Chapter 43
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
DREW
It’s a beautiful May morning out on the training field. And I couldn’t be happier to watch Hugo and the guys in action from the owners’ office window.
The Fab Four are generally here now only for games and meetings and, with the spring weather warming up, they like to hold the meetings in the owners’ box, so they handed the office over to me.
In the six months since last year’s end-of-season dinner when they offered me the job, they’ve gradually passed almost the entire management of the club to me.
I might not be the owner—I might never be the owner—but for now it kind of feels like I am. And it feels good.
As does looking at Hugo’s legs in shorts as he jogs around the perimeter of the field with the squad. They’re in the closing cooldown stage after a hard session prepping for a tough game this coming Saturday.
Not that I can’t look at his body pretty much whenever I like. I stay at his place most weekends and sometimes a night during the week too, unless we’re busy or exhausted. Otherwise, I’m still at the pub, and on those nights I still join the Oldies for their nightcap.
They could not be happier for me that I got the job I wanted and the man I wanted. They’ve even been to a couple games. Within minutes Mona had picked up the fan chants, Joyce was drawing up a league table of player butts, and Winston had declared the coffee from the concession stand “acceptable.”
My dad sounded a little more relaxed when he called to congratulate me on the GM’s job. And when he rounded off the conversation by inviting me and Hugo to Cape Cod for a weekend, he sounded like he really meant it. I haven’t gotten around to arranging it yet because everything’s been so hectic at the club—talk about role reversal—but I definitely will. And I didn’t shed a single tear when I got off the phone. So that was new.
Maybe it’s because for this particular achievement, I also have the Oldies and Hugo to be proud of me. So maybe my dad’s approval doesn’t matter as much anymore. And being less bothered by it makes me a little more proud of myself.
Down on the field, Hugo and the guys complete their gentle circuit and Michelle, this year’s intern, wheels out a cart full of yoga mats.
Hugo wanders off leaving the players to take one each.
While they lay them out on the turf, Briony, our regular yoga teacher, strolls out onto the grass, unrolls her own mat in front of them, and gets them all sitting cross-legged.
Not only did Hugo stop objecting to yoga classes for the players, he voluntarily incorporated them into training twice a week. And doesn’t even insist on staying to oversee them anymore .
Oh, how things have changed since this time last year—how we’ve changed since this time last year.
Two sharp taps sound on the office door, and without waiting for a response, Hugo opens it and strides in.
“Well, hello.” That broad smile lifts my heart every time I see it.
“You got up here quickly.”
“Ah, you were watching me from your office in the sky. How gratifying. Can’t keep your eyes off the goods, huh?” He gestures from his head to his feet and wiggles his eyebrows.
It’s unbelievable how hot cockiness can be when you know there’s a big heart beneath it.
“Anyway.” He closes the gap between us and rests his hands on my shoulders. “Miller has hooked me up with his favorite Realtor.” He drops a light kiss on my forehead. “So shall we go looking at the weekend?”
And that makes approximately two hundred and seventy-three times that Hugo has tried to get me to go house-hunting with him since the new year.
While we are happier than I ever imagined possible and I’m absolutely certain he’s the man of my dreams, I can’t help but be a little hesitant at the thought of going one hundred percent all-in and moving in together.
Hugo is definitely ready. In that moment at the end-of-season dinner, he jumped right in with both feet and hasn’t once swum for shore.
But history has taught me you can never be too sure that the people you think will always be there for you really will be.
So I’m ninety-nine percent in—almost two feet, maybe just one big toe is clinging onto the edge for safety.
“Imagine a place that’s actually ours,” he says. “One we chose together. That we own. Not my soulless rented penthouse, and not your little apartment over the pub. A real home.”
“I might need a minute to?—”
“Ooo, I like what you’ve done with this place, though.” His attention is drawn over my shoulder to the two armchairs and side table by the window.
“Yeah, I had Wally help me bring them up earlier. They were just sitting in the storage room gathering dust. A quick vacuum and wipe down and they’re good as new.”
“I knew you’d make a corner for me if I waited long enough.” He heads toward the chairs, taking something from his pocket.
He crouches down and, at the sound of tape being pulled off a roll, I burst out laughing. I know exactly what he’s doing.
After a few seconds of taping, he stands up.
“There.” He admires the lines of Joyntz PT tape he’s stuck to the carpet around one of the chairs. “That one is mine.”
He makes a big show of stepping over the line, lifting his knees as if it’s a low wall, and drops into the chair, claiming his territory.
