The Warrior Groom_Texas Titans Romances

by Lucy McConnell

  Her name was like a wish on his lips and his breath like a warm summer breeze across her sensitive skin. She turned ever so slightly, giving him permission to take her mouth, to consume it if he wanted to.

  He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip, tugging it slightly down before finally, irreversibly, and completely kissing her.

  The initial touch was like jumping off a cliff, her stomach lifted higher and higher, elevating her into a fever pitch of pent-up, passionate love. She laced her fingers together behind his neck and pulled him into the crinkly pillows with her. Each time their lips parted, she moaned and crushed her eyes closed, wordlessly begging him to continue.

  When neither of them could grasp a full breath, they ripped apart, their chests heaving and eyes dilated.

  “I should have—” Gulp. “—taken that a little slower,” London apologized.

  “I don’t think slower was an option.” It wasn’t for her. She’d needed to purge her desire for London, and apparently, there was a lot of yearning bottled up in there. She tentatively moistened her swollen lips, noting she’d given as good as she got. London’s lips were red and full and entirely too kissable—again.

  “So.” London looked at her expectantly. She opened her mouth to argue and he placed a finger over her lips, silencing her with his touch. He could have brushed his hand over her foot and it would have stolen her breath away. Her body and her memory of him overpowered reason.

  He took her phone off the rolling table. “This is my number.” A moment later, his back pocket rang. “And now I have yours. I know you’re busy right now, so I’ll call you about that date.”

  She nodded numbly. London Wilder was going to call her. London Wilder had kissed her arguments for staying away from him right out of her head. London Wilder was sitting on her hospital bed. This had to be the greatest and the weirdest day of her entire life. “Okay,” she agreed, and her heart did a little dance.

  They were headed into the second half, and she had no idea what that meant, but she was looking forward to finding out.

  Chapter Fifteen

  London stomped the brakes of his Jeep Grand Cherokee as three preteen girls darted across the road. “This place is a madhouse.”

  Word had gotten out that Maia was in a local hospital and planned to spend an extra day in Dallas recuperating. The official story was that she had a sore throat and a slight fever. Her staff wasn’t taking any chances, and they’d checked her into the hospital for a round of antibiotics with doctor-ordered twenty-four-hour rest at a hotel.

  And what a hotel they’d picked. Hotel ZaZa—with its black-and-white-striped awning over the front door and rose-covered trellises climbing the cream-colored walls, draping over balconies and lending an air of romance to the building—was lodging fit for a princess.

  The front entrance to the posh hotel was clogged with crazy fans. They had posters with her name on them, their phones played the soundtrack from the movie over and over again while full-grown women in princess dresses sang along, and little girls hugged Maia dolls close to their chest.

  And he thought Titans fans were intense. The guys in face paint who tailgated all day before a home game had nothing on these women. The crowd was mostly women with a few men sprinkled throughout. Everyone smiled and talked and pretty much looked happy to stand around.

  Crazy.

  London pulled around to the bungalows as directed. The sweet, much smaller red-brick and white-trimmed buildings had brick walkways and street entrances. Though it was only about twenty steps from the curb to the door, he wondered how he was supposed to walk Maia out without someone recognizing her. Their date would come to a sad and quick end if a mob of tiara-toting women rushed his Jeep.

  He scanned the street. Any pedestrians were intent on getting to the main hotel, and there was one older couple shuffling along as if they’d enjoyed a leisurely brunch and were out for a stroll. The grandmother’s hand was in the crook of her sweetheart’s arm, and he used a cane with his free hand. Their easy companionship made London smile.

  He pulled over and killed the engine. He’d worn tan cargo shorts and a dark gray polo with the Titans T over his left peck. Being inconspicuous was important to getting in and out of this place. As he exited the car, he felt his six-foot-four-inch height flashed like a neon sign screaming “look at me.” He pulled his baseball hat lower on his forehead—like covering his forehead more was going to help hide him.

