by Sara Rider
“Yes, Alex. That’s what I want,” she moaned.
He lowered his mouth to her left breast and flicked his tongue across the tight little bud. It was an achingly soft touch, but packed with as much electricity as a spark plug.
He pulled back, mouth curving into a wicked smile. “I don’t think that’s what you really want.” He hooked his finger into her panties and tugged them down, leaving her completely naked beneath him. Completely at his mercy.
“You’re so wet, querida. I think what you really want is for me to lick your delicious pussy until you explode beneath me.” He ran his rough, heavy palm up her thigh and parted her folds with his fingers. She arched her back off the stairs, hips undulating with overwhelming need as his mouth drew closer.
He stopped inches from her pulsing clit and sighed. “It’s a shame that’d be against the rules. We should probably just head to bed for a good night’s rest.”
“Jerk!” She caught him by a belt loop before he could pull away.
He offered a lazy smile in return, which only served to fuel her exasperation. She worked furiously to unleash him from his boxers. She squeezed his thick cock hard enough to let him know she wasn’t playing anymore and lifted her hips until the tip of his shaft pressed against her heat. The relief was so intense, she nearly came from the single touch.
“Lean back,” he urged, nudging her hand off his shaft and replacing it with his own. She rested on her elbows and repositioned her hips to give him a better angle as he guided the length of his cock back and forth along her slick heat. Waves of pleasure built inside her until they crashed into her core, engulfing her with a shattering orgasm.
His expression intensified as he cupped her cheek and brushed her lower lip with his thumb. “Done playing?”
She gulped back a deep breath, trying to steady her voice, and shook her head. “Not yet. I’m going to enjoy watching you squirm as I mess up those perfectly constructed hospital corners on your bed.” As amazing as that orgasm was, it wasn’t enough to alleviate her need. She needed to feel him inside her.
“Seems to me you’re the one who always ends up doing the squirming.” He scooped her into his arms and carried her the rest of the way to his bedroom. He set her down at the edge of the mattress and kicked off the rest of his clothes.
She rose up to her knees and took in the sight of his powerful body. She ran her fingertips along his broad shoulders, trailing her way to his chest, soon exploring every ripple of muscle through his torso with her hands and mouth. Three weeks ago, she couldn’t imagine throwing away every shield, every wall, every defense she put up between herself and Alex. Now, as she pressed a kiss over his rapidly beating heart, she couldn’t fathom her life without this unbridled intimacy. She couldn’t imagine her life without him in it.
“Hang on,” he whispered as her kisses descended to his hip. He dashed out of the room and returned with a condom in hand and a smile so warm and genuine, it made every inch of her skin tingle. Not just with lust, but with something else she couldn’t quite name. In these last few seconds, the energy in the room had shifted leaving her dizzy.
He sheathed himself quickly while she scooted back on the bed. He crawled toward her, settling between her legs. “No more teasing?” he asked, pressing the heavy weight of his erection at her core.
“No more teasing.” She kissed him just as he plunged into her, letting him fill her in every way.
She wrapped her legs around his waist to pull him in deeper while he rocked against her, clutching his shoulders to prevent him from breaking the kiss. She would never get enough of him. He picked up the pace of his thrusts, swirling his tongue tenderly against hers, disorienting her with the lethal combination of hard and sweet. Pure instinct took over. She matched his rhythm, rocking herself against him as he pounded into her, propelled by the way it made him grunt and moan against her mouth. A sheen of sweat slickened their bodies as they built to a furious pace. His rich, spicy scent enveloped her, pushing her over the edge. She cried out and let the avalanche of pleasure consume her.
He came a moment later, body stiffening before collapsing on top of her.
She didn’t want this perfect moment to end. Luckily, he didn’t seem to mind the way she clung to him in their postcoital glow, legs coiled around his waist. She’d been worried earlier when he pushed her about her support system, like maybe he was already sick of taking care of her. But those worries had faded so quickly, it was like they never existed. There was no way a man could make love to her the way he just did and not care deeply, which was a good thing because somewhere along the way she’d fallen incredibly hard for this man and couldn’t imagine not having him in her life.
