The Southern Nights Series Page 15

  “If you’re looking for some R and R, I don’t think you’re going to find it in Nashville,” I break the news. “It’s going to be insanity.”

  “I’m not looking for R and R; I’m looking to escape.” She chuckles.

  “From? Is work stressing you out?”

  “Work . . . and my mom,” she mumbles. “I never thought I’d say this, but she’s driving me crazy. Ever since brunch, she has been texting and emailing me nonstop with wedding stuff. Dresses, flowers, cakes.” Laney’s pretty eyes grow wide. “She’s momzilla of the bride.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “She’s just excited.”

  “I know. But it’s just so unlike her to be so . . . involved.” She bites her lip. “That sounds terrible. But I’m not sure how to feel about this new helicopter side of her.”

  I, unfortunately, don’t have much advice to give on this front. “The only thing I can say is it’s a good thing we’re getting married sooner than later.” I go in for another bite on her neck.

  “Kam!” Laney squeals. “You’re going to make me spill coffee all over myself!”

  “That was my evil plan all along. Get you naked before I leave.”

  “Not happening, All-star.” She pushes me away playfully. “I have to get to work, and you have a plane to catch.”

  “There are other flights.” I draw her closer to me.

  “Lucky for you. Unlucky for me there aren’t other jobs. I have a ton of work to do before I leave. I really want to impress the bosses on this downtown project. I have this redesign I want to pitch, and I’m so nervous. It’s a little out of the box for a conservative building.”

  I actually understood that sentence. Usually when Laney talks about work, I’m thrown off a little. Architecture and design are incredibly detailed and technical concentrations. And although I’m not a complete dumb jock, Laney and her career can make me feel like that sometimes. I get her drive, and that’s a common enough language for me.

  “Lemon, I have no doubt you are going to wow them. I’ve seen your designs. They’re incredible. You have nothing to worry about.”

  “Kam.” She drops her head to mine. “Sometimes I wish I could bottle your optimism and confidence.”

  “It’s a southern thing, sugar.” I kiss her cheek.

  “Don’t call me sugar.”

  I roll my eyes. “When are you going to get over that?”

  “Never.”

  “Yankee pessimist. That’s your problem,” I accuse.

  “Definitely. It’s who I am. It’s also why I have you. To inject some laid-back southern style into me.”

  “Lemon. Is this verbal foreplay? ‘Cause you know I will never deny injecting you with some laid-back southern style. It might be a little rough at first, but you’ll be as lazy as a house cat by the time I’m done with you.” I stand and grab her.

  “Kam.” She places one small hand on my massive chest. “I wasn’t insinuating anything.” A piece of dark hair falls over her eye. She blows it away as she tries to fend me off. But all that talk of injecting has got me going.

  “I’m not going to see you for five days, Lemon.”

  “You’ll live.” She places her coffee down carefully while trying to escape from my hold. Multitasker, my Lemon.

  “I’m not sure I will.” I crush her against my body and attack her mouth, licking up the coffee taste and savoring the softness of her lips.

  Laney’s defenses drop as my persistence wears her down. “Right here, right now, real quick.” I turn her around and bend her over the granite island.

  “Kam,” she scolds, but doesn’t stop me from lifting her skirt and sliding my fingers into her panties. I rub the sweet spot between her legs until she’s moaning and wet and pushing against my hand. She has no idea what she does to me sometimes. Giving me what I want, whenever I want.

  “Fuck, Kam.” Laney shivers, her muscles tightening around my jabbing fingers.

  “It’s going to be so worth being late,” I hiss into her ear as I shove the satin and lace material down her thighs.

  “Fast, Kam.” She huffs.

  “Don’t tell me what to do, sugar. I’m enjoying the view.” Laney naked from the waist down, her muscular calves carved out from the height of the high black heels. My cock pulses with a rush of blood. “You know how to drive a man nuts without even trying.” I slide my sweatpants down and palm my erection.

  “Some girls just got it like that.” She grins at me over her shoulder, her bright blue eyes heavy with lust.