  The few steps were quickly behind him, and he had to stop and wait for the older couple to pass on the sidewalk. Blending in was easier if he didn’t hurry. Not that there were many two-hundred-forty-pound safeties walking around the ZaZa Bungalows today to blend in with, but he’d give it his best shot.

  Slowing his steps, he scanned the silver numbers on the white doors.

  “Pst.”

  He spun around to see a woman with short pink hair and a jean jacket. She had sunglasses that covered half her face and a purse the size of his trunk. “You lookin’ for someone?” she asked with a New York accent.

  He turned away quickly, not wanting to engage in conversation. “I’m fine.”

  He took two more steps before she sing-songed, “You’re getting colder.”

  One—two—three—four. Breathe in. Breathe out. He didn’t want to be rude, but this woman was cuckoo.

  “Colder.”

  The stupid numbers were too small to see from the walkway. He’d have to be up close to make them out. The sun beating down on the white doors didn’t help much.

  “Lon-don Wild-er runnin’ round. Better watch out because he’ll take you down. Go London, yeah, yeah, go London.” She threw both fists into the air and shook them as if holding pom-poms.

  The brick path suddenly felt unstable. “How did you …?” She’d performed the cheer they’d done for him in high school. “Do I know you?” London squinted as he took several steps closer. The woman carried the majority of her weight on her long left leg. She had a pointy chin and her lips were different. There wasn’t a dip in the middle. “Maia,” he whispered.

  She giggled. “Had you going there for a minute.”

  He should have said something funny back, but his head was blank because Maia was standing right over there, grinning at him. He crossed the space between them and scooped her up in his arms. She slid her arm around his neck and hung on.

  “You shouldn’t be walking.” She weighed less than he bench-pressed. He could carry her around all day and not be tired. In fact, he might just suggest that to her. A day with Maia in his arms would be the best day of his life.

  She patted his back. “Probably not. Does that ruin our date?”

  He started for his car, still holding her in his arms. The old couple was gone, probably safely tucked in their bungalow for an afternoon siesta. “Not at all.” He hit the button on his key to unlock the car.

  A group of teenagers giggled their way down the street. They had long hair and wore shirts with Maia’s character on the front. The one closest watched them for a minute longer than the rest. She broke off and jogged over to them. “Here, let me open the door for you.”

  “Thanks,” London replied. He didn’t want to have to put Maia down to get the door.

  “Are you guys staying here?”

  Maia nodded but didn’t speak.

  “Have you seen Maia?”

  London froze. Maia’s arm tightened around his neck. No doubt she was having the same worries he’d had about being mobbed by enthusiastic fans. He glanced over to see that the Good Samaritan’s friends had noticed she was missing and waited for her to catch up, eyeing the way London held Maia with curiosity.

  When they didn’t answer, the girl kept talking. “We heard she was staying in the hotel, so we came down to see if we could get an autograph. Angela is, like, her biggest fan. She can sing all her songs and she sounds just like her. But Heather has hair like hers in the movie. I’m so jealous. I’ve been trying to grow mine out for like for-ev-er and it’s so slow.”


  London stepped forward and leaned over to nestle Maia into the passenger seat. He stepped back and the teen shut the door.

  “Is she okay?” asked the girl quietly. There was no hint she’d recognized either of them.

  London nodded. “I’m being overprotective.”

  The girl crossed her hands over her heart. “I want a boyfriend like you!”

  London shuffled his feet. He didn’t mind being an example on the field. Kids watched him play and wanted to grow up to be London Wilder. He was okay with that kind of pressure. Even when he volunteered at sports camps or fundraisers, he knew he was in the spotlight. His mom would tell him to be above reproach because he never knew who was watching.

