“Why wouldn’t I? You’re amazing.”

  “I think when you’ve been in love with someone your whole life, it’s just hard to imagine you’d be so lucky that he’d love you back.”

  “Get used to it. You’re getting lucky with me, and you’re getting lucky on a regular basis. And this love? It’s only growing stronger. I love you in every single way,” I say, planting kisses all over her gorgeous face, kissing away her tears.

  “It’s the same for me. I’ve been crazy about you forever, but since the auction, it’s gone into the stratosphere. I’ve loved getting to know you more, even when it was pretend. Because it was never pretend for me.”

  “You want to get to know me more tonight? There are some parts that you don’t know well enough, as far as I’m concerned.”

  She laughs and presses a kiss to my lips. “I want to get to know all of you so very well.”

  “How would you feel about coming over tonight? And spending Christmas with me? And going out with me on dates, and putting up with me when we lose, and putting up with me when we win, and letting me do whatever I can to help you with your business so I can support you, too, as you dream, create, love, and listen?”

  Her bottom lip quivers as she nods. “I would say you really ought to take me out of here very soon because there’s a good chance I’m going to do indecent things to you on the field.”

  “You better do indecent things to me,” I say, and then I kiss her under the lights of the stadium, and judging from the bright pops and flashes, this picture will be splashed all over social media in about thirty seconds.

  And it’s all real.

  It’s the most real thing I’ve ever felt, and I make sure she knows that as I kiss her like crazy in front of fifty thousand fans.

  36

  Tonight, I don’t need ice for my shoulder. I don’t need a beer to smooth over the moment. I don’t even bother with music. Once we’re back at my house, I take her to my bedroom, prepared to strip her naked.

  She gets in the first word, though. “Unzip your pants.”

  I wiggle my eyebrows. “I can do that,” I say, obliging her request.

  She pushes on my stomach, indicating I need to get my ass on the bed.

  I sit on the edge of the mattress, she drops down to her knees, wraps her hand around my dick, and sucks.

  “Holy fuck.”

  Instantly, my hands find their way into her soft hair, and I groan as she goes for it. There’s no playing around here. Violet doesn’t tease or toy. She takes me deep as she licks my cock, and I grip her head harder.

  “That’s so good, baby. Have I told you how much I like blow jobs?”

  She shakes her head, since her mouth is full. Quite full.

  “I’m not going to tell you, then. I’m going to show you by letting you do that to me as much as you want.”

  I can feel her try to laugh against my dick. Then all laughter ceases, and I give in.

  Heat pools in my groin as she licks and sucks. For a couple minutes, I let myself get lost in the feel—and the view. The woman I adore is on her knees, sucking me off as if it’s all she’s ever wanted. She makes me feel like a rock star, like a goddamn king as she introduces me to the joys of her mouth. But it’s too good, and the last thing I want is to come before she does.

  I stop her, gently tugging her face up. “I’m going to be blunt. I want to spend a ridiculous amount of my life with my dick in your mouth, but right now, I need you naked and under me.”

  “Have it your way.” She crosses her hands over each other and tugs off her sweatshirt. Soon she’s wearing nothing, and I get into the same outfit as well. She scoots back on the bed, and I climb over her.

  “Hey, gorgeous,” I say, and then before she can protest—not that she would—I bring my face between her legs and kiss her sweetness.

  Instantly, she arches up into me. “Why can you do this to me and I can’t to you? Are you going to have all these crazy rules again?”

  I laugh lightly. “No crazy rules. Except this one—you come first and, ideally, more than once before I do.”

  Really, how can she protest that? She doesn’t, because I make it worth her while. I lick and kiss and suck until she’s rocking against my mouth and coming on my lips.

  When her moans subside, I’m above her, my chest pressed to hers. “Hi.”

  She blinks open her eyes and smiles woozily. “Hi.”

  I kiss her neck, her throat, her ear, then meet her lips, whispering a kiss over them.