  “You had me from the moment I met you.” I slip urgently inside her. “And every fucking second after that.” I drive into her forcefully, over and over, Laney’s body jerking with every thrust. We fuck hard and fast, her arousal drenching me from base to tip.

  “It’s always so fucking good with you.” I anchor my hand on her throat and pound away until she comes. It doesn’t take long.

  “Kam, fuck! Kamdyn, fuck!” When she screams my whole name, she explodes, shattering me right along with her. We climax together, a mixture of grunts and groans and sighs and moans filling the room.

  Laney collapses forward on the cool granite as she catches her breath. Her body limp but every bit still as enticing. I’m reluctant to pull out, so instead I swim in the sea of our aftermath, sliding in and out of her pussy as easily as a warm spoon through honey.

  “Now I can leave in good conscious.”

  “Why is that?” Laney asks with her cheek still plastered to the countertop.

  “Because my woman is sated and satisfied.” I lean over and press my chest to her back.

  “And late. Don’t forget late.”

  “Just for work.” I wink.

  “Definitely just for work,” she adamantly agrees. “And definitely sated and satisfied.” Laney closes her eyes and sighs. I swell with pride. That look on Laney’s face is as thrilling as throwing a touchdown pass.

  “Think about me while I’m gone?” I kiss her cheek, her jaw, and her neck.

  “Like I’ll be able to think about anything else.” She smiles blissfully.

  The last five days have been nothing but running drills, conditioning drills, and throwing sessions. Sixty-minute throw ins—deep, shallow, and combo—piled on top of agility training, followed by years and years of films.

  I am wiped, but oh-so-fucking wired.

  It’s midnight, and I’m supposed to be sleeping, but all I can think about is a game-winning touchdown and celebrating with Laney on my arm.

  She was supposed to fly in this morning, but she got caught up at work and had to delay. Of all the days. I know her big project is important to her, and I want to be supportive, but I also want to be selfish and have her here with me.

  Tomorrow. She’s hopping on a six a.m. flight, so she should be here by noon. Twelve hours. I have lasted five days without her, I can last twelve more hours. Hopefully. I grab my cock; he misses the hell out of her, too.

  I roll over onto my side and hug one of the extra pillows, attempting to fall asleep once again. My body is exhausted, but my mind is stuck in overdrive.

  After a few frustrating minutes of rocking and counting push-ups in my head, I finally begin to drift off.

  I sink into the mattress as my muscles relax, and just as I submerge into sleep, a click startles me awake. My eyelids fly open, but I don’t move an inch. I’ve heard rumors of player pranks over the last few days. The guys blowing off steam after a grueling workout or practice. Practical jokers they think they are. Our team is young and ambitious and sometimes needs to be herded like cats. But when we play as a collective whole, we are nearly unstoppable. We’ve formed a special kind of bond that’s not easily achieved on any level, but our personalities mesh exceptionally well, and we all have the same goal. Win. That’s the endgame. Not fame or ego or popularity. That all comes with winning. It was one of the first things I told my team, and the statement surprisingly resonated. I’m ready to lead them. I’m ready to win.

  I hear footsteps co
ming closer to the bed. They think they’re going to catch my off guard. Little do they know, they have another thing coming.

  Just as the body hovers over me, I strike my hand out like a snake and grab behind their thigh. There’s a shriek, then a thud, then an, “Ouch, shit.”

  I shoot out of bed. “Lemon?”

  “Yeah?” Laney grumbles.

  “What the hell were you doing?” I toss the covers, switch on the bed lamp, and reach for her.

  “I was going to sneak into bed and surprise you. So much for that.” She rubs her ass. She hit the ground hard.

  “I’m so sorry, baby.” I pull her up off the floor and into my arms. “I thought you were one of the guys fucking with me. They’ve been pulling pranks all week.”

  “Well, remind me to thank them very much for my black and blue butt,” she whines adorably.

  “You weren’t supposed to get in until tomorrow.”

  “Surprise,” she drawls dryly. “I caught a red-eye. I missed you. And I wanted to be here for you. I figured you’d be out cold from all the training and practice. I wanted to be snuggled up against you when you woke up.”

