Chapter 26 Reggie
Twenty Six
Reggie
“You sure you’re gonna be warm enough?” Blayne asks, eyeing my jacket as we walk toward the football stadium.
“It’s October, not January.”
“October in Central California can be cold.”
“It’s like sixty degrees.”
“That’s cold.”
I laugh and bump his shoulder. “You’re such a worrier.”
“I’m practical. There’s a difference.”
“You’re sweet. And overprotective.”
The Green Fields High stadium is packed for the homecoming game. The whole town showed up, especially when our team has been doing so well. Jaylen’s been starting quarterback for six weeks now, and they’ve won every game.
“There are the guys” Blayne says, pointing toward the bleachers where Tommy, Martinez, and Carlos are saving seats.
“They come to all the games?”
“Most of them.”
We climb up to where the guys are sitting.
“How’s our boy looking?” Blayne asks Tommy, settling in next to him.
“Good. Confident. Coach has him running some new plays tonight.”
“Where are the girls?” Carlos asks.
“Nia’s with the band, and Annalise is…” I look around and spot her with my parents a few rows down. “With Grandma and Grandpa.”
The band starts playing the national anthem, and we all stand up. I spot Nia in the clarinet section, looking serious and focused in her uniform. She’s made friends with some of the other band kids, and I can see her chatting with a girl next to her between songs.
The game starts, and for the next two hours, I get to watch my son do something he loves and is really good at. Jaylen throws three touchdown passes, including one in the fourth quarter that wins the game, and by the time it’s over, I’m hoarse from screaming.
“That’s my boy!” Blayne shouts when Jaylen throws the winning pass, and the pride in his voice makes my chest warm.
After the game, we wait for Jaylen to get changed and cleaned up. The stadium is emptying out, but we’re in no hurry. This is one of those perfect nights, cool air, clear sky, our team winning, our family all together.
“You want to get out of here?” Blayne asks me quietly while the others are talking.
“Where?”
“Somewhere we can be alone for a few minutes.”
“The kids…”
“The kids are fine. Your parents have Annalise, Nia’s going to some party, and Jaylen’s gonna want to celebrate with his teammates.”
“What about the guys?”
“They can entertain themselves.”
I look around at our little group.
“Ten minutes,” I tell Blayne.
“Twenty.”
“Fifteen.”
“Deal.” We’re grinning at each other like two idiots.
We tell the others we’ll be back, that we’re going to walk around and stretch our legs. And it’s technically not a lie…
Blayne leads me away from the bleachers, toward the back of the stadium where it’s darker and quieter. There’s a little area behind the concession stand where the maintenance equipment is stored, and it’s completely private.
“This is very high school of you,” I tell him as he backs me up against the wall.
“Feeling nostalgic.”
“You didn’t go to high school here.”
“No, but if I had, this is definitely where I would’ve brought you.”
“You think teenage me would’ve snuck around with bad boy you?”
“I think teenage you would’ve driven me out of my mind.”
“Good thing you didn’t meet me when I was a teen then.”
He kisses me then, slow and deep, and I can taste the drink he had during the game and something that’s purely him. His hands find my waist, pulling me closer, and I let myself get lost in the feeling of being wanted like this.
“We should get back,” I murmur against his mouth.
“Should we?”
His mouth moves to my neck, finding that spot that makes me melt, and I forget why we need to hurry back to anyone.
“I love you,” I tell him, because sometimes I still can’t believe I get to say that.
“I love you too.”
We kiss again, longer this time, and I’m starting to think we might need more than fifteen minutes…
Blayne’s kisses deepen, his lips moving against mine with a hunger that makes my toes curl.
His hands slide up my sides, rough calluses grazing my skin through my thin sweater, sending sparks through me.
I arch into him, my fingers digging into his broad shoulders, feeling the solid muscle under his jacket.
The cool night air brushes my neck where his mouth lingers, but all I can focus on is the heat building between us, the way his giant body presses me against the wall, firm and unyielding.
“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly, vibrating against my skin. “You’re making it real hard to behave.”
“Who said I want you to?” I tilt my head back, giving him better access as his lips trail lower, teasing the sensitive spot just above my collarbone. My pulse races, and I can feel the thrum of it under his mouth, each kiss pulling a soft gasp from me.
His hands slip under my sweater, finding bare skin, and I shiver—not from the cold, but from the way his fingers trace slow, deliberate circles along my waist. He tugs the fabric up.
