“I have good news,” I murmur against his flat nipple while rubbing my crotch against the heavy bulge of his erection. “Team Ticker has been expanded to five days a week.”
“Really?” Reyes’s voice is a rough rasp, his hands cupping my ass. “That’s awesome, babe. Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” I swirl my tongue around his nipple and watch it pucker, goose bumps scattering across the thick pads of his pecs. “I talked to Molly on the way home. She says FOX Sports is interested in me, which she plans to use as leverage in my contract negotiations.” I grin and crow in a singsong voice, “I’m ’bout to get paid.”
Reyes laughs as I kiss my way up his neck to his mouth. “Congratulations,” he murmurs against my lips. “We’ll have to go someplace fancy to celebrate.”
“Sounds good.” I kiss him slow and deep, exploring his mouth with my tongue as he groans and squeezes my ass.
I lift my head, my hair forming a curtain around us as I lean over him.
He stares up at me through heavy-lidded eyes. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
I crinkle my nose. “Even with all this ridiculous makeup?”
He grins. “Even with.”
Smiling, I bend down and kiss him again, shivering as he slips a single finger inside my thong and strokes my tingling clit.
“My period is coming in another day or two,” I whisper against his mouth.
“Well shit,” he rumbles. “We’d better get busy, then.”
I grin. “I was hoping you’d say that. But what about your bruise? Aren’t you too—” I break off with a gasp as he slides that long, thick finger inside me. “Reyes . . . oh God.”
He pushes in and out, watching my face as my hips begin to move, riding his magic finger.
“What were you saying?” he whispers devilishly.
“I . . . I . . .” When he hits my G-spot, all I can manage is a raspy moan before my body completely melts and my brain turns to mush.
Chapter Forty
EMERSON
Every time i think i can’t possibly love Reyes more, he proves me wrong.
A week later on a Tuesday afternoon, we’re visiting the cancer ward of the local children’s hospital. We’ve gone from room to room delivering autographed footballs and jerseys, dolls and toys.
Every time Reyes appears at the door, the children’s eyes light up in stunned delight, huge grins wreathing their faces. He spends time with each precious child, laughing and affectionately teasing, answering every question that pops into their little heads.
There’s absolutely nothing more heartbreaking than the sight of children lying in hospital beds with tubes and needles protruding from their frail bodies. They’re fighting the biggest battle of their young lives. But no matter how sick or weakened they are by chemotherapy, on that Tuesday afternoon, every last one is excited to see Reyes.
The last patient we visit is a boy named Walker Hilliard, who’s celebrating his tenth birthday two weeks after being admitted to the hospital.
Five months ago, his mother wrote a letter to Reyes telling him about her son who was recently diagnosed with leukemia. She described him as a fun-loving prankster who enjoyed drawing and playing football, an aspiring young quarterback who considered himself Reyes’s number one fan.
Reyes was so moved by her beautiful words that he wrote Walker a letter accompanied by an autographed football and jersey. But he didn’t stop there. After meeting the boy and his parents via Skype, Reyes contacted the children’s hospital and made arrangements to cover all of Walker’s medical expenses.
Leveraging his star power, he then persuaded Nike to release a Maxx Malone limited edition sneaker honoring Walker and children everywhere who are bravely battling terminal illnesses. The teal-and-black high-top sneakers are emblazoned with Walker’s boyish looping signature. The insoles feature one of his drawings—a colorful sketch of boys and girls playing various sports. His mother provided everything so we could keep the shoes a secret until his birthday. We can’t wait to surprise him.
A smiling nurse escorts us to Walker’s room, where we find him propped up in bed and wearing his autographed Malone jersey. There are teal balloons tied to the end of the bed, and his parents and older sister stand on one side facing the door.
They see us first and break into wide grins.
“Look who’s here to visit the birthday boy,” the nurse gleefully announces.
When Reyes walks into the room, the look of astonishment on Walker’s face brings tears to my eyes.
