Chapter 24
A fter falling asleep before sealing the deal on my first real date with Wynter, I woke up to the best surprise in the world. Even thinking about it now, I’m hard. Wynter’s mouth wrapped around my dick while she was wearing my jersey with my name and team number plastered across the back.
Hottest. Fucking. Thing. Ever.
My girl sucked me off like she was trying to win the gold medal for blowjobs, and then I swooped her up into my arms, plastered her sweet pussy over my face, and ate her out.
I’ve never had that happen to me before.
I’ve never woken up with a woman’s mouth on my morning wood.
I’ve never had her sit on my face until I made her come, and then spent the remaining few minutes we had before the alarm went off just kissing and snuggling and holding her.
In the early morning light, she looked so beautiful. So peaceful and content, and it hit me like a marching band that it’s a look on her face I don’t see very often. It’s a look I swore then and there to work my ass off to replicate morning after morning, day after day.
She might not fully grasp this yet, but she’s not alone anymore. She has me, and I’m her guy, and I’m not going anywhere. It’s what I’ve been trying to prove to her for the last week since we became official. A week of being together and living a secret life.
But last week, after hearing what Coach did to her when she was a child, it’s been hell on wheels not confronting the man or simply grasping him by his neck and squeezing until all the available oxygen in his body is snuffed out.
Like right now as I walk past the owner’s office and hear the two of them speaking. Randolph never closes his door, and with that, I can hear everything.
“He’s green, Joe. If the reports on Reyes’ shoulder are accurate, then he’ll be back on the field in a couple of months at most. I still don’t know how we got so lucky with that.”
“ He got lucky with that Super Bowl, Randolph. The team carried him on their back, and last year was flat at best. It’s why you brought me in. Leo’s stats in college showed growth from year to year. That’s what we need. I’m just not sure how much more growth Asher has in him.”
I frown as grief slams into me, the force of it knocking me against the wall.
“I agree we need more growth. Especially after a mostly unproductive year last year. But Reyes is this team. He’s this city. You’ll face one hell of a fight if you try to replace him.”
“Maybe. But winning is why we’re here and I think Leo can be a winner. He’s looked good on the field so far.”
“Perhaps. Winning is why I brought you here. Show me you can, and we’ll talk again.”
I move away from the door, unsure if their conversation is done but already knowing I don’t want to be there when Joe leaves. Coach doesn’t like me. That much is clear. I still don’t understand why Randolph drafted Leo so high in the first round. He was good in college but far from lights out.
And I really don’t understand what he has against me.
I’ve been helping the kid because it helps my team, but ultimately my loyalty to that will hurt me in the end.
On numb legs, I make my way through the tunnels, into the locker room, and then into the weight room. Naturally, the rookie is here, and naturally, he’s chatting with my woman, making her smile and laugh.
“Morning, has-been,” he greets me, and though this has become our routine, ribbing each other because that’s what ball players do, it grates especially rough this morning.
Leo is actually a good kid, and I’ve grown to like him a lot more than I ever thought I would.
I want him to succeed, and I want him to lead a team at the highest level.
I just don’t want him to do that with my team.
“Morning, will-never-be.” I toss him a wave and then go over to the leg press, needing some serious heat on my muscles to burn off all this extra emotion I can’t seem to shake.
I set myself into the machine and then push the metal plate and weights with a heavy grunt and a thrust. My thighs already burn, the weight on the machine set to thirty pounds more than my usual lift.
“Good morning, Mr. Reyes. How’s the shoulder treating you?”
“Good morning, Dr. Hathaway. It’s still attached, so I guess that’s something.”
I can’t see her face from this angle, but I know her well enough to know she does not like that response. “Are you in pain?” she asks softly after a quiet half-beat.
“Nope. But ask me that again after PT later this morning.”
I grunt and continue to push myself, ignoring the woman, who is impossible to ignore, standing somewhere beside me.
After my tenth rep, I hear her move, and for a moment, I think she’s leaving me without another word, but then she hands me a white towel since I’m already sweating like a sinner in church. “Thank you.”
“Last I checked, you’re Asher Reyes. Remember that and never let anyone change it. You’ve got this, player. I know you do.”
Her hand brushes my hair briefly, a passing swipe no one else can see, and then she’s walking off, heading for the trainers’ room. The metal weights click back into place as I reset the machine, panting out a harsh breath as I do.
Wynter’s words sit heavy on my chest, while somehow managing to lighten me. People enter your life when you least expect them. I never saw her coming. I wasn’t even looking for her. But I’ll forever be grateful to the universe, which brought her to me not just once but twice.
* * *
“Da-da,” I say, enunciating the syllables in the word.
I lift Mason in the air, his full weight centered in his chest that’s held by my palm.
This is his favorite thing for me to do with him, I think.
He crawls or scoots himself over to me and tugs on my hand, placing it on his chest for me to lift him.
If he already likes the feel of being weightless, the kid is going to be a daredevil and give his mother and me hives when he’s a teenager.
Still, he’s easily the coolest kid on the planet, and I’m not just saying that because he’s mine.
“Come on. You can do it. Say, dada.” I do another press into the air as I sign “Father” with my other hand.
My muscles are screaming at me from all the pressure I put on them today—well, all the pressure I’ve been putting them under since the surgery—but I’d do just about anything to hear his giggle and see his smile, so my muscles will just have to deal.
“Mama,” he chirps in delight, and I groan.