  However, having someone look at his private life and judge the type of boyfriend or even husband he could be was completely different. He didn’t grow up with an example he could follow. He had to feel his way through a relationship like a blind man. Which was probably why he hadn’t dated anyone seriously since Maia. There were a couple girls in college who tried, but he never let it become serious enough, and they eventually lost interest. Once he made the pros, it was easy to keep women to the three-date minimum. “I—hope you find a guy who treats you real nice.”

  She smiled.

  “Ashley, come on!” called one of her friends.

  “I gotta go.” She flapped her hand in a wave goodbye and jogged back to her group.

  London waved at all of them and then hurried around to the driver’s side. He shut the door and slumped against the steering wheel. “That was close!”

  Maia laughed. “We’ll have to get you a wig next time.” She scratched at her temple. “I’m warning you, it itches.”

  He fingered the plastic-feeling strands and shook his head. “I can’t believe you remembered my cheer.”

  She laughed, her deep, sexy tone filling the inside of the car with energy and charging his body with attraction. “I can’t believe you remember it. Ego much?” She shoved his arm.

  “Says the woman who sells shirts with her face on them,” he fired back. She shoved his arm again—just like he’d wanted. The more contact between them, the better. He started the car and pulled onto the street.

  “You know I’m supposed to be in bed, right? We can’t go biking or do some impossible obstacle course.” Her brow puckered. “I’m pretty much the world’s most boring date.”

  London took her hand in his and threaded their fingers together. His pulse thrummed. “I’m not bored. Are you?”

  Her cheeks darkened. “No.”

  He winked before accelerating onto the freeway, and they were off on their first official date in ten years.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “You can’t see, can you?”

  Maia shook her head. “Nope. It’s dark as a curtain drop.” A light breeze brushed her face, which she determined must be London’s hand waving in front of her eyes.

  She laughed and swatted at the air, not making contact with anything. Riding in the car with London was fun. He asked about her leg, and she told him what the doctors had said. The hospital staff had signed confidentiality statements, but somehow the information leaked out. It could have been anyone: another patient, someone who saw her in the hallway … the possibilities were endless. There was no point stressing over it too much, so she pushed it aside. All she could deal with was what happened next. Thankfully, what happened next was a date with London.

  He’d pulled off the freeway and asked if he could surprise her. She let him tie a handkerchief loosely over her eyes. They’d driven a little longer, and then he’d parked and picked her up again. Now, she was sitting on something soft with the sun beating down on her wig, making her scalp sweat.

  “Okay. I think I’m ready.” London put his arms around her to untie the knot. Maia held still, taking deep breaths of his ruggedly handsome scent. She could fall asleep curled up next to that scent every night, it was equal parts soothing and intoxicating.

  The blindfold fell away and she blinked several times as her eyes adjusted to the sunlight. They were on a blanket on the fifty-yard line in the middle of the deserted Titans stadium. “What …?” she laughed. “Only you would think a football field is date-worthy.”

  London’s mouth fell open. “I’ll have you know this is top-notch romance.”

  She smiled as she shook her head.

  He reached behind her and brought out a picnic basket.

  She lifted an eyebrow in appreciation, but didn’t give in quite yet. “A picnic? That’s sweet.”

  He held up a finger. “Not any picnic.” With a flourish, he opened the basket, revealing takeout bags from Los Tios.

  Her hands flew to her cheeks. “You remembered.”

  He chuckled. “How could I forget? I loved taking you to that restaurant. You made all those yummy noises when you ate.” His eyes grew mischievous and butterflies made their way around her stomach.

  “I forgot. Oh my gosh, I’m so embarrassed.” She covered her eyes with her hand.

  He laughed. “It gets better.” He sent a quick text on his phone and the speakers came alive with Ed Sheeran’s “Perfect.”

  She closed her eyes and let Ed’s honeyed voice melt over her. “Okay, that was pretty great.”

  “And …” He settled next to her so she could rest against his chest. “This is not just anywhere in the stadium. This is the fifty-yard line.”

  “Okay.”

  “I know I talked about us starting a second half, but the more I thought about it, the more I decided a second half wasn’t what I wanted.”

