With Me in Seattle Bundle One

by Kristen Proby

  I sit for a long minute and stare at the itinerary, then pull out my phone and shoot Will a text.

  Do you always get your way?

  After I pull out my purse and gather my things, he responds.

  I need you.

  Well, how do I argue with that?

  ***

  It’s late when I arrive in Miami, but Will has a car waiting for me at the airport. I expect him to be asleep when I get to the hotel. The front desk clerk doesn’t even blink when I give him my name and whom I’m with. He just hands me the key to Will’s room and gives me directions.

  Pulling my large suitcase behind me, I head for the elevator. I probably overpacked, but what in the hell does a girl bring on a weeklong vacation when she doesn’t know where she’s going and her man has more money than common sense? Jesus, we could end up in Iceland, for all I know.

  I use my key to let myself into his room and about swallow my tongue. “Room” is too tame of a word. It’s the size of my town house, with trendy décor and large windows that show off the city. All of the lights are off except for a light by the bedside. Will is propped on pillows, a playbook in his lap, and he’s fast asleep.

  I leave my bag near the bathroom, slip out of my shoes and jacket, and walk over to his side of the bed. I take the playbook off his lap, set it aside and push my fingers through his soft dark blond hair, waking him up.

  “You’re here.”

  He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me into him, buries his face in my neck, and just clings to me.

  “Hey, are you okay?” I wrap my arms around his shoulders, caressing him, reveling in how strong and warm and good he feels under my hands.

  “I’m fine. I missed you.” He pulls back and brushes his fingers down my cheek. “Thank you for coming.”

  “Thank you for sending for me. Bossy man.” I kiss his lips gently and brush my nose over his. “You need to go to sleep.”

  Instead of responding, he takes the kiss deeper. Plunging his hands in my hair, he holds my mouth to his and completely consumes me, kissing me like he hasn’t seen me in years. He nibbles the sides of my lips, kisses my dimple, and then sinks into me again, tangling his tongue with mine.

  Finally, he pulls back and growls, “I need to get you naked.”

  I chuckle and pull the loose dress I wore on the plane over my head and toss it on the floor.

  “You’re wearing panties,” he murmurs, his eyes surprised and searching mine.

  “I was on a plane, Will. Of course I wore panties.”

  His thumbs brush the lace over my pubis, and I close my eyes on a sigh. I do love the way he touches me.

  “Black lace looks good on you.” He pushes me onto my back, kneels between my thighs, and runs that large, talented hand up and down my torso, skimming my breasts and stomach, my ribs and sides, and I arch into his touch. He peels my panties down my legs and tosses them aside, grinning down at me.

  “God, I love your hands.”

  “I love touching your sweet body.” He leans down and kisses my breast through the matching black lace. “So sweet.”

  I pull at his T-shirt, and he helps me get it over his head, strips out of his basketball shorts and boxer-briefs, and tosses them with my dress on the floor. His shoulders are smooth and warm beneath my hands, his muscles firm and bunching as he moves over me, kissing and nibbling my skin.

  “Will,” I whisper.

  He pushes up and braces himself above me, looking down at me with hot blue eyes. “Yeah, babe?”

  God, I want to tell him. I so want to tell him how I love him. How much he means to me. But I just can’t bring myself to do it. I’m just too scared that I’ll lose him. I close my eyes and bite my lip.

  “Hey.” He rests his elbows at either side of my head and threads his long fingers in my hair. His body is flush against mine, skin on skin, his pelvis pressed to mine. He is completely surrounding me, and I’ve never felt so safe.

  So cherished.

  “Meg,” he whispers and kisses my lips gently. “Everything about you is so fucking addicting.” He moves his hips slightly, slipping against the wetness of my core, and pushes into me slowly, effortlessly. He rests his forehead against mine and stills. “I can never get enough of you, sweetheart.”

  He kisses me again, softly, hands moving rhythmically in my hair. He is making love to me, body and soul.

