Telling Violet how I feel isn’t as simple as it sounds, though. How do I convince her there’s room for both her and this other great love in my life? But more so, how do I even know if she wants to make room for me in her life? Not to mention, what the hell do I say to her brother?

  I’m not sure I have the answers, but maybe the cross-country flight will give me time to sort them out. For now, I want to hear her voice.

  I call her as the security guard opens the door that leads to the lot with our bus. She answers on the second ring. Her voice is a little hoarse. “The time you threw the touchdown pass in the fourth quarter against Baltimore in the game that sealed the wild card. That’s my new favorite play of the season.”

  I laugh, remembering when we first played boyfriend–girlfriend Jeopardy! “Funny, that’s mine too,” I say, mouthing a thank you to the security guard. I stop in my tracks when something wet lands on my forehead. Then my cheek. Then my hair. “It’s snowing.”

  “It is?” she asks, with wonder in her voice. We don’t get snow in San Francisco.

  I hold up my palm. “Holy shit. These are some fat flakes. I had no idea it was snowing. Guess that’s what happens when you play under the dome.”

  “By the way, your play under the dome was amazing. My voice is shot from screaming in excitement at the TV,” she says.

  “You sound like a frog. A sexy frog. Speaking of, can I see your sexy frog-ness when I return?”

  “Ribbit,” she says by way of answer.

  “I take it that’s a yes.”

  She croaks out a yes.

  “Good. There’s a lot I have to tell you. Lot of stuff that went down here before the game. Things I learned.”

  “Oh,” she says, her tone suddenly heavy.

  “It’s not bad. But it’s better shared in person.”

  “I understand.”

  I reach the bus. “I’ll let you know when I land. It might be late, though.”

  “I’ll either be awake or asleep,” she deadpans.

  I laugh. “Yes, those would be the two options.”

  As we say goodbye, something seems different in her voice. As if it’s missing some excitement. Some enthusiasm for me. Maybe I’m imagining it, maybe I’m reading too much into one short phone call. I tell myself it’ll all be clear when I see her. But as I sink down into a plush seat on the team bus, I find myself wondering if maybe this is more one-sided than I thought. Perhaps it’s been pretend for her all along.

  The snowflakes attack the tarmac, building aggressively into a crazy-ass snowstorm that grounds our flight for the night. We can’t take off on Monday morning either. By then, the manager of operations is dealing with fifty-three cranky, big-ass players who want to return home because the one thing we like best after winning is our routine.

  Living in limbo in Baltimore on a short week is not routine at all.

  We pass the time practicing, playing ping-pong and video games, and watching game film at the hotel. We finally take off late Monday night, and by the time we land on the West Coast, it’s the middle of the night.

  I text Violet an emoji of a bird landing, and then foolishly hope she’ll reply with come over or I’m waiting on your porch in my birthday suit, but it’s three in the morning and my phone, understandably, is silent. An hour later, I’m home, where my bed and I spend eight hours together before it’s time for a late practice and playoff prep all day Tuesday and into the evening.

  I’m not complaining. This is where I want to be right now in my career.

  But I also want to be someplace else. Someplace clear with her. When I leave the training facility late that night, it’s too late to see her. If I see her now, I won’t get enough rest, and I’ll play like crap. So I don’t ask if she’s free now. I text to ask when I can see her tomorrow. She replies that she has an early afternoon on-site appointment in the city tomorrow with a new client, so she can meet me at my house before.

  Before.

  Why does that word feel so fucking ominous?

  Because it’s not after.

  Because it’s not open-ended. Because it tells me what I need to know. She’s sandwiching me.

  I’m not the end to her day.

  33

  I open the door, prepared to be tough. Prepared to handle the it’s time to end this speech that she surely plans to hurl in my direction on her pit stop to her appointment.

  But that strategy flies onto the street when I see her. She stands on my porch, a December breeze whipping her dark hair around her face. A black skirt is painted on and her boots are so tall she looks like she can slay dragons in them. A leather jacket completes the sexy-as-a-rock-star look.

