by Kim Karr
“I don’t know. You look a little dumbstruck.”
“Dumbstruck? Did you really just say that?”
She nodded, and grew serious. “I don’t mean where we live. I mean you and me and a place to call our own. That’s home.”
I closed my eyes, and then opened them. “I like that definition of home.”
She nipped my lip. “So I take it that’s a yes.”
Kissing her harder this time, I didn’t pull back until we were both breathless. “Yes, that’s absolutely a yes.”
Whimpering against my mouth, her body writhed against mine in need. “It won’t be easy,” she said.
I cupped her chin. “Gillian, it doesn’t need to be easy. It just has to be right. And I promise you together we’ll make our own normal.”
Her tongue, hot and wild, met mine in a clash. “If I have to have normal in my life, you’re the only normal I want.”
“Me too, Strawberry Fields,” I managed to say before I sucked her tongue deep, wanting to devour her whole.
Right here.
Right now.
But I wouldn’t. I’d waited way too long to have her, to have it end quickly in this small space.
“Get in your seat and put your belt on,” I told her.
She shivered against me. “Why?”
“I want you in my bed.”
“Are you even serious right now?”
“Dead serious. I’m not taking you in my truck.”
“Lucas.” My name came out in a needy moan that had me grinning.
“Gillian,” I said back.
And we both laughed.
In that moment when I looked at her, I couldn’t help but think I was one lucky guy.
I guess luck was on my side after all.
RECOVER
Gillian
THERE WAS A sense of unreality as Lucas threaded his fingers through mine and brought my knuckles to his lips.
Was this actually happening?
The soft brush against my skin reassured me it was when a shiver ran down my spine. But the way he then led me through his apartment and to his room without so much as stopping to take his coat off, more than reaffirmed it because his actions had me trembling.
Lucas was a part of me. He was the blood running through my veins. The oxygen I needed to breath. The thing I didn’t know I was missing in my life until I met him.
After first instructing me to remove my outerwear and then help him with his own, he eased me onto the edge of his bed.
My lips parted when I hit the mattress. “I want you.”
Holding my gaze, with one hand he fumbled to unbutton my jeans. “And I want you, Strawberry Fields.”
I smiled, letting out a blissful sigh. “I like that.”
“What do you like?” he asked, his voice going impossibly deep and low.
“When you call me that. It sounds so sweet.”
“You are sweet,” he replied, tugging my jeans down and tossing them aside before allowing his gaze to shift from my face to the lacey thong I was wearing, and sucking in a breath.
“Sweet enough to eat?” I asked, holding my arms up so he could pull my sweater over my head.
He licked his lips. “Every single bit.”
Already I felt precariously close to coming, and he hadn’t even touched me yet. It was the look in his eyes and the determination in his moves that had me already climbing a mountain that I hoped to never fully reach the top of anytime soon.
After removing my undergarments, I leaned back on my elbows and gazed at him in surreal wonder as he removed his own clothing. It seemed to take forever; then again, I always was impatient when it came to Lucas. “Hurry up,” I said.
He shook his head in amusement, and then he pounced on the bed, landing on his left side, and finally he was lying beside me.
I reached for him.
He reached for me.
We mapped each other’s bodies with our mouths, our tongues, and our teeth. I traced the lines of his abdominal muscles. He licked his tongue over and around my breasts. I kissed the inside of his elbows, the backs of his knees. He nipped at my ankles, my wrists.
His cock surged into my hand when I wrapped my fingers around it. I let out a breathy sigh that sent tingles from my head to my toes as he licked and devoured my nipples.
When his palm skimmed over my core, I started shaking. I couldn’t wait another minute to have him inside me. “Come here,” I whispered.
“I’m here,” he breathed, as he quickly moved up my body.
I brought his face to mine, and fluttered my lashes against his skin, over and over, while he laughed softly. And then I kissed his closed eyes, threaded my fingers though his hair, and breathed him in.
It’s strange how the things you miss most are the things you take for granted.
His smell, the taste of him, the feel of him. Then again, I missed everything about him. “Make love to me,” I whispered.
He didn’t wait.
Rolling onto his back, he urged me on top of him. I straddled him and he guided his cock right where it needed to be. As I slowly eased down, he pushed up, hard and deep.
I cried out.
Instantly, he could feel me. “That’s it,” he said, “let me in.”
I cried out again, and let him in.
I would always let him in.
Moving slowly, he sucked in steadying breaths. I watched as he struggled to control himself, as he tried to make love to me instead of fucking me.
Leaning down to kiss him, I tasted sweat on his upper lip, and it tasted good.
Even when the pace got frantic, when I raked my nails down his chest, and he bit me hard enough to bruise, when the headboard creaked from how hard I was gripping it, the feeling of love was everywhere.
Closing his eyes as he withdrew, he opened them to look at me when he brought me down hard on top of him, burying himself deep inside me.
I bucked upward, my cry splintering the air. “I’m going to come.”
