Something like hate, p.13
Something like Hate, page 13
part #1 of Chicago Grizzlies Series
I’ve done my research on him, so I know most of this.
“Most guys are just happy to be drafted, to have the opportunity to go pro,” he adds.
“Yeah, I suppose they are. A lot of guys get moved to different positions. Julian Edelman was a quarterback in college but moved to wide receiver when he hit the pros.”
“True, but to me, I felt I was never good enough. Maybe because I lack the typical football player mentality. I don’t party, I rarely drink, I enjoy reading, clean eating, and working out.”
“You do know that football players aren’t just manufactured in a plant where they pop out all the same, right? Cooper isn’t like Damon. And look at Chase back in San Francisco, so quiet and reserved, while Brady is outgoing and sometimes boisterous. Lee is subdued. Do I need to continue?”
“You make me feel like it’s okay to be different, but in the locker room, different isn’t always appreciated or well-liked. In high school mostly. What is it about high school that can just fuck you up in the head? I mean, here I am in the pros, and I’m still messed in the head about some bully my freshman year who made fun of how small I was.”
My chest pinches when I think of a younger Miles being harassed by some asshole. “I think the coaches were able to switch your positions because you’re versatile. I wouldn’t think of it as a bad thing at all. And as far as who you were in high school, no one was the best version of themselves back then.”
He nods. “I know. I’ve just always felt different. But I own it now. I have that chip on my shoulder to remind myself to prove to everyone that I’m where I deserve to be. Now I’m afraid if I lose the chip on my shoulder, I’ll grow complacent and fail.”
I huff. “It’s a lot of pressure you’re under.”
It’s not that I didn’t already know that, but these conversations with Miles help me really understand what that pressure means for them day-to-day. It’s not just while they’re on the football field in a televised game. It’s something they carry with them everywhere, always.
“We’re judged under a microscope every week,” he says.
And it’s the truth. There are times I feel bad writing articles about them when they might be at their lowest, knowing I’m likely causing the wound to fester, not heal.
“But at the same time,” he continues, “we’re paid to perform, just like any other job. If you don’t, you get fired.”
“Most people aren’t being tackled or having to tackle people to keep their job.”
“We picked it, and we’re paid well for it too. Here I am bitching, and that’s why I hate telling people about all that shit because, how can I complain? I’m exactly where I dreamed I’d be when I was ten.”
I touch him to let him know I hear him loud and clear, but he grabs my hand and interlocks our fingers.
“Miles,” I whisper.
“Now you tell me,” he whispers back, continuing to hold my hand.
“What?”
“Your parents. Why are you so hard on your dad? Don’t most divorced kids dream of their parents reuniting?”
Heat flows up my arm like warm lava down a volcano as he caresses my hand. “It’s a long story and you need your sleep.” I try to slide my hand out of his, but he grips it harder.
“I’m wide awake now. Plus, it’s just a game, right?”
I giggle. “Now it’s just a game?”
“Yeah.”
Like him, I take my time, because putting words to my feelings about my parents is hard. Not everyone understands.
“Like he said, I was four when they divorced. I have vague memories of how broken my mom was, but over time, she smiled more, played with me more, and just spent more time with me. My dad got me every other weekend and Wednesday, the typical divorced dad schedule back then.”
“Was it hard?” He squeezes my hand, running his thumb over my pointer finger in lazy circles. “I have no idea what that must have been like.”
“It sucked. My mom got visibly depressed and angry the closer we got to his weekends. She wouldn’t talk to him for the first couple of years. She’d pack my stuff, and when his car pulled up, she would open the front door, hug me, and tell me to walk out to him. She never referred to him by name, just him.”
“And did you even understand it, being so young?”
I’m glad he’s asking questions. It’s easier than just telling the story from start to finish.
“All I knew is that Daddy didn’t love Mommy anymore. I heard her tell my grandma that right after he left. ‘He just doesn’t love me anymore,’ is what she told my grandma. But then when I turned seven, she met someone, Crew. He’d been divorced and had his kids on the weekend I was home with my mom, so I went from weekends with my mom to weekends with her, Crew, and his two kids. They never spent the night, but we did everything with them. Crew always wanted his kids to have more fun with him than they did with their mom, so we did a lot of things like bowling, amusement parks, and stuff. And when my dad found out that was happening, he decided he’d start taking me to football games every one of his weekends.”
“I’m sorry.” His voice is soothing and full of sympathy.
“Does it sound that bad?”
“Sounds like a ‘who can be a more fun parent’ competition.”
He’s right in a way.
“I guess. The football games were great. My dad would get great seats, we’d pig out on the concession food, and we’d always stay in a hotel. He really is the reason I love the game. Always took the time to explain plays to me.”
“Did he play?”
I shake my head although he can’t see me well. “One year in college is as far as he got. Dropped out after that. As I got older, we’d go to steak dinners after every game where he’d drink, and I’d get a kiddie cocktail that I thought was the coolest thing ever. I felt so special every time we’d go. But then…” I choke up and push back the emotions clogging my throat.
You can get through this. Stop overthinking it, it was so long ago.
