Chapter 28
Melody
My hands close over Knox’s wrists, and my lips part as he claims my mouth. I’ve been doing everything in my power to get here, to this place with his little girl, and when he wraps me in his arms on this shore under the moon, I never want to leave.
The Bradfords are everything he said they’d be—big, loving, hilarious, and full of wacky traditions. My own family is pretty much the same.
As I drove over from New Orleans, Coco and Lindsey called to tell me they’d been doing Fireside Ladies spells all day. Then when I said the baby was in the car with me, they broke into cheers and chanting “the palm is sacred.” I just shook my head.
Maybe it is?
Now we’re here, and it’s a perfect moment in time. We’re making core memories, but I can’t help wondering where I go from here.
Knox kisses my eyebrow, pulling me flush against his chest and wrapping muscled arms around me. “It feels so good to have you in my arms again,” he groans. “Feels like I can breathe.”
“I know what you mean.” I close my eyes, inhaling his scent of leather and sandalwood. “Your family is crazy.”
He turns his head, pulling my lips with his in another thrilling kiss. I might be worried about my career, but I can’t deny the things he does to me.
“It’s true, and they already love you for helping me.”
“I told you I’d help you.” I reach up, placing my thumb on the faint cleft in his chin.
My eyes drift from his full lips up to his eyes, and he’s studying me closely. “You also said you’d never lie to me.”
“I won’t.”
His arms loosen, and he catches both my hands. “Something’s wrong. What is it?”
I look deeply into his sapphire blue eyes, wondering what could ever possibly be wrong with this man loving me…
“What happens now?”
His brow quirks. “What do you mean?”
“Cricket is back. You’ll get back next week and hit the field, and I’ll… drive for Uber?”
“Why would you do that?” He lifts my hand, kissing my fingers. “Don’t you want to do your show?”
“Of course, I want to do my show.” I shake my head, and we start walking along the concrete path lining the bay. “But what even is my show now? Nobody’s going to buy me criticizing you anymore.”
“Why not?” He gives my hand a pull, dragging me to him again. “I’m still going to make mistakes when I play, and I still care about your opinion the most.”
He’s got me pinned against his hard chest, and I chew my lip. “I think I’m going to have to rebrand. It’s hard to criticize you now that I like you.”
His eyes narrow, and he pulls back his chin. “Like me? You like me?”
“I told you from the start I was a fan. Everyone was frustrated with the number of errors last season. Then y’all lost the playoff game, and it was… whooooa!”
My voice goes wobbly and high as Knox sweeps me off my feet and tosses me over his shoulder.
“What are you doing?” My top half is hanging upside down, and I slap my hands against his butt as he strides fast up the beach path. “Knox Bradford! Put me down!”
“I’ll put you down in just a minute.” He keeps going, and I keep slapping his firm backside until he finally gets to a vehicle.
I hear the chirp of a lock then a door opening, and he plops me into the backseat of his Rover.
“Pull in your feet,” he orders, and I do as I’m told.
The door slams and he gets into the front, starts the engine, and drives us up a narrow road through arching, ancient, fern-covered tree limbs.
“Is this the way to the guesthouse?” My voice is small from the backseat.
He doesn’t answer. I can see the side of his square jaw, and the muscle there moves back and forth. His brow is lowered, and I don’t know what I did to piss him off.
“Knox?”
It’s a short drive, and he pulls into a curved gravel driveway. Again, without a word, he parks the car and gets out, opening my door and reaching in to pull me out, into his arms.
This time, he’s holding me in front, and I’m able to see his gorgeous face. “I’m not sure why you’re angry with me.”
He’s carrying me through the grounds of a large estate with flowering bushes, fruit trees, and a long, rectangular lapis-blue swimming pool.
When we get to a small cottage, he stops, putting me on my feet and taking out his phone. He enters a code, and when the door opens, he sweeps me into his arms again and carries me over the threshold.
Back on my feet again, we’re standing in front of a plush king-sized bed piled high with overstuffed pillows.
“Now, say that again.” Knox’s eyes flash, and his brow lowers.
My mind races, and I try to remember. “I’m a fan? You lost the playoffs? What?”
