We sat up.
“Yeah, but I’m hoping this place has as many bathrooms in it.”
“Oh, right. There’s one behind the pinball machine.” I pointed.
Luke hopped off the table and returned a few minutes later.
“This is naked football, right?” he asked before turning to lift me off the pool table.
I would never be able to play a game here without blushing to my toes. We had officially christened and tarnished that L W logo at the same time.
“What?” My feet dangled over his arm. I felt petite and tiny in his massive arms.
There were no clothes in this room. There was a trail leading here like bread crumbs in the forest.
“You don’t know about naked football? You’re missing out on such an education.”
“Really?” I twisted my lips together.
“Point me to the TV,” he directed.
“Back to the front door and then off to the other wing.”
He shook his head. “This is a fucking maze, you know that, right?”
“It’s a little spacious.”
“It’s big enough for five kids and then some.”
The smile dropped from his face. And we stared in each other’s eyes.
24
Luke
Fuck. Why did I say that? Why did I bring up kids?
And at the same time I couldn’t stop thinking about it. This woman was mine, and it was becoming more clear to me that I wanted her to be mine in every way. Maybe even with my baby inside her.
“Which way?” I asked, dodging her probing eyes.
“If you insist on carrying me like this it’s going to take a while.”
“Just tell me.”
I wasn’t going to let her go. I wanted to hold her to my chest. Carry her. Protect her. And the fact that I had taken her the way I wanted, claimed her body once again, made this feel right.
“Ok, out of this room and then left. Down the hall and right to the front door.”
I retraced our original path, stepping over pictures I had knocked to the floor.
Alexa’s house was fucking ridiculous. It sprawled in every direction. From the front it was deceiving. I couldn’t tell that beyond the front door was where the labyrinth started. And she was here alone. I guessed this was what number one songs bought you.
I heard the sounds of a referee’s whistle. The game was on in a nearby room.
It was hard to believe that just a few hours ago I was doing the same thing. I was on the field, looking for James to get open. I was arguing with refs. I was yelling at my line.
And now I was holding a sexy beautiful woman in my arms. I had flown hours to see her. To surprise her. To do the unexpected.
And yet we were living in the shadows. Keeping it a secret. Hiding each other from the world. I didn’t know how long I could keep it up. I’d always lived my life wide open.
I looked up to see Brian Ross get sacked. I chuckled. Never liked the guy.
“Something funny?”
I settled us on the couch. It felt a hell of a lot better than the pool table. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that that moment was going to go down as one of the hottest fucks of my life. My cock throbbed.
I couldn’t get enough of her.
“Just watching that play. I don’t know why they called it.”
“What should they have done?” she asked.
“Not get sacked first of all.” I scowled. “But Seattle is always going to run that defensive play when there are four receivers lined up.”
“How do you know that?”
“This is what I do. I study them. I watch the games. I read, believe it or not.” I winked at her. “And that QB should know it. If he’s got four receivers going long Seattle is going to rush him in the fastest blitz they have. They don’t have the coverage for those four guys, so it’s their only chance to shut down the play.”
“Makes sense to me.” Her eyes were on the game.
“I would have pegged you for a cheerleader in high school. I can see you wearing one of those cute little skirts.”
“Nope.” She shook her head. “Couldn’t really afford stuff like that.”
“What do you mean?” I reached my arm around her and she nuzzled against my chest as if that was where she belonged.
“I didn’t grow up with money. This is all new to me.”
“Well most people don’t grow up with this kind of money, but you seriously couldn’t afford a cheerleading uniform?”
“My parents didn’t have extra cash. I didn’t even try to do that kind of stuff.”
I tried to picture Alexa poor without her manager. No private plane. No designer boots. The two images didn’t fit. I couldn’t reconcile a penniless girl with the one in my arms who lived in a palace and had her own stylist.