“Reyes Malone?” he breathes in disbelief.
“What’s up, buddy?” Reaching the boy’s bedside, Reyes shakes his hand warmly and grins. “Hope you don’t mind me crashing your birthday party.”
Walker shakes his head slowly from side to side, not daring to blink as he stares up at his idol. “No way,” he whispers incredulously. “No freaking way.”
Warm laughter erupts from the crowd of nurses, residents and technicians gathered around the door.
Reyes gently sits on the edge of the bed. “How’s your birthday going so far?”
“Good.” Walker beams. “It just got a hundred times better.”
Reyes grins softly and tweaks his nose.
Walker’s skin has a waxy pallor and his sunken gray eyes have blue smudges underneath. But nothing can diminish the radiant smile stretched across his face.
“We brought something for the birthday boy.” I reach inside my Renegades duffel bag, pull out a gift-wrapped box and hand it to Walker with a warm grin. “Happy birthday, champ.”
He stares at me and then at Reyes. “You brought me a present?”
“Of course,” Reyes says with a crooked grin. “My mom used to tell me it’s rude to show up to a birthday party without a gift.”
Walker laughs. “My mom says the same thing. Right, Mom?”
“Totally.” She grins and winks at Reyes.
He winks back.
Walker eagerly unwraps his present. When he sees the customized Maxx Malone sneakers, his eyes widen to saucers and his jaw drops.
“Whoa,” he breathes in amazement. “Are these . . . ?”
Reyes grins. “Your very own Nike shoe line.”
“No way!” Walker launches himself at Reyes, throwing his bony arms around his neck and hugging him tight. “Thank you so much!”
“You’re welcome, buddy.” Reyes kisses the boy’s bald head and hugs him back.
I exchange tearful smiles with Walker’s parents. The nurses swipe at their watery eyes and place their hands over their hearts.
Walker pulls away from Reyes to check out his new sneakers, beaming ecstatically as he exclaims, “These are so awesome! They even have my name on ’em! And look inside—that’s my drawing!” he crows to his parents and sister, who admire the sketch as if seeing it for the first time.
“The shoes will be released next week,” Reyes tells him. “We wanted you to have your pair before anyone else. If you’re feeling up to it, Nike would like to hold a press conference at the hospital to announce the launch. Lots of people will be watching and it might be a little overwhelming with all the cameras, so you don’t have to participate if you don’t want to. It’s totally up to you and your parents.”
Walker looks eagerly at his mom and dad. “Can I participate?”
They smile tenderly at him. “Of course you can.”
“Yay!” he whoops excitedly, pumping his little fist in the air.
“One more thing,” Reyes adds warmly. “When you’re feeling better, I want you and your family to come to my game. You can wear your new shoes and show ’em off. Would you like that?”
“Definitely!” Walker enthuses.
“Awesome.” Reyes grins and gives him a high five.
A nurse enters the room carrying a cake shaped like a football with the Carolina Renegades logo.
“Who’s ready for cake?” she cheerfully singsongs.
“I am!” The birthday boy grins at Reyes. “You want som
e cake, too?”
“Heck, yeah,” Reyes says. “I’m getting a big ol’ piece.”
Laughter sweeps around the room.
After the ten candles are lit, everyone gathers around to sing “Happy Birthday” to Walker. He beams brighter than a thousand suns, cradling his prized sneakers to his chest as he looks from one smiling face to another.
“Wait!” his sister interjects before he can blow out the candles. “You have to make a wish first.”
Walker smiles at Reyes. “It already came true.”
There’s not a dry eye in the room after that.
For the next hour, we sit around eating cake and laughing with Walker and his family and the hospital staff. Reyes signs autographs and takes a bunch of selfies with everyone. I join him for a group photo and one with Walker.
When it’s time for us to leave, Walker’s parents hug us and thank us for coming.
“You’ve been an absolute godsend,” Mrs. Hilliard tells Reyes tearfully. “We’ll never forget everything you’ve done for Walker.”