  She says my name again, and this time, her voice grows more serious. “Cooper.”

  “What is it?” I ask as I reach for a condom from my wallet. I snagged some from the hotel last night.

  “I’m on the pill. And I’m negative. Are you?”

  “I am.”

  There’s a code among pro athletes. Wrap it till you’re married. But this isn’t about the wear-a-glove code. It’s about trust and respect. It’s about who I’m giving my heart to.

  When I look into her bright eyes, I see everything I could ever want in this life. She’s not going anywhere, because I’m never going to let her get away from me. I don’t want more than the two of us right now, and I know she’s the only one for me. I know she’ll be here when my career is over, because she was there before it started. She’ll be here, because I can see forever in her eyes.

  I rest on my forearms, settle between her legs, and sink into her.

  We both moan at the same time.

  It’s so good. It’s so intense. It’s everything.

  I take my time, building and pushing and savoring. I watch her, cataloging every intoxicating reaction. I love the way her lips part, how she breathes out hard when I swivel my hips, how her face is the picture of exquisite torment when I thrust deep into her.

  She grabs my ass, and I slide her knees up her chest. I make love to her like that. With her pinned beneath me, saying my name, breathing my breath, kissing my lips.

  Her gasps come faster.

  Her noises grow louder.

  Her moves become wilder.

  She rocks up into me, widens her legs, takes me deeper.

  Everything in me crackles. Pleasure snaps in my body. Desire flows hot in my blood. I’m dizzy with want, ravenous with the need to be as close to her as possible.

  In seconds, she’s crying out in bliss, saying my name, chanting God’s name, calling out incoherent moans of pleasure, and sending a whole new wave of electricity sparking across my skin. As the aftershocks shudder through her, I rise to my knees, grab her hips, tug her down harder on my cock, and go wild, thrusting, pounding, letting go until the world slips into pure pleasure and my climax obliterates me, as I come inside the woman I love.

  The woman I plan on loving for the rest of my life.

  After, as I collapse on her then roll to the side, I find myself wondering how it’s possible to just know. To know with absolute certainty that you’re with the person who makes you not only happy, but better.

  Because I know I’ve found the one I want. I don’t want her to doubt my love. I run my fingers along her cheekbone. “Hey, Violet. You want to know something?”

  She turns to me, her cheeks rosy and glowing. “Yes, I want to know something.”

  I wrap an arm around her. “You’re stuck with me.”

  She laughs. “Is that so?”

  “Yep. I don’t plan on letting you go. Ever, basically.”

  “I can live with that.”

  “You should live with me,” I say.

  She arches a brow. “You’re already inviting me to live with you?”

  “Vi, I plan on loving you for my whole damn life. I don’t need to mess around with stages and steps and taking things in some kind of orderly fashion. You’re an eighty-yard pass, and I want to get into the end zone with you.”

  She rolls her eyes. “That sounds incredibly dirty.”

  “Yeah, it does.”

  “Hey, do you want to know something?”

  “I do.”

  She runs her hands down my chest, over the planes of my abs. “Why did the football go to the bank?”

  “Why?”

  She wiggles her eyebrows. “To get her quarterback.”

  I crack up. “You’ve got him. You’ve absolutely got him.”

  “I’m keeping him.” She slinks a hand over my hip and around to my butt, squeezing. “After all, you do have the best butt in the NFL.”

  Two days later, she wakes up with me on Christmas morning, and I give her one of many gifts. A key to my home. She already has the key to my heart.

  37

  Holly: I’m waiting . . .

  Violet: For what?

  Holly: For my I was right.

  Violet: Hmm. What were you right about?

  Holly: *Scrolls back through previous texts. Reminds Violet.* Ahem. “He’s crazy for you.” So, yeah, I was right.

  Violet: Well, I mean, sure. Fine, I am hanging at his house right now and he just made me pancakes.

  Holly: I was right. I was so, so, so right. Say it.