  “You are amazing.” He begins to move, a slow, hypnotizing rhythm. I raise my hips to meet him, pull my knees up so he’s able to push even deeper, and clutch on to his biceps and show him how deeply I care for him in the only way I can.

  I clench down onto his hard, pulsating cock, and gasp when his pubic bone pushes against my piercing.

  “Damn, Will.”

  “Yes, baby, feel it.” He rocks against me again, and when I squeeze once more, he clenches his eyes shut. “Fuck, Meg, you’re so tight.”

  His voice is raw. Suddenly, he grips on to my shoulders and pushes into me one last time, hard, and spills himself into me.

  “So fucking sweet,” he growls as he rocks against me and takes me over with him.

  ***

  How in the hell did I get here?

  “Yes! Run, run, run, baby, run!” Tasha, the woman sitting next to me, screams, jumping up and down. “That’s my man!” She turns to me and hugs me tightly, her excitement palpable.

  I am sitting with a small group of family members of Seahawks players, in a box near the fifty-yard line. We have the best seats in the house. Will made sure that I was welcomed and shown the ropes when I got to the Miami stadium this morning.

  We find our seats, watching the guys regroup for the next play, and Tasha, a beautiful and sweet woman with mocha-colored skin and long dark hair, smiles at me. “Is this your first away game?”

  “Yeah, pretty obvious, huh?”

  She laughs and shrugs. “We’ve all been the newbie at some point. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”

  “Do you come to all the away games?” I ask her and watch intently as Will throws the ball and is immediately sacked. I cringe and pray. Please, God, don’t let him get hurt.

  “No, only a couple a year. Most of us choose one or two games to travel to. We’re lucky with this sport. The guys are home a lot, and away games only take them away from home for a few days.”

  Nodding thoughtfully, I turn my attention back to the game. Will has the ball and is looking for somewhere to pass, but there just isn’t anywhere, so he runs.

  “Oh shit. Go, Will!” I stand and scream, and then hold my fingers over my mouth as I watch him run, my stomach clenching in fear that he’ll get tackled and hurt, but he runs through the defense and another thirty yards into the end zone.

  “Yes!” I jump and scream and laugh. “Touchdown, babe!”

  Will throws the ball to the ref and jogs back toward the sideline. His teammates high-five and slap his helmet in congratulations, and I just can’t stop smiling.

  I’m so fucking proud of him!

  Tasha smiles at me as I sit next to her. “He’s good.”

  “Yeah, he is.”

  “He’s a really great guy, too,” she mentions casually.

  “He’s the best man I’ve ever met,” I reply immediately. And I mean it.

  I feel Tasha’s gaze on me, and I meet hers straight-on.

  “He’s a lucky guy.”

  “No.” I shake my head and watch him take his helmet off and talk with a coach. “I’m the lucky one.”

  Will is nodding at what the coach is saying, his hands propped on his lean hips, panting with exertion from the last play. He looks up into the stands and finds us, his eyes lock on to mine, and he winks and taps his nose, just like he did that first weekend, when he told me to watch at halftime. I am so fucking lucky.

  I smile widely and can’t help but sigh as he turns away to talk to some of the other guys.

  “You have it bad, girl.” Tasha nudges my shoulder with hers. “And it looks like it’s mutual.”
>
  I shrug smugly and take a sip of my diet soda. “I’m surprised how many fans travel this far.”

  Tasha follows my gaze up into the crowd. There are thousands of fans in Seahawks gear, cheering loudly.

  “Oh yeah, the die-hards follow the team all season. And the groupies, of course.” She smirks and takes a sip of her soda.

  “Groupies? Like rock-star groupies?” I ask in surprise.

  “Oh, honey, you haven’t had to deal with the groupies yet?”

  I just frown and shake my head.

  “Girls be trippin’,” she mutters and snorts. “It’s disgusting how far they’ll go to try to score with the team, pun intended.”

  “Do some of the guys…um…”

  “Sure, some do, most likely. Especially the rookies.” Tasha rolls her eyes. “But most of the guys are smart enough to steer clear of those women. They’re just bad news.”

  “I had no idea.”

