Grant #2
“I’d love to keep you against this wall and get on my knees so I can show you what I’ve been imagining, but I don’t want to burn down my apartment.” I slip my hand under her shirt and exhale at the warm skin that meets my palm. “The food is almost ready, and we have all night.”
“How did you know I was hungry?” Amelia kisses me one more time then gives me a light shove to put distance between us. “I’d hate to be a distraction to your culinary endeavors, Everett.”
“My lack of focus isn’t only in the kitchen. You breathe, and I’m distracted.” I lace our fingers together and tug her down the hall. “I have lasagna in the oven. Do you want wine?”
“I’m going to stick with water. Tomorrow is game day, and I don’t want to wake up with a hangover.” She opens the fridge, helping herself to a water bottle. I grin like an idiot as she moves around the kitchen like she belongs here. “But if you want to have wine, go ahead.”
“Nice try.” I smirk. “I need to fuel my body so I’m ready for tomorrow. I can’t have you squeaking out a win during your last game in DC as an associate coach.”
I dole out the lasagna while Amelia finds silverware. She hands me a water bottle, and I pass her a stack of napkins. We work around each other, and when we sit at the table, I grab the leg of her chair and drag her across the floor so our thighs touch.
“Your optimism really is adorable.” Amelia stabs her lasagna with a quiet laugh. “I can’t believe I only have a few months left before I start my new job. Time is moving so fast.”
“Head coach.” I put my hand on her thigh and squeeze.
“The first woman to ever hold that position. You’re going to hear me say this a lot, Lia, but only because I never want there to be a doubt in your mind.
I am so proud of you, and that doesn’t change if you take our relationship out of the equation.
I’m always going to be proud of you, and getting to stand by your side during all of this might be the biggest honor of my career. ”
“Can I be honest?” Lia turns in her seat so she’s facing me.
“Sometimes I feel like you aren’t real. Sometimes I feel like you’re a figment of my imagination.
I never thought I’d find a man—besides my father, of course—who cheered for me so exhaustively.
I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.
” She sighs. “I keep thinking something bad is going to happen, but it won’t.
I have the job I’ve always wanted. You’re here, and I don’t have to compromise parts of myself to achieve my dreams.”
“Never. You’re doing the damn thing, Lia, and I can’t believe I get to watch you make history.” I cup her cheek and stroke my thumb over her jaw. “I can’t believe you’re kicking ass and sleeping in my bed. Eighteen-year-old me would lose his shit if he knew this was his life.”
“What do you mean?” Amelia laughs and takes another bite of her food. “How does your college self play into this story?”
“I guess I’ve never told you about the first time I saw you.”
“At the Italian restaurant?”
“That was the first time we met.” I take a sip of my water before going on.
“My freshman year, I was at a fraternity house and a Wisconsin game was on. You were coaching, and when the camera panned over to you behind the bench, I swear my heart stopped beating. You were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, and I joked with my friend that I was going to transfer to a Big Ten school so I’d have the chance to meet you.
” I chuckle. “He told me you’d never look my way. ”
“If only he could see you now.” She grins. “Did that really happen?”
“Swear to god it did.”
“Manifestation does work.” Amelia glances at me. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get here when you’ve known how you feel about me for a while now. I hate being late.”
“You’re not late, baby.” I drop a kiss to her forehead. “You’re right on time.”
The rest of dinner passes with conversation about league standings and the trades we think might happen before the deadline.
When we finish, we work in tandem washing our plates and putting them in the dishwasher.
Amelia puts the leftover lasagna in the fridge while I scrub the dirty pan, and I could get used to this: Her in my space and how comfortable she looks.
The two of us doing mundane shit and laughing until our sides hurt.
She tries to throw a handful of soapy water in my face but ends up drenching herself instead. I keel over, gasping for breath while she blinks at me with water dripping down her neck.
“How the hell did that happen? So not fair.” She holds out her arms and stares at her shirt. “Think you could lend me a change of clothes, Everett?”
“The universe was looking out for me.” I wrap my arm around her middle. I lift her off the ground and toss her over my shoulder, grinning when she squeals. “As for the change of clothes, might as well take all of them off.”
“I swear I didn’t intentionally soak myself so I could strip.”
“Not sure I believe you, Green.” She wiggles in my hold, and I smack her ass. “Hold still. You deserve some sort of punishment for trying to be mean to me.”
“Let me repent for my sins.” Her hands roam down my back. “Please?”
In my bedroom, I set her on the edge of the mattress. I look down at her and run a hand through my hair, my confidence wavering.
“I’m nervous,” I admit.
“Why are you nervous?”
“I want to make tonight good for you.”
“I already know it’s going to be good.” Amelia curls her finger in my direction, beckoning me forward. I walk her way like I’m a damn dog on a leash being called home. I’m not sure there’s anywhere she could ask me to go where I wouldn’t fucking crawl to get to. “Last time was good, wasn’t it?”
Better than good.
I’ve replayed it a thousand times. Her face is the only thing I see when I wrap my hand around my cock and stroke myself into a fucking mess.
“Yeah.” I nod. “It was amazing.”
“Tonight is going to be the same.” She puts her palm low on my stomach and lifts my shirt half an inch. Her fingers brush against my bare skin, and my hips buck at the contact. “I don’t want you to put any pressure on yourself.”
“I want it to be perfect for you.” I touch her cheek, tipping her head so I can kiss her neck. “You deserve perfect.”
“I don’t want perfect. I want you, Grant.” Her hand dips in the top of my jeans, and I close my eyes. “Can I have you?”
“Yes,” I rasp. “You can have everything you want, Lia.”