“When the fuck did you get so wise?”
“I’m not sure I did, but I’ve been spending time with Carly and the kids, and it helps to put things into perspective.”
Carly is Colton’s big sister, and she was recently widowed. Her husband was in the army and killed overseas, leaving her with three kids under twelve. “How is she doing?”
“She’s struggling.” Worry lines furrow his brow. “At least I was able to alleviate her financial concerns and move her closer to my parents. When I see what she is dealing with, it makes my problems seem inconsequential.”
“Have you made any plans?”
“Not a single one. I have no clue what I want to do with my life now. Football is all I’ve known.”
“You have a business degree from Berkeley and resources to set up your own business. You could do something sports related. Become an agent or set up a sports facility. Those altitude training gyms are really taking off now, and that market is wide-open. You could open a franchise and go after the NFL business. Only a few teams use altitude training, like the Jets and the Falcons. You’re ideally positioned to pitch the idea to them. Keats and I did a couple of sessions before we did our last big climb, and it was fucking brilliant. It’s not just preparation for going to high altitudes or only for professional sports teams. It has been proven to help with weight loss, injury recovery, strength, and cardiovascular performance, so it has mass market appeal. Or you could always coach, if you don’t want to go the business route?”
“You really think altitude training is a good opportunity?”
“I do. I might even be interested in getting involved if you decide to pursue it.”
Colt sits up straighter and leans across the table. “I’m not sure I’d be brave enough to go it alone, but if you want in, then I’m definitely interested.”
Excitement bubbles up my throat at the prospect of a new possibility. “Let me talk to Keats and sort out my family situation first, and then we can seriously discuss it.”
14
KEATON
I’m exhausted as I turn the key in the lock of our front door, smothering a yawn as I drag my cases behind me and step into our large hall.
Home sweet home.
There is no greater feeling after two weeks away from my family.
A layer of stress instantly lifts from my shoulders as I softly close the door behind me. The familiar scent of jasmine and lavender tickles my nostrils as I dump my cases against the wall and remove my shoes. It’s three a.m., and the house is deep in slumber.
“Hey,” someone with a husky masculine voice says, and I almost jump out of my skin.
“Jesus, fuck, Austen. You scared the shit out of me!”
My husband smirks, pushing off the doorway to the living room and sauntering toward me. His thin pajama pants hang off toned hips, the material doing little to hide the sizable cock hanging between his muscular thighs.
“Welcome home,” he says, and we fall into one another’s arms.
“I’ve missed you so much. Missed home.” I almost choke on the words, but it’s no lie. I can’t do this anymore. I hate these separations. It’s killing me being away from my family.
“We missed you too,” he says, tipping my head back and claiming my mouth in a hard kiss.
We stay wrapped around one another in the hallway, kissing and groping like we’re horny teenagers. Every sweep of my husband’s lips against mine, every stroke of his tongue, and every sensual caress helps to eradicate more of my tension until I’m a puddle of goo in his arms. His erection presses against the seam of my jeans where my cock is straining against the zipper.
“You must be tired,” Austen says when we finally break apart. His fingers brush the skin underneath my eyes. “You look tired.”
“I am,” I truthfully reply, grabbing his ass and pulling him into me. “But not too tired to fuck my gorgeous husband.”
“I didn’t wait up for that,” Austen says, gliding his hand in between our bodies. His skillful fingers trace the length of my cock through my jeans, and a bead of precum leaks from the tip. “I knew I wouldn’t sleep until you were safely home.”
“I love you,” I say before pressing a tender kiss to his lips. “And I’m never too tired to fuck. I need you, babe.”
“You have me. Always.”
Austen takes my hand, leading me upstairs. I stop at the kids’ bedrooms, opening the doors like a thief and stealing a peek at my handsome son and our beautiful little daughter. We used an anonymous donor egg, a surrogate, and IVF to deliver our first biological child. We both donated sperm and chose not to identify which of us fathered Lia, because it doesn’t matter. We are both her fathers, irrespective of whose DNA she shares. But it’s obvious she is Austen’s biological child because she has his piercing green eyes and the same high cheekbones.
