Playing for Hearts (84 page)

“I like that.” He smoothed the hair off her cheek.

“So, I've come to the conclusion, Mr. Big Guy Satchel, that I love you.” She moved up and kissed him on the lips. “You've given it all to me and more.”

“I love you too. Always have and will forever.” He kissed her harder.

He stroked her back. She saw the questions in his eyes. The ones she wasn't ready to answer or hear. He controlled everything they did, but the decision she had to make would come from her without anyone's help. Her mom would be proud of her, because what she didn't tell Gary was the best advice of all.

Her mom told her when she found the man that would wrap her heart in the safety of his hands, she should do anything in her power never to lose that gift. She didn't plan on losing Gary. Ever.

She kissed him again, and he responded. She closed her eyes and lost herself in the heat that flooded her body.

His hands worked their way up under the shirt of Gary's that she wore and she went willingly, her body shaping to his. Each stroke of his tongue gave way to her pulse racing.

Wanting began in her head, moved to her chest, and settled low in her belly and spiraled out in all directions. Her breasts, tender to the touch, ached. Her sex throbbed in the telling combination of tension and dampness.

He cupped her rear, bringing her on top of him. His fingers were warm against her bare skin, moving deliberately across her ribs, then taking the weight of her breasts. Everything about his attention to her body was exactly what she craved. His thumbs brushed her sensitive nipples. She arched her back and moaned.

He raised up on his elbows, taking her right nipple in his mouth. He drew waves of pleasure from deep inside of her. The rush of heat and wetness between her legs increased and she reached between them to enclose his length in her hand.

She had to hold on, because they were both moving. Her rocking. Him taking more of her breast in his mouth. She found it difficult to breathe.

Gary rolled her over onto her back, him on top of her, face to face. He lowered himself so he could kiss her breasts again. Then he put his hand on her belly. Her legs relaxed, opening herself up to his fingers.

He slipped between the folds of skin and found her swollen center.

God, he was good with his hands.

He circled, teased, around and around, moving lightly but determined. Barely skimming the exact spot she needed. She raised her hands and grabbed the headboard, shuddering as his touch came faster, harder, more precise.

He shifted, taking her mouth with his. The sweep of his tongue, the roughness of his unshaven jaw, and the intensity of his concentration won out and her self-control left.

She opened her legs wider and arched her hips. Her orgasm hovered out of reach.

He read her mind, and only left her long enough to snag a condom off the nightstand, apply the protection, and return to her. Then he was in her, filling her, taking her deeper than he'd ever been. She hung on to his arms planted on each side of her head.

Tension built and she orgasmed a second before he did. Both of them locked in each other's arms, her pleasure squeezing him, making him shudder. If she thought loving Gary was the best feeling in the world, she was wrong. Having Gary inside of her, loving her, giving her everything, was the best freaking gift he could give her.

Fourth down, thirty seconds on the clock in the final quarter, Gary leaned down, put his fist to the turf, and his gaze on the middle of the player in front of him. His arm shook and he widened his feet, taking more of his weight on his legs. The doctor had okay'd him for play, but already his arm showed weakness from playing today.

Thankfully, he had four days before the next game. He'd take it easy in practice and ice it good. Maybe have Angie work her magic on his shoulder.

The whistle blew. He tagged the offensive lineman, pivoted on his heel, and dove on the next player. He grunted, landing on his side.

The referee's whistle blew. He pushed off the player and turned around. Time out was called. He jogged over to the huddle.

“Satchel and Connor, heavy on the D, bulldoze through. Porter, swing toward the right, you're going to switch with Satchel. Nail their ass, and we'll beat the clock. Do not let their QB throw the fucking ball. They get over the line and we'll be in OT. I got a blonde waiting for me after the game, and I do not want to wait.” George Pierce stepped back, breaking the group.

Gary nodded and jogged back to the line, glancing at the scoreboard. Five seconds.

He'd have to be fast.