“Before that.”
I look to the side, replaying my words in my head. “I’m going to have to rebrand?”
“Because…”
“I can’t criticize you now that I…” My lips press together, and I almost snort a laugh. “Ohh…” Puckering my lips, I blink my eyes as I roll them to the ceiling. “It seems you’re waiting for me to say something.”
He exhales a low growl, and my stomach tickles. I remember him on the screen of my phone. He called me after his cousin told him about my show, earnest blue eyes wide…
Lifting my hands, I thread my fingers in the sides of his soft, dark hair. “I think you’re a good man… and a very good father.”
“And…”
My lips twist, and I pretend to be considering my words. “You’re a great football player, probably destined to become the next Bradford legend.”
He catches my chin in his fingers, tilting my head so I have to meet his eyes. “And?”
“You’re a poet.”
His head lowers, warm breath skating across my heavy lips. “Say it.”
My tongue slips out, sliding. “And I love you.”
The air disappears between us. His mouth covers mine, sealing, parting. Tongues collide, and a soft whimper aches through my throat. His hands slide under my ass, and he lifts me off my feet as my heart beats faster.
My skin is on fire, and sparkling electricity is in my veins. Before we’ve been angry and desperate. Now we’re starving and thrilled.
“God, I want you inside me,” I groan, pulling at his clothes and doing my best to get him naked.
“God is right. I’m going to worship you.” He bites the side of my jaw, and I exhale a moan. “I’m going to eat your pussy until you scream my name.”
I’m off my feet, falling onto my back, and he whips his shirt over his head. The muscles in his shoulders ripple, and I bite my bottom lip. His stomach flexes as he bends over, grabbing the waistband of my jeans.
I quickly unbutton and unzip them, helping him drag them down my legs. “Kiss me again.”
He lunges forward as I clasp his face, licking his tongue into my mouth and sucking my lips with his. It’s wild and ravenous, and my core flutters in anticipation.
“Now come here.” He wraps his arms around my thighs, dragging me to the edge of the bed, and the first pass of his tongue over my most sensitive parts has me rising off the mattress.
“Oh, fuck!” I scream, and he laps at me again and again, so eager.
“Getting closer,” he growls, sucking my clit between his lips.
My lower body explodes with sensations, and my legs jerk with orgasm. I can’t speak as my muscles all contract at once, and I buckle forward, plunging my fingers into his hair.
“Knox!” I scream as I gasp for air. “Oh… oh…”
He doesn’t stop until the pulses of pleasure become overwhelming. A deep ache pulls from deep in my core, and I clutch his arms, doing my best to draw him up to me.
“I need you inside me,” I gasp. “Give me your cock.”
His mouth moves to the crease of my inner thigh, kissing then biting my skin. I yelp, twisting away, and he rolls me onto my stomach, gripping my ass and spreading the cheeks apart.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he groans, and flutters break across my stomach.
I look over my shoulder, my eyes heavy with lust, and he leans forward to kiss my mouth as his hands quickly unfasten his pants. The material rustles against my ass, and his dick rests against my skin, thick and hard.
“I want it,” I gasp, and he kisses me again.
His tongue licks inside my mouth, and we both break apart as he slides his cock balls-deep into my clenching core. I gasp, lifting my ass, and he mutters soft swears as his hips move faster, rocking against my backside.
My hands slap the mattress, and I rise, pushing against him, taking him impossibly deeper. A large hand rises to cup and squeeze my breast. His groans and grunts are right at my ear, and as he moves me higher and higher into the bed, orgasm races through my legs once more.
A deep moan scrapes from my chest through my throat, and my body breaks into clenching spasms once more.
“Fuck, yes,” he gasps at my ear, repeating as he holds, stiffens, and breaks into pulsing spasms I feel all the way to my toes.
His body shudders against mine. We’re pressed so close, a trickle of sweat runs between us. Wetness is on my inner thighs, the combination of both our orgasms, mine multiple times.
Warm lips press against my shoulder, and he wraps his arm around my waist, moving us both higher on the bed before falling to the side. I turn in his arms, lifting my chin to kiss his muscled neck.
