“It sounds like you really loved him.”
Jack swallowed. “Yeah. He idolized me for some stupid reason. He loved going to my high school games. He cheered for me louder than my mom.” He paused, and I realized it was probably the first time he was telling anyone about this. “When he got too sick to come to the games, I brought in the recording, and we watched it together. The last time he smiled was while we watched a recording of the semi-finals. I forgot the snap count and ate a sack on the goal line. He rewound that play so many damn times I got pissed and broke the DVD. He thought it was hilarious.”
“What was his name?”
“Sam.”
Jack paced the kitchen. I hated how painful it was for him, but he was telling me anyway. That was a gift, a revelation I doubted he trusted many to know.
“Sam deserved a better life than that. I watched this little kid just…waste away.” He paused, a long moment while he remembered more than I felt right asking to hear. “The doctors did good though. They tried everything, and he was always taken care of. So I, uh…” He shrugged. “I figure I can give something back to the wing in his memory.”
Was it okay to hug him? I pulled him close, tugging his hand, returning him to my side. “I didn’t know you had a little brother.”
“I don’t tell many people.”
“We could share the story. Let them see you donate. It’d help your—”
“I don’t care about my image. That’s personal. He was my little brother. I’m not exploiting his memory.”
I squeezed his hand. “It’s not exploiting. You’re in the spotlight, Jack. It comes with the territory. People need to see that other side of you.”
“Why?”
“Just the way it is. You’re a public figure.”
“I never asked to be a role-model.”
I arched an eyebrow. “And if this works? If we have a baby?”
Jack stilled. He studied my body. “It will work.”
“You’ll have to be a role-model for your son.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“Because he’ll be my son.”
I didn’t expect such conviction. Jack held my gaze, edging close to me.
“Or she’ll be my daughter,” he said. “I’ll owe my kid everything, but I don’t owe the world some bullshit lie. I’m Jack Carson. I’m no fucking saint. What I do on my nights off, who I go out with, what I do, who I take home…that’s my business. I’m not going to let the league tame me because they think my reputation has anything to do with how well I play football.”
“You can’t party forever, Jack. You have to grow up someday.”
“And you can’t schedule your life down to the minute and hope that nothing knocks you off course.” He winked, brushing a hand over my belly. “Or hope that someone knocks you up.”
I poked his chest, but my hand tickled over the thick muscles of his pecs. “You better take this seriously, Jack.”
“I’m a serious as I get right now.” His grin charmed me even when I thought I could resist it the most. “Think it’s too early to take a pregnancy test?”
I laughed. “Oh, you don’t know anything about the female body, do you?”
“I know my way around it. No one’s complained yet.”
“It’s too early to take a test.”
Jack’s gaze hardened over me. He gripped the hem of the jersey and tugged it up, revealing my crossed legs. A firm hand to my knee pushed my thighs open, and he stared at my puffy slit, already slickening under his gaze.
His voice was a heated, feral rumble. “Is it too late to keep trying to make a baby?”
I shuddered as he leaned close, capturing my mouth and running a confident finger over my pussy. One little flick, and my body rocked with a dangerous pleasure.
“We could probably…” I sucked in a breath as he circled my clit, but his hand immediately dropped to free himself from his shorts. I met his gaze. “Increase our odds…”
His cock was hard, hot, and more than ready to try again. I gasped as the thick head pushed inside my core, still swollen and raw from the fucking last night. His growl warned me before he shoved every last inch within me. I groaned, grasping his shoulders, holding tight as he began to move.
I wrapped my legs over his waist and commanded his kiss. Jack wasn’t a man who’d deny me. I melted against his lips and savored the feel of his body against mine.
Hot.
Strong.
Close.
Every movement explored my body and demanded my pleasure and stole from me the last defenses I cast for Jack. I could hide nothing from him while his cock stretched me and tormented me and delighted me. I never imagined experiencing such a passionate intimacy with him.
I never thought I’d enjoy it so much.
That I’d need it so much.
That I’d love it so much.
I came quickly for him, trembling against my own sudden realizations.
It would be far too easy to fall for Jack Carson, to want the untamable and risk breaking my heart for the arrogant trouble-maker.
I’d have to be careful I only gave him my body.
I couldn’t risk giving him my heart.
Chapter Twelve – Jack
The team cheered as I dropped back, let loose, and threw a bomb that hit our receiver mid-stride for a sixty yard completion.
Had it not been training camp—had we actually strapped on our pads and gone to work at a real game—it would have broken my personal record.
Just gave me something to aim for this season. It was a good pass. It felt good. It looked good for the screaming fans and press attending our training camp.
I could feel it. This was going to be my season.
My year.
My championship.
Bryon finished his stretches and hooted at me. “Baby, you kicked it up a notch this offseason.”
“Fuckin’ know it.” I took the bottle from the trainer but dosed myself with the cool water. Goddamned August was killing me, and it was only the first week of camp. “Just a preview of what’s coming, gentlemen.”
Bryon revved the team up. “Watch out!”
“Better start working up new nicknames. Play-Maker’s gonna become the stuff of dreams.”
The guys laughed. Bryon mocked me, hands in the air. “Preach it, Jack.”
“I’m the baddest motherfucker on this field. You best be calling your mommas on Monday. Ain’t no one rocking you to sleep Sunday night after you get fucked by me.”
The team cheered, my offensive linemen heralding the charge with another blitz of profanity. My back-up nudged me.
“Dude, there’s kids over there.” Matt wasn’t a stick in the mud, he was all the dirt in the damn pile. “Better watch your language.”
“Jesus Christ, it’s a practice. Like they haven’t heard this shit before—”
Coach Thompson’s voice was a shrill as the whistle. It silenced the field. “Carson!”
What the hell. I was in a rhythm. Why the fuck were we stopping?
I abandoned the practice and jogged to the coaching staff, strategizing over the playbook. The rest of the team buzzed the field, some running laps, some doing plays, most of the new recruits shitting themselves while trying to make a good impression.
I guess I was in that position too. My contract renegotiation hadn’t started yet. I doubted they’d let me wallow through the last year of what I originally signed. It’d be a monumentally shitty idea for the team, especially after how good I looked at this year’s training camp.
I was bigger than last season. Stronger. Fitter. I knew the offense better than the layout of my house. And I had a reason to win—not just because I was the most insanely gifted quarterback to enter the league in twenty years.
I had my pride to regain. A lost game to forget. And they knew it.
“Carson, you’re gonna watch your motherfucking mouth on that field.” Coach Thompson pointed at me with a pudgy finger. “In fact, you’re gonna shut that mouth. Throw the damn ball and do your job.”