Carson St. James
Ihad everything in life a man could want. Great parents, friends who were like brothers, a house on the beach in San Diego, and a successful career playing for the Storm. Money wasn’t an issue, but something was missing from my perfectly structured life. I had no idea it was arriving via a seventeen-hour flight from Australia and would capture my heart and soul while simultaneously driving me fucking crazy.
Colin was my teammate, and I was his captain. An intimate relationship was off limits. I was only supposed to teach him the game, not fall in love with him. I could deny my attraction all I wanted, but from the moment we met, he could see right through me as if I were made of glass. Pushing my buttons became his life’s work, and in a way, I think he saved me.
He would say it was the other way around. And when life got in our way, it almost broke us.
No matter what happened, we were meant to be.
And this is our love story.
Chapter 1
Colin Kearney
“You’re gonna cross a line, Kearney, that even I can’t bring you back from.”
Coach’s words after my ejection replayed in my head like a broken record. From the time I was a teenager, I’ve had a propensity for destroying the few good things in my existence. Rugby had saved me from a life behind bars, but now it would seem I was intent on obliterating my career.
Did I regret what I’d done? Not during the match when I was teeming with adrenaline and rage. But when I was alone, and my demons haunted me, I deplored it all. I hadn’t intended to injure the Orcas’ forward until he mouthed off at me. I’d seen red and slammed into him, earning my ejection and the fine that was to follow for a crushing tackle.
I should check on him tomorrow.
Tilting my head, I braced my forearms on the tile to allow the hot water to slip down my back. The open contusions on my face stung with the pressure, so I angled them into the spray, welcoming the pain.
Lost in thought, I didn’t hear him when he entered the shower and wedged his dick between my cheeks. I wasn’t surprised he was here. He always came over when I fucked up.
Leland Phillips was my agent and former teammate. The thirty-five-year-old tighthead prop captured my attention for the first time when I was nineteen. Full of false bravado, I’d let him know I wanted to suck him off. He’d been on board after I’d dropped to my knees and made him curse.
“Hello, trouble,” he said, wrapping his hand around my throat. “You’ll never learn, will you?”
Sinking his teeth into my earlobe, I hissed as he tilted my head to the side, giving him more access. His prickly stubble rasped along my skin, sending waves of sensations down my spine.
“Determined to wreck your life, eh?”
His hips bucked forward, letting me know he wanted me. But that wasn’t accurate. It wasn’tmehe wanted; it was my asshole.
Leland swept his index and middle fingers over my lips before slipping them into my mouth. He pressed them down on my tongue, just like always.
“Suck,” he commanded.
I sighed and pushed back, seeking more friction.
“You’ve made my job difficult again and cost us money.”
Shame flowed over me along with the water. I knew he was right, but there was no mistake. I loved it when he did this to me. He knew I needed to be fucked hard to take my mind off the trouble I’d created in my life again.
It had been stupid to fall for him. He wasn’t a great agent or a good person. But he gave me the attention I craved and made me fly high every time he railed me with no workup. I needed more, even though I knew I’d crash later when reality set in. My mistake was allowing myself to think this time might be different. That he might want me for more than a fuck.
Drawing his hips back, Leland took his shaft in hand and rubbed the slippery tip along my entrance. He was going to push himself inside me, then pound me into complacency. As fuckedup as this was, I wanted to feel close to him and to think I mattered, if only for a short time.
Tomorrow I’d tell myself the pain that coursed through my soul was from the rough fucking I’d received.
I’d convince myself it didn’t eat at me when he walked out of my house and went home to his wife.
I’d also deny the detached way he looked at me like this was all transactional, and if I disappeared, the only thing he’d miss was the paycheck. There was no hint of affection or any words at all. I was simply a means to get off.
“Ready or not...”
