by Teague, AS
I arched a brow. “My services? Is that all I’m doing here?”
“It was. Now you’re not doing anything here,” he snapped as he shoved a hand through his hair. “Look, please, just go away. I’m not in the mood for any of this right now.”
I scooted to the edge of the chair and grabbed his hand, gripping it tight in mine. He tried to pull away from me, but I refused to let him go. “Tell me what Hampton said. Talk to me.”
He chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “He said I’m done.”
“What else?”
He leaned forward. “What the fuck else did he need to say? I’m done. I’m fucking done. My career is over. That’s it. My days as the best quarterback in the league are fucking over.” He managed to pull free of my grasp and snapped his fingers. “Poof, just like that, I’m nothing more than a sad fucking story on the sports channel.”
“Ah,” I breathed. “So, that’s what this is.”
“What?”
I rose to my feet and loomed over him. “The great Aiden Shaw got some bad news, and now he’s going to throw a temper tantrum and act like an asshole crying in his room until he’s pissed off the people who care about him enough that they walk away.”
His mouth fell open, sheer disbelief was written all over his face.
I didn’t suspect many people had called out a man like Aiden Shaw over the years. Worshiped at his feet, took sneaky pics when he was getting a coffee at Starbucks, framed his poster by their bed? Probably. But called him out when he was basking in the scorching flames of self-pity? Nope. I was definitely one of the few. And I was okay with that because I knew with absolute certainty he would have done the same for me.
He stared at me, his eyes wide, jaw hard, and chest rising and falling with labored breaths.
And I stared back, mentally counting down the seconds until his pity turned into a swirling fury.
I only made it to five.
“Get out of my house!”
“No!” I boomed right back at him. “I’m not doing this again, Aiden. I spent too many years letting you push me away, and I’m not doing it anymore.”
He slanted his head, more of that disbelief twinkling in his blue eyes. “I’m sorry. You spent too many years letting me push you away?”
I stood my ground. “It’s what you do. And I’m sick of—“
“Have you lost your fucking mind?” Sitting up, he turned toward me, putting his foot on the floor while leaving his injured leg propped on the bed. It was as close to getting in my face as he could get without standing. “For eight fucking years, I’ve been chasing you, Mel. Eight years of me calling and texting, instigating any kind of communication I could get just to keep you in my reach. Eight years of sparing you from the shit show that is my life. Eight years of sitting back knowing that at any minute, another man could walk in and take you from me permanently. Don’t you dare stand there and act like I’ve been the one pushing you away and playing games for the last decade. Because I’ve been on my knees for you since the first time I saw you across the tables in Vegas. It’s about fucking time I got back on my feet.”
It was my turn to stare in utter disbelief. He thought he was on his knees for me. He couldn’t possibly be serious. We’d been a sequence of unfortunate timing since the very first night. But things changed. We had changed. I wasn’t just a phone call or text away anymore. I was right there. Standing in front of him refusing to go when I knew he needed me the most.
Resting my hand on his thigh, I bent until our noses were nearly touching. His broad shoulders and muscular body turned to stone from the contact. But I didn’t let that slow me. “We’ve both been on our knees for the last eight years. But at least we were there together. You’ve always wanted me, just like I’ve always wanted you. And this is it. We can finally have the chance at something real. Don’t you dare ask me to give that up.”
His eyes flashed wide, and then his hand shot out like a lightning bolt and wrapped around the back of my neck, pulling my face the few inches to his, and crashed his lips to mine. The kiss wasn’t sweet; it wasn’t tender. It was punishing, his lips working mine, his tongue thrusting into my mouth, claiming me, possessing me. I kissed him back, matching every harsh stroke with one of my own, all the while letting him pour every ounce of pain he was feeling out until he ripped his face away from mine and panted for a breath.
He scrubbed the side of his face and aimed his gaze down at his lap. “Mel, I… fuck. I don’t want to be this man. So much of my identity is wrapped up in my career. And now I’m fucking no one. I can see it now. The minute the news breaks that my career is over, I can only imagine the smug look on my brother’s face. The whispered phone calls between my parents. It’s all just fucking bullshit. One goddamn hit, and years and years of blood, sweat, and tears, pouring my soul out on the field. And bam! It’s all gone. My entire life boiled down to one play.”
I sighed and moved to sit next to him on the bed. “Football is not your life, Aiden. It never was.”
“Who am I without football, then? Answer me that. The brother to a football legend? The second son of a couple who didn’t even bother to come see their injured child? A man who can no longer support his kids the way they’re used to?” His anguished gaze crashed to mine, and he finished weakly. “Football was what I was good at. The only thing I was good at. I was supposed to be in the Hall of Fame. I was supposed to be a five-time Super Bowl Champion. I was supposed to be the guy who kids all over the country looked up to. Now I’m just a sob story.”
My heart lurched in my chest and threatened to explode from the pain that I felt for him. He wasn’t feeling sorry for himself. He genuinely thought that football was what defined him. I knew that whatever I said right now wouldn’t make a difference, but I hoped that maybe in a few days he would remember my words and they would finally sink in.
