To Win Her Back

by Mackenzie Crowne

  The appeal wasn’t necessary. With a single thrust, he slid home.

  Chapter 24

  V opened her eyes to the early morning rays of the sun shining through the curtains of Sam’s bedroom windows. With his heavy arm draped over her waist, his solid body spooned at her back. He snored softly, his warm breath puffing against the skin of her neck. She smiled and held still, not wanting to wake him.

  Today he’d take the field in his first official game as a Marauders’ coach, and neither of them had gotten much sleep. They’d dozed some throughout the long night, between bouts of lovemaking. Three of them, if her sex-fogged brain could be trusted in its calculation. At some point, they’d staggered into the kitchen. He’d pushed her into one of the chairs, claiming they needed to refuel, and had devoured three grilled cheese sandwiches to her one.

  An image of Sam’s wicked smile as he swept their empty paper plates from the table formed in her mind. She mentally adjusted the count to four, and the heat of a blush rose up her chest and neck. God. How was she going to look Lucy in the eye the first time they sat down together at that table for a meal?

  V had lost track of the orgasms he’d given her. As if making up for lost time, he’d kept after her until she’d cried exhaustion sometime near dawn. Awash in sensual completion, they’d drifted to sleep with nothing between them but matching, contented smiles.

  Twisting her head, she checked the alarm clock on the night stand. Seven-oh-three. They hadn’t gotten around to discussing what came next, but there would be time for that later. There were two important games taking place in the league today, and the Marauders were slated for the later one. Sam wouldn’t need to be at the complex until noon. She, however, wasn’t so lucky.

  Caroline expected her administrative staff to be on the job by nine on game days. Her friend and boss might have given a green light to V and Sam, but arriving at the complex rumpled from a night of debauchery was bound to raise a few eyebrows.

  She slid from Sam’s arms as gently as she could, and had to bite down on a pained groan. After the excesses of the night, muscles she didn’t know she had tightened in complaint as she tiptoed around the room gathering items of clothing. The rustle of cloth drew her attention, and she straightened with her sweater and jeans tucked to her chest and a high heel dangling from her fingers.

  “Where are you going?” Sam’s bristle-shadowed jaw cracked on a wide yawn.

  V stared at him, sexily mussed and sleepy-eyed, and nearly tossed everything over her shoulder to climb back into bed. As if he’d read her mind, his lips curved in a dark smile and he patted the mattress at his hip.

  “Come back to bed. It’s early yet, and Gracie won’t be dropping Lucy off until nine.”

  Years of professional habit strangled the urge before V could give in to his tempting invitation. She bent to pluck her other shoe from under the bed.

  “I’ve got to be at the complex by then, and I need to run home first for a change of clothes and to shower.” His gaze shifted to the open door of the adjoining bathroom, and she laughed. “Not a chance, Fitzpatrick. I can barely walk as it is.”

  His gaze whipped back and narrowed. “Did I hurt you?”

  She stepped close and, balancing her weight on the mattress beside his shoulder, she pressed a kiss to his mouth. “Don’t even think it.” She tugged the strip of red lace from under his pillow and straightened. “I’m just a little out of practice.”

  The concern vanished and he sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “That’s not the impression I got last night, but I’m willing to,” he shifted his hip and tugged her missing bra from under his thigh, “put in a little overtime to help you out with that.”

  She snickered and dumped her clothes on the foot of the bed, then stepped into her panties. “I’ll take you up on the offer.” She held out her hand. He handed her the lace demicup. “After you win tonight’s game.”

  He raised his eyebrows and blew a sharp breath.

  She grinned and bent her arms at the elbow to snap the back clasp of her bra. “Did you forget today was game day?”

  He propped his hands on the edge of the mattress and slid his gaze over her body in a slow survey. “There’s a smoking hot, naked woman wiggling into red lace underwear in front of me. I’m lucky I can remember my name.”

  A laugh burst from her throat, and she tugged up her jeans, zipped and snapped them. She pulled her sweater over her head. “It’s Sam Fitzpatrick, and he’s due at the complex at noon.”

