by Lea Coll
He growled before kissing my lips. I watched the top of his head as he continued to place kisses all over my body, punctuated with his words. “You’re strong, you’re capable, you’re beautiful.”
He covered my body with his, bracing himself slightly off so his weight wasn’t crushing me. “Tell me who made you doubt that.”
I couldn’t wiggle away from him. I couldn’t look away. I had no choice but to be honest. “The guy I was dating before I met you said some things.”
“Like what?” When I remained quiet, he said, “What did he say, Payton?”
I sighed, not wanting to tell him, yet not seeing a way out of it. He’d know if I was lying. I didn’t want this coming between us. I didn’t want him to walk away. “He said I probably weighed more than him, I was too tall, too muscular. I should work out less so I was more soft and feminine. Guys weren’t attracted to girls like me.”
“When did he say it?” Clay bit out.
“I’m sorry?” I was confused, because I was stuck in that moment, the shame, the self-loathing. The thought that I was so repulsive, Ryan couldn’t get it up.
“What were you doing when he said this?”
I hated talking about another man when I was in bed with Clay, but he wasn’t relenting. “We were trying to have sex.”
“Trying to have sex?”
“Yeah, we were making out, but he couldn’t seem to get an erection.”
“Were you naked?”
I nodded reluctantly. “I felt bad. I said we could try again another time.”
“So, what you’re saying is that he couldn’t get it up when you were naked?”
I nodded miserably.
“It wasn’t you. It was him. Maybe he drank too much that night. Maybe he did drugs. Maybe he isn’t into girls. There’s no way he was being honest with you. He was pissed, embarrassed, and he lashed out at you.”
“You think so?” That night had been a blow to my self-confidence.
“Even if he was being truthful, the reason he said those things was because he wasn’t muscular or tall enough for you. It had nothing to do with you. He had low self-esteem. He was an idiot.”
Clay’s hand coasted over my breast, my stomach, my hip, his gaze following its path. “I love your curves, your muscles. I love that you’re strong.”
Naked, sated from two orgasms and Clay’s reverent tone, I’d never felt more beautiful, desired, loved. It was too soon for that even if the potential was there.
He was right. My position on the team was temporary. The season would be over in a few weeks. We could enjoy ourselves and figure the rest out later.
There was no way I could walk away from the way this man made me feel.
Chapter 8
Clay
We never got around to looking through the video of my games. We reconnected physically and emotionally. We ate the dinner I made, then went back to bed. I didn’t sleep much, but I enjoyed being with Payton. I felt like my time with her was limited, as if there was a timer ticking in the back of my head, and when the sun came out, we’d go our separate ways. I’d have to pretend that I wasn’t attracted to her, that she hadn’t just slayed me with her body and her mind.
I was angry when she told me about her ex criticizing her body. At the same time, my heart ached for her. I could see from the uncertainty in her eyes, the tense set of her muscles, the way she’d questioned my ability to carry her, she believed him. She doubted herself. I hated that.
Her body was beautiful. She was beautiful. I hated that some asshole who was not good enough for her was making her feel bad about herself.
I wasn’t the only one on the team who thought she had an amazing body. I was the only one who acted on it. Whether it was a smart move or not was yet to be determined.
The night she came over, I would have said or done anything for her to let go of the outside pressures and stay in a bubble with me, where no one else mattered. No one else existed.
I hadn’t imagined that night in college, the connection we had, or the way she responded to every touch and kiss. It was the same last night yet amplified. I couldn’t stop reaching for her, sliding into her body, wanting to mark her with the memory of me inside her, surrounding her.
I never wanted her to forget. When she went to work recounting all the reasons why we couldn’t and shouldn’t be together, I wanted her to remember how she felt when she was with me.
I’d never felt this way about anyone. It was like we were fated. I could leave things up to chance, even if I didn’t want to, hoping that if she walked away we’d find each other again.
I leaned on the doorway to her office. “Hey.”
I waited until she looked up, her eyes filling with recognition, her lips tilting up. “Hey, you.”
I smiled, my mind going to the night we were together, the way her pale skin glowed from the lights of the city. Her eyes filled with awe and desire for me.
“We never got around to looking at my video the other night.” When she left the next morning, she said she didn’t want anyone to find out at work. That we couldn’t be seen together. I understood but I hated it.
Her shoulders fell. “Oh right. I’m sorry about that.”
“Don’t be sorry. It was my fault.” I had no regrets about her or that night. I only had plans for the future.
“We can go over it today if you have time. I’ve looked at everything. I think I’m ready to render an opinion.”
I raised a brow. “Yeah?”
“Come find me after you’re done working out. We can talk about it in the room where the team watches videos.”
I knew what she was doing, removing us from her small office, finding space where there shouldn’t be any. I’d let her have her play now knowing the season would come to an end in a few weeks. Then she’d be all mine.
I slapped the doorframe. “See you later.”