“He’s a wonderful kid,” Reyes says with quiet warmth. “Thank you for letting me get to know him.”
She smiles tremulously. “You’re his hero. And we knew you’d understand what we’re going through.”
Reyes nods as a look of understanding passes between him and Walker’s parents. He knows what it’s like to love someone ravaged by cancer. And he knows, as do they, that this might be their son’s last birthday.
I give Walker a big hug. “See you next week, champ.”
“Yup. Can’t wait.” He cocks his head at me. “I like your show. You really know a lot about football.”
“That’s because it’s the best sport in the world with the best fans,” I assert.
He shoots me a radiant smile that melts the remaining gooey mass of my heart.
We say our goodbyes and step out into the hallway, where Reyes spends a few minutes talking to Walker’s doctor about his prognosis.
As I watch him, I can so easily imagine him as an oncology resident in a white lab coat with a stethoscope around his neck. If he hadn’t been drafted by the NFL, he would have attended Stanford Medical School. In that alternate timeline, he would be just starting his residency this year. He wouldn’t be a football superstar. Which means he never would have heard about Walker, never would have received the letter from his mother.
We’re both quiet during the elevator ride down to the first floor. When the doors open, we join hands and walk across the lobby to the exit.
The starstruck valet attendants can’t help staring at Reyes. He already signed autographs when we arrived and they can probably tell by his subdued demeanor that he’s not in the mood for fan talk, so they kindly leave him alone.
As we’re waiting for our car to be brought around, I slip my arm around his waist. Silently he turns and enfolds me in his arms, kissing the top of my head before burying his face in my hair.
We stand there hugging tightly, comforting each other without words until our car arrives.
When we pull apart, we both have tears in our eyes.
I reach up and tenderly caress his cheek. “I love you so much, Reyes Malone.”
“Love you, too,” he murmurs gruffly, sliding his sunglasses over his eyes and then taking my hand. “Let’s go home.”
Chapter Forty-One
REYES
Later that week, my teammates and I travel to New York to play the Giants on Sunday.
The day before the game, our schedule is packed from dawn to dusk: breakfast, team meeting, practice, workout, lunch, media access and position meetings.
By the time we break for dinner at five, I’m craving a thick, juicy steak followed by a sweaty romp with Emerson. She arrived that afternoon with her Team Ticker crew. At this very moment she’s in her room waiting for me, hopefully naked and spread-eagle on the bed.
I know I should probably conserve my energy for the game tomorrow. But I haven’t seen my wife in more than twenty-four hours. I miss her and her hot, wet pussy. So keeping my hands off her tonight? Yeah, no. Not happening.
As I’m walking out of the meeting room with DeVante and Zach, a woman squeals breathlessly, “Reyes!”
I don’t recognize the voice at first. Security does a pretty good job of keeping the public out of our restricted areas. But determined groupies always find ways to sneak past the guards.
“Reyes!” The voice is getting closer, drawing stares from the offensive coaches and players filing out of the meeting.
With a feeling of suspicious dread, I reluctantly turn my head to see a stacked blonde strutting toward me in a dress so short she might as well not have bothered.
Vega.
Goddammit.
Pursued by a scowling security guard, she quickens her stride until she reaches me and throws her arms wide. “Hola, baby!”
She tries to hug me but I put my hand up, stopping her from coming closer.
Rebuffed, she stumbles back and frowns.
DeVante and Zach give her a lecherous once-over and raise their eyebrows at me. I shake my head as if to say, Don’t ask.
The security guard catches up, shooting me an apologetic look before barking at Vega, “You can’t be back here.”
“I just wanted to say hello to Reyes. We’re old friends.” She smiles a sugary smile. “Can’t you give us a minute?”
The guard looks askance at me.
I glare at Vega. “One minute.”
Her red lips curl into a petulant pout as the disgruntled guard steps away.
DeVante chuckles. “We’re heading out to grab some dinner, boss. You coming with us? Or will you be dining with the missus?”