Salt is on my tongue, and I hum a little laugh. “So good.”
With a deep inhale, he turns to face me. Our eyes meet, and he smiles, tracing his fingers along the line of my hair, moving it behind my ear.
“I love you,” he says in that delicious, deep voice I adore.
Reaching up, I trace my thumb along his jaw before meeting his warm, lustful, possessive gaze, and I say it back so easily. “I love you.”
* * *
“Here she is, Saints Nation, the little girl you helped bring home.” I’m sitting in front of a camera attached to the top of a large iMac computer at Knox’s apartment.
Cricket sits on my lap in her baby Saints jersey with her baby hair in two tiny black and gold pom-poms on either side of her head. It’s not quite enough to make ponytails, but it’s definitely enough to be adorable.
“We’re sending a big thank you for all your letters, posters, shirts, and messages of support.
We also saw the underground messages expressing how you felt about the people who caused all this uproar.
K-Brad is leading the charge tonight against the Colts, and he wants you to know, this win is for you. ”
I bounce Cricket on my lap, and she hums as she chews on a black toy football with gold lettering.
“Most of you remember, the last time we won the Super Bowl was against the Colts in Miami. It’s been a long road, but with an explosive offensive line and a driving defense, we’ve got what it takes to go all the way this year.”
Lindsey controls the show from our place on St. Charles, and Stan the Manny hangs nearby ready to take Cricket from me if she gets fussy or needs a bottle or a change.
We switch off the camera, as I’m on my feet most of the time, watching the game on Knox’s massive flatscreen television in the living room and commenting on the plays as they happen.
My audio is broadcast on a streaming service, so I’m able to see audience reactions as I speak, and so far, we seem to have made it through the “rebrand” without losing our subscribers.
“K-Brad is working well under pressure tonight,” I say, watching as Knox takes the checkdown, tossing the ball to Fonz, who makes the easy five-yard gain. “I’m glad to see he’s listening to us instead of choosing violence.”
Laughing face emojis overflow along with thumbs-ups and peace signs, and my chest lightens. It’s possible this might actually work. Perhaps the shock of our relationship was overridden by the dirty deeds of Chet and Susan.
Of course, there are a few trolls like @FireEverybody commenting, Sounds like QP is choosing ass-licking over objectivity, but considering the social media handle, I choose to let it go.
This week’s game is less of a nail-biter, thanks to the Colts being in a rebuilding phase, and the Saints pull out an easy win.
“Looks like my rebrand will go a little something like this: That was a damn good play by our very own K-Brad. We’re watching a new Bradford legacy being built.”
Cricket is asleep on my shoulder as the black and gold confetti falls in the Dome and the fans flood onto the field. I see the sideline reporters run up to my man, and he’s all sweaty and happy and gorgeous-looking with another win under his belt.
My stomach squeezes at the sight of him, chased quickly by a hit of self-consciousness. It’s still pretty new to think of him that way.
Stan steps into the room, speaking quietly. “If you’re no longer needing me, I’ll head home for the night.”
I turn carefully so as not to wake the baby. “All good—thank you, Stanley.”
“Are you feeling well, Miss Dunne?” His brow furrows, and he takes a step closer. “Your face is flushed.”
Of course that makes me blush harder. “I’m good! Just… happy.”
His brow relaxes, and he nods, smiling. “It was a good game. Who dat?”
The easy way he says it makes me huff a little laugh. “Right.”
Confetti is still pouring onto the field, and the cameras pan over the crowd, lingering on the Cheer Krewe, and I quickly add a post script.
“I’d like to add another big thank-you to Stacia Smith, member of the Cheer Krewe, who played a big role in helping reunite the family. Big salute to you, Stacia! And from right here in the heart of the Crescent City, QP is signing off. Who dat!”
I lean back in my seat, rocking Cricket as I watch Knox nod and answer the sideline reporter’s questions. The television is on mute, and I think about how much I’d like to be there with him, hugged against his side, celebrating another win, another step closer to the Big Game.
He mentioned in passing he wished we were in the box cheering for him during home games. I think about the rebrand, and it gives me a better idea.