  “Good plan. Bad execution.” I laugh.

  “Obviously.” She frowns, still rubbing her bum.

  “Let me take care of that for you.” I take over rubbing her ass. Laney’s wearing a casual T-shirt and skin-tight yoga pants. I can feel the heat of her skin right through the stretchy material.

  “I’ve been tossing and turning all night,” I share my snoozing dilemma.

  “You’ve been having trouble sleeping?” She touches my face tenderly.

  “Just tonight. I think all the pressure is finally catching up to me.”

  “Only two nights before the biggest game of your life? Pansy,” she teases. Jesus, I missed her.

  “I’m human.” I pin her to the mattress, biting her neck until she’s giggling and squirming.

  “I forget sometimes.”

  “Don’t be smart.” I bite then suck her skin, and she squeals.

  “You’re going to give me a hickey!”

  “Like in high school,” I reminisce.

  “Those were never visible.”

  “Mmmm, I know.” I roll on top of her and press my pulsing cock between her legs.

  “Someone missed me.” Laney slides her arms around my neck and flexes her hips. The pressure is skull-splitting.

  “Fuck yes, I did.” The groan that escapes my throat is volcanic.

  “Maybe I can help you with your little insomnia problem?”

  “What do you have in mind?” As if I couldn’t guess.

  Laney urges me off her. The dim light from the lamp allowing me to see the lust and desire for control in her bright blue eyes.

  “Lie back.” Laney pushes on my chest, and my senses oscillate from her command.

  Fuck, she has no idea how much I need this. How much I need her.

  Laney kisses her way slowly down my bare chest, running the tip of her tongue seductively over the ridges of my abs, then teases the exposed skin right above the elastic of my boxer briefs.

  A slow death. That’s what she has planned for me.

  There are worse ways to go.

  When Laney peels my underwear away I become a slave under her hand. I’ll do anything she asks, execute anything she demands. This woman owns me, and I don’t give a flying fuck who knows it.

  “Lemon.” I huff as she wraps both hands around my cock and licks the tip of its engorged head.

  “Mmm?” she responds, her mouth a little busy. I stretch out in total bliss as she strokes and tongues and jerks my erection.

  “Jesus, baby.” She sucks me off until I’m about ready to explode, my cock throbbing, my fingers and toes curling. And just when I feel the first tingles of my orgasm, Laney stops. “Fucker.” I grab my shaft in pain.

  Above me, Laney strips off her clothes. Her shirt, her bra, her pants, and her underwear all disappear within a matter of seconds.

  “I was going to make you come, but I want you inside me.” Her voice is breathy and full of want.

  “I would never say no to that.” I massage both her bare breasts as she straddles me. This woman and her fucking unbelievable body. It’s complete euphoria as her soft, wet heat engulfs my cock, and when I’m completely buried inside her, we both expel a tortured moan.

  It’s stimulation overload as Laney begins to ride me. My muscles coiling like a metal spring from the pressure of my arousal.

  I sit up, wrapping my arms around Laney’s waist just to get closer, deeper, demand more of her.

  “Kam.” She grips my hair and whimpers as her clit rubs against my pelvis and her body rocks against mine. She’s as close as I am.

  “I’m right here.” I grip her tighter, a statue made purely of pleasure. Her pussy clenches around my cock, and the tightness forces me to groan. “Let go, Laney. Let fucking go.” I clench my jaw as the warm, wet call of her body pulls the pin on my control.

  Laney comes as hard as I do, so loud and explosive I’m confident she woke the neighbors. But who cares? They should be so lucky. Or at least envious.

  I collapse onto the pillow, taking Laney’s limp form with me. We’re sweaty and out of breath, but both supremely satisfied.

  She’s just what I needed.

  She’s always what I need.

  I yawn, and Laney smiles. “Mission accomplished. Operation Sleep underway.” She giggles.

  I snicker as I tangle my fingers in her long, dark hair. “I suppose you’re going to take credit for my Super Bowl win as well?”

