Personal Foul (Moving the Chains Book 6) Read online

  “Nope.” A fresh drink is placed on the table near me before I even set my empty glass down. I exchange them and take another swallow. “She’s pregnant.”

  Lexi’s face looks so much younger when she genuinely smiles. “You might not be a dom, but I think you’ll make a great daddy.”

  I choke on my tequila. “It’s not mine.”

  Lexi frowns before she realizes what she’s doing. She glances around with wide eyes, then smashes her tits against my chest to regain ground. Her lips lick against my ear. “What are you going to do?”

  “Tonight? Make sure Mayview gets so hammered that he can’t get his dick up.”

  She pulls away enough to pin me with a hardened stare. Her eyes tell stories that her mouth could never do justice. “When are you going to realize that every dirtbag on this planet isn’t your personal responsibility? Some of the girls here don’t actually mind servicing a professional quarterback. They’d be perfectly happy to answer his call any day at any time.”

  I meet her gaze with a hardened one of my own. I’ve seen some shit, too. “You know damn well why I can’t walk away.”

  “I know you need to let the past go and focus on your future,” she insists.

  “I prefer to take one day at a time and actually learn from past mistakes.” I finish off my second glass.

  Mayview takes the empty seat beside us with a lopsided grin on his ugly face. He’s already four to my two, and his glazed eyes prove it. Another couple of drinks, and he’ll have whiskey dick for the night. He winks. “Lexi. When are you going to leave this loser for me?”

  She giggles and bats her fake eyelashes. “When the money’s right, Blake. Pay up, and I’ll be your personal call girl.”

  I tap her round ass in warning. Just because Mayview makes more than I do doesn’t mean he spends the extra funds on worthy causes. He definitely wouldn’t hesitate to push past her limits whether he was paying for her time or not.

  Mayview pops his wooly eyebrows. “Maybe I can give you a better reason than money. He tell you yet about the whole team betting against him this year?”

  Lexi faces me with a questioning expression. “No. No, he didn’t. What’s this little bet about?”

  I shake my head. What’s Mayview’s angle tonight? The bouncers collect our cell phones at the entrance, so it’s not like he can rat me out to Amira. He doesn’t stand to gain anything by telling any of the girls here about our bet. These women will service anyone for the right price, even if they hate cheaters. This isn’t the kind of place for morals. It’s a business.

  “We have a new team psych, and she is fuck-hot. Whoever puts a ring on it first, wins. Obviously, the team thinks I’m gonna get the W.”

  Lexi glances between us before murmuring to me, “Not sure what you’re gonna do, huh? Seems to me like you’ve got a pretty clear route in mind. I’m guessing the ring was your idea, not his.”

  “That was before I knew about the baby,” I mumble while glaring at Mayview. I still don’t know if that’ll be enough of a deterrent to keep him away from her. It’s not my secret to tell either way. Amira’s already worried enough about what this pregnancy will mean for her job.

  Lexi wraps her arms around my neck and strikes a conversational tone, “You know, when I was pregnant, I was hornier than at any other time in my life. I could not get enough. I think whoever’s dick doesn’t break first should win.”

  I am not drunk enough to have hallucinated her words.

  “Shut the fuck up,” I hiss in her ear. “No one knows yet!”

  Too late. Mayview’s ears perk up like he’s a fucking rabbit. “Who’s pregnant?”

  “Amira.” Lexi smiles.

  Goddammit.

  Mayview doesn’t even realize there’s no reason that Lexi should know that name. He slams his glass on the table and towers over us when he pushes to his feet. He lists a little to the left, but his angry expression overshadows his drunkenness. “You knocked her up and didn’t even fucking tell me? Well, fuck you! The deal was a ring, not a baby! The bet’s still on!”

  Well, I guess that answers my question about whether Mayview has a fetish for pregnant women.

  We watch in silence as he stalks to the bar and orders a round of shots for anyone nearby. He sloshes something golden over the rim of the glass when he thrusts his arm in the air. “To putting a ring on it!”

