just grinned, showing me those damned dimples and perfect teeth. He’d worked up a sweat, but I felt too damned good to mind a single drop as he worked on top of me. My breaths grew more and more shallow, thoughts less and less coherent as he stroked, deep and hard, and pleasure coiled tight in my core, threatening to bubble over.

And then, it did.

It hit me with a jolt, making me jerk and clench around him, spurring him to slam into me with a growl. Both hands went back to my hips, holding me tight against him as he pumped into me, filling me with the warm essence of
his
orgasm. Spasms of pleasure rocked me as waves of climax rushed through me, making me tingle from head to toe before it centered between my legs, where we were still connected.

He wrapped his arms around me, collapsing on top of me without pulling out. “I needed that,” he mumbled into my neck, his words sluggish, like he was already barely awake.

I smiled to myself, and draped my arms over him.

“Yeah. I had a feeling.”

“You look ridiculous. Adorably so,” I told my father, poking at the fake belly protruding from him, filling out his Santa costume. When he told me he would be playing Santa Claus, I’d assumed he meant metaphorically. But here he was, with a big fake beard, in a bright red suit.

He shrugged. “The kids like it, my dear. And once upon a time, so did you.”

I grinned. That was one of the few traditional hallmarks of growing up with Eli Richardson. Mine and Nate’s little brains were challenged and stretched to the limits, but he still fed a belief in the extraordinary and magical, from the tooth fairy to the Easter bunny. And, Santa – even though he made it clear that Santa only
delivered
. Eli paid.

“They definitely seem to be enjoying themselves,” I agreed, looking around. We were back in the same room where we’d held the royal ball, only now it was filled with a “winter wonderland”, which was the theme I’d chosen for this year’s party.

About half our roster of players – everyone who stayed in Connecticut for Christmas – was in attendance, along with their families, but this event wasn’t just about them. A large portion of the guests for today were families in need – before they left here, many of those needs would be met.

Eli didn’t put on a party without a charitable aspect.

“Are we ready to have the players pick their family?” Mel asked as she walked up, looking radiant in her “Mrs. Claus” dress. She was finally starting to develop a soft curve to her normally flat belly, but she insisted it was her weakness for cravings, not the growth of the baby, causing the change.

Any of the players could opt out of our “Secret Santa” style arrangement, but they rarely did. The players randomly, anonymously chose a family, looked at their list of needs, and wrote a check. The Kings foundation charity would have a busy next week processing those checks, plus the donations from the Front Office execs and my father himself, and then disbursing appropriately. They called and paid light bills and rent, sent volunteers to shop for kids school clothes and toys, filled refrigerators, took some of the pressure off medical bills, helped catch people up on tuition. It was all an important part of making sure that the underserved in this community didn’t stay that way for long.

“Yes, but can someone else do it? You’re making me nervous, being up on your feet this long.”

Mel immediately brushed off my father’s worried words. “Oh please, Eli. I’m pregnant, not invalid. I’ll be fine.”

“And I believe you,” he said soothingly, pulling her into his arms. “But… have someone else do it.”