It doesn’t take Cleveland long to decide and relief surges through me when they select a running back from USC.
Then New York is on the clock. I grip Kennedy’s hand so tight her eyes go wide and she lets out a tiny squeak. “Sorry.”
I try to pull my hand away, but she holds on. I appreciate that she doesn’t tell me to relax or have faith or trust the process. It’s impossible at this point. My old man wasn’t kidding. The process is brutal. Every second feels like a minute. Every minute like an hour.
My father eyes the phone on the table. “Quiet phone’s a good sign. They usually call before officially announcing the pick,” he explains to Kennedy. “But not always.”
Not always.
The commissioner leans toward the mic. My heart’s thundering so loud I barely hear the words coming out of his mouth. “With the second pick of this year’s NFL Draft, New York selects D’Andre Wilson, University of Georgia.”
My dad claps me on the back, and Kennedy’s smile is so wide I can see all her teeth. To the casual observer, it probably looks like they’re trying to keep my spirits up. After all, most people expected me to be the number one pick. But this scenario might work out even better.
Sweat trickles down the back of my neck. Chicago’s on the clock. Like my dad, my eyes are glued to the phone on the table. I silently will it to ring. Each passing second feels like an eternity and when the commissioner returns to the mic, my confidence falters.
“With the third pick of this year’s NFL Draft, Chicago selects Austin Reid, Quarterback, Waverly University.”
I fly out of my chair, forgetting to maintain decorum, and sling my arms around my father. “Congratulations, son. I’m proud of you and I know your mother would be too.”
Pride surges in my chest because I know he means every word. “Thanks, Dad.”
When I turn to Kennedy, I figure the hell with decorum and kiss her on the lips. The little vixen slips me the tongue. Oh yeah, she’s definitely turned on. I hold her tight and whisper, “I love you.”
“I love you too, babe. I’m so proud of you for staying true to yourself. Now get on up there and get your jersey.” When I turn to go, she slaps me on the ass for good measure.
I can’t believe I’m going to Chicago. It’s a dream come true. One of the attendants hands me a Chicago hat. I pull it on as I climb the steps to the stage. The lights are bright and the bill does little to cut down the blinding glare, but nothing can bring me down right now. I stride toward the commissioner as he extends his hand to me. I give it a few good pumps, and we pose for pictures with my new Chicago jersey.
Lucky number seven.
But is it lucky enough convince Kennedy to come to Chicago with me?
Kennedy
My feet are screaming for relief so I kick off my heels the moment we’re alone in the hotel room. I knew there would be lots of celebrating after the draft, but I didn’t realize quite how intense it would be. I guess I’ll have to get used to schmoozing, erm, socializing, but if it’s the price I have to pay for loving Austin, so be it.
It doesn’t hurt that he looks like a wet dream in his crisp black suit.
He flips on the bedside lamp and strips off his jacket, tossing it over the back of a chair. The suite is a little extravagant for my taste, but I’m slowly getting used to Austin’s world. Plus, even I have to admit the soaking tub is divine.
Someday I’m going to have one just like it.
Austin sinks down on the edge of the bed, and I wedge myself between his thighs. It’s been a long night. He looks exhausted, but in the best possible way. “How’re you feeling?” I ask.
“Like everything I ever wanted might finally be within reach.” He slips a hand under my skirt, the rough pads of his fingers skating up my outer thigh. His touch is featherlight, sending a shiver down my spine. I close my eyes and tip my head back, savoring the feel of his hands on my bare flesh. He has the best hands. I could never tire of them, not when every touch feels like the first.
When I open my eyes, he’s staring up at me, a self-satisfied smile on his face.
“You deserve it.” I stroke his cheek, my fingers scraping over the fine stubble that’s begun to show. “Which is why I’ve got one more signing bonus for you.”
“A signing bonus?” Desire flares in his eyes, and my ovaries stand at attention. “Hell, yeah. I’ve been dying to rip this dress off you all night. It’s driving me fucking crazy.”
“I’m flattered, but that’s not exactly what I had in mind.” I laugh and push him back on the bed. He doesn’t stay down long and props himself up on his elbows.
“So, we’re not talking about sex then?” he asks, flashing his dimple.
“Keep your pants on—for now. I’ve got something even better lined up.”
He doesn’t bother to hide his skepticism. “What could possibly be better than sex?”
“You’ll see.” I grab my bag off the desk and pull out the offer letter from Gamut. It came in a few days ago, but I didn’t want to say anything until all the details were ironed out. I climb into bed with him and hand him the first page of the offer.
He scans the letter twice and then turns to me, confusion in his
