Determining Possession (Connecticut Kings Book 3) Read online

  He cracked up at his own words, and before I had to figure out who “they” were, or come up with a response, I was saved by the sound of Wil and her mother coming down the stairs.

  Damn.

  I wasn’t expecting her to look that good.

  I mean, I’d always thought she was a beautiful woman, but… damn.

  That dress was… damn.

  It was the same pale rose color as the accents in my tie, and she was wearing these nude, strappy heels that made her legs look… damn.

  The folded, off-shoulder style of the dress was sexy as hell on her, leaving her collarbone and plenty of golden brown skin in full view. The length – just past her knees – gave it an air of sophistication, and the fit… again, damn. That dress was hugging curves I’d never quite seen hugged that way.

  A really, really good way.

  Her hair was straightened, but pinned up, with loose tendrils framing her face. For some reason, she looked nervous, and her looking nervous made me feel nervous, something I couldn’t recall ever experiencing around her.

  “Do I look okay?” she asked, smoothing the fabric over her hips, and I’m pretty sure I looked at her like she was crazy.

  “You look amazing,” I told her, which immediately eased the tension between her eyebrows, and a little smile spread over her face.

  “So do you. But I mean, we already knew that would be the case,” she teased as she walked toward me, coming in for a quick hug before she turned to her parents to say goodbye.

  Thank God for quick hugs.

  Because looking like that, and smelling like that… damn.

  This was going to be a long night.

  I knew this wasn’t a good idea.

  Wil had been either in tears, or on the edge of them, all night.

  Not like she was sobbing, or even audibly crying, but throughout the vows, through the special performance as Trent and Jade entered the reception, and now as the groom performed his signature dancing for the bride, errant tears had been creating streams down her face.

  This was tough for her – it had to be.

  Only a month had passed since what was supposed to be her special day, that never ending up coming. Here at LaChateau, in midtown Manhattan, the Baileys had created an ultra-romantic vibe. Tiny white lights, flowers, music, the whole shebang, in an event obviously filled with love. Everybody was laughing, dancing, having a good time celebrating the newlyweds. Everybody – including Wil – seemed thrilled for them, which created a great energy.

  But Wil’s tears were messing me up.

  On the drive from Stamford to Manhattan, she’d explained why her parents were so giddy, seeing us off like we were teenagers going to a homecoming dance.

  “They’re just glad I’m getting dressed up to get out of the house,” she’d said. “All I do really is go to work, and kick it with you or Naima. They think being out with celebrities tonight is going to make me feel… renewed, or something. Make me forget about Darius.”

  Looking at her now… they hadn’t quite predicted that right.

  It wasn’t as if she seemed out of place. Anybody watching her would assume that she was simply overcome with the beauty and emotion of the wedding and reception, which wasn’t entirely untrue. But I knew – because I’d asked - she had her own failed engagement on her mind, and was trying her best to hold it together.

  That’s what prompted me to reach for her hand under the table, squeezing it to get her attention before I leaned in to speak into her ear. “Are you sure you’re good? We don’t have to stay if you’re not really feeling it.”

  “We can’t leave yet,” she whispered back, turning to face me. “We haven’t even said congratulations to them.”

  I nodded. “Okay. After they finish up with these, I’m sure we’ll get an opportunity. But after that…?”

  “Yes.” Her answer was too immediate for it to not have already been on her mind. “All this love in the air has me feeling sorry for myself.”

  She said that with a faint smile, but I didn’t get the impression it was because she was kidding. When she turned away again, she picked up the glass of champagne – her second since the reception started – and knocked it back in one swig.

  Guess she wasn’t lying about coping through alcohol.

  Once that performance section was over, we left our table to make our way through the crowd to where the bride and groom were posted at the front of the room. I grinned at the smiles on their faces. The way Trent looked at his brand new wife… that was how it was supposed to be.

  One glance at Wil told me she was thinking the same thing, but it was obviously hitting her differently. There was a little quiver in her lip that gave it away.

