Chapter 11
Gabe
I have no idea why I said that. I don’t even know if they’d give a single, childless man my age a vasectomy. My little sister Abby never stops complaining about how she’s had three kids and they still refuse to tie her tubes.
I wouldn’t want a vasectomy. I love kids. I’ve always thought I’d have two or three of them myself by now, with at least one more on the horizon before I called it a day.
I don’t know where there’s a condom in my car. There should be a couple in the glovebox and one in my gym bag behind the seat, but Blaise has a habit of nicking them. Another in my wallet, but I can’t attest to the date on it. Still, that doesn’t excuse lying to Joss about something so important, and now I need to admit that I lied and deal with the fallout from that.
Instead, I’m taking the slowest route possible home while Joss lounges next to me. Her seat is halfway reclined, her arm is thrown over her head, and her left leg is sprawled onto my side, her pussy bared and spread for me to continue to tease.
I push my cum back into her, guiding it as deep as I can.
Her sigh is one of dozy content, like she’s absolutely loving being filled with my fingers and my semen, and I can’t ruin the moment.
I’m an honest person to a fault. I suck at keeping secrets, and I just plain don’t like it. Every lie I’ve ever attempted to pull off, I’ve gotten caught for, and that sucks enough that I don’t do it. But every vision of my possible future with Joss is filled with a great big belly on her or a bassinet set up next to her sewing machine or a herd of blonde kiddos running circles around me in the yard. She didn’t like it when I told her I’d had a vasectomy, so I’m thinking she’s wants a family, too.
I need to figure out the right way to spin this so I can confess the truth — or something close enough — so that she won’t get mad. I can do this.
The little rumble from Joss as I begin to circle her clit with the pad of my thumb, absolutely loving the puddle on the seat beneath my knuckles, has me smiling. I can’t remember the last time a woman was so wanton with me. “I can’t believe it’s only eleven.”
The time triggers something in me. When I see the 10:56 on the clock, I realize the auction’s about to end. I take advantage of a red light at a deserted intersection to fish my phone out of the cupholder with my left hand to pull up the app.
“Everything okay?” she asks.
“Sure is, just putting the winning bid in on your quilt.”
Joss snaps straight up at that. “You don’t need to bid on that! I don’t care if it doesn’t go for much.”
The fact that she looks more terrified about that than the brawl we left behind at the hotel is enough to warm my heart back up. “I’m not doing it to stroke your ego. I want it. And you don’t have to worry about how much it’s going for.”
Whether I deliberately intended to goad her into grabbing my phone from me or not, the result is the same. She grabs it out of my hand and gasps when she sees the bid I’m about to place. “Oh my god, how do I cancel this? Where’s the cancel button?”
I laugh, enjoying seeing her so flustered and wondering if, in her panic, she ended up submitting the $50,000 bid. The current winning bid is just shy of 25, but I want to make sure I end this. “I’m good for it. I’m fine.” I was poor but comfortable for so long that when I finally got selected and lucked out with my seven-figure contract, I didn’t see any reason to change my life too much. And Merrick refuses to take rent money from us; he paid cash upfront for the house and insists he didn’t buy the monster to be a landlord. He figured it’d be useful since there were so many players moving to Wilmington at the same time, many of us without families or connections. The rest of us split utilities and any other expenses that pop up. Blaise and I went in together on the pool.
Joss has the cutest scowl, like an angry puppy. “I don’t care if you’re good for it, it’s too much money. I’ll make you one.”
I scoff, trying to push down any fluffy feelings about how casually she offered — not even offered, unquestionably stated — to make this for me. “You’ve already made one. How great would it be on the sidelines, a bunch of the guys huddled under it? The photo ops alone would get you media coverage. Way better than it hiding in the stands.”
She turns back, and though she still clutches my phone, she’s brought it up to her chest, looking positively angelic as she looks up at me and says, “No, I want to make one just for you.”
Okay, yeah. That’s fluffy feelings right there. “Don’t these take a long time?”
“I can have it done in a month.”
“But you have other stuff to do. I couldn’t ask you to make me a quilt.”
Her eyes shimmer up at me, evoking all kinds of crazy emotions inside me. I’ve already told her she’s my girlfriend. It’s clear I want to see how far we can go. But that vision I have of her and me and kids? It’s coming right back, with the addition of that quilt for our family to cozy up under.
“You didn’t ask me,” she says. “I offered. And I won’t let you say no.”
If she won’t let me say no, I won’t let her, either. I steal a quick kiss and hand her a wad of paper napkins for a quick clean-up while I grab her panties and skirt. I pass them to her and then continue on down the road.
Once she’s gotten herself dressed, I reclaim her hand. “I hope you know this isn’t some fling for me, Joss. I’ve got a mandatory practice at six a.m. tomorrow, so—”
She gasps, horrified. “But you’re all going to be out late tonight! And it’s Sunday!”
“Yeah, that was management’s attempt to keep us from getting into trouble. And I am going to be in a bit of trouble, so I’m going to roll in at 5 to kiss some serious ass. But I need you to know that what’s between us, it’s not what we just did. I want more than that. I’m absolutely not going to spend the night with you, because I’m not going to sneak off in the middle of the night like a criminal or wake you up before sunrise.”
She gives my hand a squeeze, and in my rearview, I see she has the biggest grin, like she’s absolutely smitten.
I hope she is. I am.
“I’m going to hop in your stream tomorrow if I can. And I’m sure my life’s going to be a living hell this week because of the Kick-Off Gala, so I’m going to buy your one-on-one tutorial package so I can say good night—”
“Do not do that!” She tries to be firm, but she can’t quite smother her laughter.
“I am doing that. Because you probably still haven’t gotten your phone and I want to tell you good night every night face-to-face. And I know that this is probably a big ask, but if it’s at all possible for you to come to the game next Sunday, I’m going to give you two tickets for the WAG section.”
“What’s the WAG section?”
“Where the wives and girlfriends like to sit.”
“Gabe, are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”
“Ma’am, you already are my girlfriend. I’m asking you to come see what I do and then come out to dinner with me and my buddies so I can show you off and get to know one of your friends better and then ditch your friend to spend the night at my place.”
She strains across the seat, a far bigger distance for her than me, to peck my cheek. “It’s super hot when you call me ma’am.”