Completing the Pass Read online

  She nodded.

  “So when he took me out to dinner, asked me not to tell my mom he was back yet, that he had to get his life in order before he approached her, I believed him. I believed him when he said he left his wallet in the hotel room, so could I get the bill? Yeah, no problem. I had money from my odd jobs, so I paid for dinner and gave him some cash for his cab back to his hotel.”

  “Oh, Josh.” It came out on a breath, but he still heard it. She was a smart cookie. She already knew where this was heading.

  “He showed up the next morning, cornered me in the parking lot at school. Asked a few questions, and—looking back, I see now—realized pretty fast that a full-ride scholarship wasn’t the same thing as the school just handing me a blank check to spend as I wanted. In other words . . . there was no liquid cash to suck dry from his son.”

  She reached over and grabbed one of his hands, but he couldn’t look at her yet. He might not finish if he looked at her.

  “So he was gone. Never to be heard from again. Or so I thought,” he added wryly. “Showed up right as the draft hype was getting charged. Second verse, same as the first. He made a mistake the last time. He got scared,” he said, using air quotes and scorn. “Whatever the hell that means to him. I was wary, but I agreed to meet him for lunch one day after class. Wouldn’t you know . . . the conversation quickly moved to how much money I would be making if I got drafted. What my life would look like. How I could really help him get back on his feet so he could be a part of our lives again.” He scoffed and shook his head. “Stupid me. But this time?” He grinned. “I left him with the bill for dinner. Just up and took off. No clue if he paid it, but I was done listening to the bullshit.”

  She squeezed his hand, almost in Morse code to say, Good for you.

  “He showed up when I got here to Santa Fe. I was living in a small studio apartment, not sure yet where I’d want to put down roots. Didn’t have the security this place does. I shut the door in his face without a word. Next month, I moved in here.” He shrugged. “I thought that might be the end of it. But I guess all roaches crawl out from their holes sometimes.”

  Something inside him—some piece of ice that had chilled his heart since the moment he’d recognized his father in the lobby—broke off and drifted away when she scooted over and wrapped an arm around him. As her head rested on his shoulder, she sighed, the sound of sympathy and comfort.

  “What can I do?” she asked after another few minutes.

  “Nothing. It is what it is. I won’t have a dad who matters. I accepted that years ago. It’s just . . . not fun when he shows up to remind me of that fact.”

  She surprised him by crawling over until she straddled his lap, looping her arms around his neck. “I feel sorry.” Her eyes were sad, but determined. “I feel sorry for him.”

  Josh blinked at that, then gripped her hips and laid down on the bed. She came over him, breaking her own fall with the palms of her hands. “Sorry for him? I think you meant me. You feel sorry for me.”

  “No, him. He doesn’t get to know your mom. He doesn’t get to know you. And not only does he miss knowing you both, but he gets to live daily with knowing it’s his fault he’s missing out.” She kissed him softly then, and some of her fine, dark hair brushed his cheek as her lips continued working over his face. “His loss, entirely.”

  I love you. The words reached up and clutched him by the throat. He just couldn’t get them out. But he could show her. Cupping her face with his hands, pushing the hair back a little, he kissed her. Kissed her with everything he was feeling, everything he wasn’t ready to tell her yet.

  Chapter Twenty

  Her nails raked down his shoulders, his arms, over his chest, and he shivered at the sensation. The fire in her eyes at that moment, sensing the power she could easily wield over him with her body, made her a hellcat ready to pounce.

  With a rock of her hips, she had him hard as stone. It took nothing more, not when the woman with him was Carri. His erection was unmistakable in the thin gym shorts. She reached down and cupped him, feeling his hard length. He ground up into her hand.

  “I think,” she said thoughtfully, sitting up to take her T-shirt off and fling it behind her, “that we’ve done enough mental heavy lifting for today. What do you think?”

  “Amen,” he said fervently, reaching up to cup her breasts in their simple tan bra.