  The guys cheer because the pool is pretty big. They’re too caught up in kissing Mayview’s ass to realize they’re only going to get a small piece of the pie since they all bet against me. Gorge is the only one who stands to win a fuck-ton of money.

  A few of the dancers sidle up to drape themselves over Mayview’s arms. The sharks smell easy money from a guy who’s too drunk to realize how many benjamins he’s shelling out.

  He pushes them away. Not gently. “No thanks, ladies. I’m a changed man. I’ve got a woman at home now.”

  Huh. Amira’s not out of the woods, but this is a bonus I never expected.

  I turn my attention back to Lexi, who’s wearing a smug smile.

  “It’s not gonna last,” I tell her. “He’ll make it a month without getting his dick wet, tops. And I’m probably gonna get castrated when Amira finds out the team thinks her baby is mine.”

  “Do you want that baby to be yours, Fossoway?” Lexi leans against me, and it’s not for show at all. She’s pressing her weight, pressing her point, pressing me. Her gaze pinballs between my eyes. “Do you want that woman? Or are you going to pass up this golden opportunity for the excuses you’ve been making to yourself for years?”

  “It’s not that easy, and you know it.”

  She shakes her head as she climbs off my lap. “Nothing worth having ever is, and you know it.”

  Yeah. I do.

  This cannot be happening to me. I am hallucinating, dreaming, tripping on drugs that I’ve never done. I pinch my thigh and smother the yelp that catches in my throat without so much as blinking at my current client.

  “It was only once! Three weeks ago!” He says, his voice pitched high like he’s regressing back to puberty. “Well, it was only one night. It was more than once.”

  I nod at Charlie Jizkowski, afraid to open my mouth that’s barely holding onto all the wrong words. I’m a psychologist, not a robot. The human in me screams in agony.

  “What am I gonna do, Dr. Deep?” He paces my office, his affect openly desperate. “My last name makes me an easy target anyway. What are they gonna call me when they find out I caught an STI from a stripper? I’d rather be called Jizz than syphilis.”

  With monumental effort, I pull myself together. I cannot handle another of his lurid descriptions of the club known as the Shark Tank, but I can absolutely steer the conversation in a different direction. “Let’s prioritize your issues, starting with the most important. Are you getting the appropriate treatment for the STI?”

  He nods. “Yeah. Antibiotics.”

  “Good. Next, how did you discover you’d been infected with syphilis?” Depending on his answer, we can discuss ways to prevent his teammates from learning about his very sensitive personal information.

  He shrugs then flops onto my office sofa. “The regular season starts next weekend. It’s team protocol to do one last round of drug and health testing.”

  “So, all of your teammates received the same testing. Am I understanding that correctly?”

  He nods.

  “Did the team physician read aloud everyone’s test results in the locker room?”

  “No.” A glimmer of hope lights up his brown eyes. “No! No one knows!”

  I lean back in my chair and smile at him. At least one of us is satisfied. “If you are certain that you caught the STI from the club, then it’s also likely some of your teammates may have as well. Not only does no one know your diagnosis, but you are likely not alone in your emotions.”

  Charlie’s eyes widen. “Oh, shit! Oh, fuck! Dr. Deep, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think! If it makes you feel any better,
Alex wasn’t with the same chick who serviced me.”

  My body reaches maximum possible temperature at light speed from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. Though I am a professional at maintaining a neutral expression, there’s no way this full-body blush doesn’t give me away.

  This was actually an extremely difficult lesson to learn during the course of my training. Since psychology is such an intimate practice, my instructors normalized the concept that inevitable attraction occurs several times over the course of a career. Sometimes, it is simple transference when a client divulges their most intimate sexual issues or fantasies that may be shared. Other times, it may be a purely biological attraction. Though it is tempting to avoid and repress, the best practice is actually to acknowledge our shared humanity.

