Chapter 24
Antonio
My last set is a slow grunt of force through exhaustion. Fuck, I’m tired. But if I didn’t squeeze in a workout now, it wasn’t happening. I rerack the ninety-pound weight, grab my gear, and travel through the maze of halls to the elevator.
I’ve been up since five, not because I enjoy waking up at the ass crack of dawn.
The hotel I moved me and Miriam to fumbled my reservation, which meant finding new accommodations for Bread, Kendrick, Quincy, and three other players right after we landed.
Shins is flying out today, and he’ll be in a room with his girl until he gets a permission slip to come out.
The spot we’re in had a suite available and another one with bunk beds in a large room.
The guys and I slept two to a bed during our first year thanks to the league’s limited budget.
They’ll survive a few days sharing one bathroom, and they can fuck in a dark alley for all I care, provided they don’t get arrested.
That left one problem to solve. The reason I’ve been up for hours, unable to sleep.
Sharing a suite with Miriam didn’t sound like a big deal at the time. Having rooms across from each other would cut down on the time it would take me to get to her. Separate spaces also guaranteed we wouldn’t cross any boundaries.
The problem is, we’re not in the two-bedroom suite I reserved at the previous hotel. We’re in a suite with a panoramic view of the city and one bed.
Technically, there’s a sofa in the living room, which became my space after I evicted her. She’s so damn stubborn. Once she sets her mind on something—ignoring my pleas to take the bed, in this case—she’ll stop at nothing to get it.
I didn’t expect to go toe-to-toe with her, or chest-to-chin, given our height difference. I’m not arguing with anybody at one a.m., and definitely not after a six-and-a-half-hour flight to the other side of the country.
I rolled her suitcase into the bedroom.
She rolled it right back to the sofa.
I stood at my full height.
She stood on a chair.
The only reason we got what little sleep we did is because I waited for her to fall asleep before carrying her to the bed. Where she belonged.
I tucked the sheets into the mattress extra tight to keep her from getting up in the middle of the night. Then I spent an hour jacking my dick to the city skyline. Apparently, I don’t know how to fucking act in the same space as the woman who’s had me in a vise grip since I was a preteen.
I’ve been in bed with plenty of women. Hundreds, if I had to guess, and in multiple-player situations.
The most I worried about was forgetting where I was during the few nights I partied too hard, or someone trying to steal my wallet.
My heart never left my chest the way it does when I’m around Doe.
It’s already hard to breathe around her at times, trying not to sound like an idiot or let my attraction to her beat my ass like it has for almost two decades.
I’d be lying if I said the bond we’ve developed doesn’t scare the shit out of me. I never let myself get this close to a woman, never worried about any emotional attachments. Miriam is different, and that makes our temporary living arrangement—with one fucking bed, no less—a challenge.
She doesn’t see me as anything more than a friend, and I didn’t invite her out here to run game. I want her to have a good time and feel comfortable being herself. If that means cold showers and tugging on my dick like it’s a Nintendo joystick in order to keep it together, so be it.
I meant what I told her last night. Her comfort is my priority. Her happiness too.
The door to the suite opens when I wave my wallet over the sensor. I step inside and inhale the air, which is now saturated in the fragrance of coffee, eggs, and ham.
The growl I release while taking off my shoes is from my stomach touching my back. Another growl comes when I turn the corner to find Miriam seated at the dining room table.
Two parts of my body are starving for different reasons.
Her hair is still twisted up into a tiny bun that pokes out of the silk scarf wrapped around her head.
Her foot is propped on a chair, summoning my attention to the thick, oiled thigh on full display.
The bottom half of her pajama set inches up to the source of her nectar, which I wouldn’t mind with a stack of pancakes.
“There you are,” she says around a mouthful of eggs. “I looked up what professional rugby players eat for breakfast.” She aims her fork at the spread on the table that I missed. I was too busy imagining what else I’d like to spread. “Is this okay?”
I flick a glance at the overnight oats next to plain yogurt and bowls of fresh fruit and granola. There’s avocado toast topped with eggs and bacon, and scrambled eggs and spinach.
“Aww, honey. You shouldn’t have,” I say, dropping my stuff to join her.
“Shut up and come here.” She moves her foot for me to take the chair. “How was your workout?”
I reach for the avocado toast. “Good.”
“I can tell.” Miriam gestures to my gray shirt soaked in sweat. Black basketball shorts cling to my legs. I need a shower.