His jaw clenched. “I’m almost there,” he told me.
But I had already fallen. I closed my eyes and arched my back and allowed this wave of never-ending pleasure to wash over me.
At the same time, he thrust upwards one last time and held himself deep. I opened my eyes then to watch him. He was beautiful when he came.
With his chest heaving and his eyes wild and unfocused, he emptied himself into my body.
We were both struggling to catch our breath, to suck enough air into our lungs, but we were both smiling.
“I love you,” he said.
“I love you,” I replied in a dreamy voice.
I collapsed beside him, and he pulled me to him. After a few silent moments, he reached for my hand and placed it on his already hardening cock.
“Again?” I giggled.
“Again,” he laughed.
His mouth found the spot that drove me wild at the base of my throat, and I moaned in ecstasy. He bit the slope of my bare shoulder, and I cried out. He moved along my skin with sureness of familiarity even after all these months apart, and I writhed under his touch.
Here he was, with me, touching me, wanting me, owning me, loving me, and it felt so good.
It felt so right.
It felt like home.
RIDING THE BENCH
Gillian
THE PARTY HATS and noisemakers would have to wait.
This was New Year’s Eve football style. The team arrived in Denver yesterday for the playoff game. And much to my delight I was on the plane with them as an official employee of the Chicago Bears.
The trip was fashioned in the way my father had always done it. We rode in a convoy of five buses, bypassing the main terminal and going directly to the tarmac. All of us were either in first class or business class. I sat next to Lucas and we thumbed through travel magazines, while the other players either slept, watched a movie, or played video games.
When we landed, my father remained in his seat and so did every
non-player, including me, while the guys filed off. This was a thing my father did to let the players know they came first.
Police escorted us to the five-star hotel and once arriving there, two elevators were curtained off to take us to the reserved floors.
When on the road, unlike training camp, the players were rewarded with individual rooms. I would be staying with Lucas in his room because . . . well . . . that was what we both wanted. My father was not happy about our decision. Hey, he’d eventually have to realize I was no longer his little girl, but in the meantime, I really did try to make it easier on him, whenever I could.
After the usual pre-game routine, we all went to dinner and lights out early. Lucas fell asleep right away, I found myself staring at the ceiling. I was nervous. Really nervous. It was one thing to be an intern, but a full-fledged assistant trainer was another.
The morning came way too fast, and after I dressed in game attire, I left Lucas in the shower to meet with Dallas before the team breakfast. After we ate, it was time to say goodbye to Lucas and get to work.
While Dallas evaluated the injured players, Aiden and I checked through our gear one last time.
A nervous flutter whispered around my belly as we drove to the Sports Authority Field at Mile High. It was just about nine in the morning. Kick-off was at one and we had a whole lot to do in-between.
The drive was fast, and with the medical staff and supplies, I headed to the training room. The prepping of supplies, tape, tape, and more tape, fluids and more fluids, as well as the trunks of emergency equipment was done last night.
As soon as the buses unloaded with the players, it was go time. I was about put my sports medicine skills to use. While Aiden aggressively prepared the players with massage and Dallas used manual therapy techniques to increase joint range of motion, I taped ankles.
Two and a half hours later, I was out on the sideline, checking every trunk one last time. Dallas was grinding his teeth as he watched the injured players to see how they moved during warm-ups.
And then the game was on.
I hadn’t seen much of Lucas since we arrived, but that was to be expected.
As I glanced around, I couldn’t help but feel that I’d missed the opening act. I might have arrived to the show in time for the encore, but that was all right by me, because I was finally where I was always meant to be.
The temperature was around thirty degrees, but standing outside in the sunshine it felt a lot warmer. Then again I was also nervous. With the heat getting to me, I pulled my gloves and hat off and set them on the bench.
The game was mostly injury free, which was a good thing.
In the final few minutes of the game, I watched with baited breath from the sidelines as the team tried to make a comeback.
It hadn’t been the best game for the Bears. Lucas had gotten sacked over and over again. I hated watching him go down, but breathed a sigh of relief every time he got back up.
He’d somehow managed to throw two interceptions, but they’d only totaled just over one hundred passing yards. The Bears as a whole had only scored ten points the entire game.
Things were not looking good.
My father was pacing back and forth, chewing his pen to bits and talking into his microphone at the same time. It was crazy how he could do that.
The announcer made a speculation that in these few final moments Jeb Burns, the quarterback backup, would finally be making his debut. But, needing a touchdown and two-point conversion to tie, my father left Lucas in place to lead the offense downfield.
There was always a chance, no matter how slight.
Of course, Lucas gave it all he had. As a last ditch effort he tried to thread a pass to a heavily covered Dion Reynolds, but it was intercepted.
My heart sank as I watched the players slouch on the bench.
That loss of the ball meant the game was over for the Bears, and it also meant the buck stopped here for them, for this year, anyway.
There would be no potential Super Bowl, but I knew that it would come very soon with the team my father had carefully assembled.
