“You okay?” she whispers. The room is starting to lighten as day breaks, and I can see her eyes watching me with worry.
“I’m perfect.” A few more lazy strokes are all it takes for me to lose my control as I come inside her. I still and then relax, sated. “I’m sorry.” I kiss her nose. “That was supposed to last a hell of a lot longer.”
She giggles. “It was torture. You teased me. But everything about this moment is faultless. I wouldn’t change it for anything. This is how we should always say goodbye.”
“Why did you have to mention that?”
“Because I need to get up and get moving to get to work, and you have to pack.”
“I don’t want to go.”
“Of course, you do. It’s going to suck, but, Landon, you love this game. Football is your life, so you’re going to miss me. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder.”
“I don’t know that I could grow any fonder of you than I already am.”
“Come on you. Let’s shower.” Tossing off the cover, she climbs out of bed, and I watch her until she disappears into the bathroom.
Fond of her indeed.
* * *
We landed in New York about two hours ago, checked into our rooms and now here we are in the conference room, eating our catered meal, one that is mandatory. Coach Neil thinks that it promotes team bonding or some shit. He’s right. I’m just bitter because I could be in my room talking to Emma.
“Arm’s looking good,” a deep voice rumbles from beside me. Turning, I see the team owner, Joseph Stamper, taking the seat next to mine.
“Thanks.” I grab my water and take a long drink. “Team’s tight.” I’m sure he’s about to tip my ass about climbing the wall to get to Emma. I paid my fine though, so we should be able to move on.
He nods. “We’re off to a great start. Speaking of starts, I didn’t realize you were seeing anyone until the press reported it at the pet adoption, and then there was your stunt at the game last week. Lots of good feedback from the shelter adoption.”
I can’t help it. I grin. “Emma.” Even I can hear the fondness in my voice when it comes to her.
“You know we had to fine you for that, but the team has had a lot of positive press from your little show. I have to ask, what caused you to climb in the stands? What couldn’t wait until after the game?”
I shrug. “She looked upset.” I’m waiting for his reprimand that never comes.
“You’re telling me that because she looked like she was upset, you climbed the wall, ignored your coach when he yelled for you, and knew you were going to be fined, but you did it anyway?”
“Yep.”
He surprises me when he clamps a hand on my shoulder. “She’s lucky to have you.”
“Just the opposite in fact. I’m lucky to have her.”
“She looks familiar.”
“Emma Deaton.” I give him her full name. Everyone already knows at this point.
He shakes his head. “Let’s keep the wall climbing to a minimum the rest of the season, huh?” He says the words, but there is no heat or reprimand in them. In fact, he looks amused and something else I can’t quite put my finger on. As long as it’s not his anger, I don’t care. Not that it would stop me. My contract is solid for the next four years. Besides, this is Emma we’re talking about. If she needs me, well, I’m going to be there. Climbing a wall or not.
“I’m not making any promises.”
He shakes his head smiling but instead of replying, he takes a long pull of the glass of amber liquid he’s drinking. Alcohol is off-limits to the players, but I guess if you own the team and it’s not your ass getting tossed around out on the field, you can afford that luxury.
The rest of the night passes in a blur. Food, laughter, jokes, and the entire time I’m always thinking about her. When we’re finally free to go, Trent and I bust ass back to our rooms, both of us already with our phones to our ears.
“Hey, you,” Emma answers.
“I miss you.”
Her soft laugh washes over me. “I miss you too. How was the team dinner?”
“Good. The owner, Joseph Stamper, stopped to talk to me. I thought for sure I was going to get an ass ripping, but he seemed more amused than anything about my wall climb.”
“The local news did a piece tonight. They’re questioning if I’m going to be at the away game, and if I am, if you’ll be climbing every wall at every stadium to get to me.”
“I would.”
“I know you would, but you can’t afford all of those fines.”
“I can actually.”
“I assumed you were paid well being a professional athlete and all, but that’s insane. Do you realize how much money that is? Ten thousand dollars per game?”
“Em, I know we don’t talk about money, and that’s one of the things I love most about you. You’re not with me because of my bank account balance, but, babe, do you know how much my last contract was for?”
“No.”
“Google it.”
“Can’t you just tell me? I don’t like to google you. I’d rather you tell me anything and everything that you want me to know.”
“I love you. I want you to know that.”
Her voice softens. “I love you too.”
“I signed a five-year deal, last year with the Trojans.”
“Okay.”
“For one hundred and sixty million.”
“Dollars?” she asks, choking on her words.
Her shock has a sense of pride washing over me. Not because of the bank balance, or that I’ve managed to shock her, but because she is shocked. I finally found a woman who’s interested in me, Landon Barker, not the quarterback, not the one-hundred-and-sixty-million-dollar contract. Just me.
“Dollars,” I confirm.
“Wow. Okay then.”
“You’re amazing. Have I ever told you that?”
“A