  I am still new, and I am wildly uncomfortable. I take a deep breath to center myself. “Thank you for being so considerate of my feelings, but you do not have to apologize to me. I never, ever want you to think you can’t be open and honest simply because I live with Alex. Just as I said at training camp, I leave my personal life outside the door when I step into this office, and you should, too.”

  His face screws up in confusion. “You’re not mad that he had a nearly naked woman draped across his lap for hours?”

  This is sticky territory, and not at all conducive to Charlie’s emotional well-being. Or my personal mental health. “I have spent the past six years studying professional athletes and the challenges you face both on and off the field. I’m well aware of the temptations that are byproducts of your careers and of the need to maintain a certain social status. This is not an appropriate time or place to talk about my feelings concerning the man I live with. If you want though, we can discuss your feelings about sexual health, attending another team gathering at the club, or how to manage the stress and potential dangers of sexual encounters during your rookie year. You do not have to pretend for my sake that they will not happen.”

  Poor Charlie. He looks how I feel—like he’s going to throw up. “If it makes you feel any better, Mayview just drank with the guys all night. I mean, obviously, I was occupied for a while in a private room, but I didn’t see him with a single chick the whole time we were at the Tank.”

  I have no idea what Mayview has to do with anything, but there’s a bigger problem to address. “Charlie, you don’t have to earn my approval. You don’t have to say anything that makes me feel better, just as you don’t have to apologize to me. My job is to be here for you. I’m your sounding board, not the other way around. This is a safe place for you to work through whatever is bothering you. I can offer you tips and tools to that end, but these sessions aren’t about me at all. They’re about you—as much or as little as you’re willing to share.”

  “I don’t ever wanna go to a strip club again,” he admits with a sheepish grin. “Is that gonna make me look like a pussy to the rest of the team? I’m a rookie. I can’t afford to fuck up this chance.”

  For the remainder of his session, we discuss ways to retain his personal autonomy while maintaining the oftentimes double-standard of belonging to a professional football team.

  His smile is genuine when I escort him to the door. “Thanks, Dr. Deep. I do actually feel a lot better.”

  “I’m glad.” I truly am.

  I chose this profession because I wanted to give my clients a safe place to learn, grow, and reach their goals as flawed human beings in a way that I never had growing up. I tripped into the arena of elite athletes on accident because I tutored so many of them. They might be recipients of celebrity worship, but they’re still people. People who have needs that aren’t always met by the society that saddles them with as many burdens as it does with praise.

  “Remember,” I tell Charlie as I reach for the doorknob. “I’m here for you. Whatever you face this year as a rookie, this is a no-judgment, safe place. I promise there’s nothing you can say that will shock me, and nothing that will make me not do everything in my power to help you.”

  He glances down somewhere in the vicinity of my stomach then back up again. His expression conveys conflict. “You’re a rookie, too, right? Who’s there for you, Dr. Deep?”

  I’m not supposed to have favorites, but Charlie just undoubtedly claimed first place. I open the door to find another player with his fist raised, mid-knock. It might be crossing a line to divulge this much information about my personal life, but I chose a very personal career. “Here he is now.”

  Charlie’s confused expression volleys between me and Alex. “To each their own, I guess.”

  He glares at Alex, then shoves past him before making his way down the hall.

  “He okay?” Alex asks.

  I whimper from the sound of his voice, alone. “You know I can’t discuss that with you.”

  He nods as he closes the door behind him.

  I scurry to the safety of my desk. Physical distance has suddenly become my number one healthy coping technique. I think it would also be a good idea to sleep on the couch tonight.

  There are so many colloquial expressions to describe my life right now.

  Be careful what you wish for. You just might get it.

  Murphy’s Law.

  Karma.

  Never tempt a bad day by saying things cannot possibly get any worse.

  Just as Alex sits on my recently vacated sofa, my phone rings.

  If it was any other day, any other time, any other set of completely fucked-up circumstances, I would send the call to voicemail.

  I stare at the screen a beat too long for Alex not to notice.

  “Is it him?”