  Her lips shine, like she just slicked on gloss.

  For a split second, I read her like I’d do another team. Like she’s the enemy. In those eyes I find determination, hardness, an edge that wasn’t present the last time I saw her.

  But then her gaze wanders, drifts down my body, and maybe she’s inventorying me like I just did to her, taking in my jeans, bare feet, and charcoal-gray Henley shirt.

  When she returns to my eyes, the cool veneer is gone. In hers, I see heat.

  I see a spark.

  I see my girl.

  But neither one of us says anything, and it feels as if we’re facing off. Like something happened when I was out of town. Or maybe something happened when I bolted from her home last week.

  She breaks the silence, raising her chin. “Your hair is a mess. You still need a trim.”

  I run my hands through unruly locks. “I’ll make an appointment. Unless you’re too booked.”

  “I’ll see if I can fit you in.”

  That feels like the operative phrase. Like she’s fucking fitting me into her life. “You’re welcome anytime. Besides, the lease is signed. Woo-hoo!”

  She thrusts her arms in the air in victory, and I smile, then lift her up in celebration. A soft sigh escapes her lips the moment we touch, and that’s all it takes. I carry her inside, shut the door with my foot, and push her up against the back of it. I hear the faint sound of my phone ringing on the couch, but I ignore it.

  Then it happens. All at once. Our lips crash together. We kiss fiercely, like we’re ravenous. Her scent—peaches and cool December air—intoxicates me. It unravels me. All my plans to talk to her, to tell her how I feel, become secondary to the heat of her body. To the feel of her soft, sexy lips. To the way my pulse spikes and my blood heats being this close to her.

  Talk. What’s that? I can’t even string words together. All I can manage are grunts and growls. This is primal. This is physical. This is so fucking intense as I push against her and kiss those lips that own me.

  I thread my hands through her hair. “Vi, I thought about you so much.”

  She breathes out hard, nodding as she drops her purse to the floor. “Me too. You, that is.”

  I push her skirt to her hips. My gaze drifts down, and my throat is dry. She wears pink panties with white foxes on them.

  I can’t speak.

  I’ve been reduced to nothing but muscles and blood and heat and desire. That’s all that works in me, and it’s working in overdrive. My hand slides between those gorgeous thighs, then across her panties, and I’m done.

  She’s so fucking wet.

  “Need to get these off,” I mutter, and she nods vigorously.

  “Yes. Off.”

  I kneel, tugging her panties down, helping her step out of them in her high-heeled boots, while she shrugs off her jacket. She wears a pink sweater, and I could fucking die. She’s so sexy. She’s so pretty. She’s so mine.

  But she’s not mine.

  She’s only mine for now, and I’ll take what I can get. As soon as I stand, she grabs at the hem of my shirt, and I yank it off.

  I pat the back of my jeans for my wallet, but it’s on the kitchen counter. Besides, I’m honestly not sure I have a condom in it. It’s been months since I needed one.

  “Vi,” I say, heavily. “I don’t think I have a—”

  “—I do.”

  She grabs her purse and snags a condom in five seconds flat.

  “You’re prepared,” I say, surprised for some reason that she’s carrying.

  She levels me with her gaze, her eyes intense and her tone brutally honest, it seems. “Cooper, I’ve been prepared for this since the first night at your house. I’ve been ready for a long time.”

  Those words grab hold of me, touching my heart, rekindling my hope. I try not to read too much into them, but they feel so true. I take the condom from her hand as she lets go of her purse, and I kiss her once more. “I’ve been ready for a long time too,” I say softly.

  A desperate oh comes from her, and I sweep my thumb over her lips, almost as if I can catch the sound, hold it close, keep her.

  I look down to tear open the condom when I feel a hand on my shoulder. “Are you sure? The superstitions and all that stuff?”

  I don’t know the answer, but I also don’t care. “I don’t care. You’re all I want.” I unzip my jeans, push them to my hips, and roll on the condom as she watches with wide, hungry eyes. My phone bleats again from the couch. “I don’t care who’s calling. I don’t care about anything else right now.”

