CHAPTER 19 Everleigh Bradley
All I Want to Do is Talk About It
I lean against the back of my front door as my fingertips come up to touch my lips.
I can’t believe his parting words.
Holy shit, for a guy who’s so closed off emotionally, he certainly knows how to deliver on the sex front. Just the mere thought of his mouth against my pussy has it clenching in need for him as if he didn’t just deliver not one, but two of the most intense orgasms of my life.
I thought Billy was a good lover.
Holy hell on a hot dog, he had nothing on Maverick Jennings.
The man can use his body. And his hands.
I wonder how many other women he’s entertained there. I wonder if he allowed them to stay the night. I wonder if he hated them, too, or if it’s something that makes me special.
I also wonder what sort of fuckery he performed on my brain that’s making me think these thoughts in particular. His hatred of me makes me special? I need to get a fucking grip.
But no. Instead, I continue to lean against my front door with my hand on my mouth as I float on a cloud of bliss.
Yeah, I’m fucked all right.
I was angry about Billy showing up unannounced. I was a little tipsy from the amount of tequila I had to get through the conversation I had with my ex. I was tired and ready to go to bed but couldn’t sleep over the blaring music coming from my asshole next-door neighbor.
When I went over there banging on his door, I didn’t expect the outcome to be him banging me. A hate fuck, he called it.
It felt like more.
I’m still not sure why I agreed to it. I’m not sure why I thought it was a good idea. I’m not sure what it’ll mean for us working together going forward.
But I am sure that it was a night I’ll never forget.
I freshen up and slip beneath my covers.
I was under no illusion that he’d invite me to stay, and so I left before it got even more awkward than it already was.
On my part, anyway. I don’t know that Maverick would ever feel awkward about a damn thing in his life because I’m pretty sure he doesn’t feel anything at all.
I think he’s figured out some way to shut off his emotions, and it’s sort of become my job to tap back into those.
That’s not why I had sex with him, though it could be a benefit.
I had sex with him because I couldn’t seem to stop myself. I walked over there ready to rip his head off, and instead we took our aggressions and our feelings out on each other in this unexpected but beautiful chaos.
I clawed at his back. His bed. He slammed into me with those punishing, decadent drives. Our mouths fused together in the sort of brutal devouring that left me breathless.
And now I’m back home alone with only the memory of what we just shared and the sweet satisfaction aching between my thighs.
I don’t let the fears about what this could mean creep in.
He’s the one who labeled it a hate fuck, but it felt like something else to me.
I refuse to identify what it could possibly be, though.
If it was only a hate fuck for him, allowing myself to walk down any other path will only lead to disappointment. And I’ve had enough of that out of men.
Sex doesn’t have to mean anything. It can be two bodies simply taking pleasure from each other. But even though I have the thought, I know it’s just me trying to justify what we did.
If Jack found out, would I be fired?
He didn’t seem to care when Maverick told him I’d hit on him even though I hadn’t. Besides, didn’t Jack marry the woman put into the same position I’m in with Maverick? I doubt he’d have grounds for firing me considering his own personal life.
I wonder if I should tell Ellie.
I shouldn’t tell anyone.
It’s nobody’s business.
Even though all I want to do is talk about it.
I glance at the clock. It’s after two in Chicago, so calling Penny is out. She usually doesn’t answer late-night texts, but I shoot her one on the off-chance she’s up.
Me: I miss you. You awake?
My phone rings ten seconds later. “Hey.”
“What’s wrong?” Penny asks.
“I just had hate sex with Maverick Jennings.”
Silence greets me on the other end of the line.
“Pen?” I say tentatively.
“No, I heard you. I just...what?”
“I know. I went over to his place to yell at him since he was blaring music, and instead, he invited me in for a hate fuck,” I admit.
“And…”
“It was more spectacular than you could even imagine,” I say quietly.
“Oh, Ev. What are you going to do?”
“I’m not sure. I guess that’s why I called you.
” I glance at the clock, and I realize it’s after two in Chicago.
I know I thought it before I sent that text, but it didn’t really register.
“What are you doing awake?” She has two little boys and a husband, and they’re on a pretty traditional schedule, what with school and work routines.