  The butterflies stalled. A few of them crashed into the floor of her belly. “You don’t?”

  “No.” He took her hand. “I don’t want to pick up where we left off. I want to begin again. I want to meet you where you are now, and I hope you’ll meet me where I am.”

  “London Wilder, that was just about the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.” She placed her hand on his cheek, the warmth of his skin seeping into her and spreading up her arm and to her heart.

  “I told you I could be romantic.”

  He was right. He wasn’t the same guy she’d crushed on in high school. In a way, she had to let the old London go in order to grab on to this one. If the hope and the attraction and the care she saw swirling in his molasses eyes was any indication of what was to come, then she could take that leap.

  She put out her hand. “Hello, famous football player London Wilder. I’m Maia.”

  His grin stretched from end zone to end zone. “Hello, Princess Maia. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Instead of shaking her hand, he turned it to the side and pressed his lips to the back.

  She giggled. “I’m not a princess; I only play one in the movies.”

  He chuckled, the sound humming through his chest and into her back where she leaned against him, filling her chest up with his happy sounds. “You were meant to be a princess, honey.” He pressed a kiss to her head and came away with his nose wrinkled. “Is there anything we can do about that?” He tugged lightly on her bright pink, chin-length hair.

  She reached back, removing pins. “I have to warn you, I have a massive case of hat hair underneath.”

  “I think I can take it.” He busied himself getting the food out of the basket and finding the plastic utensils.

  She lifted one shoulder. When the pins were out, she pulled off the wig and then the wig cap. Her hair was braided tightly against her scalp, and she freed herself of the bands and braids. Finally, she was able to shake her kinky hair out and sigh with pleasure.

  London echoed her sigh. “It’s not fair for you to have all that going on, you know.”

  “Says the man with the giant muscles.” She trailed her hand up his arm, loving the smooth bumps and valleys. He handed her a takeout container filled with chicken enchiladas, a side of rice and beans, and a small cup of pico. She inhaled the aroma and settled more comfortably on the blanket. Her leg throbbed when she woke up this morni
ng, but she’d been fanatic about alternating Tylenol and Advil, and the pain was down to a manageable growl.

  “Tell me about your team.” She managed a large bite and moaned.

  London brushed a finger fondly down her cheek. He leaned back on one arm and glanced around the stadium. “What do you want to know?”

  Maia thought for a moment. If she were meeting London for the first time, she’d want to know everything. She’d gobble up the tiniest bits of information as if they were sweet raspberries. As many daydreams as she’d entertained over the years, having him right here where she could reach out and touch him was so much better.

  Unlike a daydream that had to end, the time with London could go on and on if they wanted it to—if she could let it and if he would open up to her. He wasn’t hiding anything today; his eyes were an open door into his heart. She briefly wondered what would happen if she tiptoed close to forbidden territory—the place he’d always kept her out of.

  With the sunlight and the deep green grass and the music playing like a sweet serenade, she didn’t want to think about the dark place she’d seen in his eyes at prom. “Tell me about Knox—is he always so grumpy?”

  London tipped his head back and closed his eyes. “That’s an interesting story.”

  “Well.” Maia shifted as London set her down at the door to her bungalow. Her stitches were starting to burn. She needed to move inside and elevate her leg—or collapse into bed and sleep for twelve hours. Normally she had the energy of a bunny on Dr. Pepper, but her body was pooling resources into healing.

  Instead of putting the wig back on, she’d tucked her hair up into his baseball hat. It was after dark. The sound of the crowd drifted over the tops of the buildings. By the sound of things, there were now a couple thousand people out there. “I had a pretty great time.”

  “Don’t sound so surprised.” London rolled his eyes.

  “Did I? I didn’t mean to.” She laughed as she shoved his shoulder. “Don’t be so sensitive.”

  He swept her up into a hug. “I had a pretty great time too. You wanna do this again?”