I pull the door almost closed and head back to the living room of the presidential suite. The one I paid for because I wanted enough space for all of us while we follow Honey around for the next couple of months.
That's just one of the perks of being in the NFL. I get a lot of time off, ergo; I get to spend way more time with Honey and Merritt.
Honey is already on the sofa with her legs tucked under her when I get to the living room. With a glass of wine in one hand, she ices the other while watching some reality TV show.
I flex my fingers, watching her. Funny, it's usually me trying to ice away the injuries after a tough game.
“How's the wrist?” I ask as I drop onto the sofa beside her. She shifts immediately, putting her wine next to my beer on the coffee table. Then she turns into me to find the spot on my collarbone that she's been using as a pillow for as long as I can remember.
“It's okay,” she says as I wrap my arm around her. “I just didn't expect there to be so many people there today.”
“Why not, Honeycomb?” I kiss her forehead. “You're hot shit.”
She snorts out a small laugh and whacks me lightly on the chest.
“Stop it.”
“I'm just speaking the truth. You're hot shit, so you might as well accept it now since I've been telling you for years.”
I swear I feel her roll her eyes. It doesn't stop her from scratching her fingers across my chest, though.
“Olivia said the signing was a sellout,” I say, scratching her back.
“Olivia also told me that her cat spoke to her while she was doing the dishes the other day, so I'd say she's prone to embellishments.”
“Not true. Three hundred people came to see my wife. I was there, and I was so fucking proud of you.”
“Thanks,” she mumbles under her breath, snuggling into my chest instead of looking at me. I know her well enough to know that she doesn't want me focusing on her achievements too long.
That's the thing about Honey. She's so damn humble. Always just happy to be here instead of shouting from the rooftops over her accomplishments, and that's okay—I'm happy to shout for her.
“Are you ready for next season?” she asks, unsubtly changing the subject.
“Yeah,” I draw out, “but it's only May, so I've got some time before I have to start worrying about that.”
Her fingers flex as she scratches my chest, and I let out a low growl. She knows exactly what she's doing right now. I shift a little in the seat, giving my cock a little more room to grow.
“So, I've been thinking,” I say.
“Mhm.”
“About next season.”
She lifts her head, the topic immediately piquing her interest.
I look at the window, not wanting to make eye contact when I say this. “I'm thirty-three now. I've had a good run.Morethan a good run, and with Merrit getting older, and your book schedule picking up, I don’t want the travel to—” I shrug. “I don't know. It might be time to start thinking about what comes next.”
Honey sits upright so fast that the blanket nearly falls off her lap.
“No.”
“Honey—”
“Absolutely not.”
“I'm just saying—”
“I’m just saying maybe after this season—”