  “You did . . . mmm.” She closed her eyes as his fingers dipped in to pinch at her nipples. “You did some physical heavy lifting earlier on the field. So I don’t want to overtax you.”

  Josh shook his head. Not possible. The day he was too exhausted for making love to Carri . . . well, just bury him on the spot.

  “But I think . . .” Slowly, she slithered down until she knelt by his feet. “I think maybe you deserve a little reward for playing so well out there.”

  He snorted even as his erection throbbed from the ideas flowing through his head. “You have no clue if I played well. You don’t know a damn thing about the game.”

  “I can pay attention. I can listen to an announcer,” she protested as she tugged on the waistband of his shorts. He lifted his ass an inch off the mattress so she could slide them off and toss them out of the way. “I saw your touchdown early in the first quarter. It made me . . .”

  “What?” he asked sharply when she paused to wrap her hands around his cock and look at him. “Made you, what?”

  “Proud,” she whispered, then licked the head of his penis, taking the pre-cum that dewed the tip. “Because number eleven . . . I knew him. That was my Joshua.”

  He gritted his teeth, not sure if he liked where she was going with this. There were women who were obsessed with nailing athletes—any athlete, didn’t matter who. They collected jerseys and memorabilia like a game. That wasn’t Carri, not by a long shot. But the way she talked, almost sounded . . . too close.

  Taking his length in her mouth, she hummed as she stroked with one fist, wetting him with her tongue simultaneously. Then with a pop, she pulled back. “And then I thought, I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about. So I covered my eyes for most of it, and was just happy you survived.”

  And there was the Carrington Gray he loved. “Glad you— God,” he hissed as she took him in again and sucked hard, hollowing her cheeks. “Glad you’ve got su-such a high opinion of me.”

  “Always,” she said in that saucy voice of hers, cupping his balls with her free hand. Then she focused on her task, which was apparently to drive him insane. She couldn’t just pick a rhythm, no, not his Carrington. She was determined to drive him insane by not letting him settle in and enjoy the ride. Each time he thought he would be close, so close, to coming, she’d switch the pace, or the technique. Or she’d pull her mouth away entirely and gently stroke him while he groaned and thrust and made embarrassing pleading noises.

  “So needy,” she said on a chuckle, blowing cool air over his scorching hot skin. His balls tightened in response, and he felt close to the edge, but not close enough to jump. “My turn.”

  “Your . . . What? Seriously?” He looked down at her, but realized she was totally serious. “I’m this close to insanity, Carri.”

  “Then let’s give you something else to think about.” She stood, placing the flat of her palm against his chest and pushing so he laid flat on the bed with his feet still on the floor. Then, while he lay there, like a chump, she reached around back and unhooked her bra. Tossing it at him, she smiled when he batted it away. “Don’t be so grumpy. You’ll like this part.”

  When she hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her jeans, she turned so she faced away from him.

  “What part of this am I supposed to like?” he wondered out loud. “You’re not even showing off the . . . Oh.”

  She slowly pushed down her jeans, but in doing so, bent over instead of just stepping out of them like she normally did. Giving him
a full, glorious view of the backside, and then some. Looking around her knees, she grinned upside down at him.

  “Oh?” she mocked before stepping out of the jeans. “I suppose you think you’re the one who should be making all the decisions, since you’re the winner today.”

  “Maybe.” Not at all, but he was having a great time watching feisty Carri come out to play.

  “What crap.” She crawled over him, and he caught her hips as she neared his torso. “You need me to keep you from getting too full of yourself. So, time for you to work for it.” She swung around so suddenly, he didn’t have a chance to think about it. Facing backwards, she inched back until her core was right above his face. The scent of her arousal teased his senses.

  “Well?” She grinned at him over her shoulder.

  Taking that for an invitation, he spread the lips of her sex with his thumbs and licked tentatively. She moaned, settling more firmly on top of him, and he took that as a good sign.

