by Max Monroe
“We got this, boys!” Sam Sheffield bellowed. “We fucking got this!”
We responded with fervor, hooting and hollering and pumping each other up.
“All right. All right,” Coach said and raised both arms in the air, gesturing for us to settle down. “Martinez, I need you to hold your fucking ground and give QB time in the pocket.”
Teeny nodded, jaw stern. “Got it, Coach.”
“And, Bailey,” Coach instructed, looking up from his crouched position in the center of our huddle to meet Quinn’s steady gaze. “We’re going to set up for Razzle Dazzle because we know their defense is looking for you to get the ball into Sean’s hands, but instead, I want you to find Mitchell.” Coach’s eyes locked with Cam’s. “You got it?” he asked, and Cam nodded.
“Yes, sir.”
“All right,” Coach said. “Get out there and show Dallas how we win games.”
Hyped up and ready, we jogged back onto the field, and before we lined up, I grabbed Mitchell by the helmet and stared him straight in the eyes.
“You got this,” I said and smacked the top of his helmet a few times. “You fucking got this, son!”
Toes to the line and only five seconds on the clock, we were ready.
The instant Quinn called for the ball, we jumped into action.
With two defensive backs on my fucking balls, I did my best to keep their attention. And by the time I hit the twenty-yard line, I moved in the opposite direction of Mitchell and prayed to everything holy—God, Jesus, Buddha, fucking Mother Teresa—that I’d pulled the defense enough to give QB room to complete the pass.
Just as I glanced over my shoulder, Bailey let the ball soar out of his fingertips.
High into the air, the pigskin flew like a fucking spiral rocket until it landed directly on Cam’s fingertips.
He snagged it from the sky and pulled it to his chest.
Ten yards.
Five yards.
Three yards.
One yard.
He ran until he couldn’t run anymore, until Dallas’s defense stopped his progression, and all he could do was fall to his knees. But the entire time, that fucking ball stayed cradled in his arms.
The game clock hit zero.
Referees blew their whistles.
More defense piled on top of Mitchell until he wasn’t even visible, and the refs blew their whistles some more as they jogged toward the mountain of players.
Adrenaline pumping hot and heavy into my veins, I ran toward the end zone, praying to God Mitchell had managed to get the ball over the line.
The instant the refs were able to get Dallas’s defense off of Mitchell, my battered, bloody heart damn near fell out of my chest and onto the field.
There it sat.
The ball, just outside the fucking end zone.
The refs blew their whistles and waved their arms in the air, signaling no touchdown, and then, it was over.
Zero seconds on the clock.
And barely an inch outside of the goddamn end zone.
We’d lost.
We’d lost the fucking championship game.
While Dallas’s team cheered and fireworks and confetti guns went off like rockets and the crowd inside the stadium went wild, I fell to my knees.
Straight to my fucking knees, right outside the end zone.
Fuck!
I stared up toward the sky and sighed the heaviest, saddest breath that had ever left my lungs.
God, I wanted that win.
I wanted that win so bad I could taste it.
I wanted to walk away tonight with a championship ring on my finger, and I wanted what we’d all spent years working toward to come to fruition. Quinn’s jaw was hard as he battled against the emotion, and Cam gave him a commiserating slap to the helmet. Teeny’s walk was subdued, weighted, no doubt, by the same lead in my chest.
It looked like what I wanted and what was reality were two goddamn different things.
I shut my eyes and took another deep breath, trying to come to terms with the loss.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
It hurt. It fucking killed. Hours upon hours of work and weeks of fantasizing right down the drain.
I breathed through the disappointment, readying myself to start all over again. There’d be another season next year. Another championship game. Another chance to have it all.
I wasn’t sure I was fully convinced, such was the sting of frustration, but when I opened my eyes, there she stood, her body mere inches from mine and her big brown eyes looking down at me.
Six. My Six. The only woman to ever hold my heart.
She was a mess of wild and beauty. Tears stained her beautiful cheeks, and a worried little smile covered her lips.
The crowd, the field, the fucking stadium, everything around us faded away, and we just stared at one another for the longest time.
Until her perfect voice broke our silence and took all the pain away.
“You pick Six?” she asked, and more tears spilled from her eyes.
“No.” I shook my head. “Didn’t you watch the video, baby? I more than pick Six. I love Six.”
She was better than a fucking championship. She was better than one win in a bucket full of games. She was the ultimate season, the neverending championship, the tiniest, most perfect trophy of all.
She was everything.
A little gasp left her lips, and I hopped back to my feet.
With love and want and deep, deep need coursing through my veins, I moved toward her, and before she could even respond, I had her in my arms.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered and buried her tear-stained face into my chest. “I’m sorry I ended things the way I did. I was just so scared. God, I was so afraid of getting hurt. I had fallen for you, Sean, and I just didn’t think it was possible for you to fall for anyone.”
“It wasn’t,” I agreed, but I didn’t hesitate to speak my truth. “Until you, baby.” I leaned back and put my finger underneath her chin and lifted her gaze to mine.
And when those big brown eyes of hers looked up at me, my heart pretty much melted.
