She arches an eyebrow and whispers, “Who said you would be relaxing in my bed?”
The image of me restrained to this very mattress, being tortured with pleasure at the hands of this woman sends a shiver down my spine.
“So where do you keep it all?” I ask with a flash of teeth.
She picks up on the question left unspoken, and wordlessly opens her closet—the whole time keeping a close eye on me. A small key is produced and she unlocks a wooden chest on the floor.
I blink and gape at her, unable to hold back my grin.
Chapter 40
Premier League or Bust
Renée
The stadium for Jonah’s final season game isn’t huge, but compared to the scruffy community park they’re used to playing at, this place looks like the Super Bowl. The artificial turf glows under the early November sun, and the stands are nearly packed with actual fans. There’s even a massive banner the hangs across the railing that reads:
GO PHILLY! PREMIER LEAGUE OR BUST!
We finally spot Jonah’s family waving us over. We met them last Sunday when Jonah hosted a family dinner at his place. Everyone was so nice, and I could tell right off the bat that this family was tight-knit.
That same morning, I welcomed him into my home for the first time, and made sure he understood just how important he is to me. The sun seemed to shine a little brighter that day.
But even if we hadn’t met his family before today, I think we would have spotted them. Every single one of them is wearing matching T-shirts with the faces of Jonah, Dane, and Rafael plastered to the cotton. Angie is standing on the bench, already screaming her husband’s name, even though warm-ups aren’t over yet.
As we walk up, Joaquín turns and grins. “There’s the real MVP,” he says. “Saved you ladies some seats.”
I scoot in and take a seat beside Neal, rigid in his team hat. Part of me thinks he’s going to shake my hand, but he surprises me and comes in for a hug. “Good to see you again, Renée. Hi girls.”
“Hi, Grandpa Neal,” Lo chirps, throwing all of us for a loop.
I catch the faintest hint of blush across his cheeks, and he chuckles. “Hey kiddo.”
“Everyone cheer,” Ivy (his sister, not his girlfriend like I wrongly accused him of having) says. She holds her phone. “I’m documenting everything, so look alive!”
We cheer and wave and say encouraging words into the camera before she moves on to film something else.
“There’s a lot more people here than I thought there’d be,” I say.
“That might be my doing,” Robyn says. I turn around to find her sitting between her husbands. She winces, but I know she’s not at all sorry. “I may have sent out the bat signal across social media.”
Jonah showed me her profiles with millions of followers last week, and my jaw dropped. She’s a professional rugby player with brand deals and modeling contracts. Her husband Dell has a similarly sized following for gym thirst traps. Jonah’s family is something else.
“What do you have there?” Joaquín asks Delta.
“We made signs!” she announces, handing him a glitter-coated posterboard. One has Jonah’s name, and the other readsTRY HARDERwith absolutely no irony.
Joaquín beams. “The guys are gonna love this.”
On the field, Jonah jogs across the turf with the rest of his team. Half of his hair is pulled into a topknot, and he looks damn good in that uniform—tight little shorts, thick hamstrings out for my viewing pleasure. I wanna bite intothem.
When he spots us, his face lights up. He lifts a hand, and Delta jumps up to wave both signs at once. Lo blows a kiss like she’s greeting the Pope.
And it’s that signature Jonah grin of his that has my heart fluttering.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer’s voice booms through the stadium. “Welcome to the final match of the Division One East Coast Rugby Playoffs between Philadelphia and Richmond. Today’s winning team will be crowned this year’s champions. But win or lose, Philadelphia only needs to score seven more points to qualify for Premier League.”
The crowd erupts, and Delta screams, “Let’s get eight!”
