Holly smarted something back, but Jude was back in position and I tuned everything else out. This time, as soon as Jude caught the ball, he ran it. Dodging a couple of players that slipped by his line, he blazed a path past the ten, past the five, and the last few yards were wide open.
And we were on the board with six points less than a minute into the game. I knew there was no J in team, but those points were almost all thanks to number seventeen, Jude Ryder.
Gripping the rail in front of me, I jumped, hollering out at the field. Holly was screaming too, although hers was punctuated by “ass candy” every other word.
Jude dropped the ball in the end zone, having long abandoned the theatrics of scoring a touchdown after his first game. Something about running a ball into the end zone one to two times a game had a way of making theatrics a bit lackluster.
However, there was one opening touchdown tradition he hadn’t let die. I was already leaning over the railing before he’d jogged over the ten. It felt like half the dome’s eyes were on me because if any of them had been to a game, they knew why Jude Ryder was sliding his helmet off and who he was smiling at.
I’d never been one for making a scene or partaking in public displays of affection, but when it came to Jude, I’d take him anyway he offered himself to me. No matter if we were alone or the focus of thousands of crazed fans. When we were looking at each other the way we were now, everything faded into oblivion.
Shouldering a hole through his teammates slapping him on the back as he passed, he dropped his helmet before leaping into the air. His hands caught the top rail of the front row and, performing the hanging from the side of a barricade equivalent of a chin-up, he lifted himself up.
Leaning over farther, I grinned down at his sweat beaded face. “Show off,” I whispered, so close I could almost taste the salt of his skin.
His smile curved higher. “Come here,” he ordered, dropping his eyes to my lips.
Dropping my mouth to his, I tasted the salty sweat of his skin. And then I kissed him. The crowd exploded again, loving the show their star quarterback was giving them. But we weren’t doing it for them. This, we did for us. Everything we did as a couple we did for us.
He didn’t let me break away when I moved to. Instead, he somehow managed to hold himself with one arm while the other grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me back at him. He kissed me harder, so I couldn’t breathe and the stadium was spinning and, as expected, everything except for Jude faded away. I had totally and completely faded into him.
Then, leaning back, he pressed one last sweet kiss into my lips. “My god, Luce,” he breathed, the warmth of it coating my face, “how’s a man supposed to concentrate on football after that?”
“Good luck with that,” I answered, my voice as staggered as I’d guessed it would be.
“There better be more where that came from after the game,” he said, flashing an impish grin as he lowered himself down.
“Plenty,” I called down to him.
“Ryder!” The head coach hollered above the noise, “I sure as hell know you don’t mind making a fool of yourself, but quit making a fool of me and the rest of the team! Calm your dick down and focus!”
Jude rolled his eyes up at me before turning and heading back to the sideline.
“Good to see you too, Jude!” Holly yelled, crossing her arms and looking positively put out.
Spinning around, Jude extended his arms. “You know I love ya, Hol!”
“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, waving him off.
And then a bronzed goddess put herself in Jude’s path, hands on her hips and giving him a look that made me see red all over again. She said something, but I couldn’t hear what. Although I knew that had I been a lip reader, I would have been throwing myself over the railing and slapping that suggestive little smile off her face.
Jude nodded in acknowledgement, reaching down to retrieve his helmet. Adriana moved faster, grabbing the helmet and swinging it out of his reach. Jude reached for it, but she dodged him, lifting it higher. Jude’s face wasn’t amused, and mine was enraged. This chick was resorting to playground tactics to get a boy’s attention. It was weak. And pathetic.
Reaching again for it, Adriana side-stepped, hanging it out of Jude’s grasp. He paused, hanging his hands on his hips, and blew out a breath. It looked like he said please, to which she shook her head. Then, her eyes landed on me before she tapped her cheek with her finger. She waited, holding his helmet away from him, making sure I was watching her. I was.
So when Jude leaned in and gave her a peck on the cheek, she got to witness the storm that clouded my face. Lowering the helmet, she handed it back to him, but not before she lifted a brow at me and settled a victorious smile in its place.