  Violet: You totally predicted the pancakes.

  Holly: I predicted it all!

  Violet: Did you?

  Holly: Girl! I did. And now look at you—happy as a gal getting served pancakes. That is the sign of true love.

  Violet: Love is pancakes.

  Holly: It is.

  Violet: Well, I suppose I should say You were right. I’m still kind of amazed. The guy I’ve crushed on since second grade is as in love with me as I am with him. This is better than pancakes.

  Holly: Enjoy them anyway.

  Violet: I will. Want to know why?

  Holly: Why?

  Violet: Because you were so, so, so right. The guy I’m crazy for is crazy for me.

  Holly: I told you so ☺

  EPILOGUE

  A few days after Christmas

  Ah, this is my favorite view.

  “You can cut my hair all day,” I say, smiling like the cat that ate all the canaries as Violet snips my hair, trimming the messy strands at her salon.

  “You dirty man,” she chides.

  “You like me that way,” I say, setting my hands on her hips.

  She stops snipping and gives me a look. “You can’t do that when I cut your hair.”

  “But the rest of the time I can, right?”

  She laughs. “Possibly.”

  She finishes my haircut, and that evening, we go out on a date. Violet jokes that it’s the charity date she won from the Most Valuable Playboy auction. I don’t like to think about how the other dates from past auctions went. They were one and done. This date is the start of the rest of my life.

  That’s why I make sure it’s different. We meet the whole crew at my favorite karaoke bar in Japantown, in the heart of the city. Trent and Holly wave from a table by the stage, since they arrived first. When Violet and I sit, Trent shakes his head, gesturing to us. “Still getting used to the two of you together,” he says, but he’s smiling.

  Violet wiggles her eyebrows. “Let me help you with a little trial by fire.” She turns and kisses me hard in front of him. She’s loud, too, making lip-smacking sounds.

  “Get a room,” Trent says, tossing a napkin at us.

  When Violet wrenches away, she grins at her brother. “Did that help you? Or do you want to take a picture to hang in your home?”

  “Damn. You two really are perfect for each other,” Trent says.

  Holly runs a hand through his hair. “I told you so. They were meant to be.”

  A few minutes later, my good friends McKenna and Chris show up.

  The bubbly McKenna wraps Violet in a warm embrace. “You guys are adorable. Also, I had a feeling he always liked you,” McKenna says.

  “The feeling has always been mutual,” she replies.

  More friends join us, and soon Trent, Holly, Jones, Jillian, Harlan, Chris, McKenna and Rick work their way through standards like “I Want It That Way,” “Hooked on a Feeling,” “Love Shack” and, of course, “Livin’ on a Prayer.”

  Yes, I let Jones have my song, because I take my turn with Violet. We sing together, belting out “Islands in The Stream.” We’re no Kenny and Dolly, but if you listen to the words, you’d be hard-pressed not to fall deeper in love. It’s one of the most upbeat, happy love songs ever written.

  Which makes it perfect for two people who are disgustingly cute, as Jones shouts to the stage.

  “No, they’re ridiculously adorable,” Jillian corrects.

  That’s us. We’re those people on stage, singing a popular love song as if no one else is around, as if we’re going to go home and rip each other’s clothes off, then make pancakes together the next day.

  Come to think of it, both of those things sound like great ideas, so that’s what we do.

  Violet roots from the fifty-yard line in all my playoff games. She shouts the loudest and cheers the hardest when we win the wild-card round in an absolutely epic trounce. She goes nuts in the divisional round, and I’m running on the most exhilarating adrenaline I’ve ever felt when we kick ass with a fat victory.

  But our quest splinters in the championship game against Los Angeles. It’s a tight match against our rivals, and we lose by three measly points.

  Not gonna lie. It stings. It hurts.

  But there’s always next year.

  When I drive to the coach’s home a week later, Violet fiddles with her bracelets in the passenger seat, and I set a hand on her wrist. “Relax, baby. Greenhaven isn’t that bad, I swear.”