He slipped in his mouth guard. Adrenaline spiked, and he bounced on the toes of his shoes before bending over to assume the position. He rocked back and forth, ready to pounce.

The other team's quarterback called out the play. A gut instinct had him shifting his weight to his left side. He ignored the tremor in his arm.

The ball went live. He hit the other player lower, throwing him to the left, making room through the line. Connor went down hard in front of him. He leaped over the tangled bodies, stretching, and snagged the quarterback. As he rolled, he turned, searching for the ball.

Through the players, he couldn't see anything. Not the ball, not the receivers, nothing.

The Cowboys' quarterback cussed as the blare of the air horn over the speaker got the crowd cheering. Gary pushed to his feet and quickly got caught in the mob of players.

“Right on, man.” Conner slapped the top of Gary's helmet. “Two point lead, and we're right in the top of the ladder.”

He grinned, taking the slaps, the pats, the helmet bumps. In the crowd, he walked in the direction he got shoved. There was no pain in his body, his energy was restored, and he was flying high off the win.

Acceptance came freely, but it was the fulfillment of providing a need for someone else that filled him. Ever since he was young, knowing that he accomplished what others expected drove him to be better, until all he could do was rely on the fact that he could make things happen for other people to find his worth in the world. Whether that was winning the Super Bowl, mentoring children to strive in school, or putting a smile on Angie's face. When he could affect others, he belonged. That feeling, that need, had been lacking growing up where nothing he did pleased anyone.

“Good game, Satchel.” Coach slapped his ass on his way past him.

He unsnapped his helmet and peeled it off his head. “Thanks, Coach.”

As he always did while playing a home game, he headed to the wall. A young boy held a pen and paper over the railing. He stretched up and took the offer from the kid.

“Enjoy the game?” He scribbled his name on the paper and handed it back.

The kid bobbed his head. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome.” He high fived the teenager beside the boy and moved down the line.

One after the other, he signed his autograph for every person who had a scrap of paper. He asked a question in return, smiled at the answers, and then moved to the next person waiting to get their moment with him. He stopped in front of a voluptuous woman with her brown hair braided over her shoulder and decked out in Seahawk gear.

“Thanks for coming,” he said.

She leaned over, pulled her sweatshirt down, and displayed her cleavage. “Can you sign?”

He chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “Pen?”

The gentleman beside her handed him a pen. He grabbed the bottom rail and propped the toe of his shoe against the wall, heaving himself higher. With great care, he signed ‘Gary' on one breast and ‘Satchel' on the other.

Before he could jump down, she kissed his cheek. He landed on the ground, smiling. Women were crazy. Always there wanting his attention and doing whatever they could to try and get noticed. He'd taken them home, he'd slept with them in his car before heading back to the condo, and played out their fantasy of having sex with a professional football player. Though he never remembered their names. Hell, half the time, he couldn't tell you what color hair they'd had.

They used each other for their own needs, and he went home alone. Before Angie, he'd stayed away from relationships. While he'd entertained himself when he knew Angie was out of his reach, he'd still believed no one else would do for him. He was right. Only one woman captured his heart.

He waved to the crowd and made his way to the tunnel to hit the shower. Once he entered the walkway under the stadium, he slowed down and enjoyed the afterglow of the win. The other guys were already unsuiting, and in the locker room. They never stayed after a game to wave or chat with the fans, preferring to have their own party away from the stadium. Sometimes he joined them, most times he wanted to share the night with someone and ended up either alone or unfulfilled.

Now he had Angie to go home with, and she was the only person he wanted to share his win with tonight.

“Do you think if I pulled down my shirt, you'd sign my chest?” Angie's voice floated toward him.

He raised his gaze and found her leaning against the wall beside the door to the locker room. He glanced around, making sure they were alone. “I'd sign anything you want to show me.”

She remained leaning against the brick and tilted her head. “What if I asked you to kiss me?”

“I never kissed her. She kissed me.” His fingers tightened around the guard on his helmet, wishing he'd jumped a little sooner and skipped the kiss from the other woman and saved Angie the worry. “They're fans. That's all.”

