His Runaway Goal: Book Two in the Game Winner Series Read online

  His Runaway Goal

  Copyright © 2019 Angela Nicole

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, in or introduced into retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Editing—All About the Edits

  Cover Design—T.E. Black Designs; www.teblackdesigns.com

  Interior Formatting & Design—T.E. Black Designs; www.teblackdesigns.com

  Photographer—CJC Photography

  Cover Models—Kristen Alyss, Jered Youngblood

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Sneak Peek

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Other Books By Angela Nicole

  To those who don’t feel they deserve the best…you do.

  Chris

  Shit! She’s going to kill me. But then again, what a way to go. Glancing at the clock, it’s only been twenty minutes since we last had sex and I recall her words to me, “Jesus Chris, I think we’ve literally fucked each other’s brains out.” Mind you, those were her words, not mine. Not that I’m complaining, but she wants to go again. How do I know this? Because her lips are wrapped around my dick.

  This beautiful, sexy woman is testing my stamina. I’m just thankful I can keep up.

  Brenda swirls her tongue around my crown. It feels fucking perfect, so perfect I’m not sure how long I’m going to last.

  “I love how hard you are,” Brenda whispers against me.

  “You, Brenda…you make me this way. Only you,” I moan as my orgasm rips through me.

  My euphoria though is short-lived though, as Brenda scoots out of bed rather quickly and heads into her bathroom.

  This isn’t the first time she and I have done this dance. The first time, she kicked me out right after sex. The second time, well, she was gone before I woke up in the morning.

  Rubbing my hands over my face, I wonder what the excuse is going to be this time. Since I know the drill, I start to get dressed. I don’t understand her. She seems to like me. The sex is off the charts but when I want to just cuddle or hang out, she freaks the hell out.

  Just as I zip up my jeans, Brenda opens the bathroom door. I see she’s thrown on a t-shirt that’s barely long enough to cover her sweet spot.

  She clears her throat as she watches me.

  Never taking my eyes off hers, I grab my shirt off the floor. “Don’t worry, babe, I know the drill. No cuddling, no hanging out, and definitely no talking about what just happened.”

  “Chris…” she starts, but then closes her mouth.

  “It’s all right, babe. I get it. My dick is all you need, right?”

  I know I sound like an asshole and hey, maybe I am, but I’m not used to being the booty call. I’ve always been the booty caller. And this new role isn’t one I like.

  * * *

  Brenda

  What the hell is wrong with me? Every time I have this sexy-as-hell man in my bed, I freak out. I’m such a bitch to him, I’m ashamed for it. And I’m not sure why he keeps answering my text messages.

  Throwing myself on the bed, I bury my face in Chris’s pillow. Chris’s pillow. It smells just like him, testosterone and sex. That’s the only way to describe it.

  I reach for my phone that’s sitting on my white nightstand. The temptation to call him, to tell him why I keep pushing him away, is strong. But I don’t do it because I don’t understand the reasons myself. It’s the same song and dance we’ve been doing for months now.

  Growling in frustration, I turn off the lights, willing myself to sleep.

  Tomorrow is another day. Another day to try to break free from my addiction to a man who makes me feel alive. Too long have I felt like I’m nothing to no one.

  Brenda

  “I’ll have a boilermaker.”

  The little blonde bombshell of a bartender nods and moves down the long oak bar to make my drink.

  I tap the coaster on top of the bar when I feel him come up behind me.

  “I was happy to get your text.”

  My heart races hearing his voice. I haven’t turned around yet because when I see his dark eyes, I know what’ll happen…instant wetness and want.

  Chris hops up onto the stool next to me.

  Keep your eyes straight ahead, I tell myself. Do not look at the sexy man next to you.

  “Can I get you something, gorgeous?” Blondie asks Chris.

  That damn waitress is pissing me off. Why does she just assume Chris and I aren’t together?

  “I’ll have what my girlfriend here is having.”

  My jaw hits the floor.

  “Sure thing,” she says as she slinks away to get his boilermaker.

  “Why the hell would you tell her that I’m your girlfriend?” I ask, exasperated both at the fact that he referred to me that way, and now I have to look at him.

  He shrugs. All he can do is shrug. Jesus, he’s so arrogant…and hot. Damn him.

  “You asked me to meet you here, Brenda. What’s up?”