23
JAIME NEVER GOT NERVOUS. She didn’t just thrive under pressure; she wrestled pressure to the ground, threw a leash on it, and made it her pet mascot. But when she looked down at her fingers and realized there wasn’t a single nail left on either hand to gnaw on, she was forced to admit to herself that she was maybe, possibly, just a little bit nervous.
The big game was less than an hour away, and everyone was feeling the heat. Lainey lay on her back on the slate-gray floors of the Portland stadium, meditating in her Zen-like way. Alyssa laced and relaced her cleats like the secret to the universe would be revealed when she achieved the perfect knot. Lynn stood in front of the bathroom mirror around the corner, running through a series of self-talk and bizarre grunting, and Camille knelt in front of the bench praying.
The game itself wasn’t the reason for the nubby little stumps perched at the edge of her fingers where her beautifully manicured nails used to be. She knew that if Coach gave her the chance, she’d play better than ever. It was the fact that after today, the season was over. The Falcons, in this incarnation, were no longer. Every player was off to something different. Someplace different. The energy in the locker room was almost surreal. For the first time in their team’s short history, they were walking into a stadium where the fans were an unknown entity. Usually they knew they were surrounded by their awesome Seattle fans, or enemy territory. They could fuel themselves from either one of those polar energies. Portland was right between LA and Seattle. Who knew what the mix of fans would be?
Jaime pulled her long black socks over her shin guards, making sure the pair was perfectly equal in height. She had spent the last week doing everything in her power to prove she deserved a chance to play, down to a perfectly pressed uniform and ponytail without a single wisp of hair out of place. She reached into her bag for her cleats just as her phone buzzed.
She looked at the call display and nearly dropped the phone in surprise.
Her folks were calling.
She didn’t realize they even knew the Falcons had made it to the championship. How long had she waited for them to give her so much as a pat on the head for her athletic career? To care about something just because she was passionate about it?
She swallowed back her swirling emotions and answered the call, heart thumping in her chest. “Hi!”
“Jaime,” her mom’s voice rang through. “How are you?”
“Good. Great! I mean, I’m a bit nervous, which is weird for me, but mostly excited.”
“Excited?”
“Yeah, of course I am.” Acid slithered through her veins, pooling in her stomach. Her mom didn’t know the biggest game of the year was less than an hour away. She closed her eyes and exhaled. “Why are you calling?”
“I haven’t gotten your check yet. The eight hundred dollars you promised for the Childhood Cancer walk.”
“Bad timing, Mom,” Jaime said through gritted teeth. It was easier to deal with her irritation than with the massive guilt surging in her chest. In the midst of all the chaos of the past few weeks, she had completely forgotten that she promised to send her mom a donation.
“Yes, well, the deadline is tomorrow.”
She winced and brushed her bangs of
f her forehead. “The Cancer Society will still take a donation next week, even if it doesn’t come through the walk.”
“It’s the fifteen-year anniversary, Jaime,” her mother said with so much anguish it was nearly a sob. “How would your sister feel if we didn’t honor her memory this year?”
“How would she feel?” Jaime repeated, hearing her voice rise. “She’d be pretty damn pissed that the only thing we honor about her is the fact that she’s dead. You know what I think? I think she would hate that all you’ve done for the past fifteen years is grieve and forgotten how much she loved to laugh. And the way she’d sneak into your room to steal your high heels all the time. Or how she used to tell us she was going to marry her favorite stuffed penguin when she grew up and made us sit through her silly practice weddings every night for two weeks when we were seven. You know what she would really want? She would want us to go to goddamn Disneyland as a goddamn family and celebrate her life by having fun!”
She threw her phone into her bag and slumped onto the bench, burying her face in her arms and shaking uncontrollably. Never in her twenty-five years had she ever yelled at her mom like that. Oh hell, her poor mom. She didn’t deserve that. Not really. Lainey stepped in front of her and wrapped her long arms around Jaime’s shoulders in a tight, restraining hug.
