To hear someone say I matter beyond the game is overwhelming.
“Come here,” I say, pulling her closer.
She tucks herself against my side and rests her head on my shoulder. When we pull up to the apartment building, Vincent comes around to open the door. I thank him and tell him to take the rest of the evening off. He'll pick me up later for the party.
Natalie and I walk through the lobby together, maintaining an appropriate distance in case anyone is paying attention. We take the elevator to our floor and pause in the hallway between our apartments.
“I should go change,” she says. “The party starts in two hours.”
“Come to my place first.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Ethan, I need time to do my hair and makeup. You know how long that takes.”
“Just for a minute.” I unlock my door and hold it open for her. “Please.”
She follows me inside.
I toss my suit jacket onto a chair and loosen my tie. “You know what would cheer me up?” I say in a teasing tone.
“What?”
“Holding you.”
Her expression softens. “Just holding?”
“For now.”
She crosses the room and wraps her arms around my waist, pressing her cheek to my chest. I hold her tight and breathe in the scent of her hair and let the tension slowly drain from my body. Having her in my arms makes everything else feel manageable.
“Better?” she murmurs against my shirt.
“Much better.”
We stand there for a long moment, just holding each other. Then she tilts her head up, and our eyes meet, and the air between us shifts from comfort to something hotter.
“Ethan,” she whispers.
I kiss her.
It starts soft and slow, a gentle exploration. But it doesn't stay that way. Within seconds, I'm devouring her mouth, my tongue sliding against hers, my hands gripping her hips and pulling her flush against me.
“We don't have time,” she gasps between kisses.
“We'll make time.”
I walk her backward toward the couch, careful not to put too much weight on my bad knee. When we reach it, I lower myself onto the cushions and pull her down with me.
“Straddle me,” I tell her. “My knee can't handle anything else right now.”
She pulls down her pants and climbs onto my lap. I trail my fingers higher until I reach the lace of her underwear.
“You're already wet,” I groan, pressing my fingers against the damp fabric. “Fuck, baby. You're soaked.”
“I've been thinking about you all day.” She rocks her hips against my hand. “Every time I looked up and saw you in those stands, all I could think about was what we did this morning.”
“Tell me.”
“I kept thinking about how deep you were inside me.” Her breath hitches as I push her underwear aside and slide a finger through her slick folds. “I had to excuse myself twice just to compose myself.”
