Really, how can she protest that? She doesn’t, because I make it worth her while. I lick and kiss and suck until she’s rocking against my mouth and coming on my lips.
When her moans subside, I’m above her, my chest pressed to hers. “Hi.”
She blinks open her eyes and smiles woozily. “Hi.”
I kiss her neck, her throat, her ear, then meet her lips, whispering a kiss over them.
She says my name again, and this time, her voice grows more serious. “Cooper.”
“What is it?” I ask as I reach for a condom from my wallet. I snagged some from the hotel last night.
“I’m on the pill. And I’m clean. Are you?”
“I am.”
“Not that we have to go without. But I want you to know. Just in case.”
I smile. “Just in case I want to feel you bare?”
She smiles, too. “Yes, but you don’t have to.”
I know what she’s getting at. There’s a code among pro athletes. Wrap it till you’re married. We’re warned of groupies who try to land pro-ball baby-daddies in all sorts of crazy ways. Violet’s not a groupie. She’s not some nutty chick trying to trap me. And this isn’t about the wear-a-glove code. It’s about trust and respect. It’s about who I’m giving my heart to.
When I look into her bright eyes, I see everything I could ever want in this life. She’s not going anywhere, because I’m never going to let her get away from me. I don’t want more than the two of us right now, and I know she’s the only one for me for the rest of my life. I know she’ll be here when my career is over, because she was there before it started. She’ll be here, because I can see forever in her eyes.
“I want to,” I say, and then I rest on my forearms, settle between her legs, and sink into her.
We both moan at the same time.
It’s so good. It’s so intense. It’s everything.
I take my time, building and pushing and savoring. I watch her, cataloging every intoxicating reaction. I love the way her lips part, how she breathes out hard when I swivel my hips, how her face is the picture of exquisite torment when I thrust deep into her.
She grabs my ass, and I slide her knees up her chest. I make love to her like that. With her pinned beneath me, saying my name, breathing my breath, kissing my lips.
Her gasps come faster.
Her noises grow louder.
Her moves become wilder.
She rocks up into me, widens her legs, takes me deeper.
Everything in me crackles. Pleasure snaps in my body. Desire flows hot in my blood. I’m dizzy with want, ravenous with the need to be as close to her as possible.
In seconds, she’s crying out in bliss, saying my name, chanting God’s name, calling out incoherent moans of pleasure, and sending a whole new wave of electricity sparking across my skin. As the aftershocks shudder through her, I rise to my knees, grab her hips, tug her down harder on my cock, and go wild, thrusting, pounding, letting go until the world slips into pure pleasure and my climax obliterates me, as I come inside the woman I love.
The woman I plan on loving for the rest of my life.
After, as I collapse on her then roll to the side, I find myself wondering how it’s possible to just know. To know with absolute certainty that you’re with the person who makes you not only happy, but better.
Because I know I’ve found the one I want. I don’t want her to doubt my love. I run my fingers along her cheekbone. “Hey, Violet. You want to know something?”
She turns to me, her cheeks rosy and glowing. “Yes, I want to know something.”
I wrap an arm around her. “You’re stuck with me.”
She laughs. “Is that so?”
“Yep. I don’t plan on letting you go. Ever, basically.”
“I can live with that.”
“You should live with me,” I say.
She arches a brow. “You’re already inviting me to live with you?”
“Vi, I plan on loving you for my whole damn life. I don’t need to mess around with stages and steps and taking things in some kind of orderly fashion. You’re an eighty-yard pass, and I want to get into the end zone with you.”
She rolls her eyes. “That sounds incredibly dirty.”
“Yeah, it does.”
“Hey, do you want to know something?”
“I do.”
She runs her hands down my chest, over the planes of my abs. “Why did the football go to the bank?”
“Why?”
She wiggles her eyebrows. “To get her quarterback.”
I crack up. “You’ve got him. You’ve absolutely got him.”
“I’m keeping him.” She slinks a hand over my hip and around to my butt, squeezing. “After all, you do have the best butt in the NFL.”