  “Well, honey, they’re famous. Not to mention hot, athletic and rich. Of course women are gonna wanna fuck them, and hopefully catch a ring on her finger.”

  “Gross.”

  “And dumb.” She nods in agreement. “Which our guys aren’t. Will’s never gone in for that scene, Meg.”

  Surprised, I look at her. “I didn’t think he would.”

  “I’m just sayin’.” She applauds as we get another first down. “Are you guys coming out with us tonight?”

  “I don’t know. I just got to town last night. I’m not sure what the plan is.”

  “Well, the guys usually have to travel back with the team, but since they have the week off for the bye week, they can do what they want. A bunch of us were gonna go to dinner and maybe, if they’re not too sore, do some dancing.”

  “That sounds fun.”

  ***

  We won, twenty-one to fourteen.

  I just can’t stop smiling. God, what a rush, to be there in that stadium, watching Will lead his team. He’s so commanding and strong.

  Just the way he is with me.

  We are waiting in the hotel lobby for our guys. They had to go back to the locker room to shower, deal with the press and, because they’re off for the week, have a short meeting before being turned loose.

  I’m texting with Jules when I hear someone shout, “There they are!”

  Unfortunately, the press followed us back to the hotel, so photographers are snapping photos of the guys as they push their way into the lobby. There are also fans standing around, hoping for autographs and photos with their favorite players.

  Will comes through the doors, looking fantastically delicious in a gray button-down shirt and black slacks, his hair still damp from his shower. Flashes are going off all around him, and fans are pushing their way toward him, and to my surprise, he has about four security guards flanking him, holding people back.

  His bright blue eyes are searching the crowd for me. When he sees me, hanging back from the crowd, his shoulders relax, and he offers me his cocky grin and shrugs. I just nod and wait as he signs some autographs and poses for a few pictures. After pleasing everyone, he stalks toward me, wraps his arms around my middle and lifts me off my feet in a huge hug.

  “You’re a sight for sore eyes, babe.”

  “Congratulations!” I bury my face in his neck and breathe him in. “You did so great! I am so proud of you!”

  “The best part was having you there.” He sets me on my feet and gently tugs the sleeve of the jersey I’m wearing.

  “Nice shirt.”

  “Thanks.” I smile shyly. “I bought it last week, for just such an occasion.”

  Will grins and leans down to murmur, “I especially love that you’re wearing my name on your back.”

  “Hey, Montgomery, who’s your lady?”

  We pull apart and glance over at the photographer taking our photo. I cringe up at Will and try to slink away, but he holds me tightly against his side and smiles confidently down at me.

  “This is my girlfriend, Megan.”

  “What’s your last name, sugar?” the photographer asks, but I shake my head.

  “Just Megan.”

  “Thanks, man.” The guy nods at Will and heads off to snap more photos of the other players.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmur up to Will.

  He frowns down at me and cups my face in his hand. “For what?”

  “For you being cornered into calling me your girlfriend.”

  “You are my girlfriend, Meg.” He laughs and tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear.

  “But last week, you said...”

  “Stop.”

  Now he’s holding my face in both of his hands, and I grip his wrists in mine. It’s as if we’re the only two people in the room. Will’s eyes are sober as he stares intently at me. “I made a stupid judgment call last week. I don’t care who knows that you’re mine. In fact, I want everyone to know you’re mine.”

  “But…”

  He leans down and kisses me softly, stopping the words, and then whispers against my ear so only I can hear, “You are mine, sweetheart. Get used to it.”

  “Ditto,” I whisper back. I feel him smile against my cheek before he kisses my dimple and pulls away, takes my hand, and pulls me toward the elevator.

  “I’m hungry. Let’s order room service.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Tiny doughnuts!” I exclaim as we pass Café Du Monde, a famous place for beignets and coffee. In fact, that’s all they serve.

  Will and I are exploring New Orleans. This is where he decided he wanted to bring me for our short vacation. For the past two days, we’ve been exploring the city and its rich history of music and food and culture.

  It’s freaking awesome.