  “Of course. Behind every great man is an even greater woman,” she murmurs smugly. I think my super ego is rubbing off on her. But I can’t argue, Laney is definitely a huge part of my success and a key ingredient in the formula. “Now go to sleep, All-star. You need your rest. You have a Super Bowl championship to win.”

  “No pressure,” I exhale.

  “None.”

  Laney

  THIS GAME HAS been brutal to watch.

  I don’t think anyone expected it to be such a grudge match. Including Kam.

  He’s playing his heart out and taking a beating while doing it. My anxiety has spiked through the roof. Last down, he was sacked after he threw the ball with no flag on the play. These refs suck. Dirty as it was, what really scared me is that he took longer than usual to get up. I bit all the gel polish off my nails in the third quarter and then started right in on my real nails in the fourth.

  It’s tied, and there’s a minute left on the clock. It’s like swallowing pins and needles. I don’t know how Kam deals with the pressure.

  My father rubs my shoulders as we watch from the skybox. My mother is on my left and Kam’s mom is on my right.

  “He’s gonna pull it out. If anyone can do it, Kam can,” my father reassures me. His southern drawl soothing as always. I know he’s right. On a football field, Kam is Superman.

  We are all aware how much he wants this win. I know how hard he’s worked and the pedestal he’s been put on by his fans.

  I find myself praying as the ball is snapped. I stop breathing as I watch Kam quickly dance left then right, a barrage of players moving around him and heading toward him. He launches it into the end zone, directly at Wiley who is wide open. Everyone tenses. It looks good. Really, really, good . . . time stands still . . . it’s . . . it’s . . . intercepted!

  All my muscles sag as I watch the running back from Miami burn grass down the field for a sixty-yard touchdown.

  Tears burn my eyes as the clock runs out. Kam drops to his knees clutching his facemask on the sixty-yard line while Miami celebrates its victory. You can hear a pin drop in the box. I press my palms to the glass as I look down at Kam, helplessly.

  I don’t think devastated even begins to describe what I’m feeling. And I know whatever disappointment I’m feeling, Kam is experiencing it a thousand times worse.

  And there’s nothing I can do. There’s nothing any of us can do.


  The last three weeks have been . . . challenging.

  Kam hasn’t taken his championship loss very well. Neither has the media. Not even an hour after the game, headlines like “Kam the Scam” and “Alabama Golden Boy Not So Golden” were popping up everywhere. It’s amazing how easily news outlets can turn on you when not even twenty-four hours before they were singing your praises.

  I confiscated all the electronics in the house and hid all the remotes so Kam wouldn’t torture himself with the scrutiny. He’s tortured enough. He’s his biggest critic, and he is coming down on himself hard.

  He’s barely left the house, eaten, slept, or showered. I try to be understanding and supportive. I know he’ll come through, it will just take some time. How much? Hopefully not too-too much. It’s already been three weeks. Kam usually bounces back from adversity quickly and stronger than before. But this—this is killing him.

  I miss my high-spirited, optimistic egomaniac. Not that I would tell him that. I know he has to grieve. A dream died, and that’s as real as losing a loved one.

  I watch quietly for a few seconds in the doorway of our bedroom as Kam mindlessly packs a weekender bag. Something that used to take him minutes has taken nearly an hour. He’s lost in thought. Lost in self-deprecation. He sits down on the edge of our bed flipping a balled-up pair of white socks the same way he would handle a football. My heart breaks. I hate seeing him like this. He’s so much better than all of this and everyone knows it. He’ll realize it, too. I’m sure of it.

  I saunter over to where he’s sitting and slip myself between his legs. He looks up at me forlornly. It’s so unlike the man I love. Touching his stubbly cheek, I deliver him a warm, tender smile. I’m rewarded with one in return. It isn’t as brilliant as it usually is, but we’re making progress.

  “I don’t want to go,” Kam confesses.

  “You need to go,” I urge. “You need to blow off some steam and decompress. Go be with your guys. Drink, laugh, have fun. It’s a bachelor party. Show Telly a good time.” I clutch his face. “And have one yourself.”