by Max Monroe
“Towels for Phil Latio? What about pillow mints? Pillow mints for Phil Latio?”
To my satisfaction, I watched the man stop at the room four doors down and fumble with his keycard while cubes of ice fell to the floor. It took him a good ten times before he got the swipe motion right and gained access to his room.
I knocked on the door one last time until I called it quits and headed back into my room. My search to find Thatch and wring his neck would be continued…after I grabbed a bag of M&M’S from the vending machine, laid my tired ass on my bed, and watched a few episodes of Teen Mom.
Once I reached my room with my vending machine loot, I slipped off my heels, took off my skirt, and plopped my ass onto the bed.
I’d find him eventually, and I figured text messages were basically the same thing as sending out a search party.
I shot him a quick, neutral text How’s your day? and flipped on the television. I only managed to down half a bag of Doritos before he responded.
Thatch: Terrible. I miss you.
Me: Are you home?
Thatch: Yes.
“Lying popsucker motherfudger,” I muttered to myself as I typed out a response.
Me: Since you’re home, do you want to Skype? I’m all naked and cozy in bed…
Yeah, I wasn’t naked, but he didn’t know that. I could undress with the speed of an Olympian if I had to.
Nine times out of ten, if I told Thatch I wanted phone sex and I was naked, I was. But the other one percent of the time, I offered without any intention of following through, just to earn some points, while painting my nails and reading through a People magazine.
Of course, that one percent had changed since pregnancy upped my randy scale to frightening—or awesome—levels. But before I got knocked up, I’d talk him into doing it old school, without the video chat element. That way, when one of our phone-sex sessions ended on day one of shark week, I could lie in bed, sporting a pair of granny panties, with an ice pack on my vagina, faking moans and doing my best to dirty-talk Thatch to completion.
But like I said, he didn’t know that, nor did he ever need to know that.
Thatch: I think I’ll pass on the Skype sex tonight, honey.
Me: For the second night in a row?
Thatch: Yes, but I have good reason so you can’t be mad about it.
Me: Unless you’ve come down with an incurable disease that requires a dick transplant and you’re literally in the hospital waiting on your donor penis, there is absolutely no reason good enough to cancel on me and my tits two nights in a row.
Thatch: Are you sure about that?
Me: Yes.
Thatch: Sure enough to bet on it?
Me: Yes, but I’m not taking your stupid bets tonight.
Thatch: But the last bet ended so well for you… Don’t you remember?
Me: Of course I remember.
Thatch: Wait…Which bet are you thinking of?
Me: The night you bet me one hour of oral and a pair of my now favorite Louboutins that I couldn’t suck you off in under a minute.
Thatch: So, oral trumps our first engagement?
Whoops. But in my defense, it was the best goddamn oral effort of my life, and my red suede Louboutins were so fluffing pretty.
Me: I guess you need to up your engagement game.
Thatch: Up my game? I’m pretty sure I can’t up my game if we’re already engaged to be married, honey. Three times, in fact.
Me: Are you sure about that? If my memory serves me right, the last proposal was from ME, and YOU gave me a goddamn MAYBE.
Thatch: You wanna marry me?
Me: I’ll have to think about that later. I’m too busy staving off insanity because I’m all horned up and you don’t wanna bone me via Skype.
Thatch: Can I bone you in person?
Three knocks to my door followed his message.
Thatch: Open the door, honey.
Slowly and without urgency, I got out of bed and walked toward the door. I opened it on a swing and came face-to-face with Thatcher, standing in my doorway, looking so goddamn good in jeans and the “Cassie’s Bitch” T-shirt I’d bought him months ago that I swore Zeus himself had sent me my very own version of a Greek god straight from Mount Olympus.
“You’re not at home.”
“You’re not naked.”
We both blurted out in accusation, and the big, bad, lying man had the audacity to look upset over my tiny white lie. I poked him directly in the chest on a hard jab. “Don’t try to turn the tables on me, Phil Latio. I know you’ve been lying like a mothertrucker all weekend.”
“Are you going to invite me in so I can explain?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know… Should I?”
He nodded and had the nerve to flash his version of puppy-dog eyes. I hated when he did that. If I had a nickel for how many times he ended up getting a blow job from that look alone… Well, I’d have a lot of fudging nickels.
I acquiesced and held the door open but kept my expression neutral, even though I had the overwhelming urge to throw myself into his arms and breathe him in. When my nose caught a whiff of his body wash and cologne as he walked past me and into the room, I had to practically shove my puss-ay back inside my underwear.
Jesus. Thirsty much, you randy bitch?
Thatch sat down on the edge of the bed and said, “Come here, honey,” motioning with a wave to match his words. I rolled my eyes but followed nonetheless. The sad truth was I had missed him too much not to.
He pulled me between his thighs and rested his hands on my hips as he moved the bottom of my sleep shirt up with his nose and pressed his mouth to my belly. He stayed like that for a long moment, his lips touching the skin below my belly button, and I watched as relief and happiness and overwhelming love consumed his face.
When his warm gaze met my eyes, I had to swallow a dreamy, content sigh.
