Chapter 19
Jalen
I didn’t think the house had ever felt like this before. It was somehow warmer and more alive.
Watching Mars Sinclair walk through my front door earlier that night had changed the entire space in a way I hadn’t expected. The quiet rooms that usually felt too big, too sterile, and too silent suddenly felt… right.
Dinner at the Maison's replayed in my head in a vivid loop while I leaned back against the kitchen counter later that night.
The way she had playfully dipped her finger in chocolate, teasing me across the table.
The intense, unblinking look in her eyes right before she leaned forward, completely obliterating the physical distance between us.
The breathless way she laughed when I lifted her up onto the counter like she weighed nothing at all.
Every single moment of the night had built seamlessly on top of the one before it, ratcheting up a tension that had been simmering for weeks.
But earlier that night, a specific observation of hers had stuck with me.
It doesn’t feel very homey.The truth was, she wasn’t wrong.
The house had always felt less like a sanctuary and more like a high-end hotel room where I stayed between road games, early morning workouts, and endless training sessions.
It was full of expensive furniture and pristine modern lines, but it lacked a pulse.
I had laughed it off when she first muttered the words, brushing it off as classic Mars critique.
The realization hit me with the force of a blindside blitz. The house hadn't been missing better decor or warmer paint tones.It had been missing her.
Like someone had turned the lights on in rooms I didn’t realize were dark.
I remembered the way she walked across the living room floor earlier, her heels tapping softly while she looked around the space.
"It doesn’t feel very homey."
“That’s because it’s missing you," I said honestly.
Her eyes widened just slightly before she pushed my shoulder.
“Oh please.”
I laughed, catching her hand before she could step away.
Truth be told I was dead serious.
She shook her head like she didn’t believe me, but the small smile on her face told me she liked hearing it anyway.
The house didn’t feel empty tonight.
Not with Amara Sinclair standing in the middle of it.
And I wasn’t sure I ever wanted it to feel quiet again.
Eventually, she a
Somehow we ended up upstairs and Mars stood near the foot of the bed for a moment, the soft city light slipping through the windows and catching the curves of her body beneath the dress she had worn that night. Her hair had fallen loose from earlier, long waves cascading over her shoulder.
I couldn’t stop looking at her.
I reached for her then, my hands sliding slowly along her waist until she was standing close enough that I could feel the warmth of her body through the fabric of her dress.
Something about being near her made everything inside me settle and spark at the same time.
When I kissed her, the taste of champagne lingered faintly on her lips.
The kiss deepened naturally, her arms slipping around my neck as she leaned into me. My hands moved along the soft curves of her body with quiet appreciation, the shape of her hips fitting perfectly beneath my palms.
Mars had a body that made a man pause.
Soft in the places you wanted softness.
When I lifted her onto the bed a few moments later, her hair spilled across the pillows like dark silk.
And when she moved beneath me, the way she looked at me made my chest tighten.
I’d been with women before.
But this…
This felt different.
There was a connection there I couldn’t explain.
Like every time she looked at me she was actually seeing me, not the athlete or the headlines.
Just me.
Mars shifted above me, and for a second I just watched her.
The city light slipping through the windows caught the curve of her shoulders and the loose strands of her hair falling around her face. Her eyes were darker now, focused entirely on me in a way that made my chest tighten.
She had taken control this time.
She was moving slow and intentional.
Her hands rested against my chest as she moved, her gaze never breaking from mine. There was something powerful about the way she held that eye contact, like the moment belonged to both of us and neither one of us was trying to look away.
My hands slid along her hips, feeling the steady rhythm she set. Every movement pulled a deeper breath from my chest, the closeness between us building until it felt like the entire room had shrunk down to just the space between our bodies.
“Amara…” I murmured, my voice rougher than I expected.
Her lips parted slightly, a quiet smile flickering across her face as she leaned forward, her hair falling over my shoulders.
The connection between us tightened, the warmth of her body pressed against mine as the tension finally broke through both of us at once.
My hands gripped her waist as I said her name again, unable to stop the sound that left my chest.
For a moment the room went quiet except for the sound of our breathing.