  “Oh, shit.”

  V’s head popped out the neck hole and met his gaze. “What?”

  “I’m supposed to meet TJ, Aunt Kay, and my parents at their hotel for breakfast.”

  Her fingers clenched on her sweater. “Your parents are here, too?” Of course, they would be. They wouldn’t miss his pro debut. Nerves threatened, and she mentally stomped down on them. If she and Sam could move forward and leave the past behind, everyone else would just have to do the same.

  “They flew in late last night.”

  “Then you’d better get moving.” Smoothing the heavy cotton blend over her waist, she stepped forward and bent to kiss him goodbye.

  Her plan for a speedy departure was derailed the moment her lips met his and he wrapped his arms around her waist. Twenty minutes later, he finally let her go.

  * * * *

  Gracie showed up to gloat two hours before kickoff.

  “Am I good or what?” Grinning, she slid onto the couch opposite V’s desk.

  “What you are is interfering and pushy.” V sat back and took a second to enjoy the grimace wrinkling her friend’s brow, but she couldn’t pull off her affected scowl for more than a moment. Not with her heart so full of happiness she was afraid it would burst. “I’m telling you right now, don’t you ever, ever,” she softened her voice, “change.”

  Gracie squinted. “You are such a bitch.” She plopped her purse to the cushion beside her. “I really thought you were mad.”

  V snickered. “I should be. Your massive manipulation could have backfired.”

  Gracie brought up her chin, and her eyes sparkled smugly. “But it didn’t. Did it?”

  “No.” V grinned. “In fact, it worked like a charm.”

  “Details.” Gracie crossed her legs. “The girls are going to want a full accounting.”

  “The girls are going to be disappointed.”

  V batted her lashes, and Gracie smirked. “Oh, you’re no fun.”

  Laughing, V sat forward. “We haven’t worked out everything, but we’ve agreed to give us another shot, with no stipulations this time.”

  “No relationship is perfect, sweetie, not even the successful ones, and many of them get started with a much weaker foundation than you and Sam have.”

  “That’s just it. Our foundation is what worries me.” V tapped her pencil against the legal pad she’d been working on and frowned. “We’re starting fresh, but our past isn’t gone. It’s sort of just…shoved into the closet.”

  “Hiya, beautiful. Something wrong?”

  V jerked her head around toward the door. Wyatt Hunter slumped against the jamb.

  “No.” She drew out the word while shooting a quick glance at Gracie. Mentally scrolling through their conversation, V couldn’t recall either of them saying anything particularly juicy or damaging to Sam.

  Wyatt shoved off the frame, walked into the office, and propped a hip on V’s desk. “You sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure. Why would you ask that?”

  “I don’t know.” He studied her face and his voice held a note of curiosity, as if he were trying to work something out. “But something’s different about you today.” He winked at Gracie, then turned back and met V’s gaze. “Now that I think about it, Fitzpatrick’s snarls held a little less heat than usual this morning.” A smile twitched at the corner of his perfect lips. “Hell, he even smiled at the end of the pre-game meeting when Tuck congratulat
ed him on finally sealing the deal with you last night.”

  Gracie snickered into her hand, turning it into a cough.

  V’s jaw dropped, and she snapped it shut to grind her teeth. She pinned Wyatt with a lethal glare. “Tuck’s a dead man, and you’re an ass.” Wyatt grinned, and she growled low in her throat. “What are you doing up here, anyway? Shouldn’t you be downstairs getting ready or something?”

  He arched a brow as if he was surprised by her question. “It’s game day.”

  She rolled her eyes. “No.”

  He squinted and crossed his arms. “That’s not how it works, sweetheart. You’re supposed to let me ask you first.” He picked up the paperweight from the far edge of the desk and flipped it over to read the manufacturer’s name. “Marry me and have my babies.”

  She smirked, but said nothing, and he returned the small glass dome to its spot.

  “Okay, now you say no.”

