I fiddled with my wedding band, comforted by its weight, dazzled, still, by its sparkle.
“Sure.” I turned my head, looking out the window, my hands clasped together in my lap. “Keelie left me a message, inviting me over to her place to watch the next game.”
“Good. Great. I’m glad you get along with the CATS.”
“Why CATS? I thought the name for partners of professional athletes was WAGs—you know, wives and girlfriends.”
Maxim smiled. “Our owner’s more progressive. I guess so is Coach Whittaker and the rest of the team. CATS stands for comrades, allies, teammates, and spouses.”
“Oh.” I blinked. “I like that. A lot.” I looked out the window, trying to gather my thoughts. “Should I tell Keelie we’re married?” I asked, my voice hesitant.
Maxim shot me a questioning frown. “Of course. Cormac knows—I told the guys before the game yesterday, so my guess is Keelie knows already.”
“Oh.”
“You don’t want people to know?” Maxim sounded hurt.
“No! That’s not it at all.” I wrapped my arms around my waist and squeezed. “It’s just…we’re unconventional. I don’t…how do we…they may not understand.”
“That milk is spilled, Ida Jane.” Maxim reached over, prying my fingers from where they dug into my waist and clasped my hands. “Plus, yours is the only opinion I care about.” He paused, seemed to consider something. “Well, yours, and Coach Whittaker, some of my teammates, and your parents.” He grunted. “That’s more people than I’ve worried about…ever.”
He held my left hand, so I was able to enjoy the fiery sparkle of the small diamonds lining my ring. It was so beautiful. My gaze shifted to the thick gold band taking up nearly half the area between the two knuckles on his ring finger. I’d noted he played with it after I’d slipped it on his finger, making me wonder why he’d chosen such a sturdy option.
“You look good in that,” Maxim said, tone gruff.
I licked my dry lips. “I’m on birth control.”
Well, I could have said that more elegantly, but it was out there now. I’d hurt Maxim’s feelings before our wedding, and on the plane ride back, I’d concluded that we deserved to enjoy our time together. We were married, for goodness’ sake. Of course we were going to have sex.
I wanted that to be part of our relationship. Craved it. And hoped it would settle my growing fears about my impulsive decision.
He slid to a stop at the light as the silence between us seemed to expand. He glanced over, eyes burning with desire.
“That’s good to know.” He shot me a smoldering look. “Because I hope to fuck you often with no barriers.”
I shifted, trying to ease the sudden pulsing warmth in my core. Often, huh. I liked the sound of that. Until Maxim, I considered the idea of orgasms without clitoral stimulation hooey. But that first kiss and every single one since, even the chaste ones on my cheek, temple, and over my wedding band, made my body light up with desire. Hell, he’d looked at me across my office the other day and I’d gotten wet.
So, yeah, I was down for passionate sex. Often.
“I’m looking forward to that,” I said.
A twinkle settled into his eyes. This man was so beautiful when he let go. I wished I could help him do that more often. “Mmm. Me, too. I have been since I saw you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Be serious.”
“I am. You have no idea how much your fighting spirit turned me on, Fists.”
I inclined my head toward his growing bulge. “I’m getting an idea.”
* * *
Maxim
A few years ago,I’d watched a documentary. I liked them, especially before my English improved to the point that I could read it with fluent ease. I loved books, learning, but few libraries kept a large Russian language section.
That documentary was about imprinting and the biological responses of babies from certain species to find and know their mothers.
“I imprinted,” I muttered, both annoyed and impressed that sometime between our first interaction and the moment I proposed, Ida Jane had settled into my biology as my mate-for-life. Like a wolf. Or an eagle.