“I’m not intimidated by your boundaries, Powers.” I ignore the line completely and climb into his lap, legs dangling over one arm of the chair.
He encircles my waist and nuzzles my neck, sending that familiar, but always exciting, shiver down my side. I can’t imagine this feeling ever wearing off.
“Have I told you how much you being in charge turns me on?” he whispers against my skin, dotting kisses up to my hairline, turning the shiver into a tremble in my chest and the tremble to fireworks aimed straight at my core .
“Several times a day,” I breathe, as he drags his hand up the outside of my thigh from knee to hip.
The friction of his palm over my stomach makes the thousand butterflies sleeping in my belly take off, and I sink into him, running my fingers over his firm bicep and up to his shoulder.
“So, I found the—” Amelia’s voice comes from the doorway. “Oh, sorry. I’ll come back.”
That’s embarrassing. And not setting a good example as the leader of the club.
“No, no.” I leap from Hugo’s lap and run my fingers through my hair, which I now wear down for work. “It’s fine. Come in. He’s leaving.”
“Yup.” He stands up and yanks down his jacket to hide his crotch. “That’s exactly what I was planning.” There’s an audible eye roll in his voice.
He gives me a wry brow raise. “Just wait till I get you home,” he says in a husky whisper as he brushes by me.
And there was me thinking my panties couldn’t get any wetter.
“When you said ‘wait till I get you home,’ I thought you meant at least until we were through the door.” I’ve just bent over to take off my shoes and already Hugo is grinding against my butt.
“You know I love you as well, though, right?” he asks. “It’s not only that I want to shag you till your head blows off.”
“How very reassuring.” I straighten and turn around to face him, looping my arms around his neck. “And romantic. ”
“Hey.” In one swift movement he ducks to my waist and throws me over his shoulder, fireman style. “Never let it be said that I am not romantic.”
“Hugo Powers, what are you doing?” I drum my hands on his backside.
“Oh, I see, want a bit of slappy-slappy, do we?” He gives one gentle tap on my butt, which is next to his face, and carries me toward the bedroom.
“Here we go, my darlin’.” He tosses me off his shoulder and onto the bed.
The mattress rocks when I land, and I look up at the most beautiful, most amazing, imperfect, yet perfect man I have ever known.
His jacket is on the floor in seconds, his T-shirt tossed on top of it, and I’m staring up at a torso straight from a magazine shoot of the world’s hottest torsos.
“I do like that you wear skirts to work sometimes now,” he says, sliding his hands from my knees, under my skirt, and up my outer thighs to my underwear. “Because now I get to do this.”
One swift movement and he’s upright again, swirling my thong on the end of his finger.
If my inner walls could talk, they would scream his name. My juices have been flowing since that moment in my office earlier, but now they’re a raging torrent of need, want, and desire.
“Well, in that case I’ll be sure to wear them more often.” I pull my top over my head and unhook my bra, desperate to feel his bare chest against mine, the contact of our skin, our hearts beating next to each other.
His mouth finds my nipple, and, as I melt into the pulses of pleasure from his circling tongue, I reach for his jeans .
With rapid kisses up my chest and neck, his lips find mine at the exact moment my hands slide inside his boxers and find him.
His heavy sigh fills my mouth. His heavy cock fills my hand.
“I will never stop wanting you, Wilcox.” His fingers tickle my inner thigh, sending sparks to the top of my head and the tips of my toes.
Higher, higher and higher he teases, until he reaches my soaking, desperate center and slides up to my clit.
“I will always want to touch you here. To taste you. And to be in this heavenly place right…here.” On the last word, his magical fingers slip inside me, forcing the air from my lungs, and my back arches away from the mattress and into him, finally pressing my bare chest against his.
“And I will always want this”—I stroke his long, hard shaft—“right where your fingers are.”
“Too fucking right,” he says, sliding out of me, yanking down his jeans and placing himself at my entrance.
“Maybe one day,” he pants, hands massaging my breasts, “we won’t be doing this only for pleasure.”
He nudges the head of his perfect dick inside me, that first rush of togetherness setting off a spasm through my whole being.
“What do you mean?” I reach around for his butt and draw us even closer—him further inside me, me further around him.
“I mean…” He drops down on top of me with that reassuring weight, that solid presence.“That maybe one day we might want to make a whole other one of us.”
Kids .
My entire body relaxes at the thought. At the removal of all doubt. At the knowledge that he wants a forever.
I pull him in ever deeper, wanting to show him with my body how much that idea means to me, and he gives one big thrust, filling me to his hilt.
