Floored - Karla Sorensen Page 0,14

get started."

She grinned. "Good."

As she talked, I listened, I wrote faster than my brain could keep up with, and as I sat in the chair, my memories of Jude faded, disappearing like a fast-moving train.

Chapter Five

Jude

The moment I opened my eyes and found myself alone in that awful little bed, I knew the day would turn to complete and utter shit. A glance at my phone, left discarded on the floor in a pile of the clothes that had been torn from my body with surprising alacrity, showed a time that I hadn't slept to in years.

Sitting up, I felt aches in my back and grinned to myself.

Sore from sex at thirty-one. What a joke I was. Not just that but she'd snuck from the room without waking me like I was some drunken tryst she desperately wanted to avoid. I could hardly hold that against her, though, as it had been the driving force behind my impulsive actions. That woman, beautiful and bold and unafraid to challenge me, had no bloody clue who I was.

Not that I was someone who got mobbed on the streets, especially when I came into London. But when she looked at me, those big blue eyes held no expectation, no weighty anticipation of what I might be like because of what I did.

And in my life, it was glorious to have that moment of respite.

Made all the more glorious when I heard the heavy footsteps of my brother tromping up the stairs to the flat.

"Are you decent?" he called from the door. "Or do you have a bird balancing on your balls?"

I rolled my eyes. "Bloody Carl," I muttered, standing to tug my trousers back up over my legs. "You can come in."

Lewis shoved the door open, and I glared.

He laid a hand on his chest. "I'm gutted."

"Are you?"

"Imagine my surprise when I come in this morning, and Carl informs me that my paragon of a big brother took an American up to my flat for a shag in my pub. I've never even done that."

I raised my eyebrows.

"Fine. Once or twice before I married Jo."

"Where were you last night?"

"Had to go help Mum and Dad with something. I didn't know you were going to stop by. I always ask when you're here, and you don't actually come." He smiled. "If I'd known, I would've forced you to come with me."

Guilt had me grimacing. My brother, though I loved him, did have a terrible habit of trying to smooth over the rough, dysfunctional edges within our little family. I hardly talked to our parents anymore, a fact that bothered him immensely. But in fairness, they weren't complete arseholes to him.

"I think I like how I spent my evening better, thank you."

Lewis laughed. "She must have been fit as all fuck if you took a go at her. I haven't heard about you with a woman in bloody ages."

A flash of Lia, uninvited, swept through my mind. Back braced against the wall while she waited for me to kiss her. Yeah ... she'd been that and more. Not that I particularly wanted to discuss that with my arsehole brother.

I shoved at his shoulder. "Put a sock in it, Lewis. I'm allowed a night of fun every once in a while, yeah?"

"You'd be a lot more enjoyable to be around if you had nights like that more often."

Rolling my eyes, I decided not to argue that one with him. It was the great argument between me and my family. Our parents—humble, hardworking stock who came from humble, hardworking stock—couldn't understand sacrificing my life to playing a game. They were farmers, a cog in a wheel that kept the world, the very framework of society moving. And to them, my career was silly. Shallow.

But they'd never understood.

In that game, I found the great love of my life—the black and white ball and the green grass of the pitch kept me centered. Kept me driving forward and gave me purpose when everything else in my life felt uncertain. A place that I could carve out my legacy and make an impact that would far outlast my days playing the game.

Until the past few seasons, where age was catching up with me far faster than I would've liked. Lewis, who did love football, simply wished that I was more present with our family. Or at least put in an attempt, which was the same thing he wished from our parents, who were just as stubborn.

Tugging my shirt back on,