“I need you to listen to me. First of all: fuck your parents. And your brother. Fuck them all for not seeing you for what you really are.”
He laughed bitterly. “What is that? A freaking loser with only one good leg?”
I gripped his hand in mine. “Are you listening to me?” I asked gently and then waited for him to give me any sort of response. He finally gave the slightest of nods, so small that I may not have noticed if I weren’t studying every inch of his pained face.
“Last night, after I sent that message to you instead of Brooke and I turned the phone off, I lay in bed trying desperately to turn my brain off, but I couldn’t. And the reason was because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Do you want to know what I was thinking about?”
He grunted, and I took it as encouragement to keep going.
“I thought about that time you sent me three hundred pints of ice cream. That ice cream that I had to give away to nearly everyone I passed on the street because I couldn’t fit it all in my freezer, that told me that you have a sense of humor. Then I thought about Hunter. That kid isn’t yours. And yet he is. He’s included in any- and everything you do with Landon and Owen. That told me that you are not just a good guy but a fucking incredible man to step up and take care of him without getting anything but a six-year-old boy’s love in return. Then my mind wandered back to our date and how you’d taken me to a sixteenth century settlement that had to have been the most boring two hours of your entire life. But you planned it out because you know how much I love history. And that told me that you are thoughtful and considerate. I thought about your career and how many games you’d won and how you’d shown up at rookie camp and proven yourself that very moment. Do you know what that told me? It told me that you are a hard worker. That you have dedication.”
“Lot of good that hard work did me.” He waved a hand at his leg that was in a brace. “All that dedication got me was a bum knee.”
“Yep.” I nodded as I pushed to my feet. “It also got you this house. It got you those cars in the driveway. It got you millions of fans, an entire team of friends and supporters. Your hard work ensu
red that your boys have plenty of clothes, food on the table, go to the best school, and live a life that I could have only dreamed of at that age. So, while you’re busy lamenting the fact that you won’t ever play again, there are kids all over the world who are dreaming of being able to play just one game in the NFL. Think about that. You’ve done what so many others could only ever hope to do.”
He groaned, the agony so deep that I felt it inside me. “I know you’re right. I know you are. But right now, I really just need some time alone. I thought I could do this, Mel. I honest to God thought I could beat the odds with this injury and make a full recovery. Now, I’m just… stuck.”
I pushed to my feet. “Fine. I’ll be in the living room. Take all the time you need.”
“That’s not what I—"
“Don’t you dare tell me to leave. You might not see it this way. But you’re my man—albeit stubborn, pigheaded, and overbearing, but mine nonetheless. This is my fight too.” I’d tried every approach I could think of with him the last couple of weeks. I’d taken it easy on him, given him the benefit of the doubt, left him alone to stew in his own self-loathing. But I was done with all of that.
It was now, or it was absolutely, without a doubt, never.
“A few days ago, you told me that we’d always been an ‘us,’ but I didn’t believe you. Well, now, I’m telling you that you were right.” I waved a hand between us. “There has always been something between us, and even if I were to leave like you want me to and never hear from you again, there will always be something between us.” I dropped to my knees in front of him and grasped his face in my hands, my nose inches away from his. “Whatever this is, destiny, fate, some cosmic pull, or just a fuck lot of intense chemistry, we’re connected. We just have to decide what to do with it. And I choose you. I choose us. So, I’m going to be outside, waiting for you to be ready to talk about this. And tomorrow, when you wake up, I’m going to be there at your side helping you figure out your literal and figurative next step. Because we’re Team Aiden in this house.” I pressed my lips to his for a quick peck when suddenly his hands came up to frame my face.
He anchored my lips to his, the intensity from our earlier kiss returning. As his tongue invaded my mouth, I groaned and angled my head so that I could deepen our connection.
My hands roamed his body and when my fingers were no longer content to feel the cotton of his shirt and I gripped the hem, tugging it up his torso.
His mouth ripped from mine with a curse as I raked my nails over his abs. “Fuck, Mel.”
I seized the opportunity to pull the shirt over his head and once he was free of it, his hands gripped my hips. He didn’t have to say a word, I knew what he wanted.
I wanted it too.
Eight long years of wondering what this moment would be like.
Eight agonizing years of wishing that we could start and end everyday this way.
Eight tortuous years spent imagining the way he would feel inside me, the sounds he would make, the way my fingertips would grip his shoulders as he slid into me.
It was a scene I’d played in my head too many times to count. I would gasp, he would groan, and together we would find a rhythm that had us both toppling over the edge of bliss.
My fingers fumbled at the waist band of his shorts and I breathed a silent prayer of thanks that the injury had forced him to wear athletic shorts.
We were both frenzied, his need to be inside me as great as mine to feel him there, but I had to take care to not hurt his knee, so I slowed just long enough to gently pull his shorts off, freeing him and tossing them aside.
