Bound and Blitzed (Knoxville Coyotes Football #4)

15. Avery

Chapter 15

Avery

We’re only a quarter through the movie and I’m distracted by Valentina next to me on the couch. She isn’t doing anything except breathing, her eyes glued to the television and the unfolding scene of Kris Kringle and Susan interacting, and yet, I can’t take my eyes off her.

I love how her eyes light up when she speaks about her abuela. I enjoy how she’s both passionate and reserved, generous and astute. She can talk about birds for hours and yet, she finds it difficult to weigh in on every single bridesmaid dress my sister texts her. She’s unlike any woman I know and it’s more than refreshing—it’s fascinating. Valentina Garcia has flipped my world on its axis, and it still blows my mind that she’s my wife.

Tomorrow, we’re going to tell her family about our marriage. When she first admitted that they don’t know the truth, a strange sense of disappointment—of hurt—rolled through my limbs.

Is she ashamed of me?

Once she explained why, I understood her reason for withholding the information. But that doesn’t mean I like it. Knowing that we’re coming clean to her family fills me with relief.

It’s strange because six months ago, the thought of calling a woman’s father to ask for her hand in marriage—or at least have the common courtesy to tell said father that I’ve married his daughter—would have filled me with fear. Panic. Anxiety.

Instead, it bothers me that Valentina’s family doesn’t know. I want them to know and like me, to feel invested in our marriage, to care about it. I want from them the same things I desire from my own family—respect and appreciation. Understanding and faith. I want them to know that I have every intention of doing right by their daughter.

And while I know that’s a long shot, the first step is confiding in them.

Should I call her father first and give him a heads-up? What’s the best way to play this?

Valentina chuckles and I grin in response. I love the sound of her laugh. I love the weight of her body pressed against mine, snuggled up next to me.

I haven’t kissed Valentina since that day in my parents’ kitchen and while I’ve thrown myself into football and the season, I haven’t forgotten how her lips feel against mine.

The longer the movie plays, the more aware I become of Valentina’s presence. The rise and fall of her chest captures my gaze. The squeeze of her fingers around my bicep causes me to flex like a college frat boy. The pretty parting of her lips, the focus of her gaze, the rosiness of her cheeks calls to me, begging to be studied, to be desired.

And fuck do I want her. Even though I promised anything physical that happens between us will be because she wants it—asks for it—the longer the film plays, the harder it becomes to not make a move.

What am I waiting for? On some level, isn’t Valentina waiting for me to initiate more? It’s not fair that I expect her to do so when she was clearly relieved that I broke the ice on clearing the air this evening.

As if she senses the thoughts whirling in my mind, as if she can feel my gaze on her profile, Valentina turns. Her neck swivels, her eyes find mine, and her mouth puckers.

I work a swallow, captured by the heat and understanding in her pretty eyes.

“Avery?” she murmurs, uncertainty threading through her tone.

I shift toward her, one hand reaching up to cup her neck. My thumb drags along her jaw and pushes to lift her chin. “I want to kiss you, Valentina.” My voice is husky and honest.

Valentina knows it because she lifts her chin higher, just a smidge. Just enough to let me know that she’s considering it.

Her lips part. “Then do it,” she replies, her voice breathy.

It’s all the invitation, the challenge, I need. Dragging my palm higher until it cups her cheek, I angle her head and sweep my lips over hers.

Her mouth is soft, hot, delicious. Valentina tastes like hot chocolate and the first snowfall of winter. Sweet and pure. But with a ribbon of desire that draws me to her like a magnet. I couldn’t pull away if I wanted to.

Her hands clutch at my shoulders, her fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt. Her eyelids flutter closed, and a throaty sound escapes her lips, a moan from deep within her.

Fuck, the sounds she makes turn me on. I drag my mouth from hers and kiss along her jawline, swirl my tongue along the lobe of her ear, and pull it between my teeth for a gentle tug.

She gasps and shivers in my arms.

“Oh, oh,” she murmurs, her hands traveling up to cup my cheeks, to tug on the ends of my hair.

I move lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the delicate spot behind her ear, and down the column of her neck. “You’re so damn delicious, Lena. God, I’ve wanted to do this for weeks.”

“You have?” she whimpers.

“Why the hell do you think I had to stay away?” I ask.

She pulls away slightly to look at me. Her eyes are clouded with heat. “Work. You were busy.”

God, she’s too fucking good for me. I chuckle, dropping my head. “That was one of the reasons. The other was I swore I wouldn’t do this unless you want it.” I raise my head and meet her eyes again. “Do you want this?”

She stares at me for a long beat. So long, I start to worry that I somehow pushed her into this moment. “Yes,” she says finally, breathily. “Yes, Avery.”

“Thank fuck,” I mutter, laying her down on the couch.

She looks up at me, her dark hair fanned around her. Her lips are swollen from my kiss. Her eyes are bright, almost feverish.

I roll onto my side, laying along the length of her body. Then, I bend to kiss her once more. This time, it’s slow and gentle.