  “I don’t care about anything else either,” she says, in a breathless rush, and I know we said we’d talk after the game, I know there are so many things to discuss, but I need this woman more than words.

  I need her right now against the door.

  God bless her high-heeled boots. All I have to do is bend my knees slightly and we line up. I rub the head of my cock against her sweet, hot pussy. She trembles, and I shudder. I’m not even inside her, and I’m shaking. I’m fucking shaking with desire.

  She loops her arms around my neck, and I look into her eyes. I nearly tell her right now that I’m madly in love with her. I bite back the words, murmuring only a desperate “you’re so beautiful” as I grip the bottom of her thigh, hiking her leg up and over my hip.

  A shuddering gasp is her response, and then I sink into her.

  The most sensual oh I’ve ever heard falls on my ears. It sweeps over my whole body.

  And I know. I just know. Nothing compares to this.

  This is heaven.

  I still myself before I’m all the way in, sensations rocketing inside me, but it’s more than just the physical. It’s the overwhelmingness of this moment. I’ve thought about this. I’ve imagined it. I’ve longed for it.

  Now it’s here.

  “Vi,” I whisper, and that one syllable comes out reverently.

  “Oh God,” she whimpers, and her body goes softer in my arms, as if she’s falling into me. She’s paradise, so warm and tight, and she grips me so intensely I feel like I could come now. That’s not permissible, though, so I squeeze my eyes shut and count to three. I push in deeper, and she wraps her leg tighter around me. She whimpers as I nestle my cock all the way inside her. The sound she makes sends shockwaves through my blood.

  I stroke into her, heat blasting through all my cells, sparks flying across my skin as I look at her, as I stare into those eyes that don’t stray from me either. Nothing has ever felt like this. This good. This intense. This necessary.

  With one hand holding her leg firmly, I raise my other hand to her face, and grip her chin.

  She gasps, and it almost sounds like a cry. Like a wonderfully needy plea for me.

  The world slows.

  The city fades to a distant blur.

  Time ceases to matter.

  Her eyes stay locked with mine, and I swear, I fucking swear, she’s unmasked right now. I can see everything in her eyes. She looks at me like she feels all the same things I do. I see my emotions reflected as she holds on tight.

  “Vi, baby. It’s never been like this.”

  “I know.” Her voice sounds as if it’s breaking.

  I thrust, and a shudder wracks my whole damn body. “Never.”

  She swallows, keeping her gaze on me. She has to feel it too. She has to know. She has to get it. This isn’t sex. This isn’t a wild fuck against my door. This is two people who are meant to be together.

  I pull back, then push back in. I do it again, filling her all the way, and stilling myself inside her.

  She bites down hard on her lip, and her back bows, her chest pressing against me. It’s the most seductive thing I’ve ever seen. Pleasure spikes in me as I move in her. As I stroke. As I fuck. As I watch her, my hand tight on her jaw, her eyes locked on me. At one point, I go so deep, she nearly screams, then her eyes float closed.

  That won’t do. “Look at me,” I demand.

  She squeezes her eyes then opens them. “I’m looking at you. I can’t stop looking at you.”

  “Fuck, baby,” I mutter as I yank her closer, fucking her hard and deep. “Do you feel it?” I rasp out as I stroke into her.

  She manages a desperate nod. “I feel it all.”

  Her head falls back, her neck stretched long and inviting, her words landing on my ears.

  So good.

  So close.

  More.

  Deeper.

  You.

  Coming.

  Oh God, I’m coming.

  She trembles. Her shoulders shake, and she cries out in pleasure. That’s enough for me. I need nothing more. I’m there with her, my own orgasm insisting on appearing right fucking now as my thighs quake, and my balls tighten, and I come hard and deep inside her, filling the condom.

  I groan for what feels like minutes. She does too. We pant and moan, and come down from the highest high. My hand is still curved on her face, gripping her jaw, and when I let go, I realize I’ve held her so hard, I left fingerprints on her chin. “You okay? Did I hurt you?”