This is the first mention of children. The first sign of him wanting children with me . The first word of us starting our own family.
He rolls onto his back, dragging me over to sit on top of him. “Would you like that, Wilcox?” He circles my clit with one thumb and brushes a nipple with the other, all the time rocking up and down under me, taking me with him, and I am happy to go wherever he leads. “You and me and a couple mini footballers?”
It’s more than I ever could have hoped for, beyond any dream I could have had for myself. His words are as hot as his actions, and that’s it, I’ve reached the tipping point. There’s no going back now.
He thrusts harder up into me, his chest heaving, breath fast, eyes closed.
Then the world disappears. There’s just me, and Hugo, and a family in our future. I’m gone, lost, breaking over him, under his touch, on his dick. Every part of me belongs to every part of him.
And he’s right there with me.
“What do you say, Wilcox?” he pants right before he bursts inside me at the exact moment I burst around him.
“Yes.” I have never been more certain of anything in my life. “Yes. Yes. Yes .”
“Shall we order some food?” Hugo walks back into the bedroom, completely naked, carrying a glass of Guinness for me and a lager for him.
There he is, letting it all hang and dangle, shoulders back, chest out, loud and proud of himself. That man, right there, is the future father of my children. And I have never felt more secure or sure of anything in my life. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Definitely.” I take my drink from him as he slides back under the covers beside me.
He taps his glass against mine. “Cheers, Wilcox.”
“Cheers.” I hold up my glass. “Here’s to our house-hunting.”
He pauses with his drink halfway to his mouth. “Seriously?” He couldn’t look more surprised if I’d told him I’m playing in goal for the next game.
“Seriously. Let’s go look for our first home together. Let’s start living.”
“Oh, I fucking love you.” He cups my cheek and plants a big fat kiss on my lips. “I knew you’d realize you want to live with me eventually. Thank you for finally catching up.”
My phone buzzes in my bag on the floor, and my eyes instinctively dart to it.
“Oh, go on, boss,” he says. “I realize I’m sleeping with a top sports executive who can’t ignore her phone. And you know you can’t resist looking.”
“Thank you.” I put my drink on the nightstand and lean over the edge of the bed to reach into my bag.
One…two…three…yup, there it is, the inevitable slap across my bare butt.
“And that’s what I can’t resist,” he says with a dirty chuckle .
“I never expect you to miss an opportunity,” I tell him and look at my phone. “Oh.”
The message isn’t work related at all.
“Everything okay?” Hugo asks, putting down his drink and wrapping his arms around me.
“It’s not a work message.” I turn my phone to face him.
DAD
I understand coming out here will be hard for you and Hugo during the season. So Suzanna and I thought we might visit the city. Maybe around a home game. Would that work for you?
“You going to bat that off?” Hugo asks.
Things with my dad might be moving glacially slowly, but they are moving in the right direction. And something in me has definitely shifted—possibly more dramatically just in the last hour. If Hugo and I are going to have kids, I want those kids to have grandparents. And if one of our kids thought I was a terrible parent, I would want them to give me another chance.
“I don’t think he’s ever suggested visiting me before.” I shrug. “Would you be okay with it? With them coming to a game? And being around for a few days?”
“Whoa.” Hugo places his hand on my forehead. “Did I bang the sense right out of you just then?”
While I’ve appreciated his support and constant refrain of “Your dad’s an arsehole,” maybe I should at least try. Maybe I owe that to myself. I definitely owe it to our future children.
I take his hand and kiss it. “I think you might have. So, should I tell him yes?” I bite my bottom lip and screw my face up at him .
“If that’s what you want. I’m right there with you, whatever you want to do.”
“If it’s awful, I promise you don’t ever have to be involved with it again. But it’s worth a try, right?”
“Sure. Tell him yes.” He kisses the top of my head. “And I promise I’ll try very hard not to tell him he’s an arsehole.”
“Thank you. I’ll reply later.” I drop the phone on the bed and curl into my favorite warm, hard body. “What about your parents? Are you ever going to do anything about that?”
His mouth curls up at one side. “Want to come to London to visit them with me this Christmas?” He brushes my hair from my face. “Maybe they’ll like me more now I have you. I certainly like me more now I have you.”
My heart aches and soars at the same time.
“And maybe one day, when we have our own kids”—he tips my face up until my eyes lock with his—“we can try to do all that family shit right.”
We might not have been house-hunting yet, but I know I feel more at home at this man’s side than I’ve felt anywhere in my entire life.
“I love you, Hugo freaking Powers.”
“And I love you, Wilcox.”