Angie's mouth softened. “I know.”

She brushed a lock of her hair out of her face. Exhaustion from the game came with the contentment of knowing she understood what kind of man he was. He'd no sooner mess around on her than cut out his own heart.

I love you,
he mouthed.

She held up her hand, and crooked her finger to him. “I know that too.”

He took the five steps separating them, until he stood in front of her. “I also love playing football.”

“I'm not asking you to give it up or to stop being a decent guy to your fans.” She laid her hand flat on his stomach, below his pads. “Just reminding you that you have me.”

“Don't need reminders, because no matter what, I'm not letting you go.” He dropped his helmet and cupped her face with both his hands. “We'll figure something out. It's our time.”

Her brows arched. He smoothed the line at the corner of her eye with his finger. He'd never get enough of her.

“I should be telling you what a good game you played, and how I loved watching you.” Her neck muscles constricted and she gave him an extra-long blink. “But I was stuck in the locker room rubbing down Jeff Lowry's leg.”

He growled, pulling her forward until he had her pressed against the front of him. “Don't really want to hear about what you and Lowry did.”

“You know what I mean,” she mumbled into the front of his jersey.

“Yeah.” He stroked her back, enjoying the feel of her relaxing against him.

They were out in the open. Anyone could walk around the corner and spot them together. He ran through a list of excuses on why he'd be hugging the team's massage therapist, but no one would believe him. One look at Angie, and they'd know exactly where his thoughts headed.

“Uh, baby?” Angie sighed and turned her head, although she never left his embrace.

He grunted in reply, while kissing the top of her head.

“You do know you stink, right?” She pulled her head back and grinned. “Why don't you hit the shower? I need to go back in and check on Lowry. He's soaking in ice.”

He kissed her quickly. “Later, honey.”

“Later.” She picked up his helmet and handed it to him. “You go first. I'll wait a few minutes and go in after you.”

Walking away from her was the hardest thing he'd had to do today. He tackled people on reflex. He competed because something inside of him drove him to be the best he could be. He followed the rules, because that's how you play fair. To hide his relationship with Angie from his teammates, the coaches, the owner, went against the kind of person he wanted to be, and he hated it.

He swung through the door to chaos and good spirits. Morgan snapped him with a towel, and he lifted his chin, dodging the stinging snap. At his locker, he punched Pierce in the arm to get his attention and turned around expectantly. Unsuiting was a routine they all went through with help. The quarterback pulled Gary's jersey over his head.

“Thanks.” Gary set out to remove his shoulder pads. “Good game.”

“You too, man. Saved our win…again.” Pierce clicked his tongue. “The girls are going wild out there. Better shower up and go get you one.”

He chuckled. “Yeah.”

He stripped down and walked to the showers naked. There was only one girl he wanted, and she hadn't even seen him during his big moment.

Worried that she couldn't give Gary the attention he deserved to celebrate the winning game, Angie hurried through treating Lowry for his strained hamstring and had the security guard walk her out to the parking lot. She slowed down at her car and rummaged through her bag.

“Thanks again for walking me out.” She held up her key.

Stewart, a couple years younger than Angie, ducked his chin. “See you next game.”

She smiled and turned around. After unlocking her door, she glanced behind her. Stewart jogged back to the stadium.

She dove into the car, found a piece of paper and pen, and wrote a message. Then she studied the area. One player hung out at the exit, but a woman kept him distracted by fawning all over him. The others in the parking lot were either pulling their cars out, or packing their things in the trunk of their cars. She hurried over to Gary's car, slipped the paper under the windshield wiper, and ran back to her car.

She dove inside and smiled to herself. It was a stupid idea to leave him a message. He'd be home in less than a half hour. They'd have all the privacy they needed inside his condominium. Except, she wanted to do more for him. He deserved a woman who could support him fully and stroke his ego after one of his best pre-season games ever.