by Violet Paige
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.
“I’m so glad I have a game girl.” Gloria grinned. “Next one should be back in San Antonio.”
That was a relief. Traveling like this was stressful. I had to be back at the hospital early in the morning, which meant a late flight tonight. Keeping up with both of our careers wasn’t easy.
“Bye.” I waved at Wes’s parents and sat in the cushy leather chair. I wanted to soak it in. Feel what he felt. See what he saw. I sat, not caring how much time passed before I was ready to leave. Somehow being here felt every bit as important as watching him play.
The Wranglers’ plane had landed hours before mine. Wes was already in the apartment when I walked through the door. There was a bottle of champagne on the counter, two glasses, and a trail of candles leading to the bedroom.
“Wes?” I called in the apartment. The lights were dim and I had a funny flutter in my stomach.
“Bring those glasses in here, will you?”
I smiled and picked up the chilled flutes. He was lying on the bed, his head propped on his elbow.
“Congratulations.” I handed him one of the glasses. “That was a huge game.”
“Thanks, Doc.” He sat up to kiss me. “Thought we could celebrate.”
“I can’t drink much. I’ve got three surgeries tomorrow.” I took a sip. The bubbles slid down my throat.
“That’s not much fun.” He moved the hair off my shoulder and kissed behind my ear. “But we’ve got other ways of celebrating, don’t we?”
I nodded. I didn’t need champagne to get drunk. Just being near him made me lose my mind. He pulled the glass from my hand and put it next to the bed.
“Wes, about last night?”
“What about it?” He pulled the shirt over his head and I almost licked my lips. His chest was flawless. I loved every muscle on his body.
He began unbuttoning my shirt and shoved the sleeves off my shoulders. He kissed one, then the other. With a quick flick, he had my bra unclasped and on the floor.
“God, I love your tits.”
I groaned as he pulled me into his mouth. The thoughts flew out of my head as my chest arched forward to give him more. I couldn’t wait to have him inside me. I couldn’t wait to feel his powerful thrusts.
I hitched my skirt up around my hips as he shrugged off his jeans. He sat forward as I straddled him, with my knees on either side, and sank onto his hard shaft with a violent strike.
“Oh, God,” I moaned, rocking my hips into him as he held my lower back so I could grind harder and faster.
“Fuck, Lennon.” He gripped my hips, slamming me harder onto his cock. I clutched at him, sinking my nails into his shoulders. “I love when you fuck me this way,” he groaned.
Neither of us could last long like this. His sure and solid thrusts, with my hot and wet core clenching around him, were too intense for either of us to hold off. I clawed and screamed, bouncing harder as he filled me with his release. It seeped along my legs, and I rested my head against his shoulder, feeling the sweet sweat of sex drip between us.
“Welcome home, baby,” he growled.
He rolled onto his back, bringing me down to the bed with him. And we slept.
23
Wes
I packed my suitcase with the team logo embroidered on the side. This was it. The big dance. The prom. The Holy Fucking Grail. After last week’s win against the Kings, we were going to the Super Bowl.
There was an entire week of press preparation before the game. A few days of practice scheduled in and one media event after another with the team to
show what a great group of guys the Wranglers were.
I looked at Lennon, who was stretched across the bed. Her bare ass was round and gorgeous. She kicked her heels toward her bottom, resting her chin on her folded arms.
“You sure you don’t want to come out early?” I asked. I hated leaving her here.
“I have work, remember? Surgeries. Patients who need me. A job.” Her eyebrows rose.
“But I need you.” I slapped her on the ass as I walked past the bed.
“I’m flying to San Diego as soon as my shift ends Friday night. You can have me then.” She grinned.
I pounced on top of her, tickling her ribs. “And what if that’s not soon enough?”
“Hey, hey. Stop.” She giggled, rolling onto her back.
I inhaled, seeing her gorgeous tits pointing in my direction. “You think I can go six days without these?” I kissed the tight nub on each breast.
