Free Love on the Highlight Reel (Connecticut Kings Book 2) by Christina C Jones Page B

back the last half of his beer. “Look.” He pointed at the screen, where the last play was taking place.
    The camera followed him, so I saw where Griggs, the defensive back, latched onto Jordan’s arm before he’d even touched the ball, in a clear pass interference. Somehow, he still managed to catch it, and even carried it a bit, but with Griggs hanging on his arm he couldn’t get anywhere, and the ball slipped out.
    “I’m watching this shit trying to figure out what the hell he thought I was supposed to do.”
    I didn’t have to ask to know that “he” was Jordan’s father. I knew the man well enough to know that he’d never been satisfied with anything Jordan did. I grew up with a dad who held high expectations too, but the difference was that our targets were always reasonable, and within our reach. Eli had pushed us, sure, but he also praised and rewarded us. With him, there was balance. There wasn’t any with Greg, and beneath that unaffected front of his, it bothered Jordan.
    I took a deep breath, and then put my knees on the couch to move closer to him, a scolding expression on my face. “Well, you could have teleported or something, you know? Don’t make excuses. Find solutions.” It was something my father had always said to me and Nate growing up, and I was positive Jordan had heard it enough to recognize it.
    He stared at me for a few seconds, then chuckled as he shook his head, looking toward the TV.  “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Motherfucker can’t hold me if I slick myself with Vaseline next time, right?”
    I grinned. “Right. Now you’re using your head.”
    Jordan turned his gaze back to me, so intense that I wanted to squirm, but forced myself to stay still. I averted my eyes, trying to kill some of the intensity that was brewing, from… whatever it was that was happening between us.
    “I lied,” he said, bringing my attention back to his face. “When I said you weren’t cheering me up. That’s not true.”
    I nodded, slowly. “Good. Because… I lied when I said that wasn’t why I came.”
    This time, Jordan was the one to drop his gaze, looking at the empty bottle he still held in his hands. He put it down on the coffee table, then reached over, wrapping a hand around my bottle.
    “Give me this. You’re not drinking it,” he said, frowning a little when I didn’t let it go.
    “But it’s mine,” I countered, lifting it to take a long swig. “You said you didn’t like it.”
    “But I’m thirsty.”
    “So get up and get another one.”
    Jordan grunted. “Wow. So you’re going to sit here and drink a beer you don’t really want, just to keep me from having it?”
    I smiled sweetly. “Basically.”
    “You don’t have to be so damn mean, Nicki.”
    I closed my eyes over the use of that nickname. Usually, it annoyed the shit out of me, but right then, I felt… something else.
    My eyes snapped open at the feeling of his skin on mine. I didn’t realize until then just how close to him I’d gotten, close enough that he’d barely had to move at all to run his fingers up over my collar, moving his hand to cup the back of my neck.
    “We used to kick it like this all the time.”
    “Yeah,” I nodded. “I remember.”
    His thumb began to move, sliding up and down on the side of my neck, sending a shiver through me that landed right between my legs. I put my free hand to his chest, pushing him away so I could stand up.
    “I should probably go,” I said, already moving. Instead of coming around the couch like I had, Jordan easily just climbed over it, getting in front of me. Before I knew it, his fingers were in the front belt loops of my jeans, dragging me up to his body.
    “Says who?” A whimper left my throat as he brought one hand up, burying his fingers in the back of my hair. His other arm hooked around my waist. “Says who,” he repeated, and I shook my head.
    “Nobody.”
    The word was barely out before his mouth was on me. Firm, insistent, and so