Chapter 13
Noah
The entire practice I can’t focus on a damn thing.
Not the drills.
Not the scrums.
Not even Great Dane screaming himself hoarse from the sidelines.
All I can think about is Chiara.
The way she grabbed my shirt earlier.
The way she kissed me like she’d finally decided to stop fighting what’s been between us for months.
One more night, she said.
Like she’s setting a boundary.
Like she thinks I’ll stop wanting her after that.
Christ, she really has no idea what she does to me.
And that’s my fault because I haven’t proved it to her yet—but I will. If it’s the only thing I ever do, it will be enough because Chiara is everything that matters to me.
By the time practice ends, I’m vibrating with the need to see her again.
The lads hang around for a bit—Tank arguing with Koa about a missed pass, Luca joking with the backs—but I’m already halfway to the locker room.
Shower.
Change.
Out.
Because I know exactly where she’ll be.
Chiara is always the last one to leave the training center.
Always finishing paperwork.
Always making sure the rehab schedules are set for the next day.
Always taking care of everyone else before herself.
So I wait.
Leaning against the hallway wall outside the physio office while the building slowly empties.
Voices fade.
Doors slam.
Eventually the place goes quiet.
Perfect.
I push the door open without knocking.
She’s standing near the counter with her back to me, scribbling something on a chart.
Her brown curls are falling loose from the bun she had earlier, soft strands brushing her neck.
By the time I close the door behind us, the training center is quiet.
Empty.
Just the low hum of the lights and the faint smell of disinfectant and rubber mats hanging in the air.
Chiara stands near the treatment table, watching me like she’s not quite sure what version of me walked into the room tonight.
And honestly?
I’m not sure either.
Because the second she said yes earlier—the second she kissed me like she meant it—something in my chest snapped tight.
This woman has been under my skin for months.
In my head.
In my blood.
And right now she’s standing there looking nervous and excited all at once, and it makes something fiercely protective rise up in me.
I step toward her slowly.
Not rushing.
Letting the anticipation build between us.
“Door locked?” I ask quietly.
She looks behind me and nods.
“Good.”
Another step.
Her breathing changes—shallower now, quicker.
And I can see the flicker of uncertainty cross her face.
Not doubt about me.
Doubt about herself.
About whether she’s allowed to want this.
That’s the part that twists something deep in my gut.
Because a woman like Chiara should never feel unsure of herself.
Not with me.
Not ever.
I cross the room in three strides.
“Chiara,” I murmur.
I reach her and brush my fingers lightly along her jaw, tilting her chin up so her eyes meet mine.
Her lips part slightly.
“Noah?”
“Shh.”
Before she can say anything else, I slide a hand firmly around the back of her neck, pulling her closer until our foreheads nearly touch.
Her breath catches.
“One thing I forgot to mention earlier,” I murmur, my voice low and rough from holding this back all afternoon, “When we’re together, I’m in charge.”
Her lips part slightly.
“What? Um… yes?”
A smile pulls at the corner of my mouth.
“That’s right. You know it too, don’t you, Love?”
I lean down and brush a slow kiss across her lips.
Not rushed.
Not desperate.
Just enough to make her melt a little.
My voice drops.
“Now,” I murmur against her mouth, “get on your knees like a good girl.”
My cock is thumping against my shorts, and I can feel precum beading at the tip.
Her brown eyes go wide, and her pupils dilate, and I know the truth—I know she wants this, needs this, just as much as I do.
And right now? I’m going to remind her of how good we are together.
There’ll be no question of her running away again because this woman is mine.
And if I have to fuck her in every room in every building of this whole fucking training center so she can’t blink without remembering without seeing me there—I will.
Determination is ruling me now.
And I think I like it.
My mouth is open as Chiara sinks to her knees obediently.
The words hang in the air between us.
She freezes for half a second.
Then something changes in her expression.
Not fear.
Not hesitation.
Something stronger.
Curiosity.
Trust.
Slowly—very slowly—she moves into position in front of me.
