Page 99 of Serving Bunt

Even better, he was my whimpering, desperate mess.

My good boy.

I also loved it when he took control. What could I say? I was an equal anal opportunist.

Diaz was deceptively strong, and he knew exactly how to use every ounce of it. He’d pin me down, spread my legs wide, and open me up with his fingers and tongue until I was shaking and begging for his cock. The first time he’d fucked me properly, I’d come untouched, sobbing his name into the pillow. He’d laughed softly afterward, pressing gentle kisses and love bites along my spine until I’d regained the ability to speak.

Seventeen-and-a-half minutes later.

There was a lot more to our relationship than sex, though. Like the nights where we played video games on my couch until one of us—usually Diaz—literally passed out, controller still in hand. Or the long walks with Mo, who, thanks to somebody’s terrible habit of feeding her scraps under the table, now required significantly longer outings to burn off all the extra calories.

Diaz was also the reason my farmhouse felt more like a home than it ever had before. He helped with projects around the property—holding boards while I hammered, teasing me when I got too perfectionist about paint lines, and somehow making even the most mundane tasks feel like a game.

Like María Poppins.

Call me a cornball, but it was the quiet evenings where we just sat together, side by side, eating takeout while Mo snored between us on the couch, that I treasured most.

Coach Ward cleared his throat.

I blinked.

Right. Serious conversation.

His gaze moved between us again.

“Judging by the sappy look on Miller’s face, I’m going to take a wild guess that this thing between y’all isn’t casual?”

My cheeks warmed under the weight of his stare. I didn’t have to look to know that Diaz’s eyes were on me now, too.

“We wouldn’t be here if it were,” I said, answering for both of us.

“I see,” he replied. “I appreciate your honesty, but just so you know, this isn’t going to be easy. The league’s come a long way, but there’s still plenty of bullshit out there.”

Diaz nodded. “We know.”

He didn’t need to tell us.

We had discussed this ad nauseum. The ugly comments, the headlines, the people who, without a doubt, would have opinions about something that had absolutely nothing to do with them. Even now, I was quietly rerunning through the list of reasons why we’d kept this to ourselves for two months.

And it wasn’t short.

But then, I thought about Diaz’s house key on my key ring. The one he’d slipped into my pocket and onto the silver hoop while I’d slept one night, along with the code to his alarm system. I thought about his socks under my couch and the fact that he’d started buying Mo her favorite treats without me even asking.

I smiled to myself. The answer was clear as day.

Some things were worth a little bullshit.

“You sure you’re ready for that?”

I didn’t even have to think about it.

“Yes.”

Diaz’s hand found mine beneath the desk.

“Definitely,” he echoed.

Coach Ward’s lips curved up in a crooked grin. “We’ll want to set up a meeting with HR and the media relations team,” he said. “Get ahead of things in case you decide to go public. But I’ll be there to support you however I can.”