  But he hadn’t expected her to wrap her hand around his cock once more and begin dragging him back toward his climax simultaneously. He stopped licking and hissed, pressing his head into the mattress. In response, she eased away from his erection.

  “Carri,” he growled.

  “You go, I go,” she teased, licking playfully.

  “You’re killing me.” His stomach muscles tightened with need as she scratched the inside of his thighs close to his balls.

  “Well . . .” Sucking on just the head of his cock, she waited. And he caught on, finally.

  Taking his job seriously, Josh gripped her hips and pulled her down tight against his mouth, licking and laving at her sex before working his way up—down?—to flick at her clit. Carri moaned around his cock and ground down against him . . . a good sign.

  “Yeah,” she sighed, then sucked hard enough to have him seeing spots.

  But the competition was on, and he was determined to not be the first to come. Using his thumb now, he manipulated her clit while he licked inside and around the entrance to her core. As she tightened against him and pulled away from his erection, he knew he’d won.

  She came against his mouth, her slickness sliding over his tongue as she climaxed. He reveled in how completely she lost herself, reveled in winning the game.

  Then she shocked him by not taking even a second to breathe before wrapping her hand tight around the base of his cock and sucking hard enough to send him spiraling over the edge with her.

  Twenty minutes later, both naked and under his covers, he kissed her shoulder. “Thanks.”

  “I think we both have something to be thankful for,” she joked, snuggling tighter against him.

  “Yeah, we do.”

  ***

  “That was one hell of a game the other day,” Stephen Harrison said as he stopped by Josh’s locker after practice Monday. “Like watching a sleeper cell activate.”

  “I’ve seen worse,” Trey said nonchalantly beside him, changing. It had been Trey’s first full day back at practice, but he’d only moved at half speed. They both knew it would take a while longer before he was game ready.

  “You’ve seen worse.” Michael Lambert scoffed, walked by, and pushed at Trey’s shoulder. “Don’t be an asshole. Just watch your back or this one’s gonna take over permanently.”

  “I don’t want the job full time,” Josh said with a grin, swapping his towel for boxers and jeans. “Just glad I didn’t screw up the game entirely.”

  “Dinner.” Stephen pointed at Josh, then Trey, Josiah and Michael. “Tomorrow night. Too tired tonight for it, plus I’ve got plans with Mags.”

  Michael made a gagging sound, and Stephen grabbed him around the neck and proceeded to give him a junior-high noogie. Josiah batted at their legs with his towel to keep them out of his space.

  “I can’t eat any more takeout or grilled whatever.” Trey groaned as he sank down into his chair. “Seasons suck. Cassie and I can’t cook for hell, except to grill. We’re both too busy to try anything new. And so we resort to takeout and regret it nine times out of ten.”

  Josh nodded, but added, “Yeah, after a while my mom’s casseroles get a little old.”

  They all stopped and watched him with varying degrees of curiosity. Yeah, he’d just mentioned his mom brought over food. That sounded . . . immature. His neck burned with embarrassment.

  “I mean,” he added, trying to save it, “because she cooks such big dishes, you know. So they take a while for one person to get through. Lots of leftovers . . .”

  Trey blinked. Stephen dropped Michael’s head. The towel went slack in Josiah’s hand.

  “You get home-cooked casseroles?” Stephen asked in a hushed voice. “On the regular? And you’re complaining?”

  “Not complaining, just—”

  “You’re from here.” Trey shook his head. “How could I forget? So you go to your mom’s place a lot for meals?”

  Often enough. Hey, Gail is a good cook. “Uh, yeah, when I don’t have time to make anything, and—”

  “And your mom can make a meal,” Michael interrupted. “Like, the real thing. Nothing microwaved.”

  The look of longing from all four men was so intense, Josh wasn’t sure what to say. “Uh, do you guys want to come over to my mom’s house for dinner tomorrow night?”

  “Yes!” they all shouted at him. Stephen added a little dance on his way to his locker.