  Now I’m just staring at him as the bartender sets down our drinks. I’m watching his lips as he swallows his shot of whiskey.

  Those lips have been every place on my body. The memories of our last night together play on my mind tonight, as they have for the last three months.

  Gathering my thoughts, I take a sip of my cold beer to cool me down, then clear my throat. “I thought we should get together and set the record straight.”

  Chris’s big, beautiful eyes light up. He turns his body so he’s facing me and I can feel the fire coming from him. “Oh, really? What record exactly needs to be set straight?”

  Oh, God. Suddenly, I’m mute. All I can do is blink.

 
He moves in closer to me. Inches…his mouth is so close to mine. I just stare at it.

  “What’s the matter, Brenda? Pussy cat got your tongue?” His thumb rubs across my bottom lip.

  The same thumb that sent me over the edge too many times to count.

  I swallow the sudden lump in my throat.

  Snapping out of my dirty fantasy, I gather my courage and tell him the reason I asked him here.

  “I thought, with Leo and Sophia getting married well, you and I are going to be seeing a lot of each other.”

  His eyebrow raises and I know what he’s thinking. We’ve already seen a lot of each other.

  Shifting on the stool, I forge ahead.

  “I think it’s best if we just remain friends, so things don’t get weird for them, you know? We shouldn’t have sex anymore, Chris.”

  He looks at me as if I’m an alien with five heads. Then he gets close, real close, to me. My body is on high-alert, knowing just how easily I’d give in to him.

  “Let’s get one thing straight, Brenda. You and I are more than friends. We always have been, since the first time we fucked and you kicked me out.”

  The guilt is almost unbearable. It always has been. I can’t even look him in the eye because of it.

  “You’re the one with the problem, not me. Do you want me, sweetheart? Just say the word and I’m yours.”

  Chris chugs his beer, throws down a fifty, and walks out. Again. I made him leave again when all I really want is to be his.

  Chris

  Two months later…

  Even though it’s the offseason, I still try to eat right and workout. My best friend, Leo, and I are on our way to the gym, when his fiancée, Sophia, calls.

  “Hey, baby, you’re on speaker, so don’t say anything you don’t want Chris to hear.”

  All three of us laugh, but I’d be shocked if Sophia said anything embarrassing. Even though she used to be a nun, apparently, Leo has made her quite the naughty vixen. Or at least that’s what he says when he’s drunk.

  “Hi, Chris.”

  “Hey, Sophia.”

  “I’m actually glad you’re with Leo. Saves me a phone call.”

  I glance at Leo, who just smirks.

  “Are you free tomorrow night? I’m making dinner and was hoping you could come join us.”

  I’ve hung out with Leo and Sophia before. They’ve never made me feel like the third wheel. Since I’m not working tomorrow night, I agree. I’m a bouncer at a gentleman’s club in the offseason. It’s a very upscale, exclusive club, so the job’s pretty easy.

  “Yeah, I’m not working at the club tomorrow so I can come.”

  “Oh good. Dinner’s around six. Could you stop and pick Brenda up on your way? Her car’s in the shop.”

  Leo coughs, knowing what Sophia’s asking is like a flame meeting kerosene. “Babe, I can pick her up.”

  While I’m grateful my best friend has my back, I can’t help but feel like a pussy if I don’t do it. After all, I’m thirty fucking years old. I can pick up a woman, drive her to dinner, and take her home without anything happening. Besides, Brenda has made it clear she doesn’t want us to have sex anymore.

  “No, Leo, I can get her. She’s on my way, no big deal.”

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you, Chris. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Leo mouths, “Are you sure?” so Sophia can’t hear.

  I nod.

  “Hurry home, Leo.” She giggles before she hangs up.

  Her giggle makes me blush, knowing what she was alluding to.

  “Jesus, I’m sorry she put you in that position,” he says as he opens his sunroof.

  “It’s fine, man. I’m a big boy. It’ll give her and me a chance to work on our ‘friends without benefits’ status.”

  Leo laughs, but I just hope I’m right.

  Brenda

  God, I can’t believe Sophia asked Chris to pick me up for dinner tonight because my old VW Rabbit is back in the shop. I love that thing, but it’s getting to the point it just won’t run anymore. It’s a good thing it’s summer break where I teach, so I don’t have to worry about getting to work.

