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“Whatever makes you fly, also makes you fall.” I wrapped both legs around his middle, drawing his cock closer between my legs. The ice packed around my knee chilled his skin. “It’s only been three weeks and you already have my heart soaring.”
Tatum groaned as I rocked my hips against his. His eyes pinched shut as he dug into his resolve and kept his hands planted on either side of my head.
“Take me,” I whispered. “Please.”
He shook his head. “Not tonight, Little Bird.”
“Tatum,” I growled in frustration. “I need this. Need you.”
His lips met mine. “No,” he whispered against the corner of my mouth. “You need to rest.”
* * *
I glaredat Tatum from across the craft services table. It was an ungodly hour to have to be awake. I wasn’t hungry, but I didn’t want my stomach growling on national television either. The Reds had sent cars to take us—separately—to New York City for an interview on Good Morning USA.
Sam was off to the side talking to Tatum, who was avoiding eye contact with me. Last night, he had laid with me for a few more minutes, then snuck out when we received back-to-back phone calls from the Reds’ media department, detailing our morning interview schedule. I wasn’t grumpy because of the asinine wakeup call.
I was cranky because he riled me up, turned me on, then bailed with promises of soon.
Soon couldn’t come soon enough.
Sam abandoned Tatum and his sexy, pale blue button up shirt and beelined for me. Fuck. I had been staring. Quickly, I averted my gaze to the assortment of bagels and picked up a blueberry one. The everything bagel sounded better, but I didn’t want poppy seeds getting wedged in my teeth.
“Miss Porter,” Sam said as she joined me at the craft services table and loaded up a sesame bagel with a hefty schmear of cream cheese and a pile of lox. “Pleasure to officially meet you.” She cut her eyes at the production assistant who was hovering a little too close for comfort. It must have been our lucky day, because the PA scurried off. Sam glanced around to make sure our conversation was kept private. “Just so you know, I’m fully aware of the situation,” she murmured.
My back stiffened. Tatum must have been watching us, because he turned to walk over when he caught my reaction. I gave him a subtle shake of my head. One of the social media minions for the Reds had tagged along to document the behind-the-scenes of the day. That, and to be our unspoken babysitter. Tatum stopped in his tracks.
“Were you aware of who I was when you reached out to the design firm?”
Sam shook her head. “Nope. Must’ve been fate.” Fate. Right. She slid me a business card with her name and phone number. “I work for Mr. Bryant. Not the team. Let me know if you need anything.”
I slid the business card into the pocket of my dress. “Thank you, Ms. Fuller.”
“Sam,” she said. Just call me Sam.” With that, she scurried away and yanked the social media snitch to the other side of the studio’s backstage area.
“You look nice,” Tatum said quietly as he towered over me. He filled up a paper cup with coffee and took a sip, obscuring his mouth. I looked down at the dress I had pulled for today. It was my go-to Reds event dress. A scarlet sheath dress with a modest neck and hemline. I threw on a pearl necklace and earrings and slipped into my black pumps. My knee was still giving me hell after the game—and the tackle—yesterday. Luckily, the flesh-toned kinesio tape holding me together was hidden under the hem.
“Thank you,” I said into my bagel. The bread hid my smile as I added, “Your ass looks fantastic in those slacks.”
Tatum choked on his coffee. “How’d you sleep?” he asked when he finally recovered.
“I would have slept better if someone hadn’t left me horny as fuck.” I added a dainty amount of cream cheese to my bagel. “I had to take care of business myself.”
I swear he growled. “We’ll figure logistics out,” he clipped. “Soon.”
We stood side by side, eating our breakfast in silence. Tatum’s hand dropped to his side and bumped into mine. Discreetly, he hooked his pinky around mine and gave it a squeeze. “You in this with me?”
Was I? I had everything to lose.
But also, everything to gain.
I squeezed his pinky back. “Yeah. I’m with you.”
“Good,” he said as he dropped his empty coffee cup in the trash can. “Because I promise to fight for you with nothing less than everything.”
Something rolled around in the back of my head. “You say that a lot.”
Tatum shrugged. “Something the team says before games.” He paused as he passed me. “And we’re on the same team.”
