“Sleep,” Piper insisted when Levi’s hand cupped her breast. “Your head may tell you sex is a good idea, but your body is wiped out. Even Superman needs to recharge his engine now and then.”
Levi nodded. As usual, Piper was right. His spirit might be willing, but his flesh? Toast. Rather than embarrass himself, he moved his hand to her waist and closed his eyes.
Seconds later, Piper’s whispered words were the last thing Levi heard as he sank into a deep slumber.
“Levi?” Her breath fanned out across his chest.
“Hm,” he asked, barely conscious.
“I told you so.”
With his last bit of flagging energy, Levi grinned.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
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THE SEATTLE KNIGHTS’ miracle season continues to amaze and astound. After a 2-6 start that left everyone but the most die-hard fan giving up and dreaming of next year, the team turned things around, winning seven of their last eight games.
Seated on her living room sofa, Piper watched the television screen with rapt attention. Taking a bite of pizza, she chewed without really tasting her dinner.
The NFL Network had become Piper’s favorite station. She turned it on first thing in the morning and fell asleep as she listened to the anchors recycle information that she’d heard dozens of times.
Piper wasn’t proud of her addiction and once the Knights’ season ended, she promised to quit—cold turkey. She didn’t anticipate any withdrawal symptoms. The main reason she watched was to hear the broadcasters eat their words about Levi.
All over the country, the doubts, naysayers, and haters had changed their tunes. Levi’s harshest critics now called him a revelation. With the Knights victory last night in the league championship game, anyone who hadn’t been on the Levi Reynolds bandwagon decided to hitch a ride—right to the Super Bowl.
“Oh, my.” Piper’s heart fluttered as Levi’s face filled the screen. “Too bad your helmet covers your face during a game. With that handsome face, you, my love, were born to be on camera.”
Piper smiled as an ex-football player turned sportscaster spent the next five minutes waxing poetic about Levi.
I had my doubts about Reynolds. Anyone who says they didn’t is lying. How many quarterbacks make their starting debut at the age of thirty-two?
“Only takes one,” Piper said to the screen. “If he’s as special as Levi.”
Taking a drink of water, she continued to listen.
I don’t buy into the theory that Levi Reynolds discovered the fountain of youth. Chronologically, he might be in his thirties, but in football years, he has the body of a man just out of college.
Because Reynolds spent so much time on the sidelines instead of in a game, unlike other quarterbacks his age, he wasn’t subjected to a decade’s worth of hits. His legs, especially his knees, are showroom pristine.
I met with Levi recently. I could practically see the new car smell coming from his pores.
“New car smell?” Piper scoffed. She wasn’t a fan of the flowery analogies. “Just state the facts. Levi is the best.”
“Talking to the television again?” Levi asked as he exited the bedroom.
Busted, Piper scrambled for the remote control. When the TV screen went black, she shrugged, decided to pretend he hadn’t caught her red-handed.
“Shouldn’t you be in bed getting some much-needed sleep,” she asked with an innocent, butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth, smile.
Levi sniffed the air, his gaze falling on the large pepperoni and black olive pizza. Shaking his head, he opened the refrigerator, contemplated his choices, and finally settled on the leftover buckwheat pasta with black bean sauce. Moving to the microwave, he set the timer.
“My body knows when it’s time to get up.” With his dinner in hand, he joined Piper on the sofa. “Want a bite?
Making a face, Piper shuddered at the thought.
“No thanks,” she said. “Healthy food gives me hives.”
“You’re weird,” Levi stated.
“You’re weirder.” Piper frowned. “More weird? Which is correct?”
“Weirder.” Levi scoffed over a mouthful of pasta. “And you claim to be a college graduate. Did you skip basic grammar?”
“What’s the square root of a hundred and thirty-six, divided by four, then multiplied by twenty-one?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea,” Levi laughed.
“61.2249,” Piper declared.
“What’s your point, math geek,” he asked.
“Math rules, grammar sucks.” Piper stuck out her tongue. “Plus, equations are sexy.”
“Can’t argue,” Levi said with a nod. “But only when they come out of your mouth. Kiss me.”
“Nope.” Piper batted away his hands. “Wouldn’t want to contaminate your pristine circulatory system with my pizza breath.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
Piper played hard to get for another few seconds before she gave in and melted into Levi’s arms. He wasn’t her weakness. He was her strength. With each passing day, she wanted him more.
The possibility that her need for him might peak, was mathematically impossible. She’d done the math a dozen different ways and the answer was always the same. What she felt—what they felt for each other—equaled infinity. And beyond.
Much later, Piper cleared away their dishes. As she put her leftover pizza into the refrigerator, she glanced at Levi. Amazed at how normal he looked—if a six-foot-plus sandy-haired Adonis could be called normal—considering everything he’d dealt with in the past few months. Not to mention what was about to come.
“Are you nervous?” she asked, surprised she hadn’t considered the possibility until now. “Playing in the Super Bowl must be every football player's dream come true.”
“You’re right,” Levi said with a nod.
“I won’t tell anyone if you want to freak out here in the privacy of your home.” Piper crossed her heart. “What happens in Levi’s house, stays in Levi’s house.”
“Considering all the intimate things we’ve done in these rooms, I hope to heaven that you won’t share what goes on with anyone.” He winked.
“You might be embarrassed,” Piper said. “I’m not.”
“Embarrassment isn’t the same as discretion.” Levi froze. “Who did you tell?”
“No one,” Piper assured him. When his probing