  “Hell yes, let’s get some.” Will leads me inside, his hand linked with mine. “Coffee, too?” He looks back at me with a smile on his lips.

  “Yes, please.” I nod and wait while he orders. “Three orders?” I ask drily.

  “They’re really good,” he answers simply and leads me to a table outside in the shade. Even in the fall, it’s hot here. And humid. But I don’t care.

  “So.” I sit across from him at a tiny bistro table and perch my sunglasses on top of my head. “What do you want to do today?”

  “I thought we could just wander around, shop, listen to the street musicians.” He shrugs as the waitress sets three baskets of square, fried dough covered liberally with powdered sugar on the top on the table, along with our chicory coffee. “I just want to hang out with you. Everything else is gravy.”

  I smirk at him. “Getting laid is a given, Will. You don’t have to be cheeky.”

  “Cheeky?”

  “Cheeky,” I mouth at him.

  “I don’t know anyone who says ‘cheeky.’”

  “I do.” I smirk again and pick up a warm, fragrant beignet, shake a bit of the excess sugar off, and take a bite. “Holy sweet mother of God.”

  He laughs at the mess I make with the white powder and takes a big bite of his own treat. “Good?”

  “Dear Lord, I think I need to change my panties.”

  “You’re not wearing any.” His eyes heat as he narrows them at me playfully.

  “Well, if I were, I’d have to change them, because I think I just had an orgasm.”

  The old woman at the table next to us gasps, but I ignore her and take another bite and throw my head back as I chew, my eyes closed, savoring the deliciousness. The chicory coffee complements the beignets perfectly. “I might have to move here.”

  “Why?” Will’s voice is quiet and strained, and I find his eyes with mine.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He looks around, making sure no one is listening, but one of the things we’ve come to love about N’awlins is, no one cares who he is. “Watching you enjoy food turns me on,” he whispers.

  I grin slowly and brush my foot up and down his calf as I take another bite, making sure I lick the excess sugar off my lips. “Mmm.”

  He quirk
s up an eyebrow and chuckles. “Do you want to play this game?”

  “Why, Will? Don’t you want to play with me?” I smile sweetly and take a sip of my coffee, then another bite. “God, these are good. We might need more. I hope you don’t care that I’m about to sit here and get really fat off of this fried goodness.”

  He laughs and takes another bite. “I have some physical activity planned later, or maybe sooner, that should burn quite a few of these calories.”

  “Thank God.” I surprise both of us and eat more than half the beignets. I can’t stop. It’s like crack. “Seriously, these are crazy good.”

  “I’m glad you like them.” He sits back and sips his coffee, looking at me speculatively, suddenly sober.

  “What?”

  “Just thinking.” He shakes his head and watches me devour the last two small donuts. “You look beautiful today.”

  I look down at my orange V-neck sundress and brown cowboy boots. It’s just a typical summer outfit, which seemed to be appropriate for fall in the South.

  “Thank you.”

  “I love your hair up off your neck like that.”

  I tilt my head to the side and stare at him. He’s looking at me like he could eat me alive. Like he’s seeing me for the first time.

  Like he loves me.

  Holy shit!

  He shakes his head, like he’s pulling himself out of a trance, and smiles softly at me. “Are you ready to go, or do you want more?”

  “I’m done.”

  “Let’s go.” He holds a hand out for me and pulls me to my feet, and I follow him back out onto the sidewalk, pulling my sunglasses down onto my face. He’s wearing his own black Oakleys, tight white T-shirt, khaki shorts. He’s just so…big. Tall and muscular and strong.

  He does crazy things to my insides.

  As we walk up the street, I can hear a saxophone, its sultry notes filling the air. The song is slow and sweet. We turn the corner, and there is a young man, maybe about twenty-two, playing his sax, sitting on a stool, his case open for donations.

  The kid is good. Amazingly good. I stop, pulling on Will’s hand so he stops, too, and listen. The sax player has dyed black hair, his ears both sporting gauges, and his fingernails are black. He’s dressed every inch the rock star.