I slant him a crooked half grin. “What do you think?”
He and Zach laugh and give me fist bumps. “We’ll catch you later.”
“Curfew’s at eleven,” I remind them.
“Yes, sir.” They salute me before sauntering off, chuckling to each other.
As soon as they’re out of earshot, my lazy smile morphs into a scowl directed at Vega.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I demand, shoving my hands into the front pocket of my black hoodie.
“Relax, handsome. I’m not stalking you. I’m here for a social media influencer conference.” Her eyebrows are furrowed. “I thought wives don’t travel with the team.”
“They don’t.”
“Then what’s Emerson doing here?”
“She’s working. Not that it’s any of your damn business.”
“I was just ask—”
“Your minute’s up. Enjoy your confer—”
“Wait!” She quickly steps in front of me, blocking my path. “Please don’t go. I just want to talk. You changed your number and blocked me on social media, so I have no way of contacting you.”
“That’s the fucking point,” I growl through clenched teeth. “I don’t want you to contact me. Why is that so fucking hard to understand?”
“Because I miss you.” She edges closer to me, her lower lip protruding in a sulky pout. “I miss you so much, baby.”
“I’m not your—”
“I still can’t believe you got married. I didn’t think you’d actually go through with it, but you did. I see you and her everywhere, and it makes me sick to my stomach.”
“Too damn bad,” I say coldly.
She gives me a wounded look. “Reyes—”
“I’m serious, Vega. Your obsession with me is disturbingly unhealthy. You need to move on with your life.”
“Why?” she bursts out desperately. “Why do we have to stop seeing each other just because you’re married? We can still—”
I cut her off with a harsh laugh. “You’re out of your fucking mind.”
“No, I’m not,” she insists. “You’re a professional athlete, Reyes. Nobody actually expects you to be faithful to your wife.”
I shake my head at her. “I have no reason to go outside my marriage. Not only is Emerson my best friend an
d the love of my life, she’s also the best fucking lover I’ve ever had. Seriously. Her pussy is incomparable. What more could I possibly want or need?”
Vega blinks rapidly as if fighting tears. I’m not trying to be cruel or crass, but she knows I’ve never sugarcoated my words. I’ve always kept it real with her, and that’s not about to change.
“You’re still in your honeymoon phase,” she taunts with malicious smugness. “Things won’t always be so perfect between you.”
A low chuckle escapes me. “There’s no such thing as a perfect relationship. Thankfully I don’t need perfection. All I need is Emerson in my life, right by my side. It doesn’t get any better than that.”
Vega looks crushed.
At that precise moment, Emerson comes up beside me and purrs in my ear, “Hey, you.”
“Hey, baby.” I turn my head and kiss her, my lips clinging warmly to hers before I murmur, “You remember Vega.”
“I do.” Emerson turns to give her a cool smile. “Nice to see you again.”
Vega rakes her with a hateful glare, not bothering to return her greeting.
“Vega’s in town for a social media conference,” I explain.
“Not just any social media conference,” Vega brags with a toss of her blond hair. “It’s the biggest social media conference in the world. Only the top one percent of influencers are invited to speak, and I happen to be one of them.”
“Congratulations,” Emerson says, sounding sincere. “Are you talking about InstaSummit?”
Vega smiles sharply. “That’s right.”
“Cool. I know someone who’s attending this year.” Emerson touches a finger to her lips, looking thoughtful. “I could have sworn the conference was at the Marriott Marquis in Times Square.”
Vega’s face reddens, her smugness fading. “It is.”
“Hmm. This is the Renaissance Meadowlands in Jersey.” Emerson pauses for effect. “Looks like you’re at the wrong Marriott.”
If looks could kill, my sweet baby would be six feet under right now.
Seemingly unfazed by Vega’s death glare, Emerson offers her a guileless smile. “Hope you enjoy the conference and your visit to New York. Is this your first time?”
Get Over You (Dare Me Book 1) Page 39