“Anytime you want me to work you out…” I waggle my brows at her and flex my bicep at the sting of her slap. “Sleep okay?”
She huffs. “After I extricated myself from the straitjacket you created with the bedsheets? I slept good. No waking up remembering that my savings isn’t limitless and the job I’m taking is part-time.”
“You know I got you.” I motion for her to hand me her empty coffee cup, which I refill.
“I got myself, Papa Smurf.” A smile spreads over her lips, and I return it at her use of my team nickname.
“You’ve already done enough. With my housewarming presents and all of this.
” She waves a hand in the air. “Ms. Amber said she’s looking for additional funding.
Hopefully it will go full-time soon, but I’ll figure it out.
For now, I want to enjoy my weekend. It’s my first time in Sin City. ”
The suite at the twenty-one-and-over hotel we’re in is nice.
There’s a full bar, floor-to-wall windows, and a dining space big enough for us to take down the feast she ordered.
The navy and cream color combo is a welcome change from the suites across Las Vegas that are drowning in beige and marble.
Some people might enjoy living like they shit gold foil, but I’ll pass.
Miriam butters a piece of wheat toast. “At least let me cover our food and drinks. You can’t be that stubborn,” she says at my headshake.
I stab a piece of strawberry and cut my eyes at her. “Who waited for who to fall asleep before moving them to the bed?”
She scoffs. “You should’ve left me on the sofa. This is your suite.”
“Our suite,” I correct. “It will be a cold day in Hell before I put you on a sofa when there’s a bed in the room.” My father would slap me from DC and ask who raised me.
“Do you ever let people take care of you the way you take care of them?”
My fork hovers inches from my lips. When was the last time I let someone do something for me? Other than give me head, I’ve got nothing.
“I’ve always been this way,” I admit, unable to meet Miriam’s eyes. “Done things to be useful.”
As an only child, it was easier to make friends if I was more outgoing, more giving.
Kids flocked to my house to play the latest video games or attend one of the infamous house parties I hosted whenever my parents were out of town.
After a while, the expectations stuck, and I fell into them because I like being liked.
Miriam’s hand on top of mine pulls me back to reality. Hairs prickle when her thumb rubs circles into my skin.
“Want to know something?”
“You’ll tell me anyway. What’s up?”
She leans forward, granting me the brilliance of her deep brown eyes and intoxicating smile. “You don’t need to prove your worth for someone to like you. You’re a good man, Knight.”
“That might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said.” She thinks I’m joking, but I’m not. Outside of Julian treating me like a brother, and the rugby team who appreciates my Papa Smurf tendencies, no one has shown much interest in me beyond what I can do for them.
Miriam reminding me that my worth isn’t attached to my acts of service means more than she knows.
“How about this,” she says. “You let me express my gratitude the way I want, and I’ll work on coming out of my shell.”
“Don’t change for anybody, Doe. I’ll be part of whatever adventure you want, but you’re perfect the way you are.”
A blush creeps up her cheeks. “Okay. I still want to try new things.” She stretches out her hand. “Do we have a deal?”
“Deal.”
Our conversation wanes into silent chews and reloading our plates. Spending time with Miriam has quickly become my favorite pastime. Aside from enjoying everything about her, she’s making it easier to open up—even when I don’t want to burden people with my shit.
“The league is struggling this year,” I say, my voice drifting above a whisper. “A few teams are folding, and Coach Washington told me there’s talks that the owner wants to offload us.”
“Antonio.”
I rub the space above my brow and sigh. “Forget I said anything. I don’t want to ruin breakfast.”
“Hey. We tell each other when something is wrong, remember? You don’t need to keep anything in. I’m here to listen if you need me.”
I’ll always need you.
“I’m the only one on the team who knows. Nothing is set in stone, so there’s a good chance nothing will happen.” My gaze sweeps across her face. “It feels good to get it out. You’re the first person I’ve told.”
Miriam’s dimples frame a smile that brightens the room. “Well, consider me honored. I’ll always be here for you if you let me. I am your emergency contact, after all.” I crack up at her wink. “Is there anything you can do for now?”
“I don’t think so. The Steel is getting good press. That will likely mean more interviews and a busier media schedule. All good stuff for the team.” I pat her leg. “I don’t want what I said to mess up our weekend. In Vegas, we turn up.”
She raises her coffee mug. “Here for it. How do you quantify turning up?”