Chapter 14 #2
I paused and wiped away another tear.
"I have spent years putting my life back together, Jalen. I finally feel like I can breathe again, and I cannot survive having the worst night of my life become public entertainment."
His jaw tightened.
Then finally nodded once.
“Okay.”
But the look on his face told me something different.
The city lights shimmered below us, the whiskey warming my chest as the words settled between us.
For a moment Jalen didn’t say anything.
The silence from him startled me.
I glanced over and saw his jaw clenched, his shoulders tight, his hands gripping the arms of the patio chair.
“I should have said something,” I added quietly. “But his team reached out right after. Lawyers. Publicists. The whole thing.”
I looked down at my glass.
“They told me it would get ugly if I pushed it. That it would drag my name through the mud. My family’s name. Cal’s business.” I shrugged slightly. “So I stayed quiet. It was easier to stay out of the spotlight.”
Jalen still hadn’t moved.
Darren Hill, the retired Hall of Fame quarterback. Now the polished face of one of the biggest sports networks in the country.
Everyone loved Darren Hill.
Everyone trusted him. He was a family man, married with kids.
Jalen’s silence stretched so long it made me nervous.
Then he finally spoke.
“I’m sorry that happened to you.”
His voice was low.
Something about it made my chest tighten.
“Don’t feel bad for me,” I said quickly. “I’m okay.”
He looked at me like he didn’t believe that.
“I like being home,” I continued, gesturing toward the apartment behind us. “It’s comfortable. Quiet.”
That part wasn’t a lie.
But I sighed softly.
“Although… I did like being out with you the other night.”
His eyes flickered slightly at that.
The tension between us shifted again.
Jalen stood slowly from his chair.
His height always surprised me when he got up like that. Six-foot-four of quiet strength suddenly looming in front of me.
He reached down and took my hand, pulling me gently to my feet.
I stood in front of him, looking up.
His eyes were darker now.
Sad.
“I don’t like imagining you being hurt,” he said quietly. “It makes me want to fix it.”
“You can’t,” I said softly.
“I know.”
He took a step closer.
“I just… want to take care of you.”
My chin lifted slightly.
“I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”
The air between us thickened.
The city lights blurred behind him as he stepped closer.
Then his large hand came up, resting warm against my cheek.
The touch was gentle.
Careful.
“If you were mine,” he said quietly, “I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you.”
My heart felt like it was pounding straight out of my chest.
He leaned down slowly.
I caught the faint scent of whiskey and something warm and familiar from the other night at the stadium.
Then his lips touched mine.
Soft at first.
Slow.
The kind of kiss that felt like it had been building all night.
My hands moved instinctively, sliding up to his face as the kiss deepened.
The warmth of him wrapped around me, steady and solid, pulling me closer.
The taste of whiskey lingered between us as the kiss grew hungrier, charged with everything we had been trying not to say.
His arms slid around me easily and suddenly I was off the ground, my legs wrapping around his waist without thinking.
I laughed softly against his mouth before the sound dissolved into another kiss.
For a moment the world disappeared.
Just the warmth of his hands.
The quiet night air.
And the feeling that whatever this was between us had stopped pretending to be anything else.
My nipples hardened at the growth in his sweatpants and I didn't need to see it to know it was big.
Somehow we made it back inside.
I didn’t even remember how we got in there.
One minute we were standing on the balcony with the city stretched out below us, the next my back was sinking into the plush cushions of my couch.
Jalen hovered over me, his big frame braced on either side like he was trying to decide how far he should let this go.
The kiss that started soft had turned urgent.
Hungry.
My fingers slid into the back of his hair as his mouth moved against mine again, deeper this time, slower but full of intent. The warmth of him pressed against me made my stomach tighten in a way that felt both thrilling and terrifying.
I had spent years building walls.
And somehow this man had climbed halfway over them in a single night.
His hands moved carefully, like he was giving me space to stop him if I wanted to.
I didn’t.
If anything, I pulled him closer.
My hands wandered down his back, feeling the solid strength of him through the thin fabric of his shirt. Every muscle beneath my fingertips felt warm and alive, like the energy from the game still lived inside him.
I broke the kiss for a second just to breathe.
His forehead rested against mine.
“You okay?” he murmured.
I nodded, though my heart was pounding like I had just run a mile.
“Yeah.”
But my voice came out softer than I expected.