  She shakes her head. “No.” Her voice is like a feather. “It only feels good.”

  Gently, I slide out of her and excuse myself for the bathroom. After I toss the condom, clean up, and zip my jeans, I return to the living room, but she’s not there. Her purse is gone, too, and my heart stops beating. Fear takes over, and I actually look out the bay window to see if she’s pulled off a dine and dash.

  I spot her green car parked right outside, and another car pulls up in front of it.

  Why the hell would I think she’s taken off? Maybe because we still haven’t talked. We still haven’t figured out what we’re doing.

  Her heels click across my floor, and I turn around, my breath coming fast. “I thought you left.”

  She narrows her eyes. “I’m not going to just take off without saying goodbye.”

  “I know. I’m going crazy.”

  She hooks her thumb in the direction of one of the bathrooms. “I was straightening up. I have an appointment. Remember?”

  “Right, yeah.” I scrub my hand over my jaw, trying to make sense of the emotions steamrolling me. “Do you need to go now?”

  She looks at her watch as she moves closer to me. “I should leave soon. I have a couple of up-dos for a Christmas party.”

  I lean in and give her a kiss, lingering on her lips. “I have to go to the team hotel tonight.” We always stay at a hotel the night before a home game. It’s the team rule, so we don’t have to worry about spouses, girlfriends, sick kids, or cars that won’t start in the morning. “Let’s figure out a time to see—”

  A wild knocking sounds on my door.

  She arches a brow. I peer in the peephole. Just outside, Ford grins as if he’s won the lottery.

  34

  “Who’s the man?” Ford holds his arms out wide. His smile extends to Pluto and back.

  “You’re the man?” I ask playfully, gallons of hope rising inside me. If he’s here, that means one thing. One awesome, amazing thing.

  He claps me on both shoulders. “You. Are. The. Fucking. Man.”

  Anticipation bursts in my chest. “And why am I the man?”

  Ford stops and gives Violet a cheek kiss. “Hello, beautiful. Wherever are my manners? Good to see you.”

  “Hi, Ford. Why is Cooper the man? Are you going to tell him?” she asks, practically bouncing on those skyscraper heels.

  My agent raises his right arm toward the ceiling, like a warrior issuing a battle cry. “Four years. Four beautiful, amazing, incredible, make-it-rain years.”

  My jaw comes unhinged. It falls to the motherfucking floor when he says the dollar amount. It’s mind-boggling. It’s staggering. I slide my hand through my hair. “Holy shit.”

  “Holy fucking multimillion-dollar-face-of-the-team-starting-quarterback-for-the-next-four-years shit.”

  Ford punches the air several times, and Violet throws her arms around me. “I am so proud of you. This is amazing. This is incredible. You deserve everything,” she says, her voice bubbling over with excitement. She sounds like champagne. Like diamonds. Like all the stars in the sky.

  I’m floating. I’m in shock. “Thank you,” I say, surprised I can even get those words out because I’m too stunned. Too overwhelmed. Ford already banked me life-changing money when he negotiated my rookie contract. This is many-lives-changing money.

  I walk to the couch and sink down because I’m not sure I can stand anymore as I process this news.

  “Don’t sit. We need to go out and celebrate. We have points to review. We have things to discuss. Get up, brother,” Ford says.

  Violet sets a hand on his arm. “I think he needs a little time to process this.”

  Ford turns to Violet, pressing his hands together. “Speaking of time, how can I thank you? You were amazing. You were incredible. Thank you for everything you did. And guess what?”

  “What?”

  Ford waves his arms as if he’s flying. “You’re free now. You don’t have to pretend to like this guy anymore.”

  She narrows her eyes. “What do you mean?”

  He shoots her a look. “He told me you were never into him in the first place, and that’s why it’s all the more amazing that you pulled this off. You were so believable. Kind of ironic, though, that in the end, our man went all Boy Scout and told the truth that you guys were never a real thing.”

  Violet snaps her gaze to me, her voice wary. “Cooper, what is he talking about?”