by Nana Malone
"For now, anyway," she teased. "That can wait until after we've had dinner. I went to the trouble of cooking, and I'm not letting it get cold."
Twenty-Two
Their relationship blossomed in relative privacy during the next few weeks as the Thrashers continued to win with greater reliability, crawling their way up the standings until they were battling it out in the wild card race.
The week before Christmas, they were set to play Damon and the Patriots, who were securely in the playoffs with their spot at the top of their division. The game garnered a lot of attention in the media, as announcers proclaimed it the Thrashers' true test. With Dax's steady performance on the field a must-mention subject whenever they discussed the Thrashers' remarkable improvement, the fact that he would be playing against his former teammate did not go unnoticed.
"Do you think it will be a happy reunion, or are you worried that he's going to have your number?" a reporter called out during one of the post-practice press conferences.
Dax declined to sarcastically point out the fact that he and Damon were both offensive players, so they wouldn't actually be playing on the field at the same time, despite the strong impulse. Whenever he was stressed, it was harder to suppress his old instincts.
But it wasn't the upcoming game that was stressing him out. And the image Asha had worked so tirelessly to help him build meant too much to throw away with a flippant response now.
"Damon and I go way back. We're great friends. And he's a consumate player on a world-class team. We're going to have to work really hard to get ourselves ready for them, and we'll just have to see how things go on Sunday and see if we can't stash a few surprises up our sleeves," Dax said with a grin, hoping he exuded more confidence than he felt.
He was dreading the coming weekend, but had already called Damon to see if he'd want to get together for dinner or drinks after the game and Damon had enthusiastically accepted.
That night in bed, Asha said, "I wish you wouldn't worry so much." Despite the fact that it was an away game, Asha had volunteered to travel with the team, though curfews for the players were more self-imposed now than reinforced. Superstition and a significant winning streak trumped personal preference when it came to the players' traveling habits.
The buzz around the game necessitated someone from the PR department be on site, and with Damon on the opposing team, Asha had been the logical choice. Especially when confronted with the reality of her colleagues' eagerness to spend time with their families and attend to holiday-related obligations.
Dax reached across her to grab his phone from the stand by the bed. He had been careful to wait until after the hotel's exercise room had closed for the night and his teammates had all turned in for the evening before sneaking out of his own room to meet Asha at hers. He wanted to be sure he snuck back before anyone was likely to be up and about in the morning to avoid jumpstarting the rumor mill—he would be able to stop hiding the truth from them soon enough—he just had to tell Damon, first.
"It would have been over by now, if you'd just sucked it up and called him weeks ago," Asha reminded him, nuzzling playfully into his neck.
Dax sighed. "I know. I'm wondering now if maybe you weren't right about that," he admitted.
She laughed. "Oh, I know I'm right. I always am."
"Oh, really? What about when you said we couldn't be together? That it would ruin your career?"
"I believe I said we shouldn't be together because it could ruin my career," she emphasized. "And it still might, so don't go jumping all over that point just yet. It's just that…well, I do love what I do, and my career means a lot to me, but having you makes it even better."
"Whether that's what you said or not doesn't change how right you are here, either way," Dax admitted, shaking his head but dropping the point. "I know I shouldn't feel guilty about…" He inclined his head toward her lying naked beneath the sheets. His gaze locked on her nipple and he licked his lips. Maybe if he just licked it that would be enough. Who was he kidding? They'd be finishing this conversation with him inside her.
"Sleeping with your best friend's sister," she finished for him.
"And I don't, not for that, at least. I know how I feel about you, and I know it's…"
"Undeniable? Irresistible? Mind-blowing?" she offered as her hand traced its way down his chest to slip beneath the covers pulled up to his waist. He pressed a hand on top of the blankets, catching hers as it passed over his navel. Her immobilized wrist didn't stop her fingers from playing with the trail of hair that led from his navel farther south. Dick. Hard. Just the tease was enough.
"Let's stick with the first one. My intentions are…honorable," he said. But they certainly weren't pure. "But it's been a few weeks now, and…I feel like he'll be upset because I didn't tell him. That that will be worse than whatever he might blame me for, as far as this is concerned." He slid his hand up her forearm, under the blanket, turning and bending toward her so that the tips of her fingers came into contact with the smoother parts of him—there was still plenty of time before he had to slip back to his own room. He had to learn some control with her.
"If I were Damon, that's what I'd be upset about," Asha said, bringing her hand back up to rest against Dax's chest. Her tone wasn't one of triumph any longer, but rather one of sympathy. "But he'll get over it. He's still your best friend and he wants you to be happy. He wants me to be happy, too. Once he sees it, he'll get over it. I'm sure he's seen you do worse."
"True…but nothing that felt like a personal betrayal."
Asha kissed his throat and slipped her hands up the back of his neck into his hair.
Dax groaned. "Is this you trying to take my mind off of this, or are you just hoping I'll shut up?" The bliss mixed with desperation.
She giggled, grinding against him sensuously. "Bit of both. Is it working?" she asked, knowing full well that it was. "How about if I tell you I don't want to use condoms anymore?"