  I’ve got two hours before he gets here. I’m so nervous to see him my stomach doesn’t feel good. If I thought I’d keep my hands to myself, I’d have a few glasses of wine before then. But with Chris, I need to be in control, and I never am.

  Grabbing some clothes out of the dryer, I hear the door to my apartment open. I know it’s Ricky because, besides Sophia, he’s the only other person who has a key to my place.

  “I’m in here,” I yell.

  My place is small, only a one-bedroom, but that’s all I need and the rent is reasonable. I head into the living room where piles of clothes adorn my love seat. The living room, which is off the kitchen, is decorated in purples and pinks. What can I say? I’m a girly girl, and I love it.

  “Hey,” Ricky says as he plops down in my leather chair.

  Ricky and I have been friends with benefits for three years. I really do love him as a friend because he isn’t the relationship type either…no expectations. And if I’m being honest, Ricky and I just added the sex to our friendship one night as a mistake. Kinda like Chris.

  When I turn to look at him, I can tell he’s bothered by something.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Ricky laughs. “You always know, don’t you?”

  “You’re pretty easy to read. Now spill it.”

  “Sit, Brenda.”

  I throw the pile of clothes on the other side of the loveseat and sit. When he remains silent, I raise my eyebrow. “All right, now you’re scaring me.”

  “I’ve found someone I’m interested in and, well, she wants me to move in with her.”

  I’m shocked. Not hurt, but surprised since Ricky and I have both sworn off relationships. That’s why we got along so well.

  “Wow, all right. That’s something, isn’t it?” I laugh.

  If I’m being honest, I kinda knew something was up, since he and I hadn’t had sex in a month and a half. We were pretty much on a regular schedule of every week or two before that.

  Ricky runs his hand through his short red hair. “I really like her, Brenda, and I don’t want to fuck things up with her.”

  I think I know where this is headed so I try to take control of the outcome. “I get it, Ricky, no more friends with benefits. It’s cool.”

  “Actually, I told Ronda all about us…and she’d prefer if you and I weren’t friends anymore either. To be honest, I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t want her to be friends with her fuck buddy either.”

  I reel back my head. I won’t lie. That stung a little. “So just like that, you’re willing to throw away our friendship for someone you’ve known for a few months?”

  “I love her, okay?” Ricky bolts up out of the chair, his voice raised. “I want to marry Ronda.”

  I’ve never seen Ricky like this. So, I do the only thing I can. I lie.

  Standing up to meet him, I tell him what I wish were true. “I met someone else too, Ricky. Someone I want to explore a future with, so the timing, I guess, is perfect.”

  “Good, I’m glad you’ve found someone then, Brenda. I was hoping you’d change your mind about trying to have an actual relationship.”

  Alrighty then. Another piece of me just turned black. I need Ricky out, and out fast before I crumble.

  “Well, thanks for coming by to tell me.”

  I walk to the door, hoping he follows, which he does.

  “Look, Brenda, I enjoyed our arrangement. I guess it’s just time for me to grow up.”

  And with that, one of the only constants in my life walks out of it.

  The minute Ricky is out of earshot, I collapse on the floor in a heap of regret. For wasting my time, and my heart. I mean, I’m not in love with Ricky, but with him, I was in control, and that was something I needed to keep me sane. Now that control is gone.

  My mind immediately goes to my childhood, when everyone aban
doned me. First, my drug-addicted mother left when I was three months old. While I’m grateful she didn’t touch a drug while she was pregnant, apparently her disease was stronger than her love for her child. And when she abandoned me, it was my father who took me in.

  One would think he should at least be a better parent than my mother, right? Well, Milo Appleby was, until he met a woman—my current stepmother—and moved to Las Vegas. I was sixteen.

  I spent the next two years staying with friends, sleeping on couches. Mostly I lived with Sophia’s family.

  Knowing no one was going to help me pay for college, I devoured all the learning I could in high school. I graduated third in my class and received several scholarships for college.

  I was beyond excited when my father showed up at my college graduation. He told me he was proud I going to make something of myself, with a degree in Elementary Education from the University of Tampa.

  The excitement was short-lived when he left and I haven’t seen him since. It’s been five years, with a phone call here and there.

  Scanning my living room, my eyes land on my piles of laundry…one neatly folded pile, next to the rest of my wardrobe laying in a crumpled mess. Quite the metaphor for my life…my nicely organized professional life next to my chaotic personal one.