  Instead of saying anything about that, I chose distraction. We were waiting in a pretty slow-moving line to greet the couple anyway, so I pulled out my phone and turned to the camera, telling her to say cheese. Whatever makeup she was wearing must have been some sort of sorcery, because despite the numerous tears she’d shed throughout the wedding, she looked just as good as she had when we left her parents.

  She didn’t protest the appearance of the camera – in fact, she seemed relieved by it, immediately making duck lips at my screen. For the next several minutes, we played around, until we were closer to the front of the line, where I put it away. After that, it didn’t take long for it to be our turn.

  “Look at you bruh,” I exclaimed, extending a hand to shake Trent’s. “I see wifey already has you branching out, with the burgundy,” I teased him, motioning at his suit jacket – which was pretty damned fly.

  He shook his head as he accepted my greeting. “Nigga, I thought you were the fashionable one? This isn’t basic ass burgundy – this is wine, and I look damn good,” he laughed, then supplemented the handshake with a quick fist bump.

  “Can’t argue with it,” I agreed. “Congratulations man.”

  His gaze slid to the side of me and landed on Wil, and his eyes widened a bit, like he was surprised to see her there. He stiffened a little, which Wil didn’t even notice as she ignored the hand he offered to give him a hug.

  “Congratulations,” she gushed. “This is such a beautiful wedding, and your bride, oh my goodness.” She skirted past me to get to Jade, who I hadn’t spoken to yet. “You’re just glowing, and your bump is adorable, and it’s so… beautiful,” she finished, her voice cracking with emotion as she hugged the bride too. Jade and Trent exchanged a look that I didn’t think was just about Wil’s emotional, possibly tipsy greeting.

  I should have thought about it before I invited her, but when Trent was re-signed to the Kings, Wil had been a little… critical. Nothing mean-spirited, or over the top, but she’d definitely gone in, naming him in the “Out of Bounds” segment we did sometimes, for athletes who’d been into shit they shouldn’t.

  In fairness, Wil was a huge Bailey fan, had even admitted having the same harmless crush that millions of other female fans had on him. It was exactly that fandom that left her disappointed when he’d had to leave the field to serve jail time, even though that had been years ago. In the segment, she’d talked about being glad to see him back, but she was still salty about him “turning himself into a cliché”.

  Something I admired about her though, was her objectivity when it came to these athletes. Maybe because she’d been one herself, she was never callous with her critiques, just sharp. And when it was time for praises, she piled those on too, and had certainly had plenty for Trent as he proved himself again on the field.

  But… people tended to remember it when you said things that cut and bled – fair or not.

  Still, they were absolutely gracious.

  “Ramsey, Wil, let me formally introduce you to my bride, Jade Bailey,” Trent said, putting a hand at Jade’s back. She was tiny, especially compared to Trent, who towered over her, and just as Wil had put it – glowing and beautiful in her pregnancy.

  I gave her a short hug, and we exchanged a few more pleasantries before
we moved along, giving the people behind us their chance to speak to the newlyweds. We’d only walked a few steps before I heard my name, and turned to see JJ and Cole Richardson, approaching.

  Cole immediately went to Wil, exclaiming, “This dress? Are you kidding me? Could you possibly look more amazing?” before she hugged her, staying close to speak about something in her ear. I couldn’t be too nosy though, because one second I was exchanging greetings with Jordan, and the next he was leading me off, saying someone wanted to speak to me.

  I stopped moving to look at Wil, who’d found yet another glass of champagne. She waved me off, telling me to go, and Cole gave me a reassuring smile.

  “I’ve got her,” she said, looping an arm through Wil’s before she led her away, giving me no real reason to protest wherever the hell Jordan was taking me – though I had an idea.

  Which proved to be correct.

  The group of men he led me to had a whole lot of money and a whole lot of power to go with it. Jackson Hunter, the Drake brothers, Azmir Jacobs, Kingston Whitfield, and the person Jordan was undoubtedly bringing me to speak to – Eli Richardson.