Mars collapsed lightly against me, her forehead resting against my shoulder while we both tried to catch our breath.
I brushed a hand up her back slowly, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath my palm.
At some point we found ourselves tangled in the sheets again, laughter slipping in between kisses and quiet conversation.
The connection between us didn’t feel rushed or forced.
It felt like something that had been building slowly all evening, something we were both finally letting ourselves enjoy without overthinking it.
Hours later, when Mars suddenly sat up and announced she was hungry.
I sat up and swung my legs off the bed.
“Alright.”
She watched me curiously.
“Where are you going?”
I looked back at her and grinned.
“Climb on.”
Her eyebrows lifted.
“What?”
“Transportation service.”
She laughed but climbed onto my back anyway, her arms wrapping around my shoulders while her legs hooked around my waist.
Then she smacked my butt.
“Giddy up.”
I nearly stumbled.
“You did not just do that.”
Her laughter echoed down the hallway as I carried her toward the stairs.
“Go, horse!”
When we reached the kitchen, I lifted her onto the counter.
“Alright,” I said, opening the fridge.
Then a cabinet.
Then another cabinet.
Then another.
Mars watched the entire process.
“You don’t know where anything is, do you?”
“I just moved here,” I said defensively.
“That’s not an answer.”
“I’m on the road most of the season.”
“So you never cook.”
“I’ve perfected takeout."
She hopped down from the counter and nudged me out of the way with her hip.
"Move it."
I laughed and stepped aside without arguing.
Watching her take over my kitchen was far more entertaining than making lunch myself.
Within seconds, she had found the bread, the turkey, the cheese, and every condiment I had somehow convinced myself wasn't there.
She opened the refrigerator one more time before pulling out a tomato and a head of lettuce.
I folded my arms across my chest.
"How did you find all of that so fast?"
She glanced over her shoulder with a satisfied smile.
"I actually looked."
"I was looking."
"No," she said, shaking her head. "You opened the same cabinet three different times hoping something different would magically appear."
"I would've found it eventually."
"I'm sure you would've."
I laughed and tickled her quickly on her stomach.
She giggle and swatted my hand away.
She reached into the drawer, grabbed a knife, and started slicing tomatoes like she'd cooked in my kitchen a hundred times before.
She spread mayonnaise across another slice of bread before looking up at me with a grin.
"I just think it's funny that a quarterback who can read an NFL defense in three seconds gets completely defeated by his own refrigerator."
I laughed harder than I meant to.
"That's actually fair."
"I know."
I leaned against the counter and watched her work.
There was something incredibly attractive about seeing her completely at ease in my home.
And somehow, watching her build a sandwich was every bit as captivating as watching her walk into a room dressed to the nines.
She started assembling sandwiches while I leaned against the counter and chatted.
My shirt hung loose on her body, the hem brushing the tops of her thighs every time she move.
We stood there stealing chips off each other's napkins, reaching for the same bag more than once, and laughing every time something landed on the counter instead of making it into our mouths.
I couldn't remember the last time something this simple had been this much fun.
Most of my dinners happened in expensive restaurants, private rooms, or team events where everything always felt structured.
The night stretched on after that. We talked about everything and nothing at the same time, jumping from old stories to future plans before either of us realized how much time had passed.
The conversation came easily, the kind that never felt forced and somehow made the rest of the world fade into the background.
We laughed more than either of us expected, and somewhere between another drink and another story, we drifted back upstairs without even noticing how late it had gotten.
By the time the first hints of morning crept through the windows, Mars was curled beside me, the house was quiet again.
But it didn’t feel empty anymore.
Not with her there.
I woke up before she did.
Mars was still asleep beside me, half curled into the pillow with my t-shirt twisted around her legs.
For a moment I just lay there watching her.
She looked peaceful.
Comfortable.
Like she belonged there.
That thought settled in my chest in a way I wasn’t ready to examine too closely.
Carefully, I slipped out of bed so I wouldn’t wake her.
Downstairs the house felt different than it had before she came over the night before. Not empty. Just quiet in a way that felt temporary.
I pulled my phone out and ordered breakfast from a café down the street; pancakes, eggs, fresh fruit, coffee.