“Sure?”
She glares at me, pumping her fist in the air. “Did I stutter? I’m cheering for your poor vagina. Go sex.”
I shake my head at her, but I stand up, squeezing her in a hug. “Nothing will happen. We both have impeccable control.”
Is the universe on to me for lying my ass off?
A juicer in the store breaks, and the wait for someone to repair it takes forever. Then there is a fruit and vegetable delivery mix-up. To top that, the electricity goes off because of a nearby construction site, and nothing works anymore. Can’t this day end already?
When Ian texts me, I’m so overwhelmed that I would like to cry and hide in a corner.
You have this. Come on, flower girl. Breathe in, breathe out, and go tackle the issues. One by one.
His unwavering support and encouragement help keep me sane as I take a deep breath and return to work. And one by one, I solve the problems.
SIXTEEN
IAN
Someone cutoff my dick already. It would be the merciful thing to do. And rip my heart out as well. I think priesthood will be the next logical step after I end my athletic career—embracing celibacy fully.
Seven months after Lilly stormed back into my life, craving her doesn’t get easier.
When I have bad days, I don’t succumb to despair because I have Lilly. She’s my stability in the chaos, weaving ease through uncertainty—making my life easier.
Sunday is the Super Bowl. I am pumped for the win, but more than that, I need a break. Some time to find my love for playing again. Too many changes and shifts in my life. I need to sort things out mentally.
My phone rings and I grit my teeth, letting Levi’s call go to voicemail. I am still hurt and angry. And like he always accused me of being—stubborn. But add that to my sister sounding miserable, yet forcing cheer into her voice every time we talk, and my parents constantly asking what’s going on between them, and I wish he were here to takecare of his mess.
My agent called me yesterday to inform me that the San Diego Sharks are interested in renewing my contract for two additional seasons. Coach doesn’t give me the impression he will retire anytime soon. Fabulous.All those millions, and I’m miserable as fuck.
My desire for Lilly is a fireball rolling through my veins, heating my insides into an inferno. I either make her mine, or I’ll die. Both my heart and dick won’t survive the long haul. I am too fucking weak in my need for her, too exhausted to fight my default setting—to want her.
In my head, I have gone over my talk with Coach a hundred times. I could sign a contract telling him how serious I am about his daughter. My being with Lilly doesn’t have to come between me and him. Maybe if I win him this Super Bowl, he’ll be happy enough and I should use that as my chance.
Mental preparations, light training, team bonding, and reviewing our game plan fill the days before the big event. My mind should be focused on that, but it swirls with thoughts of her.
We’re in the recreational part of the building. Some get massages, some laze around. I recline in the massage chair, playing video games with Roman, who asks me, “What are your plans after the season ends?”
“First, I’m going on vacation. And you?”
“I just bought a boat.”
That’s so him. I chuckle. “Giving you an incentive before the win?”
“How else am I going to spend my millions?” he asks seriously.
“Do you even like sailing?”
“Her family had one,” he mutters.
I shake my head at him.
“What? Mine is bigger.”
I can’t shake the impression, the moment a woman latches herself onto your blood cells, you can’t remove her from your system—absorbed, forever in love, even if you’re sick of feeling like that.
Back in my suite, my thoughts speed in a direction that does nothing to tire me, but keeps me wide awake. Me and her far away—alone. Me inside her, taking her in every position, on every surface—the possibilities are endless.