“You told me yourself you can’t hang out during the day or night. You’re booked solid. And so am I. What do you want me to tell my patients? Sorry, Mr. Smith, I can’t do your shoulder surgery because I’m going to the Super Bowl. Oh, sorry, Tommy, but you’re going to have a deformed foot because my boyfriend needs me at the Super Bowl.”
I groaned. “I hear you. But I don’t really give a shit about those people.” I pinned her wrists over her head. “I want you with me.”
She gasped. “You have a car that’s going to be here in about fifteen minutes to pick you up. Don’t start what you can’t finish.”
I eyed her wickedly. “The Wranglers aren’t leaving San Antonio without me. And I’m not leaving without one more taste of you.”
My dick hardened at the sexy little sound that escaped her lips. Fuck, she was hot. I didn’t know being with the same woman over and over again could be this good. I didn’t know she could keep surprising me. I didn’t know that I could be more turned on now than I was the first time I fucked her.
“So, are you going to do what I tell you to do?” I bit her bottom lip.
She nodded.
I kissed her stomach and settled between her legs. This was my favorite slice of heaven. I licked up one side of her folds and down the other, bowing her off the bed.
She tried to press her knees together against my head, but I gripped under her ass and pulled her quickly to my tongue, plunging it to the deepest part of her core. She rocked into me, her hips wild with passion. Her hands were in my hair, then tugging on her breasts. As I pumped in and out of her with my tongue, I felt her rhythm turn desperate.
“Oh, Wes. Oh God.” She writhed and cried as I sucked hard on her clit. I lifted her ass higher in the air, twisting my tongue against her entrance. She was vibrating and pulsing. I knew I had taken her to the edge; just one nip at her clit and she would spill over the side. I tugged against it with my teeth and her orgasm exploded through her body.
“Wes, I-I—” She twisted and turned, grinding harder against my mouth. And then I heard the words. “Oh, God. I love you.”
24
Lennon
My body was fluttering with an incredible orgasm, but I looked down, horrified at what I had just said. I wasn’t supposed to tell him I loved him before he walked out the door for the Super Bowl. Shit. Double double shit.
He kissed the inside of my thigh and sat up.
“I-I—” I scampered to a seated position, trying to think of how to take it back. “It was a heat of the moment thing. God, it just came out.”
“You love me?” His eyes hardened.
I nodded. “I do.” I held up my palms. “But it doesn’t change anything. You don’t have to say it.”
He reached behind me, drawing me into his lap, and kissed me. I could taste myself on his lips, and it was more of a turn on knowing what he had just done to my body.
“I love you, Doc.”
I pushed off of him. “What?”
“I’ve never said it before. But hell. Yeah, I love you. Every part of you. I love this. What we have.”
“Oh my God. I do too. All of it.”
His phone started ringing. “Shit, that’s the car for me.”
“Now you have to leave? After that?” My body and my heart were singing with heat and desire for him like I’d never felt. I wanted to wrap myself up in his arms. I wanted him to fuck me until we couldn’t breathe. I wanted mind-blowing emotional sex that we’d never forget. Wes Blakefield just said the L word.
“Yeah.” He smiled devilishly. “Gotta go. But I’ll see you Friday?”
“Completely unfair.” I pouted. It was as if he had planned it all along. Drop this huge emotional bomb on me and then walk out the door.
He leaned down to kiss me. “But think how awesome Friday will be.” He waggled his eyebrows.
He left me naked on his bed as he headed off to become a Super Bowl champion.
All week I kept the TV on the sports channel. I couldn’t get enough coverage about Wes or the predictions for the Wranglers. He was everywhere. In every commercial. On every talk show. He was the Super Bowl’s golden boy.
We texted when we could. I sent messages in between surgeries, and he sent me dirty promises of what to expect when I arrived Friday night.
I shoved my phone in my pocket when I saw Dr. Evans walk around the corner.
“Dr. Ashworth, ready for your trip?”