He kissed me again, slower this time, like he was learning the rhythm of me.
My hands drifted lower, exploring the shape of him, curious and bold in a way I usually wasn’t.
Jalen inhaled sharply against my mouth.
The reaction made my eyes widen.
He lifted his head slightly, looking down at me with a mixture of amusement and restraint.
“Careful,” he said quietly.
I couldn’t help laughing under my breath.
But the heat between us didn’t disappear.
If anything, it thickened.
His hand slid gently along my waist before settling at my hip, grounding himself there like he was reminding both of us that we still had a choice.
Outside the windows the city lights kept glowing.
Inside, the air between us felt charged with everything we hadn’t said yet.
And for the first time in a long time, I realized something.
Being close to him didn’t make me feel unsafe.
It made me feel alive.
He pulled back just enough to look at me.
His chest rose and fell, his breathing heavier now, his eyes searching mine.
“Should I stop?” he asked quietly.
The question surprised me.
Most men didn’t ask.
But Jalen did.
For a moment I just looked at him.
Then I shook my head.
For once in my life, I was tired of fighting how I felt.
Instead of answering out loud, I slipped out from under him and stood.
He watched me carefully as I walked back toward the balcony.
The night air brushed against my skin when I stepped outside. I grabbed the bottle of whiskey and my glass from the small table, taking a slow sip.
Then I turned and motioned with my finger.
“Come here.”
His eyes darkened immediately.
Passion hooded them, his breathing still heavy as he stood and followed me inside.
Something about the way he obeyed made a small thrill run through me.
We moved down the hallway toward my bedroom.
My California king bed sat in the center of the room, untouched. The soft glow of candles flickered on the nightstand while the lights of the city slipped through the floor-to-ceiling curtains.
The room felt quiet.
Anticipating.
I turned toward him, whiskey glass dangling loosely from my fingertips. I took another sip before stepping closer and lifting the glass toward his lips.
“Your turn.”
He took a taste.
Before he could pull away, I leaned in and brushed my lips over his, stealing the faint warmth of whiskey from his mouth.
A low sound escaped him.
A growl.
I smiled slightly.
He liked that.
I stepped back slowly, lifting my sweatshirt over my head. The cool air brushed my skin as it fell away, leaving me standing there in my lace bra.
Jalen’s gaze moved over me slowly, like he was taking his time memorizing every detail.
I stepped closer again.
He leaned forward, his nose brushing lightly against my stomach like he was breathing me in. His lips grazed the skin near my belly as his hands settled carefully at my hips.
My pulse fluttered.
His fingers slid gently along my waist before tugging lightly at the waistband of my sweatpants, easing them down just enough to reveal the lace beneath.
He exhaled softly.
“Damn, Amara.”
His voice was low.
“You’re perfect.”
Before I could respond, he stood and pulled me up with him.
My legs wrapped around his waist instinctively as his mouth found mine again.
The kiss deepened immediately, heat rushing through me as he carried me the few steps to the bed.
He lowered me onto the mattress with surprising gentleness, hovering above me as he pulled his shirt over his head in one smooth motion.
My breath caught.
His chest was strong, sculpted from years of training, his arms powerful as he leaned over me again.
But the way he looked at me wasn’t about strength.
It was careful.
Intentional.
Like he wanted to make sure I was still right there with him.
His lips found mine again, softer this time, slower.
Outside, the city lights shimmered through the curtains.
Inside, the air between us felt warmer, thicker with everything we were finally allowing ourselves to feel.
And for the first time in a long time, I stopped trying to run from it.
Jalen kissed me again, slower this time.
Not rushed.
Not desperate.
Like he had all the time in the world.
His lips moved from mine to my jaw, then down the curve of my neck, leaving warmth in their wake. My fingers slid into his hair as he moved lower, his hands steady at my waist as if he wanted to make sure I stayed exactly where I was.
Every kiss felt deliberate.
Careful.
Like he was learning me.
His mouth traced down the center of my chest, over the soft rise of my stomach, each touch sending a quiet shiver through me.
I had never been looked at like this before.
Like I was something precious.
Like he was grateful to be there.
When he paused, just above the most sensitive place between my thighs, he looked up at me for a second.
The softness in his eyes made my breath catch.
His hands slid gently down my legs, easing the lace lower until it slipped away and landed quietly on the floor.
Then he returned his attention to me.
And everything else disappeared.
Time slowed.