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“Really?”
“Really.” I kissed her full lips, wishing I didn’t have to go downstairs right now. “I’ll be back soon.”
I stood, letting her fingers fall from mine. God, this woman had me. She had taken me when I wasn’t looking. Possessed me when I wasn’t watching. And it was fucking unbelievable.
22
Lennon
I stretched my arms across the empty king-sized bed and smiled. Yesterday had gone from hell to heaven. I sat up, bringing the sheet with me. It was play off day. Wes had left at the crack of dawn, but there was a tray of breakfast next to the bed and a silver service of steaming coffee.
I tiptoed out of bed and walked to the bathroom. My body was sore in the most glorious ways. The way he touched me, sucked me, and kissed me was seared into my skin. I could almost still feel his breath on my body.
I brushed my teeth, pulled on a fluffy hotel robe, and walked back to the bed to pour coffee into a china mug.
Things were only going to get more complicated from here. If Wes won today, there was another playoff game next week. That meant more awkward run-ins with Gloria and Bud. Wes knew about Ben now, and he had to catch on to my insecurities about other women. We hadn’t even touched how deeply that ran.
I hadn’t decided if the D.C. trip was a complete disaster or a total success. He had proven last night that he was here for me too. He was willing to defend me. To make sacrifices. To protect me at all costs. And damn, it felt good. Not to mention how he worshipped me in bed when he got back from paying off Ben.
He was tender and sweet. It was an entirely different type of sexiness. It made me feel like we were both on the verge of saying the L word. But instead, I moaned and shook in his arms and let him come deep inside me as he told me over and over that I was his. That I belonged only to him. I smiled. I liked the emotionally intense sex as much as the primal raw stuff we did back in San Antonio.
I nibbled on the end of a croissant and popped a strawberry in my mouth. I didn’t know how all of this had happened. How I had ended up as Wes’s girlfriend. Eating room service breakfast before his big game. But it had. And I was completely, blissfully
happy about it.
“Oh no, oh no.” Gloria clutched my hand as Wes was tackled. We were perched high in the Sharks’ stadium. My heart sank as I saw him lying on the ground.
It was the third quarter and we were down by a touchdown.
“Please let him be okay.” She squeezed her eyes shut.
“Get up, son,” Bud muttered behind us.
I’d never felt my heart beat this loudly or violently. One of the linemen reached down and pulled Wes up to standing. I finally let myself breathe again.
“Oh, he’s okay. He’s okay.” Gloria still hadn’t let go of the death grip she had on my hand.
I nodded at her, not feeling completely reassured. “It looks like he’s fine.”
From up here, there was no way to get to him if he needed me. As soon as he hit the ground, my mind listed off twenty possible medical outcomes for a hit like that. The first one was a concussion. But I looked on the jumbo screen and he was smiling, and no one from the training staff seemed to be running to examine him.
They snapped the ball, and Wes took a few steps back before slinging the ball into the end zone. Touchdown Wranglers! I jumped to my feet, clapping and screaming. God, how did he do that? He took a hit that would have knocked most men out for the rest of the game, and instead of sitting on the bench, he brought the team back into contention. The game was tied.
The last quarter was one of the most nerve-wracking experiences of my life. The Sharks scored again. We kicked a field goal, and then managed to snag an interception. There were three minutes left on the clock and the ball was in Wes’s hands. It was up to him to score, or the Super Bowl dreams were over for this season.
I was clinging to Gloria as desperately as she was clinging to me. I could barely watch as the ball was snapped and Wes scanned the field.
The stadium was deafening, with Sharks fans screaming for their defense. I didn’t know how the team could hear the calls Wes screamed on the field, but they seemed to know what to do.
Sam Hickson ran into the corner of the end zone and Wes shuttled the ball into his hands. That was it. Game over. The Wranglers were only one game away from the Super Bowl.
Gloria squeezed me. “Oh, honey, that was a close one.”
“It was.” I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know football could get my adrenaline going like that. I didn’t know I felt like I had so much at stake in the game. But I was starting to understand. I was starting to discover the pull to the game. The need to be a part of something thrilling and unpredictable. I smiled to myself—it was everything like being with Wes.
“No use hanging around here.” Bud dropped his beer on the counter. “Sharks don’t want us waiting around. Better head back to the hotel.”
“I’ll see you two there.” I wanted to revel in this for a minute. I wanted to watch the on-field interviews and see the look on Wes’s face when the reporters asked him how winning felt.
