What You Need(69)

Tight End.

Hard-line offense.

First down.

Roughing the passer.

Off sides.

Half the distance to the goal.

Repeat third down.

And my personal favorite: got stuffed.

I moved around during halftime. I knew Brady was itching to discuss the finer points of the first half with his family, so I wandered out of the skybox. Even Bart had bailed. I found an alcove between the two skyboxes where I could look down onto the field. The flexible dome roof made it windy at the top of this side, but I welcomed the air and breathed deeply for the first time in over an hour.

The third quarter started and I knew I should get back inside, but I needed a few more minutes of solitude. I kept an eye on the field and saw number 88 leap into the air to catch a pass. The Lund family broke out into a collective cheer so loud I bet Jensen had heard it. On the next down, once again Jensen caught the ball and he made it a few yards before he was tackled.

The next play had Jensen “The Rocket” Lund living up to his name. The quarterback was able to buy them enough time for Jensen to get way downfield at the ten-yard line. The pass the quarterback threw? A perfect spiral. Jensen caught it, hunkered down and didn’t stop until he’d passed the goal line.

The stadium went nuts.

I felt that rush of adrenaline from sixty thousand rabid fans roll over me in a wave. Everything was so loud I couldn’t hear how hard the Lunds were celebrating right next to me. I remained where I was, reluctant to interrupt their family celebration. Hearing them talk, I could tell this was the moment they’d been waiting for all season.

The kick was good and the Vikings were up by fourteen over Detroit.

Brady didn’t track me down until there were only four minutes left of the third quarter. He was so solid and so warm when he moved in behind me and he was one of the few men I’d ever been with who made me feel petite. And when he put his arms around me I felt protected. I closed my eyes and savored the feeling.

“Did it get to be a little much in there for you?”

Sitting so close to you, having you touching me but not really touching me . . . hearing the deep rumble of your voice . . . it all mixed together to create a very potent cocktail I couldn’t sample.

“I needed some air.”

He kissed the top of my head. “I hate to admit I didn’t see when you left.”

“No worries. I was out here when Jensen made his big play. Talk about exciting.”

“It’s what we’ve been waiting for, for two years since Jensen signed on with the team. He had one game-making play in the regular season his rookie year. But the team hasn’t utilized him like they should. Jensen has wanted to play for the Vikings his entire life. But he knew if he didn’t get time on the field this year he’d become a free-agent.”

“Brady.”

“Yeah, baby?” he murmured behind my ear.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Anything.”

“It is a huge turn-on to hear you talking football. The inflections in your voice, the passion, even those very ripe curses—it’s like an auditory aphrodisiac for me.”

“Lennox, I just went from freezing my balls off to completely hard in like five seconds.”

I angled my head to nuzzle him. I let the tip of my tongue tickle the beard scruff beneath his chin. “You were getting to be too much for me, Brady. That’s why I had to leave.”

“And what do you think we should do about that?” He circled my wrists with his fingers and lifted my arms, placing my palms flat on the concrete walls on either side of me. Then he followed the undersides of my arms down to my chest. He squeezed and teased, his breath coming hot and fast in my ear. “Should I give you a personal play-by-play?”

“Of the football game?” I answered breathlessly.

“No, of what I’m going to do to you.” He nipped my earlobe. “You’ve gotten a peek at the pregame plan, but this? This is the real deal. I’m going to keep after you until I get you to the goal line. How’s that sound?”

“Like a challenge.”

“I’m up for it.”

My knees went a little weak when he urged, “Spread your legs.”

But I managed to step out and give him room.

“That’s a girl. Now listen up.” He lowered one hand to my hip and used the other to continue to torment my breast. “We’re starting fresh. It’s first and ten. Tell me what that means.”

“Ten moves until you score?”

“I hope not. You’re primed, baby. I don’t want to rush for the goal. It’s too easy to fumble.” He lifted the bottom of my jersey and slipped his hand beneath the silky fabric. He swept his thumb along the top of my jeans, making my belly quiver with every pass. “Do you know what it means when someone’s buttoned up?”