Our hands move languidly. My knee slides across her legs, my fingers gently massaging one of her hips.

Our kiss deepens. Valentina reaches for me, one arm snaking around my torso, her hand gripping my shoulder. I shift my body over hers, careful to keep my weight from crushing her.

She widens her legs, cradling me between her thighs as my hands slip up her shirt.

Her back arches slightly as my palm drags over one breast. Her nipple tightens, pressing into the center of my hand, and already, my mouth waters.

What will her breasts taste like?

I push her shirt up and over her chest. Dragging kisses down her neck and along her collarbone, I continue to squeeze her breast, loving the weight of it in my hand. Flipping the cup of her bra down, her perky, dusty-rose tipped breast pops out.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” I tell her honestly. Then, I take that pretty nipple in my mouth and drag my tongue around its peak.

“Avery,” my wife moans, her thighs widening even more.

I suck more of her into my mouth, wondering how wet she is.

Unable to stop myself from checking, I slide one hand down her body and cup her sex through her pajama shorts.

“Oh,” she moans as my thumb presses against her clit.

Christ, I love how responsive she is. I’ve barely touched her, and her skin is breaking out in goose bumps. Relieved that her sleep shorts give me easy access, I move the seam to one side and slide my thumb under her shorts to drag up and down the lacy thong she’s wearing.

Slowly, I touch her through her panties. Moving my mouth to her other breast, I swirl my tongue around that sweet nipple and begin to rub slow circles around her clit. Her want seeps through the lace, dampening my fingers and making my body yearn to take hers.

I harden to the point of pain and still, I keep my movements slow, my attention focused on making this good for Lena.

No, not just good. The fucking best.

As my mouth trails lower, down the valley dipping between Valentina’s breasts and along the center of her abdomen, I finally give into my want and tug her thong to the side. My fingers are instantly soaked by her arousal, and I swear.

She whimpers, lifting her head.

My eyes find hers and I’m pinned in place by the vulnerability swirling in her eyes. This is a big deal for Valentina. I can tell from one glimpse of her face. The fact that she would trust me with her body slams into me. The weight of the responsibility, the importance that I get it right.

Fuck, it’s like being seen after years of just being looked at. Valentina is giving me a goddamn gift. Wanting to show her my gratitude, I spring forward, planting a hand next to her face, and dropping my mouth to hers in a deep kiss. As my tongue parts her lips, I push a finger inside her.

I capture her cry in my mouth and swallow her want as I drag my finger out. Push it in again.

“Oh my God, Avery,” she moans, clamping an arm around my back.

I continue my ministrations, adding my thumb into the mix to circle her swollen clit.

“Avery, please,” she murmurs, her eyes screwed tight as she buries her face in my shoulder.

I hold her close. “I got you, sweetheart. I got you.”

She nods once and then grabs my face, moving my mouth back to hers.

We kiss deeply. Passionately. Her knees are splayed wide open now, her body starting to rock against my movements. She wants this, needs this, and I’m going to be the man who gives it to her.

It’s a heady fucking feeling. The power of it courses through my veins like a shot of adrenaline. It’s a rush that’s akin to winning the fucking Super Bowl.

With my hands on her hot body, coaxing those sounds, this want from a woman as special as Valentina, I feel invincible. I feel worthy.

I may have fucked up in the past but right now, I can fill big shoes. Because I’m filling the shoes that are right for her.

I move my fingers faster. Our tongues duel and twist. Valentina’s nails dig into my back while her other hand grips at the couch for something to hold on to.

Hold on to me , I want to tell her. I’ll take care of you. I’ll bring you all the way home.

But I can’t voice the words because I don’t want to break our kiss. I don’t want to disrupt this moment that is too damn beautiful.

I don’t want to lose Valentina. I don’t want to lose this with my wife.

And I already almost did. I almost cost myself the greatest gift of my life.

Valentina’s body breaks apart on an orgasm that rocks through her. She arches, pressing her breasts up into my chest. I feel her pussy clench and tighten around my fingers, followed by a rush of her heat that I’m desperate to lick up.

I slow my movements to help her ride out her orgasm. When she’s finished, I pull my fingers out slowly and gaze into her eyes. She looks bewildered, shattered, spent, and so fucking satisfied. I bring my fingers up to drag her arousal over her lips. Then, I dip my mouth, kiss her mouth clean, and groan from how fucking sweet she tastes.

I’m working my pants down my hips and thighs. My cock is hard and already weeping for her. I want nothing more than to push into her, claim her, and finally feel like I’m home.

I fist my cock with her arousal slick on my hand, and her eyes widen. She pushes up on an elbow, her hair a dark curtain around her shoulders, and sucks in an inhale.

“Are you ready for me, Lena?” I ask, already positioned at her entrance.

Her eyes meet mine and the fear that sparks in her irises gives me pause.

Her mouth drops open, her chest heaves, and she shakes her head the tiniest bit. “Wait.”