MADDOX
There are many athletes who don’t bring women back to their homes for various reasons. Mostly privacy. Some are just assholes. I was never one of those guys.
Sure, there were a few crazies that I hooked up with since moving to Nashville that looking back, I’d rather them not know where I live, but at the end of the day, I didn’t mind having a woman in my space. I knew she wasn’t staying long, or coming over again, so I felt like it didn’t matter.
But as I stand with Gabi in my elevator, hand in hand as we make our way to my top-floor condo, the moment isn’t lost on me that she’s coming into my home. And unlike the others, Gabi isn’t a one-time thing. I don’t want her to be. I want her to stay as long as she wants. I want her to have a toothbrush on my counter and a drawer in my dresser. I want my pillows to smell like her and Coke Zero to be always stocked in my refrigerator. I want to see her walking around my house in that T-shirt she took from me that first night with nothing on underneath. I want us to fall asleep on the couch together because we put on a movie that we both promised each other we’d stay up for.
I want it all.
“Oh my,” Gabi says with wide eyes as we walk through my front door. “It’s gorgeous Maddox.”
“Thank you,” I say as I slip off my shoes. “I’d take credit for the design choices, but then I’d be acting like I have any idea what the designer did besides give me a space that doesn’t scream ‘I’m a douche.’ Which was my only requirement.”
That makes her laugh. “You hired a designer?”
“I did when I bought this two years ago,” I said. “She’s local. Specializes in creating spaces for men. She’s Ainsley’s sister and Linc recommended her. Since I have no clue what’s an appropriate amount of pillows, I paid her whatever she wanted. The most Type A woman I’ve ever met but man she hit every nail on the head.”
“Sounds like my kind of gal,” Gabi says as she walks over to the floor to ceiling windows that give a perfect view of the Nashville skyline. A few lights are on in the living room, but they’re soft, allowing the natural light of the view to frame Gabi in the space. I swear as I take her in, she has a glow around her. It’s one I could stare at all night. But I’m not. Because more than needing to look at her, I need to feel her in my arms.
She doesn’t even jump a little as I step behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her back into me. Her head falls back against my chest and she immediately relaxes in my hold.
“Are you still tired?”
She shakes her head as she turns around to face me. “Not at all.”
Neither of us need to say anything else as our lips find each other’s. I pull her closer to me, wanting to feel every part of this first kiss.
Sure, I know it’s not ouractualfirst kiss. It’s not even our first kiss today. But it’s the first one that doesn’t feel like it has some sort of rush to it. Or has outside factors or excitement. It’sonly me and Gabi, alone, no timer or audience, just finding each other.
And it’s as perfect as I thought it would be.
Wanting more of her, I reach down beneath her thighs, lifting her up so she has no choice but to wrap her legs around my waist as I walk her to my bedroom. Sure, I could’ve gone to the couch. It would’ve been less presumptuous.
But I know my girl. And I feel the way she’s grinding into me. There’s no doubting what she wants.
Our kiss becomes more desperate as she pulls me in tighter. Thankfully, I didn’t shut the door earlier so I don’t even have to kick it open before taking four long strides to my bed where I lay her down.
I didn’t mean to go down with her, but her arms are glued around my neck, I had no choice but to. Though, there are worse places to be than in my bed, wrapped up in Gabi, and kissing her like all we want in the world is each other.
There are many things I had wished happened between us in Vegas. Some were ones I thought of that night but had to prioritize. Others I fantasized about after. According to my therapist, there are likely some things I romanticized. I get that. In theory. But the night was so crazy and amazing and magical and insane how could someone not?
But now that I’m laying here with her, feeling her hands go underneath my shirt, slowly working their way up my chest, the way our mouths are moving in sync like they’re meant to be together… I think I didn’t romanticize anything. If anything, I undersold this.
This is perfection in its purest form.
I lift her from the bed and set her on my lap, wanting nothing more than her shirt to be gone so my lips can travel exactly where they want. When I break our kiss, she lifts her arms for me. But it’s her bouncing eyes that have me concerned.
“Gabi? Talk to me gorgeous.”
It’s dark in my room, but I can still see her blush because she knows she’s been busted. “I’m just in my head. Don’t worry about me.”
“Not worry about you? Ha! Let’s try that again,” I say as I pull her black off-the-shoulder sweater over her head and toss it to the side. And as much as I want to devour her tits right now—which are perfectly waiting for me in a black lace strapless bra and I swear to God they’re bigger than I remember—I have one thing to do first. “Talk to me. Don’t hold back. I want to know every good, bad, or ugly thought that’s bouncing around in that beautiful head of yours. Because the good ones I want to make sure happen, and the bad ones I want to fuck right out of you.”
My words give her a hint of a smile. “Before… in Vegas… we were drunk. There was the heat of the moment and I had liquid courage and adrenaline racing through my veins. But tonight…”
“Tonight’s different,” I assure her that I’m on the same page. Because she’s right. It is. “We’re different. We’re not strangers anymore. We’re not two people who were at the right place at the right time. But know this. The words I told you that first night? Those don’t change. This is your show, Gabrielle. Always. You’re in control, unless you don’t want to be.”
That seems to take her aback. “If I don’t want to be?”