“Hey. You’re okay.” A statement, not a question.
“I’m okay,” she repeated.
Lainey dropped her head until their foreheads pressed against each other. “I know.”
When she released her from the hug, Jaime realized everyone in the small locker room was staring at her, having just witnessed her meltdown. A dozen pairs of eyes wondering. Speculating. Judging.
With a shaky breath, she steeled herself to do the one thing she had been avoiding. “I know I haven’t been very open about what’s been happening these last few weeks. A lot’s been happening. Some of it good, some of it not so good. And the truth is, I’m still not ready to talk about it. I don’t know if I ever will be. But all of you need to know that this team is what has gotten me through the hard parts. Knowing you have my back is the best support I could ask for. No matter what happens today, we’re ending this season knowing we achieved something great. We’ve proven to the world that sixteen women united by passion is an unbreakable force. I say we forget about worrying whether we win or not. Why wait until the final whistle to celebrate? This game is our celebration. One last chance to do what we love with the people we love. Let’s go out there and celebrate for our families, our fans, and most importantly, for ourselves. Who’s with me?”
The room erupted in cheers. Before she knew it, Jaime was tackled to the ground and buried beneath an avalanche of bodies.
Victor and Gina entered the room, breaking up the overzealous group hug. Jaime pulled herself off the ground and to the bench, finally finding the elation she needed to blast away her nerves. She’d done everything she could to convince Coach she deserved another chance. She was proud of her effort. It was out of her hands now.
Gina held up the small whiteboard that held the team’s lineup and dove right into the strategy talk.
Jaime’s name was there. Left midfield. Hallelujah.
ALEX PACED ALONG THE players’ box on the sideline. Victor, Gina, and half the players on the bench were doing the same. This was the fastest, most adrenaline-fueled and wickedly technical game he’d ever witnessed. LA had brought everything they had. Rapid one-touch passes and shots from every angle and distance that had Lynn bounding up and down like a yo-yo.
But the Falcons were more than up for the challenge. Eleven players moved the ball with the inhuman precision of a cyborg race, bearing down on every LA attack and pouncing on every turnover so quickly, it almost gave Alex whiplash to watch. The first half had passed without a score for either side, but early in the second Jaime took hold of a quick pass from Alyssa and sped off down the line, dancing her way effortlessly through a horde of white jerseys like the ball was surgically attached to her left foot. She pulled off a low cross to Jo just as the huge LA right back slammed her body into Jaime’s chest. With an incredible slide, Jo managed to reach her foot to the ball and redirect it past the goalie’s hand.
That had opened the floodgates.
Less than twenty minutes later, the score was four–three, Falcons. Jo had picked up another one-touch volley from a corner delivered by Jaime. Lainey, so deadly in front of the net, managed to slip in two nearly identical quick goals past the keeper on breakaway runs. Both times, it was Jaime who slotted the ball through the tightly woven LA defense.
His woman was on fire.
Every time she touched the ball, magic happened.
Unfortunately, the Angels weren’t giving up. They were matching the Falcons goal for goal, rallying hard to equalize the score. The fans were going wild, getting one of the best shows of their lives. All Alex was getting was a newfound case of heartburn. It was clear to everyone that Jaime was the key to the Falcons’ attack. The Angels built up the pressure on Jaime, banging her around like a rag doll, more than once taking a cheap shot at her ankle.
An LA midfielder intercepted the Falcons’ goal kick and pressed forward for a quick counterattack. Camilla chased down the attacking player, forcing her to run wide of the net. The player managed to sneak in a cross before Camilla’s tackle. An LA forward picked up the cross and knocked it into the near post.
He threw his head back and sighed. As a sports fan, he appreciated that this was the kind of high-stakes game that would burn itself into the collective memory of the soccer world. But as a Falcon, he wanted his team to eviscerate LA. It was a good thing there were no real injuries so far, because it’d be nearly impossible to tear his attention away from the game.