"Oh, you know. The usual. Fighting with my husband, couldn’t sleep. I was playing a game on my phone when your text came in.”
“You two are fighting again?” I ask softly, abandoning my own reason for calling since this feels bigger.
“I feel like he’s not the man I married. He only cares about power and money. He didn’t get home until after the boys went to bed tonight, and he didn’t even bother to tell me he was going to be so late. I feel like a single mom, honestly, and I’m wondering if I just should be.”
“Do you still love him?” I ask.
She’s quiet, and then I hear a sniffle. “I don’t think I do, Ev. But the kids…”
“I know, babe. The kids. But you can’t stay unhappy for the kids. They’ll be happier if you are happier. And then you’ll have set times where he has to step up for them. He won’t have any other choice.”
“You mean divorce,” she says flatly, her voice low.
“If you’re unhappy.”
“I just…” She sighs heavily. “It never felt like an option for me, but I don’t know how much longer I can hold on like this.”
“I’m right here, babe. For whatever you need. A week in Vegas? Consider it done. I know people who know nannies who can take care of the kids while we go hit the town and forget all about Brent Calloway.”
She offers a small chuckle despite the situation. “What would I do without you?”
“We’ll never have to find out.”
“Tell me about Mav’s cock.”
I burst out into laughter. She’s nothing if not direct. “I didn’t get a really good look at it since he had me on all fours.”
“Tell me he touched your ass. Let me at least live vicariously through you.”
“He threatened to, but he didn’t put it there. Yet.”
“Yet?” she repeats.
I sigh. “It can’t happen again, Pen. I think it has the potential to really mess up my head.
He’s cleared for full practice, which means I need to be at the practice facility by seven tomorrow so I can spend the day with him and pretend like just looking at him isn’t enough to give me an electric shock. ”
“Oh, babe. It’ll be okay.”
“Will it?” I ask.
We’re both quiet for a beat, and then she says, “I can’t guarantee it’ll be okay for either one of us, to be honest. But we have to believe it will be. What’s the alternative?”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “Tell me how much Stuart is suffering with me gone,” I say, changing the subject from that depressing thought.
She giggles. “He hired a couple interns and divided your clients between the rest of your team. It sounds like everyone is overwhelmed and wondering how you serviced thirty-two clients all on your own.”
“Twelve-hour workdays, usually seven days a week, for starters,” I say. Even as I say it, I realize how much easier it was than the job I’m doing now.
Of course, emotions weren’t involved in my previous role. They certainly are now, both positive and negative—but it doesn’t matter. A single ounce of emotion can be exhausting either way, and I have far more than an ounce around Maverick.
“What’s your schedule like out there?” she asks.
“It’s about to change since Maverick was just cleared to return to practice.
We’ll go in early and meet up to chat about our action plan for the day, and I’ll try to coach him on how to interact with teammates and the media.
I just left his place, so I imagine he’ll be cranky in the morning, but he’s pretty much always cranky and hates everyone and everything except football. ”
“And you,” she chimes in.
“He’s the one who called it a hate fuck, though I will admit it felt less like hate and more like…” I trail off as I try to figure out the right word.
“Like he was worshiping your vagina?” she supplies.
I scoff, though the more I think about it, the more I think…yeah. Maybe exactly that.
If that’s how he hate fucks, how does he do it with someone he likes?
I crave the answer to that. I need the answer to that.
But I don’t think it’s an answer I’ll ever actually get.
“Yeah,” I say sarcastically. “I don’t think I want to talk about him anymore.” I’m not sure why I say it. I called her to talk about him, after all. But what we did felt private, and I don’t particularly feel like I want to share any more details than I already have.
Even that feels like too much. Like what we did should have remained between us.
I don’t sleep.
I’m too keyed up after sex late at night, especially sex like that. I try, but I toss and turn, hot under the covers as I remember what it felt like when his mouth was on my breast or when his finger was in my pussy or when his tongue was battling mine for some unclear victory.
I’m up too early, and I take my time getting ready. I put in the sort of extra effort I used to put in when I was trying to catch Billy’s eye on the elevator all those years ago.
What the hell am I doing?
I’m not sure, but I wear my red slip dress with my black blazer and black shoes, knowing full well how dangerous it is to go into a locker room filled with horny men looking like this.