Naked in front of me, Aiden Shaw was a work of art. His body was nearly the definition of perfection and even through my need to be with him, I took a moment to appreciate the man before me. I ran my hands along the tops of his thighs, the hard muscles flexing at my touch as I studied the way his perfect six pack trailed in to the most delicious V I’d ever seen. He was cut and toned, the weeks of not being able to play football or workout as hard as he had before having no effect on him. But, my favorite part of all, the first thing I’d noticed about him all those years ago in that damned casino were his biceps and as his hands gripped my thighs, they flexed, the muscle that he needed to throw a ball down the field just as strong as ever.
The very corner of his mouth tipped up in a seductive smirk and he said the exact words I’d said to him the first time we met, “See something you like?”
The timbre of his voice alone sent a jolt of pleasure straight through me and I wasted no time hiking my dress up my thighs to climb atop him.
Aiden’s hands grasped the bunched skirt of my dress and pushed it up my body until I was in nothing but black lace panties and a bra.
His eyes that had been clouded with pain and anger earlier raked over my body and he breathed, “God, you are so fucking beautiful.”
I rolled my hips, my core pressing against him and we both groaned.
“Take these off,” he growled, tugging at the thin scrap of fabric covering me that was already wet with desire.
I shook my head. “Pull them to the side.”
His eyes flashed as he did exactly that and I sank down as he thrust up to enter me in one smooth move.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” I whispered, my eyes open and trained on his. The emotions from earlier were gone, the lust and desire that hummed in my veins reflected back at me in his sapphire blue gaze.
I rolled, riding him slow, taking my time, determined to feel every inch of him and from the way his hands roved over my breasts and ass, he seemed to be in no hurry either.
I could have stayed like this forever, face-to-face, joined together, feeling complete with him inside me.
His teeth sank into the sensitive flesh of my shoulder, quickly followed by his tongue soothing the very spot he’d just nipped. His mouth trailed along my collarbone, licking and sucking as he made his way to my breasts. He pulled the lacy cup down and then sealed his mouth over my peaked nipple, his tongue swirling and I moaned, arching my back.
He moved to my other breast, pulling my nipple into his mouth when he slid his free hand down my ribs and straight to my clit. His thumb began to circle and I cried out, the intensity of sensations nearly too much. He released my nipple with a pop and my head fell forward, dropping to his shoulder. My hair, the hair that he loved so much, brushed his face and he turned into it, inhaling deeply.
“God, you feel fucking incredible.”
He continued to work me as I rode him, our pace becoming desperate, the orgasm that I was so close to barreling down on me. “Aiden,” I moaned into his neck as I began to clench around his cock.
He followed me over the edge, my name a reverent cry on his lips.
I stilled as the last waves of pleasure washed over me, the room silent save for our gasps and labored breathing.
His arms wrapped around my waist and he squeezed me tight, as though to reassure himself that I was actually there. As he softened inside of me, both of our bodies slick with sweat, I kissed him again, a quick brush of my lips against his and then pushed off of him, stifling the groan as our bodies disconnected.
Quickly I gathered my dress and pulled it back over my body before handing his discarded shorts back to him.
“Where are you going?” he asked as I crossed the room to the door.
“I’m giving you space.” I blew him a quick kiss. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”
He shook his head. “No, stay.”
“Just a few moments ago you were demanding I leave. Now you want me to stay?” I arched a brow.
His brows furrowed. “That was before…”
“I’m not leaving you,” I assured him. “But I promised I’d give you time and space.” I stepped through the open doorway despite the way he frowned at me and when I pulled the door closed behind me I sagged against the heavy wood.
Walking away from him after what we’d just shared was probably the hardest thing I’d ever done. I wanted to
cuddle next to him, his strong arms around me, his masculine cologne wrapping me up in an Aiden cocoon.
But if he was going to get his shit together, he wasn’t going to do it while I sat there holding his hand and coddling him.
No, Aiden Shaw had to realize for himself that he was more than just a game that he played.
I just hoped he realized it sooner rather than later.
Because I was in love with that man, and I’d waited long enough to be with him. I didn’t want to wait any longer.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Aiden
For days, I lay in bed and mourned the death of my career and essentially my life. Sandy tried her hardest to get me to get up, eat, take a shower, anything other than lie in a heap of my own funk, but I refused, and eventually, she gave up and resigned herself to letting me work it out on my own. She still brought me food that I barely ate and checked in on me, but she didn’t push me to do anything that I didn’t want to do.
Mel came to my house every day. She poked her head in the door, said hello before asking how I was, accepted my grunts in response, and then left again. She didn’t ask me to get out of bed, didn’t push me to do my physical therapy, didn’t tell me to get over it. She simply let me know that she was there, that she cared and that she wasn’t going anywhere.
Oddly enough, it was the simple daily visits that were never longer than thirty seconds that helped me face my reality. It was the fourth day after Dr. Reed had told me that my leg would never be fit to step on the field again when I finally stopped feeling sorry for myself and decided that Mel was right.
I’d spent the night having dreams of being back in that game, but instead of the defender who had hit me, it alternated between my father and brother. I’d woken up in a cold sweat and hadn’t been able to go back to sleep, so I’d lain there and replayed the speech Mel had given me until the sun had finally risen.
Mel’s voice had been in my mind. “Fuck your parents. And your brother.”