“At thirteen, he told me I could rent a movie in the hotel room, and he left me earlier than he usually did.”
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want,” Miles says in a calm voice that makes me want to push away the blankets between us and have him hold me.
“The movie sucked, and I got bored, so I went downstairs to the lobby where he said he was going to be, but he wasn’t there. I walked by the bar, and he was with a woman in a corner booth. They were side by side, drinking, and he had his arm around her shoulders. She was tucked into his side. I didn’t know what to do. I froze at first but then scrambled back to the bank of elevators. He didn’t return until three in the morning, and his shirt was unbuttoned. I pretended to be asleep. We woke up, and I never told him. He wasn’t cheating on my mom. They were divorced, but… in some weird way, it felt like he was cheating on me. Cheating me out of what little time I had with him. Did he just take me on these outings so he could pick them up at the hotel at night? All of it only further reinforced why my parents split and the type of man he was.”
“Your mom was with Crew at the time?”
“No, they didn’t make it past two years. The problem was, it was like that from the time I was thirteen to eighteen. After that, when we went to games, it was usually just the local games by my college. It was always different women and…”
“It took away your belief in love?”
I sit up in bed and wipe the tears teetering on the edges of my eyelids. “No. I just don’t want to be in a relationship.”
He follows suit, sitting up, and I take the opportunity to pull my hand away. “It’s okay, Bryce. Everyone has hang-ups.”
“He didn’t cheat.”
“But he was kind of a womanizer.”
I look at him. “He was a good father.”
“I think seeing your mom upset and that he couldn’t settle in with anyone, preferred random hookups… that’s got to change your perspective on relationships.”
The more he’s trying to help, the more upset I feel. “Don’t try to psychoanalyze me.”
He huffs, and now that my eyes are adjusted to the darkness, I see his shoulders have slumped. “I’m just trying to talk to you. Help you.”
“Why though? Why are you always trying to help me? Plenty of women out there would kill to be in my position.” I can’t look away from him, even though I want to out of self-preservation.
“I only want you,” he whispers. “I’m sorry if that upsets you, but it’s the truth. I haven’t gotten you out of my head for two years. I get it, I do. We’d be putting your job in jeopardy, our friendships with other people could suffer if we don’t make it, but none of that seems to matter when I’m around you. I only want to help make your troubles disappear. I just want to make you happy.”
My tears threaten to spill over, and I close my eyes to compose myself.
“Can I ask you one last question?” he asks.
I want to say no. I want to beg him to stop. I want to run out of this room onto the streets and scream for mercy. “What?”
“Two years ago, after we hooked up, did you walk out on me because you were afraid or because it really meant nothing to you?”
I don’t answer for a beat, but I admit weakly, “Because I was afraid.”
He nods as though he knew all along, but how could he? “How long do you plan on running from this?”
I throw the blankets off me and stand, feeling restless and unmoored, like a rabid animal backed into a corner. “I’m not running. You already mentioned everything that’s against us.”
I walk over to my suitcase. I’ll bang down Cooper’s door at this point. Miles tosses off his blankets and rounds the edge of the bed to face me. All I smell is him, and it causes the space between my legs to ache.
He puts his hand over mine where it’s holding the handle of my suitcase. “At some point, those reasons won’t hold up. I’m done being on the sidelines, Bryce. I want to play the game, whether I win or lose. I just want to play.” I look up at him, meeting his gaze, and he steps closer. “Put me in, Coach.”
I shake my head, desperate and afraid. “We’re playing with matches.”
“I’ll take the risk.” He wraps his arms around me, pulling me to his bare chest.
I press my palms on his pecs and look up at him. “Miles, I’m afraid.”
“Just say when,” he says softly.
“What?”
“When I can kiss you.”
He searches my eyes for an answer while my fingers glide down along the ridges of his abs. I want to play. I’m done denying myself and living in fear.
“When.” It’s barely audible, but he hears me.
He bends his head, and his lips land on mine, beginning a brand-new game of “who wants the other one more.”
Chapter 19
Miles
I walk her backward until her ass falls to the mattress. Using her arms, she scoots up the length of the bed, and I don’t let our lips part as I climb with her, both of my knees on either side of her body. I’m not letting her go now that I have her again.
Her back falls to the mattress, and I hold my weight over her with one elbow on the side of her head. “Do you have any idea what you do to me? This slinky pajama outfit almost made me go caveman on you.”
I slide my hand up the hem of her silk tank, and her back arches when my hand covers her bare breast. My thumb runs over her nipple, and she moans, pushing up and demanding more. My mouth falls back to hers, my tongue sliding between her parted lips, and I groan when she meets me with the same intensity. In our frenzy, we can’t get enough of one another. Her fingers grip my long strands and keep me exactly where I am.
“Fuck, I don’t know where to start.” I tear my lips away, but I’m unable to stay away from tasting every inch of her, so I drag my lips along her neck to the crevice of her breasts.
I pull her silk tank up and off her, exposing her perfect tits. Her nipples are hard, and I wrap my mouth around one, sucking it into my mouth with force. There’s no being gentle right now.
