Unedited. Subject to change. This summer 😉
“Can you put your phone down, and talk to me please?”
“Yeah, gimme a second.”
I rolled my eyes as he kept his attention focused on the little device in his hands. One minute stretched into two.
“Just a second, damn,” he said, holding up a finger to… shush me? Was he shushing me? He chuckled loudly at something on his screen, and I let out a sigh. If this was how he wanted to play it…
I reached up, pulling the pins out of the simple bun I’d pulled my hair into before I rushed out of the door. Stylish, black-rimmed glasses were tossed onto the desk, hair fluffed out and around my shoulders, and I took down enough buttons on my shirt to show off an ample peak of the deep gold, lace trimmed bra I wore underneath.
“Jordan,” I said – damn whispered, in a breathy, sexy voice.
He immediately looked up to see me balanced on my elbows as I leaned across the desk toward him. His eyes dropped to my cleavage, then slowly raked back up to my face, and I hated that a tiny, hopefully-only-perceptible-to-me shudder ran through me. No matter what else I could say about Jordan, there was no denying that he was a gorgeous man. Deep chocolate skin, thick lips, immaculate facial hair, perfectly sculpted face, and those damned dimples.
I bit my lip – to seduce, and to bring myself back to reality – and leaned a little further.
“There’s something you and I desperately need to discuss.”
He lifted an eyebrow, his phone hanging limp and momentarily forgotten in his hand. “What’s that?”
“Well…” I leaned in a little bit further, and his gaze stuck to my breasts. “Before we start, I just need you to… Give me this goddamn phone,” I said, back to my normal voice, as I snatched it from his unsuspecting hands. I promptly stuck it between my breasts, because I knew he wouldn’t dare try to get it from there, and was already re-buttoning my shirt by the time he’d hopped up from his chair.
“Jordan Johnson, you sit your ass down and listen to me. Or have you forgotten that I am responsible for your contract?”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Nicki?”
I ignored his use of that hated nickname. “It means, that unless you at least try to act like have some damned sense when you aren’t on the field, I don’t think you’re going to be very happy with the way your negotiations go. You only have a few months left, Jordan. You want to see more money? Then I want to see this team improve.”
“Then you need to talk to these other motherfuckers,” Jordan snapped, pacing in front of my desk. “Just like I said two nights ago, I’m already pulling all of the offensive weight on this team. Why the fuck does everything fall to me?”
Because you’re all we have.
I knew it.
He knew it
Everybody knew it, but he was the only one who was about to say it out loud.