“You changed all the rules,” I said. “You changed everything. And fuck, I’m so happy you did. I love you, Six. I really fucking love you.”
She didn’t hesitate to respond. “I love you too.”
“I know you do, baby.” I grinned, and she raised a curious brow.
“Wait a minute…what do you mean, you know?”
I shrugged. “Well, you kind of let everyone know you loved me when you posted that amazing ramble of a video…”
“Oh God,” she muttered. “I swear I’m never going to live that video down.”
“You had a lot of wonderful things to say,” I teased, and she grimaced.
“Oh yeah, especially the part where I waxed poetic about your penis. That was real wonderful.”
I nodded and chuckled softly. “The best damn poetry I’ve ever heard.”
She shoved me playfully in the chest. “Of course it is, you cocky bastard.”
I laughed again, but I did it while I wrapped her up tightly in my arms again. “God, I’ve missed you,” I whispered into her ear.
“I’ve missed you too.”
I leaned back and stared deep into her gorgeous eyes. “You’re mine.”
She quirked a brow, but I didn’t let it stop me.
“I’m yours,” I added. “And now, we’re going to get the fuck out of this stadium and spend the rest of the night making up for lost time.”
A beautiful smile kissed her lips. “Count. Me. In.” Mischief colored her chocolate eyes with a creamy swirl and settled as she winked. “You could use the practice.”
My laughter was a roar.
For a man who’d just lost the game of his life, I felt victorious.
I’d won more than just a championship or a trophy or a ring.
I’d won the fucking girl.
Without a second thought, I leaned down and tossed her pint-sized, curv
y little body over my shoulder and proceeded to carry her off the field.
She laughed and giggled and swatted at my shoulders the entire way, but I didn’t give a shit. I was taking her, my girl, back to my hotel room caveman-style, and not anyone or anything was going to stand in my way.
When several cameras and journalists tried to grab our attention, I ignored every single one of them.
Now wasn’t the time for an interview.
Now wasn’t the time for anything but Six.
Three months later.
“Six,” Sean’s voice singsonged into my ear. “Wake up, baby.”
“Go away.” I groaned and turned away from the handsome bastard who seemed insistent on ruining my delicious sleep.
“Nuh-uh,” he said, and I could hear the grin in his voice. “It’s time to wake up.”
Actually seeing that grin was tempting as hell, but sleep. I fucking loved sleep.
“What time is it?” I asked, voice raspy and groggy and eyes still firmly shut.
“A little after nine.”
“Oh my God!” I exclaimed and swatted at him over my shoulder. “It’s too early. Go away! Let me be, you crazy person!”
He laughed and proceeded to pick me up from my cozy spot and place me on top of his chest.
I blinked my eyes open and found us nose-to-nose. Sean gazed at me, a smirk etched across his full lips. And instantly, I knew something was up. He looked too damn mischievous. Sexy as hell, but way too playful.
I quirked a brow and then narrowed my eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
That smirk only got bigger. “Like what?”
“Like you’re up to no good.”
He offered a shrug of one meaty, muscular, bare shoulder, and when I glanced out of the corner of my eye, I quickly realized the reason.
My GoPro camera sat firmly in his grasp, pointing directly at us, and the little red light indicated it was recording. Everything.
Including, my messy, just-woken-up state.
I wasn’t Snow White or Cinderella. I didn’t just roll out of bed fresh-faced and skin glowing like the sun. That shit took time. It took coffee and, at the very least, washing my face and running a brush through the rat’s nest eight hours of sleep tended to create on top of my head.
I could only imagine the disaster that camera was currently catching on film.
“You’re such a bastard!” I exclaimed and shoved my face into the firm skin of his bare chest. “Turn it off!”
“No way,” he said. “You promised I’d get to handle today’s Pick Six content.”
Over the past month or so, Sean had been badgering me about handling one of my daily vlog videos, and last night, after he’d gifted me with several orgasms and I was nearly incoherent from pleasure overload, I’d agreed.
“Yeah, but you were supposed to let me wake up and, like, brush my freaking hair before you started recording shit,” I muttered against his skin. “My subscribers don’t want to see this hot mess with morning breath and crazy eyes.”
“You’re crazy, baby,” he said, and I looked up at him with narrowed eyes. But the charming bastard went all swoony and added, “I want your subscribers to see how fucking beautiful you look when you first wake up. Most beautiful girl in the world.” He waggled his eyebrows. “My girl.”
I rolled my eyes and blushed at the same time.
He didn’t miss either one and grinned down at me as he gently ran the fingers of his free hand across the now rouged skin of my cheek. “I love how you can be so damn feisty, yet my words still have the power to get past your little tough girl exterior and make you blush every once in a while.”
“I’m not blushing,” I muttered. “I’m just angry.”
“Liar.” He dug his fingers into my ribs and tickled my skin.
“Ah! Stop it!” I shouted and quickly rolled off of his big, muscular body—which was deliciously on display other a pair of shorts—and hopped off the bed.
All the while, Sean never faltered to keep the camera pointed in my direction.