  “Ramsey Bishop,” he declared, stepping toward me as soon as I walked up. After quick introductions to the rest of the circle, he pulled me away and spoke again. “You created quite the stir at my mini-camp last week,” he said, extending his hand.

  “Not intentionally sir,” I answered, firmly returning his handshake. “Got talked into it by my friend here.” I motioned to Jordan, who grinned, then clapped me on the shoulder.

  “Somebody had to get you on that field. Why not me? Besides – you belong out there anyway.”

  In front of me, Eli nodded. “After seeing that video from last week, and taking a look at your tape… I would tend to agree.”

  He looked at my highlights?

  “Why’d you leave the game?” Azmir asked, stepping in. “Your contract was up, yes, but you were young, healthy, top of your game. Were you unhappy with the league? Dissatisfied with your team?”

  Something told me they already knew the answer to that – probably knew the answers to every question I was sure they were about to ask me. I swallowed hard, taking a second before I answered. “My mother was very sick. The way I was traveling for the team, I didn’t feel that I was able to care for her the way I needed to. When my contract was up, I declined to re-sign. Exercised my option to leave the team, and leave the league.”

  Azmir nodded, and then Eli spoke up again. “And since then, you’ve been using the journalism degree you earned at BSU. Hosting your show with Jack and Carla Cunningham’s daughter,” he stated, rather than asked me. “But you haven’t signed a new contract there either, have you?”

  I didn’t have to wonder how he knew. This group’s money was long enough to know… everything.

  “No,” I said. “I haven’t.”

  “Instead of just talking about football… how would you feel about playing it again?” Eli asked, his gaze piercing as he waited for me to answer.

  Again, I paused, carefully considering my words before I responded. “It’s what I promised her I would do,” I said, remembering my conversation with Clayton last week. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be on the field again, because I did. But at this point… keeping my promise was the thing that would make me take action, so I clung to it.

  Azmir spoke next. “You’re from Connecticut, right? Bridgeport.”

  “Born and raised.”

  Eli grinned. “See there? This is your destiny, Bishop. Think about it – playing for the home team.”

  I nodded. “It would be an amazing opportunity.”

  He and Azmir exchanged a look, and a light chuckle.

  “We have your contact information,” Eli said. “We’ll be in touch to schedule an official workout so we can see what you can do.”

  My eyebrows shot up. “I…wow,” I stammered, as what had just happened really hit me. “I… I look forward to hearing from you. Again, thank you for the opportunity.”

  “No.” Eli stepped forward, putting a hand on my shoulder. “If all goes smoothly, it’s not just an opportunity,” he corrected. “It’s your future.”

  The next few minutes were a blur.

  I know goodbyes were exchanged and all of that, but I damn near felt like I was floating as Jordan led me to find Wil and Cole. Barely, I registered Jordan telling me congratulations before he and Cole moved away, leaving me with Wil, who had a cocktail glass of something that looked fruity in her hands.

  “I wanna dance,” she said, after she’d gulped it down and handed the glass to a passing server, and I absently nodded my agreement.

  As soon as we were out on the floor, the music switched from up-tempo to something slower, with the DJ declaring he wanted to see all the couples out on the floor. Wil stepped close to me – closer than I expected her to – and I put my hands respectfully at her waist. Even in my haze, I noted that with heels on, Wil was actually a little taller than me – perfect height for my hands to fall naturally at her ass, which was looking perfectly grab-able in that goddamn dress.

  “Ramsey,” she whispered, leaning in to catch my gaze. “What’s up with you? You seem distracted.”

  Not so distracted I didn’t hear the subtle slur in her words as she spoke, but I shook my head. “It’s nothing, not really. Just… I think I got offered a job.”

  She frowned a little, processing my words. “Offered a job? By who?”

  “Eli Richardson.”

  For a second, she stopped the slow sway we’d been doing to the music, and then her eyes went wide. “Eli Richardson, as in owner of the Kings?!” she whisper-yelled, and I pulled her in closer just to calm her.