  Gracie laughed outright. “I’ve heard you were easy, Wyatt, but I didn’t realize how easy.” She snorted. “That’s quite an approach, doing the asking and the rejecting yourself.”

  He smiled and shrugged. “She turns me down every time, anyway, and now I know why.”

  “I turn you down because I’m too old for you, and I have an aversion to being just another concubine in a man’s harem.”

  “You tell him, girl,” Gracie cheered from the couch.

  He ignored her. Leaning forward, he propped a muscled forearm on his thick thigh. His gray-green eyes glittered with mischief. “You’re ageless, sweetheart, and with that face, you make me forget about every other woman.”

  V snorted a laugh. “You’re so full of it.”

  His dimples made a reappearance, and he straightened. “So, you and the new offensive coordinator, huh? I guess it’s just as well you were able to resist me this past year. With Fitzpatrick calling the plays, I’d be in traction from being sacked on every down because I’d had my hands on his girl.”

  “Please. Sam’s a professional. He wouldn’t do any such thing. Besides, you asking and me turning you down is all about your winning streak. You wouldn’t have known what to do if I’d ever said yes.”

  He lowered his lashes and curled his lips into a leer. “For you, Miss Price, I would have taken the chance.”

  “And you’d have found yourself sacked on every down because you’d had your hands on my girl.”

  Every eye swung to the open doorway as Sam stepped into the office.

  “Geez, it’s like Grand Central in here,” Gracie purred from the couch.

  V stared at Sam as he approached her desk. He looked at Wyatt, but didn’t appear angry.

  “Heard that, did ya?” Wyatt slipped from her desk to face him.

  Sam jerked his head toward the door. “Scram.”

  Wyatt grinned, winked at V, and walked toward the door, calling over his shoulder. “Same time next week, sweetheart.”

  “He is an ass,” Gracie grumbled and stood. She swept up her purse. “And I think I’ll head up to the sky box so you can wish Sam good luck in the proper manner.” She grinned at V and blew Sam a kiss as she breezed from the room.

  V turned to him the moment they were alone. “Sam, Wyatt was only—”

  “Making sure he wins tonight’s game?” He stepped around her desk. “I know all about his superstitious rituals.”

  She blinked. “You do?”

  He slid his arms around her waist and tucked her close. “A very smart lady once told me the most important relationship I’ll have in this job is with my quarterback, and she was right. Hunter and I had lunch after the press conference on Monday. He said he hoped I wasn’t a jealous bastard, because until the streak was broken, he’d be asking you out every game day.”

  She smiled and slipped her arms up his chest to link her hands at the back of his neck. “But you’re not a jealous bastard.”

  “When it comes to you, yes, I am.” He nuzzled her neck with nibbling kisses.

  “Hmm. Sounds like a problem.” She arched her head to the side to give him better access. He licked his favorite spot and she shivered.

  “It might have been, but we worked it out.”

  “You did, did you?”

  “He can continue to ask, as long as he does it in front of me. Which is why we stopped by before we headed downstairs.” He nibbled his way over her cheek and spoke against her lips. “And when you tell him no, I get to kiss my girl.”

  Chapter 25

  With his first professional win under his belt, Sam had been flying high all week. So had V, but for reasons in addition to football. She’d never dreamed she could be so happy. Of course, not everything had been sunshine and roses. At the private post-game party in the complex’s visitors’ lounge, V had gotten the stink eye from Sam’s mother. Unlike his father, who hugged V and said it was about time the two of them found each other again, his mom hadn’t taken the news of their reconciliation well. In a surprising show of kindness, TJ had dragged her away to go meet Tuck before she could make a fuss.

  Sam shrugged off his mother’s disapproval, saying she’d come around in time. V hoped he was right. Their foundation was already complicated enough without her being a source of friction between mother and son.

  Lucy, on the other hand, couldn’t have been happier. V hadn’t technically moved in with them, but some of her things hung in Sam’s closet and she’d stayed over five out of the last seven nights. That wasn’t good enough for Sam’s daughter, however. Apparently, she wanted the matter settled.