He smiled. “I know it’s only been two days, but God, I missed you.”
“I would’ve thought you were too busy coming up with lies to find the brainpower to actually miss me.”
He shook his head. “It wasn’t like that.”
“Then, what was it like? Because, honestly, even though I know you wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize what we have, I can’t deny I’ve had a few awful thoughts cross my mind.”
But who wouldn’t? Being lied to wasn’t one of those things that encouraged confidence and contentment. If anything, it did the complete opposite and left you feeling vulnerable and uncertain.
“I’m a little afraid to tell you the truth.”
I scrunched my eyebrows together. “Well, now I’m a little afraid for the truth too.”
“Cass, honey, I love you. This isn’t about anything besides that, so put those outrageous thoughts out of your mind.”
“Give me a reason to put them out of my mind.”
A nervous smile crested his lips. “You’re going to think I’m insane when I tell you this.”
I quirked a brow. “What’s new?”
“I’ve been following you,” he blurted out, and I blinked. “I’ve been following you around because I just can’t not know that you and our baby are okay. I’m literally driving myself crazy over the idea that something could happen to you both, and I’d never forgive myself if I wasn’t there. So, yeah, I’ve been following you like a creepy bastard.” He looked down and muttered to himself, but I couldn’t make out the words. Something about jaywalking, maybe.
“So, you followed me to Phoenix to make sure we’re okay?”
He nodded. Grimaced a little.
“And Seattle…and San Diego…and well, pretty much every single place you’ve traveled to since we found out you’re pregnant.”
My jaw dropped in surprise. “You’ve been stalking me?”
“I know,” he said and gripped my hips tighter as if he was afraid I would jet out of the room. “I’ve reached psychopath levels of crazy here, but I couldn’t stop myself. I didn’t want to suffocate you wit
h my neuroses, so I just kind of took it upon myself to keep an eye on you guys from the sidelines without standing in your way.”
“You’ve been stalking me this whole time?”
“Yes.” He buried his face in my stomach. “Don’t leave me. I promise I’ll get this under control. I swear to God, this is the last trip I’ll take.”
I lifted up his chin with my fingers until his gaze met mine. “You are a fluffing idiot.”
“I know,” he agreed, looking almost despondent—it didn’t look at all right on his face.
“That is by far the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
His eyes went wide in surprise. “You’re not mad?”
I shook my head, and a few tears escaped from my eyes and slipped down my cheeks. He loved me so much he was losing his mind.
God, this was the best thing I’d ever heard.
“I’m the complete opposite of mad. I feel like I just fell in love with you all over again.”
I pushed him down onto the bed and straddled his hips and didn’t waste another second, crashing my lips to his. I kissed him hard and deep and poured everything I had into that kiss. This man, my man, had been stalking me for nearly two months, and hell if it wasn’t the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for me.
“Fuck, Cass.” He groaned against my lips as his big hands slid down my waist and grabbed my ass, pulling my hips toward his. His dick felt like it could hammer nails, and in my mind, I was already plotting out how I could melt myself down and fashion myself into the shape of one. It might be weird, but at least I’d be skinny.
As I kissed him, I whispered against his lips, “I have something to confess, too.”
“Something? What something?” he asked, slightly distracted by testing the weight of my tits in each hand like an actual scale.
“I lied to the bellhop when I asked him for your room number,” I admitted as I licked across his jaw. He groaned and leaned forward, nuzzling my breasts like pillows. Or maybe he thought he could make the fabric of my shirt disappear by scrubbing it off with his face. “I think he might think you’re a famous porn star who had to quit the industry because you’re waiting on a penis transplant.”
He leaned back and stared up at me. “He might think that?”
I shrugged. “Okay, so he definitely thinks that.”
“And why does he think that?”
I scoffed. “Hello? How do you think? I fluffing told him.”
“Now it all makes sense.” He chuckled softly and shook his head in amusement. “Everyone behind the desk was trying to stare at my dick, you know, inconspicuously, but I just figured I had some VPL going.” I raised my eyebrows and he explained. “Visible Penis Line. I saw it on one of your book blogs.”
He pressed a smacking kiss to my lips and gave my ass a good, hard smack. “I should have known the stares were more intense than normal.”
“Thanks to my evil ways,” I declared with a laugh.
“Exactly.” He shook his head and laughed again. “God, I love you.”
I gazed into his smirking brown eyes and knew with absolute certainty he wasn’t alone. I fell deeper under his spell a little more each day. “Is it time for makeup sex now?”
“No, honey, it’s time for marathon sex.”
He flipped me onto my back and lifted my shirt up and over my head. His fingers were sliding into my panties, and he had sucked a hardened nipple into his hot mouth before I could offer a response.
I moaned when his thumb joined the party and started rubbing smooth circles around my clit.
“Yeah, definitely marathon sex,” he agreed with his earlier comment. “I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk tomorrow.”
“What about the game?” I asked, but in all honesty, I gave fluff all about that game. At that point, the only balls I was in the mood for were Thatch’s.