“Jesus, Miles.”
It pops out of my mouth, and I look at her wet lips. Who am I kidding? I need more of that mouth.
My knee moves between her closed legs to give me room between them. She widens her thighs more, and I wedge my hips between them, then grind into her. I groan into her mouth when I feel that she’s hot and wet and eager for me. Her nails scrape at my back, and I can’t get my tongue deep enough in her mouth. To have her body under my hands feels like the first time I held a football, when I knew I found something special, something I loved.
“Fuck.” She throws back her head when I grind my steel length between her legs and lick all the way down her neck before taking a tit into my mouth again. She widens her legs further in demand, and I slide one hand between us, through the gap in the leg of her pajama shorts, then run my fingers through her wetness.
“You’re killing me. You’re so fucking wet,” I murmur against her hot skin. She grinds against my hand, and I press my palm down on her clit to get her off.
“Don’t move that hand.” She takes what she wants from me, arching her hips. “Oh fuck, it feels so good.”
She bucks in slow circles, building the pressure with every hit of my palm. I watch as her orgasm rushes through her like a lion chasing a cheetah. It happens so fast that it wedges satisfaction deep in my chest.
“There is nothing better in this world than watching you get off, Bryce, swear to God.”
I slide down her body, grabbing the edges of her pajama bottoms as I go, and pull them down her body until they’re off. I toss them aside and nudge her thighs further apart, casting kisses up her inner thigh.
“I think I can still taste you if I think hard enough about it.” I run my nose just above her pussy, up and down, teasing her, inhaling the scent of her arousal. They should bottle this up and sell it, it’s so enticing.
“Please, Miles, please.”
I stop teasing and look up at her. Her eyes are shut, and her body is arched with her hands already full of the comforter.
“Are you begging?” There’s no hiding the satisfaction from my voice.
Bryce’s eyes fly open and meet my gaze in the death stare of all death stares. “What do you want?” Her eyes narrow.
I love it when she’s angry, even better when she’s angry, naked, and my mouth is between her legs.
“You can’t run. Tomorrow morning, no running.” I slide out the tip of my tongue and run it gently over her clit.
“Are you seriously holding my orgasm ransom?” She’s trying not to pant and doing a piss-poor job of it.
I nod, smiling, wiggling my tongue under my teeth. “It’s up to you. I gave you one for free. The rest you have to make a promise for.”
She throws her body into the mattress. “Miles!”
“Shh… someone might hear you.”
She grinds her teeth. “Fine, no running.”
“Glad we understand each other.”
“Miles Cavanaugh, if that tongue of yours isn’t on my pussy in one second, I’m going to take you down my throat right before you come and then bite it off.”
“Fuck, that’s evil.”
She arches an eyebrow. “Two can play at this game.”
“You play by different rules.” I bring her legs over my shoulders and run my tongue along her inner thighs, using the tip of my finger to edge her opening.
She moans, and my tongue circles her clit before sucking it into my mouth. I inch my finger slowly into her opening and listen to her breath turn ragged. She moves her hips, trying to get off on me in her own way, but this time, I control her orgasm.
I hold her hips down with my arm, and she wiggles to get free, but I shake my head, flatten my tongue, and run it up and down her folds. Removing my finger, I grab both sides of her ass, burying my face in her. She circles her hips again, and I slow things down a smidge to get her off without the use of my fingers.
“Miles. You’re so good. Do not stop. I’ll promise anything right now, just do not stop.”
I chuckle, and her hands come down, grabbing the back of my head as her hip circles increase, and her grinding gets harder. She pants and says inaudible things until her stomach sinks in, her entire body tenses, and she moans, coming on my face.
“Shit. Shit. Shit. I can’t believe how good you are at this.”
I lap up everything she gives me then rise up and take off my boxers. My cock has never been this hard in my life. It borders on painful. “I don’t have anything on me.”
It kills me to say it, knowing that will likely prevent me from fucking this goddess in front of me.
“I have an IUD…”
“Would you believe me if I told you I haven’t slept with anyone since I got to Chicago?”
Her eyes widen. “Really?”
I nod. “You?”
“Me either, and I was at the doctor right before I left because I didn’t want the hassle of finding a doctor here right away.”
“So you’re clean?” we ask in unison, and we both nod.
I lie over her, wedging my head in her opening, and she wraps her arms around me as I ask, “Is this okay?”
“More than okay.” She smiles, the rare one that very few people ever get the opportunity to see, and I can’t believe I’m on the receiving end.
I groan and tuck my head into her neck. “So wet.”
“You’re so hard,” she moans. “So big.”
I push into her fully and allow her to get used to my size before moving again. She pushes at my chest, rolling me over to my back, and I groan when my dick slips out of her.
She hovers over me, grabs the base of my dick, and slides down on me. “I’m an on-top kind of girl.” Her hips move forward, taking my length in and out of her.
I grab her tits and tease her nipples with my thumbs, and they harden even further. She rides me slowly, her hands on my chest for balance, and her head falls back while she rocks up and down. I slide my hand between us, teasing her clit, and she moves faster.