“Jesus,” I muttered. “Is that thing going to be in my face all day?”
He nodded.
I glanced down at my current state—braless in a tank top and a little pair of boy short underwear.
An exasperated sigh escaped my lips as I stared at my boyfriend. “You realize you’re actually filming me in my underwear right now, right?” I punctuated that question with a hand to my hip and narrowed eyes.
He nodded again, unfazed.
“I’m in my underwear, Sean. I also have no bra on. My nipples might as well be waving hello to the camera.” I shimmied my chest a little and glanced down at my boobs. “Say hello and smile for the camera, girls!”
He grinned at my antics. “So, some of this footage might just be for my viewing pleasure.”
“You’re a pervert.”
He smirked like the devil from behind the camera. “For you, I am.”
“I never should have agreed to this.”
“It’s too late to reconsider,” he teased and waggled his brows. “You already agreed last night before we went to bed.”
“Yeah, but I was cockdrunk at the time.”
“Cockdrunk,” he repeated. “You sure do have a way with words, baby.”
I just rolled my eyes and walked into the master bathroom of the new house we’d purchased a few weeks ago.
Malibu. Oceanfront. Only three hours from San Diego. And even the goddamn bathroom had a view of the water. Basically, it was a dream.
And more than that, he was a fucking dream. Even when Sean was being a big, persistent, sexy as hell idiot who was determined to shove my own camera in my face and record my crazy morning hair, he was the most perfect man for me.
My guy. My fella. My person.
Somehow, someway, we’d found our way together.
Over the past few months, we’d grown as a couple. And the more time we spent together, the more we realized we didn’t want to be apart for more than a few days here and there.
Which explained the awesome home purchase.
During the off-season, we’d live in Malibu. And when Sean was busy with the Mavericks, we’d live in his New Jersey house, which was only thirty or so minutes from the stadium and another thirty away from the center of NYC.
Despite the fact that my boyfriend had woken me up with a camera in my face, I couldn’t have been happier. Hell, most days, I had to pinch myself to believe it was all real.
“What are the plans for today?” I called over my shoulder as I added a strip of toothpaste to my toothbrush.
“It’s a surprise!”
“Can you at least give me a hint so I know what to wear?”
“Nope.”
“You’re an asshole!” I yelled through a mouthful of mint-flavored paste.
He just laughed. Big, hearty, annoying as hell chuckles. “I love you too, baby!”
I guessed I should just be thankful he wasn’t in the bathroom trying to get footage of me peeing. Although, I wasn’t putting that past him either.
Hell, I kept glancing over my shoulder just to make sure he hadn’t snuck himself inside.
My reflection stared back at me as I brushed my teeth, and even though I was still one hundred percent annoyed with Sean’s version of a morning wake-up call, I couldn’t overlook the underlying glow of happiness that, over the past few months, had become a permanent fixture on my face.
That cocky bastard had turned my world upside down in the very best way.
And just a few months ago, during the Mavericks’ championship game against Dallas, he’d gone out on the ultimate limb and told the whole damn world he loved me.
It was swooniest, most perfect, sweetest, most fucking thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for me. Hell, my toes still curled and my heart fluttered whenever I thought about that night.
Damn, I love that man.
We’d come along way, that was for damn sure.
Over the past thr
ee months, we’d blossomed and grown and just enjoyed the amazing thing that was us together.
Sure, we had our tense moments and our occasional little fights, but always, at the end of the day, we were a team. A couple. He was mine and I was his. And there wasn’t a damn thing that could ever get in the way of that.
Not the media hounding us with a million questions about our relationship.
Not overzealous fans.
Not the paparazzi following us around and trying to capture photographs.
Not anything or anyone.
And trust me, since he’d professed his love for me during the freaking halftime show of the biggest game of the year, we’d become the apple of the public’s eye.
They wanted to know us. They wanted to meet us. They wanted anything they could get from us.
We’d done interviews on the Today Show and Ellen and E! and Jimmy Fallon.
And we’d had a plethora of offers for a reality series of our own.
But we both decided, that while it was all very flattering, we wanted to keep our private life mostly private. And if there were things that we wanted to share with the public, we’d do it on our terms.
Obviously, I still posted daily content on my YouCam channel, which lately had included a lot of Sean, but that felt different. I was in control of it and always had the final say.
With a quick brush of my hair, I finished up in the bathroom and walked back out into our bedroom to find Sean grinning up at me from his cozy spot on our bed.
And, no surprise, the camera was still recording.
“So, should I get dressed or…?”
“Come here, baby,” he said and gestured for me to sit beside him with a pat of his free hand to the mattress.
I listened, mostly out of curiosity, and crawled back onto the bed.
Kneeling beside him, I quirked an eyebrow in his direction. “All right, what are we doing today?”
But he didn’t offer an explanation.
Instead, he set the camera down on the nightstand, and once he made sure it was situated perfectly and still capturing our every damn move, he slid off the bed.
“I have something I want to give you.”
“You do?” I asked and teasingly glanced down at the crotch of his shorts.
He smirked. “It’s not my cock, baby.”