Oh, fuck. His cock slid along her slick entrance and he cursed.
"Asha—"
"Please, Dax. I want to feel you. Now."
Teeth clenched, he slid home with nothing between them. Oh, shit… He was going to— She groaned low, and her velvet walls clenched around him, milking him to bliss.
"What's the matter with you, Coulter?" Coach Mills hollered at him after he reached the sideline and grabbed his water bottle. "Get your head in the game or I'll take your ass out to join it on the sidelines."
"Yes, Coach," he grunted as respectfully as he could. Samuels gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, while most of the rest of his teammates on the offensive line turned their attention back to the field, where the special teams unit was in position to punt the ball.
The game was tied, and they were in the fourth quarter where every second, every play counted. And he'd literally dropped the ball. If he'd been able to keep hold of it as he hit the ground, they would have at least been in field goal range, if not in possession of a first down, and another chance to get farther down the field for a touchdown.
They needed their defense to stop the Patriots. If not altogether, then at least hold them to a field goal, with enough time left to have another scoring play of their own.
Dax closed his eyes and did what he could to block out the noises of the game and the fans around him. He held his helmet in his hands, the plastic of the outer shell cold in the December air, but solid between his fingers. He kept telling himself it was the cold that was affecting his hold on the ball, and not his preoccupation with Damon and what he had to take care of after the game.
He set his helmet between his feet and rubbed his hands together, blowing warm air into the hollow between them and feeling the pins-and-needles response of his nerves coming back to life.
There was a loud commotion on the field and the fans in the stands were voicing their displeasure over something. Dax looked up to see a large pile of players, with officials blowing their whistles as they fought to discern who had control of the ball a
t the bottom.
The Thrashers had it. They'd recovered a fumble, and now they were down to three minutes on the clock with a tie game.
"Get back out there, boys," Coach Mills ordered, as Dax bent to retrieve his helmet.
He headed onto the field and listened to their quarterback Seth call the play. A running play, so he'd be working to draw some of the defenders to the side, in hopes of clearing a lane for their runner.
It worked enough to get them another first down, and then they hit the two-minute warning.
They were stopped on the line of scrimmage the next two downs, but got another first down on the third, running down the clock and bringing them into field goal range.
Their quarterback was sacked, and they lost four yards in the process. They were also down to just thirty-five seconds.
"One more play to get better position for the field goal, and whatever we do, we need to get that clock stopped. Run out of bounds as soon as you catch it," Vic said, looking first to Dax and then to Samuels, who was supposed to block for him, but had caught a ball or two when Vic's passes fell short of their mark.
The ball was hiked and Dax took off, dodging the defender who was covering him with a double fake to the left, then right. Once he was past him, Dax looked back over his shoulder to find the ball right where it was supposed to be.
He grabbed it out of the air and turned forward, his eyes on the white paint of the sideline a few steps away. But the field in front of him was open, except for one defender coming toward him from the side a few yards up the field. In a split second, Dax turned away from running toward the sideline and instead, shifted his feet to run right at the defender barreling toward him. The defender was larger, heavier than Dax, which meant he would have a more difficult time changing direction; his momentum wasn't going to change.
Dax was just a few feet from being in the defender's grasp—his arms were opened and ready to close on Dax as soon as he was in range, or at least make an attempt to bat the ball away.
Dax pulled up short and jumped, bringing his legs up as high as he could, knees to his chest. The defender missed, laying himself out and falling to the ground, while Dax landed on the other side of him, and ran all out toward the end zone.
It was a twenty-yard pass with an eighteen yard run from the point he caught it to score the touchdown. The clock had just two seconds left by the time the Thrashers went to kick the ball back to the Patriots, and the game was over.
Amidst all the excited and congratulatory pats on the back and punches to the shoulder were at least as many 'what the hell were you thinking' and 'you're lucky that worked' comments.
Coach Mills looked at him with narrowed eyes, and Dax knew he'd be making up for his improvisation by running extra laps in practice. He nodded to the Coach, who nodded in return. The acknowledgment was enough to allow both to continue celebrating in the moment. The teams mixed a bit as the players headed for the locker rooms. Dax was just inside the tunnel when Damon found him.
"You're a lucky bastard, you know that," Damon said as he smacked Dax between his shoulder blades.
"Lucky in so many ways," Dax agreed with a grin. "You guys played well. You always do. It's what makes beating you feel so good."
Damon rolled his eyes.
They'd reached the spot in the hallway where they were supposed to split up and each head to their own locker room, but they hesitated. The area was growing increasingly deserted as everyone pushed to get through the post-game necessities so they could head home or to their hotels for dinner or bed or whatever else they planned to do that night.
"Listen, man," Dax began, taking the plunge. "There was something I wanted to talk to you about. I was going to wait ‘til we went out to dinner but… I know that you said you wanted me to keep an eye on Asha for you, when she first moved to Jacksonville and started working for the team, and I have. That is, I've tried, I mean, I think I have, but I also know it's probably not the way you meant…" He babbled for a while before he noticed Damon was laughing.
"Keep going," Damon encouraged. "This is pretty entertaining."