I was just about to walk away when Coach Ruxton appeared next to me. “You’re still working together?”
“Yeah, she’s going through all of my video, making sure I’m ready for the game Sunday.”
“Mmm.” Was all he said.
“I’m going to work out.”
Coach Ruxton nodded at me before I walked away.
I wondered if Coach knew or sensed something between us. I hoped Payton didn’t freak-out, thinking he did, and then not wanting to work with me. I could handle holding off on being with her for a few weeks. I couldn’t handle not seeing or talking to her at all. Not when I waited so long for her to drop back into my life.
I worked out hard, blocking everything out. Our game was in a couple of days and I wanted to be ready, physically and mentally.
After our workout and practice, I showered, texting Payton I’d meet her soon in the conference room. I ordered food to be delivered because I was starving.
When I walked into the large room filled with tables and more comfortable couches and armchairs on the outskirts, Payton was already there setting up.
I held up the bags of food I grabbed from security where it had been dropped off. “I got reinforcements.”
“Perfect. Although I don’t think this will take long.”
“Oh?” I tensed, expecting her to go on about how Coach Ruxton or someone else might suspect something was going on but she didn’t.
She stood next to the large monitor hitting play.
I sat in the chair, my hands clasped on my stomach, my legs spread wide, the smell of deli sandwiches filling the room.
Payton pointed at my hands and feet in the plays. “Your positioning looks good.”
She ran through the last few games, then compared it to last year. Then she shut off the TV.
I gestured at it. “We still haven’t figured out what’s going on.”
“I think I have.” She dropped the remote on the table, coming to sit next to me.
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s not a physical problem. What’s going on in your head when you’re
out there?”
“I’m listening for the calls, reading the defense, switching protections.” I had to be focused. I had to hear the quarterback’s words or claps over the din of the crowd.
“What are you telling yourself?”
“What do you mean?”
“When you’re listening for the clap or signal from Will, while your scanning the defense, what’s the voice in your head saying?” At my blank stare, she continued, “Is it saying you can do this or is it something else?”
It was something I hadn’t wanted to admit to anyone, but my mind raced with thoughts of what ifs. What if I don’t notice Will’s signal, the blitz from the defense? What if I don’t direct the offensive line to the right position? What if I make a mistake?
I was the leader of the offensive line, less recognizable then the quarterback, wide receivers, running backs or tight ends, yet infinitely more important. If I fumbled the snap the play was dead in the water. If I did everything right, I was the unsung hero. No one noticed when things went smoothly. When they didn’t, it was a disaster of epic proportions.
She moved her chair so she was facing me, elbows resting on her knees as she considered me. “That’s what I thought. You’re anxious.”
“No.” I’d never admit to being anything but unflappable under pressure. It could cost me my job.
“I’m not going to tell anyone. If you want me to help you, you need to be honest with me. I think your psyching yourself out.”
We weren’t in the privacy of my condo. We were in a room that anyone could walk into at any time. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Do you want to go back through the videos together? I’m sure we could find something that explains it.”
“No. I went through every tape of this year and last year. The only discrepancy I can see is seconds of hesitation usually in playoff games.”
“Seconds?”
“You’re taking a couple seconds longer to call out to the line, to snap the ball as if you’re overthinking things.”
I was shaking my head no before she’d finished speaking.
“You are. I timed it.”
“You don’t need to tell me how seconds matter in football. I’ve been playing my whole life.”
She flinched.
The implication was clear. She’d never played football. She’d only stood on the sidelines judging us. She didn’t know what it was like to be standing in front of the quarterback, the person I was supposed to protect, with the largest defensive lineman gunning for me.
I had to snap the ball and immediately put my hands up to block. If the defense moved, I had to react immediately or the play was blown.
“This is my job. Trust me to do my job.”
Noah had said she was good at this sort of thing but she was needling at my most vulnerable spot. The thing I never told anyone. The voices in my head told me I was going to screw up, I was going to miss a call until I did.
“Listen, it’s fine. Nerves get to everyone sometimes. You can block them out, counter the negative thoughts.”
“I never said I was having negative thoughts.”
She sat up, holding up her hands. “If you are. Practice something you can say in place of whatever’s going on in your head. I got this or whatever works.”
I nodded slightly to let her know I understood, the knot in my throat making it difficult to swallow.
“Our brain is sending signals to our body, telling us what to do. Sometimes anxiety makes it work against us. It doesn’t mean you’re weak.”
I hadn’t thought that. Maybe that’s what it was. I didn’t want to admit any weaknesses to her, my coaches, anyone. I wanted to pretend I was the man I was supposed to be, the most integral part of the team, the glue holding the line together, the eyes and ears for Will.
Her hands folded in her lap, she tilted her head slightly. “Do you want me to talk to Will?”
“Will? Why would you do that? Fuck no.”