  “Yes,” I said into her ear. “But… not quite an offer yet, not really. They want me to come to a workout.”

  “That’s basically an offer,” she whispered back, and I grinned.

  “Yeah… it is.”

  She pulled back enough to look me in the eyes. Hers were glossy again, but not for the previous reasons. “That is amazing. And it’s happening because you are amazing,” she said, then wrapped her arms around my neck in a way that pushed my face right into her breasts, surrounding me in warmth and softness and goddamn why does she smell so good?

  I knew I should pull back, but I didn’t immediately, taking a second for a deep breath in before I disconnected us.

  “Thanks, Champ,” I told her, and her response was to give me a silly grin.

  “Thanks for what?” she asked, then giggled and I bit the inside of my jaw to keep from laughing.

  That was our cue to leave.

  She slept for most of the drive back to Stamford, waking up just as we were pulling into the city.

  “My throat is dry,” she complained, and I chuckled as I handed her the container of gum I kept in the console.

  “That’s all I have for you right now, Champ.”

  She gave me a mumbled “thank you” and accepted a few pieces. By the time I keyed in the code to get us through the gate for her parent’s neighborhood, she was upright, which was a good sign. I considered that maybe she hadn’t drunk as much as I thought, but that notion was killed as soon as I pulled around to the driveway of the attached apartment she was staying in, and opened the door for her to get out.

  I had to catch her to keep her from falling on her ass, which she thought was funny as hell. Shaking my head, I helped her inside, then helped her to her bedroom, with her laughing and keeping up a steady stream of conversation the whole time. Any hope that she’d slept a bit of it off was just that – hope. Leave it to Wil to wake up still tipsy, just energized.

  “Everybody looked sooo good tonight,” she gushed, falling backwards across her bed. I wasn’t “just a friend” enough to undress her or help her change, but I took the opportunity to at least get the strappy heels off of her, so she could sleep for real.

  Or at least, I intended to.

  Her tipsy, silly ass wouldn’t keep still, giggling and decla
ring that it tickled every time I tried to touch her. I’d seen Wil under the influence before, so it didn’t surprise me at all, but this was different. This time, she was in a sexy ass dress that was climbing higher up her legs and lower down her chest with every motion, and I was trying my best to be a gentleman.

  And a friend.

  A friend.

  I needed to get my ass out of there.

  I sat down on the bed and grabbed her legs – yet another move she found completely hilarious. I managed to keep her foot still with one hand and unstrap with the other, but as soon as I had the first one off, her goddamn wiggles took over again, and next thing I knew, she was straddling my lap.

  Why the hell is she straddling my lap?!

  “Ramsey,” she stated, very seriously, as she grabbed my face in her hands.

  “What’s up Champ?” I asked, trying not to notice that her dress was up around her hips now, and her nipples were hard, showing plainly through the fabric.

  She stared at me for a second, like she’d lost her train of thought, and then… her tongue was in my mouth. Minty and cool and very, very insistent, and for a couple of seconds… I didn’t do anything to stop her. And then for a couple of seconds after that, I maybe, possibly, definitely kissed her back. Massaged my tongue against hers, tasted her lips, let my hands drift down to her ass and squeeze, enjoyed the sound and vibration of her moaning into my mouth.

  But then, her hands weren’t at my face anymore, they were between us, trying to reach for my pants, and…

  What the fuck are you doing, bruh?

  Shit.

  I pulled away from the kiss, ignoring the confused look on her face to ease her back onto the bed. Her response was to put her legs in the air, opening wide. I quickly grabbed her ankles to close them, then unbuckled that other shoe in record time. By the time I dropped it to the ground, she was already barely keeping her eyes open, and mumbling something that sounded strangely like, “don’t judge me, it’s been a long ass time.”

  I shook my head as I tucked her under the covers, and glanced at the nightstand. There was a hair bonnet there, and I thought about it for a second before I carefully maneuvered it over her head, then did what I’d originally intended – got my ass out of there.