For me, the sex we had that night felt like a living manifestation of our Eiffel Tower confession. Every touch sizzled with it. Every kiss labeled it by name. I loved her breasts, suckling each peak in my mouth for minutes on end.
Then I moved down to the V shape between her legs, my mouth spelling out our love with every flick of my tongue until she came for me hard, pushing into my still-hungry mouth.
“I wanna know where Dwayne the Wanker ever got off makin’ you think you ain’t perfect?” I demanded when I came back up to kiss her lips. “You know what you taste like, Kayla? Woman. Joy. Love. If my prick wasn’t such a selfish bastard, I’d stay down there all night. Don’t laugh. You know I ain’t jokin’.”
Her laughter transformed into a soft gasp when I pushed into her. She moaned, her hands finding my hips as I braced meself and established a rhythm.
“Open your legs wider, love. I want to go deeper.”
She did as I said, her hands moving to my bottom.
I groaned when I sank further into her—then I resumed my ride with monstrous, claiming thrusts.
Chanting, “I love you, I love you, I love you…”
“Mick! Oh, Mick!” Kayla went wild underneath me, bucking and squirming, until she managed to babble a few words, telling me how good it felt, how she had never experienced anything like this before.
The same was true for me. But I couldn’t have put words to my feelings if I tried.
I wished for crazy stuff, like that I hadn’t put on a condom. I wished for us to make a child together, a girl with her good nature and my athletic ability. I wished we could get married before she left so she’d have a reason to quit her job and come right back to my side of the Atlantic to be with me forever. I wished we could defy the laws of physics, that I could sink deeper and deeper into her until we became one.
I released then, with a great yell, all of my wishes spilling out of my body and flooding into the condom. “I love you so much, Kayla!”
Somewhere in the distance, I heard her say, “I love you, too!”
It took us both a long time to come down from that. We clung to each other for what felt like hours, whispering “I love you” back and forth as I clasped her tight against my chest.
“Mick?” she asked.
“Yeah, baby,” I answered, hoping she didn’t ask me to let up on my hold. I didn’t know if I could, especially considering this would be the last chance I’d have to hold her like this.
Because tomorrow, when I left for London, I’d be forced to tell her the truth—who I was and how I’d been lying to her this entire time. This fantasy we had created together would all come crashing down around me.
But then she said, “I know it’s hard to get unscheduled time off when you work for the government, but do you think you could stay? Just for a few more days? Until my trip is over?”
* * *
I wentto sleep that night feeling like someone who’d been granted a stay of execution—even though agreeing to Kayla’s request for me to stay through the end of her trip was going to get me in a heap of trouble with FC Greenwich.
I could only imagine the hell the coaches would be giving me, especially after Gerald called to tell them I would not only be returning to practice late but would also not be giving them an opportunity to negotiate my contract for next season.
But none of that mattered, did it?
Saying yes to Kayla’s request had effectively given me three more days. Three more days to woo her, like Bruno and the rest of the team suggested. Three more days to figure out how to tell her who I really was.
And yeah, sure, I’d have to figure out a way to make her agree to continuing our stay at the Tourmaline, where I wouldn’t be in constant threat of being mobbed by paps and fans. Also, without the prize package to fall back on, I’d have to figure out a good excuse for why I couldn’t go to any major landmarks with her over the next few days.
However, I had faith that Bruno and Zahir Zaman would continue to weave their magic, especially now that I would be an official member of the club starting in August.
None of those obstacles mattered. All that mattered was me getting to spend more time with Kayla before she went home to California.
However, when I woke up the next morning in the bed that would be ours for three more days, one thing was missing. Kayla.
Her side of the bed was empty except for a notepad on her pillow with 8:00 a.m. written in the corner of the top sheet.
Going down to the restaurant to grab us some breakfast. Will probably be back before you
I shook my head, guessing that she’d opted to make the trip herself rather than tack another room service charge on our bill. But why hadn’t she finished the note?