She flushed. “Look I’m used to being around athletes. I get it. You’re not going to admit anything because you don’t want to be seen as weak. The fact is if you don’t acknowledge the problem you can’t improve.”
She stood gathering her things.
“Where are you going?” Panic filled me that she was walking away.
“You seemed like you didn’t want company.” Her expression was tight.
“I’m sorry, okay? Can we eat?”
She looked at me as if she wanted to say something else, but she closed her mouth, sitting back down. “Sure.”
I pulled the food out of the bag, wanting to tell her she was right. I’d been battling negative voices in my head my entire life. Thinking about it, it might have been the fact that my dad and brother didn’t support me. I wasn’t a psychologist. All I knew, was that the voices were louder when something big was on the line. There was nothing bigger than the playoffs and a possible championship.
I placed the wrapped sandwich and water bottle in front of her, feeling her gaze on my face. I couldn’t talk about it. When I let the negative voices take over, I messed up. The more I worried, the worse my anxiety grew.
She covered my hand with hers, it was soft and comforting, easing my racing heart. “It’s okay. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I can’t admit what you’re saying. The guys have to have full confidence in me.”
“I won’t tell anyone what I think. Please think about what I said.”
I tipped my head slightly, hoping she took that as acquiescence.
She squeezed my hand before removing it. “You can talk to me. I’m your coach but I’m also your friend.”
My head snapped up at that. “Friends?”
She flushed. “We haven’t talked about what we are.”
Other than a secret she wanted to keep. “How about you’re mine?”
She smiled. “I like that.”
The small exchange was an acknowledgment of where we were—on the same page—finally. The rest of the team and her brother would have to get with the program eventually, but right now it was the two of us.
She placed a napkin on her lap before unwrapping her sandwich. “Believe in yourself. You haven’t gotten this far without impressive talent, a strong will, and perseverance.”
“I don’t have anyone else. My dad, my brother—” I shook my head.
“I believe in you. Will believes in you. The team believes in you. Let that be enough. The people who don’t support you don’t matter. When you win that playoff or championship game, you’ll be standing there with your team.”
I leaned back in my chair, my sandwich untouched. “Will my father be there, then?”
“If he’s not here now, it doesn’t matter.” She said it with such conviction I believed her.
A feeling washed over me—warm and encompassing—contentment. I was right where I was supposed to be with the person who was meant for me. I loved Payton.
There was no question in my mind that this woman was the one I’d been waiting for. We were too young when we met. I wouldn’t let anything stand in the way of what we were establishing. No matter what happened, I’d take care of her. I’d be on her side, like she was on mine.
Chapter 9
Payton
Something happened in the conference room. Clay was feeling something heavy, anxiety about the playoffs, his father, or his performance. He refused to acknowledge what was going on.
I’d been around enough athletes to know when it was anxiety, not physical prowess.
When he mentioned I was his, I felt a sense of belonging for the first time. I wasn’t the middle child stuck between two siblings who excelled in ways I couldn’t. I wasn’t the sole female on the coaching staff. I was his. I belonged with him. He saw me and accepted me for who I was.
There was nothing I wouldn’t do for him. Even protect him from himself and his negative thoughts. He seemed more reckless about our relationship. I had to be the voice of reason.
I t
ried to focus on the emails in my inbox and not what happened in the conference room when Lexie appeared in my doorway in her usual suit and heels. “Hey! I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”
“Hey, Lexie.” My smile came easily when I saw her. It was so good to see a female face hanging around.
She placed a hand on the doorframe. “The guys are doing their pregame team meal. Did you want to grab drinks?”
I checked the clock, seeing I’d logged enough hours for the day. “I’d love that. If you don’t mind hanging out with someone dressed like this.”
I gestured down at my leggings and sneakers before shutting down my computer.
“What are you talking about? You’re beautiful. I wish I had a body like yours.”
Walking down the hall next to her supermodel looks, suit, and heels, I felt frumpy. “Really?”
Lexie narrowed her eyes. “Yeah, why? Has one of the guys said something to you?”
“No. It’s hard to feel feminine in workout clothes.” I didn’t mention that if one of the teammates had been disrespectful, Clay would have shut it down. He was looking out for me whether people knew about us or not. The same way I looked out for him.
She snorted. “I’m sure every guy here appreciates how you look in that skintight outfit.”
Even though Clay had said the same thing, it felt good to hear it from someone else. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Now enough of that. We’re strong independent women who have amazing jobs. We got here on merit, not our looks.”
“Do people assume you got your job based on looks?” She was on camera so looks probably helped.
“I was named Miss Tennessee, so yeah, there was speculation at first. When you do your job well, that kind of thing fades.”
“Good. I’m looking forward to being settled. Not having to worry what the guys think of me.”
“I know Gavin’s impressed with you. He said you were professional and knew what you were talking about.”
“That’s high praise from a football player.”
She pointed at me. “Exactly. Don’t sell yourself short. You don’t need a penis to know football.”