The game continued as the minutes ticked by, not giving anyone—the players or the fans—a chance to catch their breath. Overtime wouldn’t be the end of the world. The Falcons were fit enough to maintain their breakneck pace a while longer, but the victory would be so much sweeter if they won in regulation.
Nadia intercepted a pass in front of the Falcons’ eighteen-yard box and cleared it down the pitch. Jaime caught hold of the ball near the half and took off like a rocket, feinting in every direction without breaking her stride. The entire stadium shifted in their seats as she narrowly skimmed past the third LA player in a row and headed toward the net.
It felt like someone had reached into his stomach and twisted his guts as he watched her. Behind him, the players on the bench whispered, “Go, go, go,” in perfect unison.
With the LA center back barreling down on her, Jaime knocked a quick pass back to Alyssa at the top of the box, ending her monumental run. Defenders swarmed around Lainey and Jo, leaving Alyssa no options. Out of nowhere, Jaime picked up speed again, calling for the ball. In a flash of creative genius, Alyssa lobbed the ball, landing it perfectly at Jaime’s chest.
Jaime trapped the ball just outside the six-yard box and surged forward to the net. She pulled her right leg back to swing for a shot. The keeper charged out just as a defender ran back in a last-ditch effort. The only thing that could stop Jaime from getting that victory was a cheap shot. Which is exactly what the defender made.
Her elbow collided with Jaime’s face, knocking her to the ground, while the ball trailed languidly out of bounds.
Alex grabbed his kit in a fury, ready to run to her side, but Sam stepped in front of him. “Hey, I got this.” She pried the kit from his hand and ran out on the field.
It killed him not to make sure she was okay. The fact that Jaime was on her feet before Sam even reached her calmed his raging nerves.
Sam jogged back to the sidelines after a quick assessment, leaving Jaime on the field to finish out the game. “She’s fine. A black eye, but fine.”
Alex breathed a sigh of relief. But less than a second later, the air sucked out of his lungs again. Somewhere in the flurry, he hadn�
��t noticed that the ref had called a penalty shot. Jaime and Lainey stood at the edge of the eighteen-yard box, heads bowed together, no doubt discussing who was taking the shot. Traditionally, the fouled player took the shot, but Lainey was the best penalty taker on the team, probably the best in the entire league. With the championship on the line, there was no question who needed to take the shot, despite the fact that Jaime had just played the game of her life.
“It’s not some damn peewee soccer league game. Just take the bloody shot,” Gina called out. Victor only shook his head.
Lainey pointed a finger at Jaime, who threw her hands up in the air, frustration palpable across the field. But what Jaime did next shocked him. She walked to the penalty spot and lined up for the shot.
Alex let out a small laugh and shook his head. It wasn’t the first time the power of female friendships surprised him. It probably wouldn’t be the last, either.
Jaime lined up ten paces behind the ball, the steady rise and fall of her chest visible from across the field. The goalkeeper launched off the line a half second before Jaime’s instep connected with the ball, diving to the left and stretching her long body across the net.
Too bad she dived the wrong way. The ball easily slotted into the back right corner.
Jaime pumped her fist in the air, and the crowd exploded.
LA tried to rally, but time wasn’t on their side. The final whistle blew a few minutes after Jaime’s goal. Alex narrowly missed being pummeled by the avalanche of players from the Falcons bench charging out to the field to celebrate their victory with the rest of the team. His heart swelled with so much pride, he thought it would burst. After months of hard work and more highs and lows than a roller coaster, the Falcons would go down in history as the first AWSL champions.
It took another twenty minutes before the celebration settled enough for the medal ceremony to begin. The players’ friends and families, who were allowed onto the field at this point, clapped and hollered as the medals were individually placed around each player’s neck. When it came to Jaime’s turn, she looked to him, pride etched all over her smiling face. He smiled back, but the sting of guilt hit him in the gut. She’d been let down so much by her family throughout the years. Now that the season was over, he needed to let her know he was leaving the Falcons.