  “No.” It’s been a month. Even if he’s seen my message, I doubt I’ll ever hear from him again. I never thought I would be glad for this kind of distraction, but here I am. “It’s my mother.”

  Alex nods, his expression grim. “You’ve gotta come clean sometime, Brain. Might as well do it now. I’ll be here.”

  That’s what I’m afraid of.

  Eavesdropping on phone calls is the worst. I’m a pretty perceptive guy, but I don’t have hearing superpowers. All I’ve got to go on are Amira’s one-sided, clipped answers and her tense body language.

  Her relationship with her parents makes mine look like a walk in the park. This isn’t new information to me, so I basically have shit to go on.

  “I’ve only been here a little over a month.” She rubs her forehead with her eyes squeezed shut. “I need more time, please.”

  I scoff at her politeness. These people who were supposed to nurture her have done nothing but fuck her over. I lost the niceties years ago when I learned the hard way that parents are selfish as fuck, just like anyone else.

  Her eyes flick open. She pins me with her black gaze. “Yes, Ammi. I understand.”

  I lean forward and make a rolling motion with my hand.

  Everything about Amira changes like I flipped a switch. Her tan skin turns pink from head to toe. She averts her gaze to her desktop. She tries to hide beneath her huge desk, but the way she presses her thighs together doesn’t escape my notice.

  Since she doesn’t wear layers of clothing anymore, my gaze automatically tracks to her chest to check my suspicions.

  Amira’s never needed a padded bra, so her hard nipples are visible even through two thin layers of fabric.

  If I wasn’t already leaning forward in my seat, my sudden problem would be just as obvious.

  Even the sound of her choking back a sob isn’t enough to deflate my boner.

  “The first regular season game is next weekend,” she says with a broken voice. “At least let me make sure my clients are ready before you book the trip.”

  Oh, shit. If she doesn’t stand her ground, she’s going to have to tell her parents about the pregnancy in person. I wouldn’t wish that shit on anyone in her position.

  My hard dick forgotten, I stand up and approach her desk. I mouth, “Do it now.”

  She shakes her head, but she’s staring at the obvious bulge in my sw
eatpants. I’m not sure if she’s dismissing my command or silently telling me she’s not interested.

  “Yes, Ammi. Thank you.” She taps the screen to end the call then blows out a breath. “They will be here in two weeks.”

  “What do you want?” I can’t keep using that phrase. Not when she’s in the shitty position she’s in now. A part of me feels like that conversation from college started this domino effect. I amend, “To do?”

  She’s still staring at my crotch.

  “Can you put that away?” she breathes. “I can’t think.”

  Holy shit. She warned me. Lexi said something about it. I didn’t believe them at the time.

  Amira is pregnant to a deadbeat one-night stand. Her controlling parents will be here in two weeks. She’s still staring at my package and pretty much drooling like there’s nothing else going on in the world.

  “It’s happening, isn’t it?”

  I need her to tell me I’m not hallucinating. I’ve spent sleepless nights for years of my life fantasizing about things I can’t actually have. I never wanted them before her. If she doesn’t tell me she wants me, then I will use every excuse in the book to explain away the look in her eyes.

  “What’s happening?”

  Swear to God, I feel her voice on my throbbing cock.

  “You’re so aroused, you can barely control yourself. Pregnancy hormones, right?” I can give us both one last out. It’s not untrue.

  She glances up at me. There’s something more than lust in her black eyes. They’re swelling with tears. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  I kneel down in front of her. My knee screams in this position, but I don’t give a rat’s ass. “Can’t do what?”

  She never makes a sound, but a tear slides down her cheek anyway. “I spent years pursuing this degree. I know all the ins and outs of an attractive man sharing his most intimate secrets with me.”

  That makes me want to fucking tear down whole cities of attractive men.

  She goes on with a hiccup, “When I first suspected I was pregnant, I did all the requisite online research. I knew heightened libido was a possibility, but I hoped it wouldn’t happen to me.”