Down at the other end of the sideline, Lucas looked like a cocksure athlete humbled over the loss. I wanted to go down there and console him, but I was on the clock, working, and acting like his girlfriend was against the rules.
Yes, my father had added two rules to the team doctrine when it came to inter-team relationships.
First, I was not allowed to treat Lucas in a professional capacity unless it was absolutely necessary. This made sense. I was too invested and might think irrationally. I agreed with him.
And second, Lucas and I were not allowed to act as boyfriend and girlfriend on football time. This made me laugh. Obviously, he didn’t want us kissing during practice or at games. After all, we were both employees of the Bears.
Other than that, he accepted our relationship. In fact, I think he rather liked that Lucas was in my life, and that we both joined him for Sunday dinners.
Lucas and I were moving into an apartment not far from Soldier Field next week, but then we would be off. We were going to spend the first week of the off-season snorkeling and whale watching in Hawaii. Backpacking in Europe was on our list, and of course Paris, but as the newbie athletic trainer, I didn’t get that much time off, so those would have to wait.
The thump of music from the PA system was the prelude to the walk they would take up the semicircular ramp into the tunnel. The two teams wouldn’t be mingling like they had before the game in the empty stadium while our players found their footing on the turf.
“Violent game, wasn’t it?” Drake deadpanned as he started to pack up the gear.
I tore my eyes away from Lucas. “Yeah, it was.”
“Guess we’ll be rolling out.”
“Looks that way.”
It didn’t matter that it was New Year’s Eve. It didn’t matter that this was their final game of the season. This was football, and we lost. There would be no celebrating.
In the locker room, the players would be silent. Angry. Deflated. I hated when we lost. Not just because we lost, but because of what it did to the team spirit.
As soon as the team was ready to leave, we’d be on a bus heading for the airport. At least they wouldn’t have practice tomorrow.
When the team filed past us, of course I had to look, and much to my surprise, Lucas’s penetrating eyes were on me. His hard body was covered in dirt and his hair was a sexy mess. He held his helmet in his hand and he wore a frown on his face.
“Hey, hot stuff,” I mouthed.
And just like that he turned that frown upside down. It was that easy smile that made me weak in the knees each time I saw it.
A feeling coursed through me that everything in the world was somehow right.
And that’s when I knew . . . I really did have it all.
BRAGGING RIGHTS
Gillian: Three Years Later
THE AIR FELT electrically charged. It was hard to believe that in a matter of minutes the eyes of over a million Americans would be watching what happened in this stadium in the Windy City.
And they would be focusing on Lucas, my father, the entire team, as well as the opposing team.
Lucas had dreamed of this his entire life, even if there were times he refused to admit it, and the time had come.
This was his house.
His time.
And it was more than deserved.
“Did you see this picture?” Drake asked, jolting me out of my heartfelt reflection.
I took his phone from his hand and rolled my eyes when I glanced at the screen. It was a picture of Lucas attached to a resistance band being held by Dallas as they walked the perimeter of the stadium.
Lucas wasn’t a fancy dog—he was just getting a workout for goodness sake.
The photo that was snapped by the press just hours ago had already gone viral. I had to admit though as I glanced down at it again, he did look like was he being taken for a walk.
&n
bsp; The chuckle I let out couldn’t be helped.
All of a sudden Lucas started marching his team down the field, and when he looked at me, he narrowed his eyes.
How on earth did he know I was making fun of him?
All I could do was stand on the sidelines with my heart racing, and mouth “Good luck.”
Just as the music for the National Anthem started piping through the stadium, I handed Drake his phone and placed my hand over my heart.
This was the Super Bowl. And the Bears had finally made it all the way.
All. The. Way. As my father had said about five thousand times over the past five days.
Lucas had an amazing season—the most touchdowns, the most passing yards, and the fewest interceptions.
He would be named MVP, for certain.
The coin was tossed, and we won, which meant Lucas was up. He always preferred it that way, being first.
Imagine that.
The first quarter passed in the blink of an eye. We were ahead by 7. The second quarter ended and we were up 24–14. The third quarter was over with no additional points scored. And the fourth quarter went by in a flash. Amidst all the scoring by both teams, we were still up.
With a mere forty-five seconds left, all that remained was for us to run the clock out. Lucas broke the huddle and followed the center to the line of scrimmage.
What was he doing?
I closed my eyes. I couldn’t watch. This game was so close, and at 34–28, anything could happen.
Then I heard it.
The whistle.
The applause.
The roar of the crowd.
The game was over.
We’d won.
Won!
I opened my eyes and listened to all the cheering. Scanning the field, I found Lucas on his knees. The tears that fell from my eyes couldn’t be withheld. This was his moment, and he deserved it.
My gaze quickly shifted to my father, who was headed to the field toward Lucas. I started crying even harder when he brought him to his feet. This was his moment too, and he too deserved it.
I stood with my hands over my mouth to try to quiet my sobs.
Orange and blue confetti came raining down as the men in my life embraced each other right there on the field.