  “Who gets dinner at someone’s mama’s house?” Matt Peterson asked, looking around the lockers.

  “You want to come, too?” In for a penny . . . “My mom’s place for dinner.”

  “Hell, yeah. Thanks, Backup.” With a grin flashing on his dark face, Matt disappeared again.

  “That was . . . Wow,” was all Josh could say a few seconds later.

  “We’ll do anything for real cooking,” was all Trey said. “Can it be pork chops?”

  Sorry, Mom.

  ***

  Carri set her two-inch angled brush in the cup of water and stepped back to survey her handiwork. “Nice.”

  “Carrington?”

  She winced, then started gathering her painting supplies. “In your bathroom, Mom!” she called, wiping down the space around the bath tub before she picked up the empty tray and brush.

  “Carrington, I— Oh. Oh, look, you’re finished.” Maeve stepped in and surveyed the bathroom where Carri had replaced and completely fixed the drywall from the candle incident. “Thank you for that.”

  “No problem.” Especially since it was, in essence, her fault for the fire in the first place. “What’s up?”

  “Oh, right.” Shaking her head a little, Maeve turned and took the paintbrush cup and the tray out of her hands. “Gail called. She needs help in the kitchen.”

  “Please tell me there’s not another fire. I don’t have any more sheetrock.” When Maeve rolled her eyes, Carri shrugged. “What? I’m not sure what good I’m going to be. And what does she need someone for? Oh, taste tester?” At that thought, Carri clapped her hands and started for the stairs. “I can totally be a taste tester. I’m in.”

  “Change first, please, Carrington. You’re still in your dusty clothes.”

  She looked down, grimaced at her paint-and-dust-streaked T-shirt, then hustled to change her clothing and take off the bandana that had shielded her hair from dirt. As she bounced down the stairs, freshly changed, she popped in to see her father.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  Herb glanced up from the auto magazine he’d been flipping through. “Hey, pumpkin. Where are you off to?”

  Clarity, sincerity, and understanding. Whenever she caught it in her father’s eyes, she had to fight back the tears. “Off to Gail’s. She needs some help.”

  He nodded, turning back to the page. “Have fun.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” She started to walk away, then came back to kis
s the top of his head. “Will you still be here when I get back?” she asked quietly.

  “I should be,” he said absently.

  Ten minutes later, she knocked once and walked into Gail’s house, like she had when she was a child. The familiar smells of her childhood immediately swarmed her, and she grinned while she toed off her shoes. “Gail? My mom said you needed help!”

  “Kitchen!”

  She followed the scent of spices and comfort, and stepped in to give Gail a quick side hug as she stood at the stove. “So, what’s the project? Mom said I didn’t need tools.”

  Gail laughed. “No, no. I need help in the kitchen.”

  Carri was the one to laugh now. “I’m not exactly Betty Crocker.” It was then that she took in the kitchen as a whole. Silver disposable trays sat on counters, some already full of what looked like pork chops and sauce. There was a large bowl with a few heads of lettuce and some tomato and an onion. Other bowls, already dirty, sat by the sink waiting to be washed. “Whoa. Are you starting a catering company?”

  “You’d think, wouldn’t you? Start washing and chopping the lettuce, would you, sweetie?” Gail wiped at her forehead with her wrist and continued stirring whatever was in the pot on the stove.

  “Then you’re, what, feeding an army?” She turned on the sink and started to rinse off the lettuce.

  “Close. A herd of Bobcats.”

  Carri dropped the lettuce into the sink. “What? A herd of . . . The team? You’re making them food?”

  “Not all of them, of course. But five, plus Joshua, so six I suppose, plus a few girlfriends or wives as well. He sprung this on me at the last minute.”

  It was hard to judge her tone, because the rushing water filled her ears. But Carri could have sworn she heard exasperated amusement.

  The front door opened, and Carri glanced over her shoulder in time to see Josh round the corner and stop short at the sight of two women in his mother’s kitchen. “Carri, what are you doing here?”