  Violet shoots me a look that says you’ve got to be kidding me. “I’m not worried about the coach. I want his wife to like me.”

  I laugh. “She’ll love you.”

  And she does. Because Violet is pretty freaking fantastic. She brings a set of antique teacups that she found in a store in Noe Valley, as well as a bottle of wine. No surprise—both Mike Greenhaven and his wife, Emily, think Violet is the bomb. At dinner, Emily pours the wine and raises her glass. “To next year.”

  “To next year,” we say in unison.

  It’s both a toast and a fervent wish.

  Having it all is a pretty tough feat to pull off, and I remind myself that in the scheme of things, I’ve already come out grossly ahead this year. New contract, fat payday, amazing team, strong playoff performance, and the best part of all—someone who loves me and would still love me even if I didn’t have any of those things.

  Maybe next year I can add a ring to the mix.

  For now, I have everything I need in the woman I come home to at night and wake up to in the morning.

  ANOTHER EPILOGUE

  A few months later

  “Go, go, go!” Violet thrusts her arm in the air when Smashalie scores a point.

  Turns out the little girl was serious about roller derby. She took it up after her last appointment, and joined a junior league that Violet and I happen to fully sponsor. My signing bonus was pretty damn sizable, and I decided to donate it to charities and youth programs in the Bay Area. The Children’s Hospital is using it for services and research, and Ford is helping me funnel money to worthy programs for kids. That includes sports for girls, but also some sports programs for kids who might need a little extra help, whether after battling cancer or having corrective surgery. I want to give them every chance to reach their fullest potential.

  So here we are at the roller rink, watching a bout as Smashalie and her teammates cruise around the oval.

  “What would your roller derby name be?” I ask Violet.

  She screws up the corner of her lips, looks to the ceiling then at me. “I’d be the Purple Snipper. Don’t you think?” She pretends to cut with scissors.

  I grab my crotch. “Ouch.”

  “Lavender Cutter?”

  I seesaw my palm. “Mildly better.”

  She snaps her fingers. “The Lilac Shredder!”

  “You’re brilliant,” I say, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

  “What about you? Would you be Best Butt in the NFL? Hard Rock Cheeks?” She squeezes my ass.

  “Steel Buns.”

  She shakes her head. “Nope. I’m keeping the butt nicknames for myself. You’re the Gunslinger.” She runs a hand down my right arm. “Yes, the Gunslinger made all this happen.”

  And, honestly, that’s one of the things I’m most proud of. That I’ve been able to give back. And I’ve done it with Violet. That’s always been one of our shared passions, finding worthy causes that help kids. That’s why I chose this spot instead of the beach, a mountain hike, a picnic, or a basketball arena. That’s why there is no Jumbotron, no cameras, no flash mob. I researched ideas. I googled clever strategies. I approached this moment like I was prepping for a game, studying all the options, deciding which plays to use.

  In the end, though, I want today to feel authentic to who we are as a couple.

  I turn to the woman I adore. “Hey, Violet, I wanted to ask you something.”

  She tilts her head, waiting, her lips quirking up in a soft smile.

  I move quickly. Always have. I drop to one knee and flip open the box I’ve had in my pocket. Her eyes widen. “You’re my best friend, my lover, and my favorite person in the universe. You are more precious to me than anything else. And I know our love will outlast everything. Will you marry me?”

  She clasps her hand to her mouth as she whispers the loveliest word I’ve ever heard—yes.

  Tears stream down her cheeks as she kneels with me, still nodding, now sobbing, and holding out her hand. I slide the ring on her finger, and it’s perfect. Honestly, it’s one of the biggest rings ever made. You can’t be the quarterback’s wife and walk around with a tiny diamond.

  “I love you, Cooper. So much you have no idea.”

  “Oh, I do have an idea. A very good idea. I think it’s pretty damn close to how much I love you.”