My mouth goes a little dry watching her.
Fuck.
She tips her head back, brown eyes meeting mine as her hands reach for the waistband of my shorts.
I don’t help.
I don’t rush.
I just stand there and watch.
Because this moment?
It matters.
She’s not doing this because she feels pressured.
She’s choosing it.
Choosing me.
Her fingers pause briefly.
Then she takes a small breath and pushes forward, anyway.
And fuck.
The quiet courage in that small movement hits me harder than any tackle I’ve ever taken.
A woman like her should never doubt herself.
Not her beauty.
Not her body.
Not the way she makes a man lose his mind just by looking at him.
I don’t know who put those doubts in her head.
Some piece of shit idiot before me, probably.
But whoever it was?
They’re wrong.
And they’ve got no place here.
Not tonight.
Not ever.
Because as far as I’m concerned, Chiara Giardino is the most incredible woman I’ve ever met.
And I plan to spend every moment I get showing her exactly that.
She pulls my cock free, and the moment her fingers stretch around me, I groan.
It must encourage her—and I’m so fucking glad it does because next she reaches up on her knees and sucks the tip of my cock into her hot little mouth.
Holy fucking shit.
I’m surrounded by hot, wet suction—and it feels so good. Better than anything except maybe when I’m buried inside her tight little slit.
She releases me with a wet pop, and I’m back to watching her. She licks the underside of my shaft paying attention to the thick vein there before closing her lips over the top and sucking me in as far as I can go.
“Easy, Love,” I warn because I don’t know if she’s ready for me to deep throat her yet, but if she keeps sucking me like that I’m going to thrust.
I won’t be able to fucking help it.
“S’okay. I wanna,” she says around a mouthful of my cock.
And I suck in a breath and cup her cheek.
“You sure?”
She nods.
Fuck me, this woman is a gift.
“Relax your throat, Love. Breathe through your nose,” I push forward.
Tears roll down her eyes.
I withdraw.
“Again,” she says.
I’m so fucking close.
“Ready?” I ask.
She nods one more time, and I push in slowly. Farther than before.
And my Chiara? She takes it. She takes me deep.
I try to pull out, but she’s bobbing her hand, gripping my base, and sucking my tip all in perfect rhythm.
“Love, you gotta pull up now. I’m gonna come.”
She shakes her head, gripping me tighter, moving with more confidence now, and Christ, that’s it.
That’s the moment I lose the last scrap of control I had.
This started as something else entirely.
A way to show her she’s wanted.
Desired.
Unbelievably sexy.
I thought maybe if she saw what she does to me—how completely she owns my attention—she’d stop doubting herself and us.
What I didn’t expect?
Is how watching her like this makes me feel.
Proud.
Protective.
Absolutely ruined for any other woman on earth.
My hands slide into her hair, not forcing—never that—but holding, steadying, my head tipping back as the sensation crashes through me.
“Chiara, bloody hell. Fuck. Chiara. My Chiara.”
Her name comes out like a prayer.
And when the wave finally hits, it takes everything with it.
Every bit of restraint.
Every thought except her.
For a few seconds, the world shrinks down to the two of us in the physio room, her kneeling on the floor, the quiet hum of the lights overhead, and the feeling that this woman—this stubborn, brilliant, curvy little hurricane—has somehow worked her way straight into my bones.
When the last of it fades, I’m already moving.
Because if she thinks this was one-sided, she’s out of her mind.
I sink down in front of her, catching her by the waist as she starts to shift.
“Whoa there, love,” I murmur.
With a gentle push to her chest, she ends up stretched out on the mat, brown curls spilling around her head.
Her eyes widen slightly.
“Noah—”
“Shh.”
I trail my fingers along her hip, slow and deliberate, watching the way her breathing changes.
“You really think I’m letting you walk out of here without returning the favor?”
A grin tugs at the corner of my mouth.
“Not a chance.”
Because the truth is simple.
If she’s brave enough to trust me like that?
Then I’m going to spend every second making sure she never regrets it.