  Throughout the week, she continued her convince-V-to-move-in campaign. The girl was as bad as Gracie. It also appeared Lucy was getting advice as well as props from her mentor. V recognized Gracie’s hand in the candlelit dinner for two waiting in the kitchen when she and Sam arrived at the house last night. The incongruous mix of Gracie’s borrowed Wedgewood place settings and the large bucket of Sam’s favorite delivery chicken, mashed potatoes, and cole-slaw, made V laugh, but the sweet sentiment also melted her heart.

  She smiled at the memory as she stepped off the elevator several hours before kick-off for tonight’s game. Everyone on the Marauders payroll, from the players and staff to the stadium personnel, were working long hours. Including V. As soon as the season was over, hopefully with a Super Bowl victory, V would give Sam’s daughter her wish.

  She breezed into her office, surprised to find Sam and Wyatt waiting. She stumbled to a stop. Her gaze flicked between Sam in the chair behind her desk and Wyatt, sprawled on the couch. Her mouth dropped open and she shook her head. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. You were serious?”

  Sam rolled the chair back and stood. “A smart man doesn’t screw with a winning streak, Red. Especially when he’s about to step on the field in a championship game.” He shot Wyatt a leer. “Do your thing, Hunter. They’re waiting for us downstairs.”

  Wyatt unfolded his six-foot-three frame from the couch and walked toward her. “He’s right. So, what do you say you dump this stiff and run off with me to the Bahamas?”

  “No, thanks,” she answered in a sugary sweet tone.

  Sam chuckled, and she grinned as Wyatt flipped him the bird over his shoulder and continued past her and out the door.

  Rounding the desk, Sam crossed the space and folded her in his arms. His kiss was fast and hard, and over way too soon. “Sorry, they really are waiting for us.”

  “I know.” She stepped clear of his arms. “Go help Wyatt win his game.”

  He squinted and swatted her gently on the ass before he headed for the door. She laughed and walked around her desk.

  “Red.”

  She glanced up to find Sam paused in the doorway. “I left a little something for you in the bottom drawer.” With a wink, he was gone.

  Surprise and pleasure tickled through her as she dropped into her chair and slid open the bottom drawer on the left. Nothing there but her binders. She checked the one on the right and froze. A small square
box sat on top of a folded sheet of paper. Her heart began race and she couldn’t catch her breath.

  Oh, God.

  Her hand shook as she picked them up. Setting the box on her desk, she unfolded the paper and read the simple lines written in Sam’s bold script.

  This time, we’ll do it right.

  Starting with a ring.

  Please, be my wife.

  The breath shuddered in her chest, and she set aside the note to flip open the top of the box. A diamond solitaire sat in a bed of blue satin, winking in the morning sunlight splashing through the windows.

  Shivers raced over her skin as she stared at his ring. “Oh, Sam.” She eased back in her chair. The silver band and cut stone taunted her, tempting her with all that could be and reminding her of the price to be paid in accepting it. Living with him, loving him, those decisions were easily made, but marriage? Marriage was a promise. A vow to love and honor.

  She loved him. Always had. Always would. But any promise spoken by her without giving him the truth wouldn’t honor him. Instead, her vow would be a mockery of his love.

  It has to be all or nothing.

  That’s what he’d said. What he needed and wanted from her. His ring represented all, yet she’d given nothing. He’d apologized when she’d been the one to blame. He’d compromised his principles, giving her his trust while she’d distrusted him. He offered her everything, and she continued to cower in fear.

  Anger and self-incrimination clawed at her heart as the echo of her father’s voice whispered in her mind. She clenched her teeth against a whimper.

  My pretty little kitten. So soft.

  Revulsion shuddered through her. Her skin crawled at the memory of rough fingers slipping beneath the hem of her favorite Barbie nightgown and brushing her inner thigh. She squeezed her legs together in futile denial as the nightmare memory replayed in her mind.

  Nausea boiling in her belly, rising up her throat in a burning trail.

  I don’t like that, Daddy.

  Cringing fear gripping her as his fingers rise higher, peeling down her panties to touch her private place.