“I’ll fucking carry you,” was the last thing he said before he tore off my panties, spread my thighs, pulled his perfect cock out of his jeans and buried himself to the hilt.
“Thatch, yes,” I whimpered and lifted my arms so I could grip the headboard with my fingers.
“That’s right, honey. Hold on tight. We’re going for gold in Phoenix tonight.”
I couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up and out of my chest, but Thatch stopped it for me with a carefully placed rotation of his hips.
“Oh, holy hell,” I moaned as the head of his dick put pressure on the perfect spot inside of me.
“You’re everything,” he whispered in my ear as I tightened my thighs around his waist. One kiss, two, he touched his lips to my neck before licking a line from my collarbone to my jaw. “Watching you these last few weeks, Cass,” he went on, his voice so genuine it was nearly tortured, “I could not have imagined a better version of you.”
My eyes closed and my head lolled back. An opportunist, Thatch used the space to lick his way down my chest until his lips met my breast.
His hips worked faster and deeper, seeking every inch of connection he could get, and I welcomed it. Warmth and love danced in his eyes as he lifted them to meet mine, and I fell right down their well.
Into comfort and safety—and right into my orgasm.
It took me by surprise, so sudden, so powerful, but Thatch didn’t look surprised at all; he looked like he’d been waiting.
Waiting for me and this moment and everything we were and would ever be.
“You’re everything too,” I told him softly as he groaned through the height of his climax.
And he was—everything I’d never been smart enough to hope for.
Winnie stood at the side of the field in casual clothes—or so she would describe them.
To me, there was nothing casual about the way her jeans framed and lifted her ass or the sight of all that perfect, creamy skin revealed by the sleeveless cut of her tank top.
It was hot as balls here, even in October, and I didn’t blame her for dressing down a little. There was no reason to come to the last walk-through practice in femme-fatale battle gear, but I’d thought she was only dangerous in those skirts and crisp business shirts. In her daily gear, she was like something out of my teenage wet dreams—the ones that used to make me actually come in my sheets.
Yep. I’m admitting to that. Any man who doesn’t is a liar.
Quinn Bailey stepped back, shuffling out of the pocket with ease and lobbing a light pass over the heads of waiting defenders at the center of the field. Bransky was late to the crossover, behind the pass, and would have been demolished during a game-day scenario of this play, so the sound of the whistle from Coach Bennett’s lips was no surprise.
“Bransky!” he yelled. “Get your ass back here and run it again!”
I would have laughed if it hadn’t been for the expression on Bransky’s face that made it look like Bennett had just told him his favorite grandmother died. He was still young, right out of college, and his fucking people-pleasing attitude was one in a million. The kid seriously didn’t know the meaning of quit, and he was going to go places because of it. Not just in the NFL, but in life. The sad truth was, so few people worked that hard anymore.
My eyes moved back to Winnie and the white turf of the sideline under her feet. Thanks to a long-standing relationship with the president of Arizona State University, we had a place to come just outside of Phoenix, in Tempe, that wasn’t the opposition’s territory to run through our plays last minute—to make sure they were second nature to each and every guy on the field.
Normally, I tried to stay removed—it wasn’t my job to coach, no matter how bad I wanted to—so I kept to a seat up in the bleachers.
But as much as I hated to admit it, the call of Winnie was strong. I found myself wanting to go stand on the sideline just to see if I could catch a whiff of her, and goddamn, that was fucking dangerous.
Thankfully, the ringing of my phone put my ass—that was a solid inch in the air—back on my seat.
After strongly considering
sending him to voicemail, I worried that maybe something was wrong with Cassie and he needed me to do something about it. And holy hell, I’d feel like an asshole if I ignored a call like that.
I pushed the green phone icon to accept, and he started talking before I could say anything in greeting.
“I need access to the field right after the game,” Thatch said, and I groaned.
“Could you maybe, every once in a while, call me when you don’t want something that’s nearly impossible?”
“This isn’t nearly impossible,” he insisted, a hint of desperation in his normally playful voice.
“This isn’t a home game. This isn’t my stadium, in case you’ve forgotten. My word doesn’t rule. I can’t just grant you access. I have to call Hank Bastian and ask him because it’s his stadium. His field. His access to grant.”
“Great.”
“Great?”
“Yeah,” he responded without missing a beat. “You obviously know how to make it happen, so do that.”
“It’s not that simple,” I told him.
“Wes. Please. I want to get married on the field tomorrow, after the game. I’ve got everything ready. Cassie’s parents are coming last minute under the pretense of watching Sean play, and I’m going to make her my wife. I need access to that field. I’m begging you. Please.”
“Okay,” I agreed. There really wasn’t any other option.
“Thank God,” Thatch exhaled, his relief so thick I could feel it coating my skin and settling deep into my gut. And despite my own feelings about marriage and kids, I couldn’t stop my smile.
“Text me when you have confirmation about the field, and, yeah, yeah, I know I’m a pain in your ass, but the sooner the better. I’m really counting on it, and I have a few things to do after I get it. Plus, I’ve got Cassie on my ass since she found out I’m here, and I have very limited time to get all of this shit done.”