There’s only one horny man whose eye I want to catch, and he happens to be walking out of his own condo at the same time I exit mine.
“Good morning,” I say brightly, as if I got my full eight hours and I’m wide awake.
He grunts a morning at me as he locks his door, and we wait for the elevator together. “You know, if we carpool to the practice complex, we could chat in the car on the way and knock some of our meetings out of the way.”
He spares a glance at me as the elevator arrives at our floor. “I’d like to stick to my usual routine.”
I nod, trying not to feel any certain way about that. Would it be nice if he wanted to spend a few extra minutes with me? Certainly. I shouldn’t feel offended that he doesn’t. After all, this is his livelihood. His entire life.
He clears his throat as we ride down to the first floor.
We’re alone on the elevator, and the tension is thick.
I half expect him to say something about last night, and I half expect something foolish to come out of my own mouth about last night, but none of that happens.
Instead, we walk together wordlessly toward the parking garage.
I grapple with what to say. Something. Anything.
I come up short.
Just before we get into our separate vehicles, I ask, “Would you rather have our morning meeting over breakfast in the cafeteria or in the conference room Lily took us to?”
“Conference room if we have to do this at all,” he grunts, and it shouldn’t surprise me that he’d choose the less public route.
I tell myself it’s because I look damn good today and he wants to keep me to himself, but a likelier explanation is that he doesn’t want to be followed around by his babysitter in front of his teammates.
But outside of the cafeteria means fewer opportunities for him to bond with his teammates. I guess I’ll have to figure out some solution, but for today, I’ll take what I can get.
He grabs breakfast for himself and brings it into the conference room to eat while I start my spiel.
I go over the signed contracts and what he needs to accomplish with his new sponsorships.
I coach him on how to interact with the media today.
We discuss what to say regarding his return to practice.
I tell him to be nice to his teammates and to try to talk to at least two new people today.
He thinks it’s a stupid idea and doesn’t spare my feelings in letting me know that.
“One more thing,” I say, glancing at my calendar.
He raises his brows expectantly.
“I see your birthday is at the end of the month. You’re a Halloween baby?”
“My birthday is on Halloween, yes,” he says dryly.
“Great. And you’ll be…”
“Thirty-three,” he supplies.
“Right. Anything you’d like to do to mark the occasion?”
He shakes his head.
“Okay. Well, that’s all I have for this morning. I’ll be on the practice field observing and continuing to build out our plans.”
Before either of us moves to stand, Lily pokes her head into the conference room. “Sorry to interrupt, but Mr. Dalton would like a word with you both in his office before Mr. Jennings heads to practice.”
We both stand.
“We’re done here,” I tell Lily, and we follow her to Jack’s office, where we each slide into a chair opposite his desk.
My phone starts to ring, but I send it to voicemail without checking who it is. Whoever it is will have to wait because Jack Dalton will not.
“Good morning,” he says, looking up at us both. His brows crinkle together for a beat, and I swear to God, he can see on the two of us that we slept together last night.
I know it’s a ridiculous thought the second I have it. You can’t tell just by looking at us.
Still. It feels like he can see right through us.
He clears his throat, and then he says, “Maverick, Lincoln and I would like you to travel with the team this weekend to Cincinnati. Stand on the sidelines with a headset, get your head back in the game. Call plays. That sort of thing.” He turns to me.
“We’d like you to travel as well as part of the team staff. ”
Maverick scoffs at that. “I can’t even get away from her on the plane?”
I hate that his words cut me. I hate that I physically flinch at them. It’s just more proof for Jack that there are feelings involved, and I try to convince myself that his words are spoken as a way to continue the farce in front of Jack.
Jack turns to Maverick. “She’ll sit with staff. You’ll sit with players. She’ll have her own room at the team hotel. If you have further questions, keep them to yourself.”
“Yes, sir.”
I don’t know if I’ve ever seen Maverick stand down before.
He must have a hell of a lot of respect for Jack—he’s maybe the one person in the world that Maverick has a single ounce of respect for.
Is there anyone else? I don’t have the answer to that since despite what happened between us last night, he still hasn’t let me in.
And the more time I spend around him, the more I’m convinced that he will never let me in.