The tension rolled out of Dax's shoulders when he realized Damon already knew.
"She told you, didn't she?"
Damon shook his head. "Not really. Well, not explicitly. She's my little sister," he shrugged. "I know how she gets. And it was all about what she wasn't saying. Besides, I have her on the Find My Friends app. She spends an awful lot of time at your place…at all hours of the night. And she did tell us about how she had to travel with the team and shadow players for something they were working on and that you were one of the guys she had to shadow. Well, once I started to see how you were acting, it was clear something was up with you and I figured you'd tell me what it was if you felt you could and if you couldn't…" Damon laughed as Dax struggled to figure out whether what he was feeling was disappointment, elation, or just simple relief.
"You're not mad?"
"I mean, I don't want to think about it. Because—ew—but I know who you are. You're a good dude. Even if you don't see it."
"I have to admit, laughing was on the list of reactions I thought you might have when I told you. Of course, in every scenario I pictured where you laughed, it was right before punching me." Dax was dazed, but the adrenaline from the game and his anxiety began to dissipate from his system, leaving him feeling heavy and tired.
"I can do that if it'll make you feel better, but I think it'd be best to wait ‘til we're not still technically at work," Damon offered.
"You're really not mad? Not upset I kept it from you for so long?"
"Well, how long have you been seeing her?"
"Officially or unofficially?"
Damon's posture grew a little tense. "What do you mean by unofficially?"
Dax swallowed. "We…wanted to see each other for a while…" he said slowly. "But we didn't think it would be…appropriate. Then we…we just had no fucks to give. That's when 'officially' started, but there were lots of calls that we pretended were work stuff that were just an excuse to talk and… Well, you did want me to keep an eye on her for you, so there were a few dinners, but those were all above board…"
Damon blinked slowly, much of his earlier amusement fading away. "You know…I don't need the details on this one."
"I wanted to be the one to tell you," Dax continued. "I made Asha promise she'd let me do it. But I didn't want to do it over the phone, and with our schedules…"
"You told me," Damon said with a nod. "That's what matters…and it shows just how much you care about her. Which is even more important."
"I love her," Dax confessed.
"Well, you know you're already like a brother to me," Damon reminded him. "And, as Asha has been reminding me for a while now, it's not my place to tell her what she can or can't do, who she can or can't see, and even if she appreciates my opinion and approval, she doesn't need them. Besides, you know that if you hurt her, I will end your life."
"Yup, I know. I will end me," Dax said. "Of course, you had us all figured out."
"What really surprises me is that you've managed to keep it out of the press for—no, I really don't want to know how long or just where you've been, or what you've been up to that's kept you two off everyone's radar," Damon shook his head, preferring ignorance.
Dax obligingly held his tongue and pressed his lips into a straight line. No deets was a good call. Now that Damon officially knew, they just had to tell his family. Now that would be fun. They probably wouldn't believe it.
"So give her a call and have her join us for dinner," Damon told Dax, breaking into his reverie with a tilt of the head. "You know she's waiting by the phone to find out how this all went." He turned to head toward the Patriots' locker room, while Dax turned toward the visitors' side. "Oh, and Dax?" He paused and waited for Dax to glance back over his shoulder. "Remember what I said. I know all kinds of ways to end your life." He winked and grinned.
Dax nodded, pretty sure Damon was only kidding
…maybe.
Twenty-Three
"Thanks for walking me to my room, Aaron. It's not necessary, I promise you." While those were the words that exited Asha's mouth, what she meant was, Time to go dude, you've been lingering and hanging on for far too long. There'd been a quick, impromptu meeting of the marketing team to talk about the playoffs, and what to say to the press, as well as the rapid-fire opportunities for community face time that had come up. Management wanted to strike while the iron was literally still in the fire. Aaron offered to walk her back to her hotel room, and there'd been no gentle way no let him down without saying "I'm dating a player" so…here she was.
He leaned against her door. She couldn't tell if he did it to be obnoxious, or if he just didn't realize that all she wanted to do was get in her room and get the hell away from him. To be fair, it wasn't him exactly, she just wanted to call Dax to see how it went with Damon. To see if they were still on. Or find that bra and panty set he liked so much and get dressed for dinner. Yeah, pretty much all thoughts centered on Dax right now, and she certainly didn't have the patience for Aaron's particular brand of bullshit.
"So what do you say, Asha, you going to invite me in?"
She blinked at him. Then cocked her head, trying to decide if he'd lost his damn mind or not. "That would be a no, Aaron. I'm having dinner with my brother soon, so I need to get ready."
His gaze narrowed. Whether he was pissed that she'd turned him down, or he was trying to decide if he believed her, it didn't matter. Either way, she gave zero fucks. Damn, Dax was a bad influence on her.
"I'm sure if I was Coulter, you'd find the time to spread wide for me, then."
Oh. Yeah, the little shit had lost his damn mind.
"Excuse me?" She took off her shoes so she could use them as weapons, should she need to.
"I know you think you're being slick. And you guys put on a good show. I mean, anyone looking wouldn't find a single instance of either of you acting inappropriately."