By now the entire hospital knew I was dating Wes. The press hounded us every time we left the apartment. I still didn’t know the names of the people I worked with, but they all knew mine.
“Leaving tomorrow.” I smiled. “My first Super Bowl.”
“Tell Wes we’re all pulling for him.”
“Of course.”
“Before you go, I wanted to ask you something.” He spoke softly.
We were close to the doctors’ lounge. “Let’s go in here,” I suggested.
Luckily, it was empty, and I walked to the coffee pot to refill my thermos. “Is it a patient consult?” I asked.
“No. No. Just curious if you’ve gotten a call from a reporter. I believe her name is Jenny Nichols.”
“A reporter? Is it a piece on the new equipment we’re using on ankle reconstruction? Because I still have my doubts if we should continue the funding.”
He pulled his glasses down. “She’s not from the Med Journal. She’s a sports reporter.”
“Huh.”
“I guess you haven’t heard from her?”
I shook my head. “No, what did she want to talk to you about?”
“I’ve avoided her calls. But I’m sure it has to do with Wes’s hand.”
I stopped stirring my coffee and looked at my older colleague. “What would she want to know about his hand?”
Dr. Evans eyed me. “I don’t think we should discuss it. It’s better for both of us if we don’t.”
“You brought it up, Dr. Evans. And really, I’m in the dark. What does Jenny Nichols want?”
“Let’s just say that someone might have tipped off the press as to the seriousness of Wes’s injuries and that his recovery was lightning fast.” His bushy mustache twitched.
I peered at him, trying to piece it all together. “We didn’t release any information on his medical status.”
“No, but you and I are not the only ones who knew he had surgery. The team said it was a severe sprain.”
“Oh, God.” I covered my mouth. Was there someone in our hospital who had leaked Wes’s medical information?
Dr. Evans tapped my wrist for comfort. “I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. It’s only my curiosity. The team doesn’t distribute illegal substances. Neither do you or I. So, his recovery is truly a testament to what an amazing surgeon you are and his capacity to heal. Nothing more. We followed and upheld our medical ethics.”
But I knew there was more. I had known for weeks. Wes didn’t heal on his own.
“Thanks for letting me know.” I smiled weakly, feeling the nausea hit me in a gigantic wave.
“I shouldn�
��t have even mentioned it.”
I looked down at my coffee as he walked out of the room. The nausea rolled again in my stomach and I ran for the trashcan. This couldn’t be happening. There was a reporter digging into Wes’s recovery. I didn’t know whether to tell him or keep it to myself.
Would it keep him out of the Super Bowl? Would he be so distracted he’d screw up? Would she actually uncover something I didn’t want to know?
I sat on the bench, clutching my thermos. I had almost forgotten this part of Wes existed. These past few weeks, I had seen the sweet and sexy side. The side that had turned into a one-woman man. The side that told me he loved me.
I had forgotten that before me, he drank and gambled and slept with a different woman every night. Winning was his everything. He told me. He told me he crossed a line to repair his hand. God, why didn’t I find out more? Why didn’t I try to stop him?
The pit in my stomach grew. What if he still was that man?
25
Wes
I smiled in front of the cameras. My cheeks hurt from smiling so damn much. I was tired and cranky. This was supposed to be the best week of my life, but all I could do was countdown to Friday.
Coach Howell sat next to me while the press fired questions, and Sam Hickson was on my right. I’d give Stubbs a hard time when I saw him for bowing out of this one.
A reporter in the front row raised his hand. “How are you feeling about going up against the best scoring team in the league?”
Howell fielded the question. It wasn’t like it hadn’t been asked fifty times this week. “Our defense has studied. They’re trained. We’re ready for what they have. We don’t plan on letting them be the highest-scoring team on Sunday.”
Everyone in the room chuckled. It was easy to get a laugh out of the press.
A nerdy type next to him asked the next question. “Wes, what has been your training regimen this week?”