The night air hits my skin, but his hands are back on me instantly, warm and possessive, pulling me closer until there’s no space left between us.
“You’re gonna get us in trouble,” I say, breathless, as he lowers my bra cups. His eyes darken, raking over me, and the look alone is enough to make my knees weak.
“Worth it,” he growls, and then his mouth is on me, kissing a path down my chest. He takes his time, lips brushing over the curve of my breast before closing around a nipple, teasing it with a flick of his tongue, a nip of his teeth.
I moan louder than I mean to, and clap a hand over my mouth, glancing toward the distant stadium lights.
The faint roar of the crowd feels a million miles away.
Blayne chuckles, the sound vibrating against my skin.
“No one’s gonna hear you back here, baby.
” His hands work the button of my jeans, popping it open with a quick twist, and I help him shimmy them down.
I’m pressed against the rough wall, and the contrast of the cool concrete and his warm hands is dizzying.
I tug at his jacket, desperate to feel more of him.
“Your turn,” I say, and he obliges, shrugging it off and pulling his shirt over his head.
The sight of him, all broad shoulders, heavy muscle, the faint trail of hair disappearing into his jeans, makes my mouth water.
I run my hands over his broad chest, feeling the steady thud of his heart, and pull him back to me, kissing him hard.
His hands grip my hips, lifting me slightly so I’m pinned between him and the wall. I can feel him, hard and straining against his jeans, pressing right where I need him most. I rock against him, and he groans, his fingers tightening on my thighs.
“Fuck, baby,” he mutters, his lips brushing my ear. “You keep that up, this is gonna be over fast.”
“Then hurry,” I whisper, nipping at his jaw.
My hands fumble with his belt, the buckle clinking as I get it undone.
He helps me shove his jeans and boxers down just enough, and then he’s there, long, hard, hot and ready against me.
He slides my panties to the side, his fingers brushing over me, slick and teasing, and I whimper, clutching his shoulders.
“You good?” he asks, his voice rough and soft all at once, checking in even now, and it makes my heart squeeze.
“Honey, please,” I say, and that’s all he needs. He pushes into me, and I gasp at the stretch, the fullness, the way he fits inside my pussy like he was fucking made for me. He pauses when he’s fully rooted, his forehead resting against mine, both of us breathing hard.
“You okay?” he murmurs, his big hands steadying me.
“Better than okay.” I roll my hips, urging him to move, and he does, starting with deep thrusts that make my head tip back against the wall.
Each movement, building a rhythm that has me clinging to him, my nails digging into his back.
The roughness of the wall, the cool air, the heat of his skin…
it’s overwhelming, every sensation amplified.
“God, you feel so good,” he rasps, his voice strained as he picks up the pace, thrusting harder, deeper.
I meet him move for move, and the friction is perfect, pushing me closer.
His hand slips between us, finding my swollen clit, circling in time with his thrusts, and I can’t hold back the moan that spills out of my mouth.
“Blayne,” I gasp, my body tightening, the pressure building fast. He kisses me, swallowing my cries as I come, pleasure crashing through me like a tsunami. He’s right behind, a low groan rumbling from his chest as he buries himself deep, his grip on my hips bruising.
We stay like that for a moment, panting, holding each other as the world comes back into focus.
The distant hum of the stadium, the cool night air, the faint scent of grass, it all feels softer now, less urgent.
Blayne presses a gentle kiss to my lips, then my forehead, easing me back to my feet but keeping his arms around me.
“Fifteen minutes well spent,” he says, a lazy grin spreading across his face.
I laugh, still catching my breath, and swat his chest. “We’re cutting it close.”
“Worth every second.” He helps me with my clothes, stealing kisses as we straighten ourselves, and by the time we’re heading back toward the bleachers, hand in hand, I’m pretty sure we’re both grinning like idiots.
We make our way back to the others, who are gathered by the entrance waiting for Jaylen. When he finally appears, still in his uniform and grinning from ear to ear, we all congratulate him and make plans to go to Rosie’s for a victory dinner.
It’s the kind of night that makes you grateful for the life you’ve built, the family you’ve chosen, the love you’ve found.
And as we walk toward the parking lot, Blayne’s arm around my shoulders and my kids chattering excitedly about the game, I realize this is exactly where I’m supposed to be.
Home. With him. With all of them. Forever.