“Big guy, you’re killing me. We’ve been at this since you moved in here. That’s more than three weeks of this. If I didn’t know better, I’d suggest you were intentionally not saying dada just to mess with me.”
“Cookie.”
I groan. “Are you kidding me? Cookie over dada?” Those are his two words now. Cookie and mama. Incidentally, he learned cookie after spending the night at Wynter’s parents’ house last week. Not a stretch to figure out how he learned that word. I guess that’s grandparents for you.
I do another rep with him, down and then back up into the air where he giggles in delight.
“Dada. Please. Just one time? For me?”
He stares curiously at me as if the word isn’t computing when I’ve only said it to him about a million times.
“I hate it when you do that,” Wynter remarks from the doorway.
“Sweetheart, he doesn’t weigh more than twenty-five pounds. I could do this with you and still be fine.”
She enters the room, sitting on the large yellow yoga ball near us. I give Mason another push into the air. “Dada.”
Little booger looks directly at Wynter, extends his arms, and says, “Mama.”
She laughs, giving me a what can you do shrug. “Don’t look so glum,” she tells me. “He’ll get it. He’s just paying homage to the fact that I spent thirty hours in labor with him.”
My eyes bulge. “ Thirty hours? Jesus, remind me to pay homage to your pus—er—vagina later. When I spoke to my mother last night, she told me both me and my brother were planned C-sections because we were so big.”
She snickers. “This boy wasn’t small. He came out at almost nine pounds, and that was two weeks early. It’s why I eventually ended up having a C-section too, only I endured hours of labor first.”
“I hate that I wasn’t there.”
Mason reaches for her again, and this time she snatches him away, bringing him into her chest to give him a kiss on both cheeks before setting him down so he can crawl over to his toys.
I sit up, inch over to her, and drop my head on her lap.
Her fingers start combing through the strands of my hair, and my eyes close as a contented hum passes my lips.
I’ve never had this before. Where I could just hang out and be myself and snuggle as much as I want—evidently, I’m a snugger. Who knew? I’ve always had to be Asher Reyes, whether that was the rock star or the professional football player. Money, and fame, that’s what drew women to me.
Wynter doesn’t give a rat’s ass about either. It’s just us like this, and it’s quite possibly the most freeing and relaxing thing I’ve ever experienced.
Her fingers trickle along my healing scar. Oddly, it feels good. Sensitive. “Do you ever wear a shirt?”
“Not since it became a total mother-effer to put one on or take one off. Plus, I happen to live with this incredibly hot woman who thinks I’m insanely sexy when I’m shirtless.”
“True. That is why I’m here. The visual man candy is where it’s at. The fact that you’re decent in bed and are the biological father of my child is all a bonus.”
I roll my head and quirk an eyebrow up at her. “ Decent in bed?”
“Just calling it as I see it.”
I bury my face in the V between her thighs and blow a raspberry, making her screech and wiggle on the ball as she tries to push me away from her pussy.
“Stop!” she cries, laughing as I nip at her inner thigh and then blow more vibrations into her center. I plant a series of kisses and then rest my head on her thighs again, my good arm around her back, holding her upright on the ball and closer to me.
“Can I buy you something special?”
She coughs out a laugh. “What? Why? I don’t need anything.”
My head pops up and I gaze into her eyes.
I’ve had it for over a week now, and I’ve been too nervous to give it to her.
I ordered it after I followed her home from the ice skating rink last week.
This thing between us is still so new, and I wasn’t sure how she would take to me doing something like this without consulting her first.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have asked if I could, but you don’t seem like the type of woman who does surprises well.”
She stares warily at me. “Not typically, no.”
“I got you something.”
Her head tilts. “So, you went from asking if you could buy me something to telling me you already did ?”
I slide my phone out of my pocket, unlock it with my face, pull up the picture of the car, and then flip my phone around so she can see it.
She studies the image for a moment and then trains her surprised gaze back to mine. “What’s this?”
“Safety.”
“Asher—”
“I have so much money,” I quickly interject before she can mount her argument.
“Too much money. If you’d let me, I’d buy you and Mason the world.
You have no idea how badly I want to spoil you both.
But I can’t handle either of you in your car for another second.
This one received top safety ratings, it’s all-wheel drive, which you will need in Boston when winter comes, and it’s pretty and luxurious, which are both things my woman deserves. ”
“You already bought this,” she states. “That is in the garage downstairs.”
“Yep.”
She bobs her head absently, her eyes trained on the picture again as the seconds tick by like an eternity.
“It’s silver.”
Nervousness starts to swell in me. “Is that a problem? Did you want a different color?”
“I won gold.”
I chuckle at her aghast expression. “That wasn’t an option.”
“That’s criminal,” she asserts in feigned outrage.
My lips twitch. “Perhaps.”
I get a shake of her head, and then she’s staring at the picture once more. “Hmmm. I guess I could live with silver if it can’t be gold.”
“Yeah?” Hope surges through me like a geyser.
Her fingers trickle along my jaw. “Yeah.” Her lips glide against mine, and a soft smile plays on her lips.
“Thank you.” Another kiss. “It’s more than generous, and extremely sweet and thoughtful.
My instinct is to argue this, but I won’t.
Your heart, Asher Reyes, is quite possibly the most impressive and beautiful thing about you, and I adore you for it.
Adore me? That’s like a hop, skip, and a jump from love. This makes my heart go thump, thump, thump.
“I adore you. All of you. Just as you are.” I drag her lips back to mine and kiss her, and all the worry from today, everything I overheard Joe say about me, starts to dissolve. At least for a little while.