Page 61 of Out of Bounds

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” he said, his laughter petering out. Sitting back up, he leaned forward on the table, his face serious, eyes locked on hers. “You’re not my first since Anya.”

"I didn’t think I was,” she said, not sure why this was such a secret.

“Well, if you ask Cowboy and Cullen, I’ve been a hermit since her death. What they don’t know is that I had a one-night stand a couple of years after her death. The Dundalk Academy was in Glasgow for a tournament, and she was a trainer for one of the other teams. We ended up talking at the hotel bar the last night we were there and one thing led to another. It was…horrible.”

“Why?”

“Because it meant nothing. I was able to deal with Anya’s death relatively easily. Don’t get me wrong, losing her was a horrible, horrible experience, but I was lucky that we were able to prepare in our own way, which made my grieving process unique. So, it’s not like I expected her to be Anya or anything like that. But, it was just…I was just going through the motions. All it was, was a release, and I don’t need another person for that. I’ve got both a right and left hand.”

Worry fluttered through Felicity, making her swallow hard. He’d told her from the start that this was more than just sex, but she’d thought those were just words. Or that at the very most he meant that it was more complicated than that because they were coworkers. She had no idea that he’d been telling her that there was even more involved. That is what he’s saying…right?

“It’s not like that between us,” he said quietly, his eyes still pinned on her.

“Oh, I mean, I wasn’t thinking…”

“Effie, this is me. I know you. I know when your mind starts moving. You’re important to me. What we have is something different.”

The fear that had been niggling at Felicity a moment ago was instantly gone. In its place was now a feeling she didn’t recognize. She couldn’t put into words what it was, just that she wasn’t sure that she’d ever felt this happy.

“Can I ask what you think this is?” Her voice was soft and low, just above a whisper, despite how fast her heart was beating. That was quite possibly the most loaded question she’d ever asked, and she was dying to know the answer.

“I don’t know. I just know that it’s special, and that it means something.”

“It means something to me too.”

“Good.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Felicity had lost count of all the kisses Gunnar had stolen over the course of the evening. It had started at dinner, the first one coming right after she’d told him that whatever this was between them meant something, and continued not only throughout the rest of dinner, but as they strolled along the River Walk afterward. Not that she minded one bit. Each one of his kisses was more addicting than the last. And every single one of them left her feeling more and more alive.

She had no idea how he did it, but he really did make her feel like she was the only woman on earth. She knew that sounded cliché, but his big hand surrounding hers, swaying back and forth as they walked—paired with all those kisses he was helping himself to—made it seem like the rest of the universe around them just melted away. Was this the feeling that they talked about in all those books? If it was, she suddenly understood why so many people lost their minds over it.

Maybe it was because they’d had a wonderful, carefree night where they could be themselves in public and not worry if anyone caught them, but she couldn’t have asked for a better date. Even now, riding in the elevator up to their rooms, she was giddy at the thought of just curling up in bed with him.

“A gentleman walks a lady to her door, but mine is closer to the elevator,” he said, a sly grin on his face as he stopped outside his hotel room door and waved his keycard in front of the reader. Her hand still in his, he pulled her into the room behind him, wrapping his arm around her waist and tugging her in close, stealing yet another kiss before the door had even swung shut.

“Just assuming I’ll go home with you, huh?” she teased, pulling back from the kiss. They’d spent last night in what was technically his room, so it was probably a safe assumption on his part, but she couldn’t help but poke at him.

“I did just admit to not being much of a gentleman.”

She let out a laugh, unable to do anything other than admire his honesty. Taking a few more steps into the room to put her purse down, she noticed a small brown bag, a single tuft of white tissue paper sticking out of the top, sitting on the bed. She eyed it curiously before turning to Gunnar, who didn’t look nearly as intrigued as she was.

“What’s in the bag?” she asked.

“It’s for you—open it.”

Even more curious now, she picked up the bag and pulled out the tissue paper, peeking in to see what was inside. Unable to tell just from looking, she reached in and pulled out a folded-up shirt. She shook it out to see what it was, discovering it was an Atlanta Rising jersey.

“Turn it around,” Gunnar whispered into her ear from behind her.

She did as she was told, twisting the shirt in her hands to look at the back. Written across the top, in the same lettering used for the players, was her name. Or well, Gunnar’s name for her.

Effie.

Felicity swallowed hard, trying to fight back the tears that were suddenly pricking at the corner of her eyes. He’d had a jersey made for her? A swell of emotions took over her, just one more thing she couldn’t explain. It was just a shirt, but somehow, it was so much more.

“It occurred to me while we were standing on the pitch this afternoon that you apparently don’t own any Rising gear. So I talked to the equipment guys and had them make this for you,” Gunnar said, placing a light kiss right where her neck met her shoulder. A shiver ran down her spine at the sensation of his lips on her skin, making her want more. They were hot and wet and she want to feel them all over her body.