“How to come out of this with the least amount of attention and damage possible,” I answered, pleading with him to understand. “Each week something else happens that starts a whole new…” Iclosed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. “I’m the one who’s being dragged. The hate, the comparisons, the think pieces about how I’m ruining your career, that’ll only intensify for me. Please, give me a little more time to figure something out.”
His jaw clenched, and I could tell he wasn’t happy.
“I’ll do whatever you want, whatever you need me to do,” he responded. “But I’m not lying, and I’m not going to let anyone disrespect you in my face. As much as I want to give you what you want, there’s only so much I can let slide before I step in.”
My stomach fluttered.
It was sexy as hell to hearthosewords out ofthatmouth fromthatman. The way he cared for me was exactly why I wanted to do what was best for him. The same way he wanted to protect me, I wanted to protect him. I couldn’t allow his association with me to negatively impact his career, his dream, his legacy.
I knew if I said that to him, he’d say it didn’t matter. He’d say anyone worth a damn would be focused on his on-the-field play. He’d say we’d figure it out.
But I knew how rare it was to get the type of opportunity he had at this moment. I knew what it meant to him, to his father. I knew how hard he worked and how much he sacrificed. And I knew how much being an active player meant to him and the ways in which it validated him deep down.
I couldn’t be the person who derailed that dream or jeopardized his future—our relationship would never survive that.
“What you can do is go on social media and say you and Milan are not happening.”
“Done,” he said without hesitation.
My lips tugged upward sheepishly. “Thank you.”
Resting his forehead against mine, he stared into my eyes. “You don’t have to thank me for that.” His lips just barely met mine. “I’d do anything to make sure you’re good.”
Sharing a soft, sweet kiss, we put the subject to rest.
We ate, watched most of a movie, and sucked and fucked our way into exhaustion. We fell asleep in each other’s arms, and I had the best sleep I’d had all week.
I’d never felt more content in my life.
“I hate to have to leave you here,” Lamar whispered against my ear. “But I can’t wait to come back home to you.”
“I love you,” I murmured sleepily, barely awake.
“I love you, too,” he replied softly. “I’ll call you when we land.”
He kissed my cheek and then my lips.
My mind, body, and soul roused when his mouth moved over mine with reverence. My arms wrapped around his neck as I brought him closer. He moaned and my nipples hardened.
“You sure you’re going to be here when I get back?” he murmured.
“Yes.”
“Good.” He planted another kiss. “Text me when you wake up.”
The whole thing felt like a dream until I heard the door close. I woke up with a start and had a hard time falling back to sleep.
I missed Lamar already.
Being in his home without him didn’t feel as strange as I would’ve guessed. I rolled over and grabbed his pillow. Inhaling his scent eased me back to sleep.
I spent Saturday grading papers and catching up on the work that I’d fallen behind on while I was out. I managed to talk to Lamar when he made it to Nevada, but with the three-hour time difference, we didn’t talk long.
I spent Sunday alternating between watching the games and cooking. Since the four-o’clock game that the Monarchs won ended around seven o’clock, Lamar didn’t make it back home until well after three o’clock in the morning. But since school was closed on Monday, I happily woke up to greet him when he arrived.
“You were incredible,” I whispered into his ear as he hugged me tight. “I’m so proud of you.”
“I want you at a game.”
