HelloAleCW

“Anyone has it ?”

Jake who was showing something on his phone to Javy didn’t even look up, “do we have what ?”

Reuben pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation, God were these guys incompetent when they weren’t flying at supersonic speed in a war machine.

“What are you sulking for, Payback ?” Natasha asked.

As soon as Bradley heard her voice, he looked up from his phone, on which he was pretending to be busy. Sure enough, you were right next to Natasha, back from your little trip to the bathroom.

Bradley had willed himself to not look too excited when Natasha had asked if you, her best friend, could accompany the squad on their outing to the music festival that had settled on the edge of town for a weekend. They all knew you pretty well by now, Natasha had already dragged you along to multiple hangouts with them. But it had only taken a few minutes after your first meeting for Bradley’s heart to do somersaults in his chest at the mere mention of your name. Still, he had yet to make a move. Why ? He didn’t really know. Each time he worked himself up to ask you out, or not even that, simply ask for your number, he would backtrack.

Bradley didn’t consider himself to be a shy guy, hell no. But there was something about you that made him a bit tongue tied whenever you were too close to him, and he would lie if he said that it didn’t embarrassed him a bit, at his age to still feel a schoolboy blush creeping up his cheeks when you sent a smile his way.

“Do you want me to hold your bag ?” Bradley asked, cringing a bit at how earnest he sounded.

You shook your head with a warm smile, “I’m okay, but thank you for proposing, that’s really nice.”

You affectionately squeezed his shoulder and Bradley’s breath hitched almost imperceptibly. The sole, brief contact of your hand on his covered shoulder was enough to send butterflies flying in his stomach with the force of ten Super Hornets.

“Yo Rooster, did you get sunburnt on your cheeks ?” Jake questioned with a smug grin, finger pointing to his own cheeks to accentuate his point, “you’re super red.”

Bradley only glared at him, and before he could retort anything, Natasha hit Jake on the back of the head.

“Leave him alone, Bagman.” She warned while Jake looked at her, deeply offended and rubbing the back of his head like the overly dramatic man he was, “now come on troops, let’s go to the main stage. In the toilet, Y/N and I heard people talking about a huge band that’s gonna play there.”

Everyone agreed and quickly started walking towards the main stage. Bradley was walking beside you, instinctively matching your pace to stay close to you. The squad was already quite far ahead when Bradley noticed that you had — purposely ? — slowed down a bit, leaving the two of you separated from the group. And being, if only a little, isolated with you like that made him equally as nervous as it made him giddy.

“Jake’s right you know, your cheeks are kinda red, you should put on some sunscreen.” You said softly, eyes fixed on the crimson hue painting his face.

Hearing the words ‘Jake is right’ coming from your pretty lips perhaps shouldn’t have left such a big sour taste in his mouth. Bradley tried to swallow the feeling off and focused on trying to not blush any harder under your soft and worried gaze.

He cleared his throat, “yeah, I probably should.”

“I have some in my bag,” you said helpfully, looking in your tote bag for the orange tub.

Your concern and desire to help him felt like a soothing balm on his bruised ego and he couldn’t contain the small, sheepish smile that pulled at his lips.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

But when he made a move to grab the sunscreen tube you seemed to be holding out for him, you immediately retracted your hand out of his reach.

“Let me ?” You asked, a glint in your eyes that made his heart skip a beat.

Bradley let out a small, surprised, but nonetheless absolutely delighted laugh. He stopped in his tracks, slightly lowering himself so it’d be easier for you to reach his face, which had definitely darkened in shade by now.

“Go ahead.” He said, voice dripping with fondness.

The word ‘sweetheart’ almost slipped away from him but he managed to reined it in at the last second. You giggled softly and squirted a small amount of sunscreen on both of his cheeks.

“Let’s not forget the forehead and chin as well…” you mumbled under your breath, which made Bradley smile even more.

Very gently and carefully, maybe more than anyone had ever been with him, you began to rub the cream onto his cheeks, making sure that it was fully covering and protecting his face. The feeling of your delicate fingers almost affectionately rubbing his face was sending his heart into a frenzy, accompanied by a warmth that spread in his entire body. It felt so good and for a moment Bradley was conflicted between closing his eyes to enjoy the experience to its full extent, or stay like this, his gentle brown eyes gazing down at you with surely nothing short of adoration as you focused entirely on getting every little nook of his face.

When you finished, you cupped his face with infinite tenderness.

“There, you’re all good to go now.”

And as quick as you had put them on him, your hands were gone. And the intensity of the longing Bradley felt for your touch probably should have been concerning.

“Thank—“ his voice came out strangely hoarse and he was quick to clear his throat, “thank you, Y/N.”

You offered him a sweet smile, your hand coming up to squeeze his shoulder… for the second time in under ten minutes he noted.

“Well, looks like we lost them,” you said, when you turned your head to look at where the squad was suppose to be, just a bit ahead of you. In their place was now a whirlwind of people passing through, and none of them looked like cocky and overconfident naval aviators.

“It’s okay, we know where they’re going.” He said, voice dropping into a sweet and low register, the way it usually did around you.

Instinctively, and before he could do anything to rein it in, his hand reached out to yours, ready to protectively guide you into the swarming sea of people. And as soon as his hand made contact with yours, it finally registered in his mind. His hand retracted as if he’d been electrocuted by your touch.

“Sorry !” He said quickly, “I just thought— I mean I didn’t want you to get lost in the crowd, you know ?”

God, he was embarrassing himself.

Fearing to see repulsion on your features, his gaze fixated on the worn out and yellowing grass under his feet. A few seconds passed and the lack of any reaction coming from you made his heart sink at the bottom of his stomach. He had fucked it up, fucked it up before he could even make his interest clear, and after all perhaps it was for the best, at least he was fixed now, a girl like you couldn’t possibly be interested in a guy like him anyway—

Bradley’s whirlwind of self deprecating thoughts stopped dead in its tracks, rendered silent by your arms wrapping around his. His eyes snapped back up to meet yours.

“There, that way it’s more secure,” you explained, the warm smile never leaving your lips, “you won’t lose me.”

It was like time had froze for an instant, Bradley looked down at your bright smile that was meant for him, only for him at that moment and he physically felt his heart stutter. The feeling of your body pressed against his arm was almost too much for him, and the outline of your breasts against his arm downright felt like a test from God.

While willing his racing heart to calm down and his cheeks to not overheat, Bradley guided you in the crowd, making sure that nobody was jostling you too much. And his eyes immediately darted to you when he felt one of your hands slip away from his bicep. Just as quickly, he averted his gaze when he saw your hand going to the low neckline of your top, seemingly readjusting it, Bradley just prayed that you hadn’t follow his line of sight.

He was gonna move on, but when you repeated the movement three times just under the span of five minutes, Bradley felt like he could perhaps address the matter.

“Is everything alright ?”

“Yeah, it’s just—“ you did it again, hand coming up to slightly move your top, “this top is gorgeous but it’s itchy as hell.”

You were right. The top was gorgeous, more precisely it was gorgeous on you. All day, Bradley had willed himself to keep his eyes away from the pretty dip of the top which was showing off the swell of your breasts, the top made them sit so prettily, in a manner that had his mind spinning if he thought about it too long. But now that you mentioned it, the fabric indeed did not look very comfortable.

“I think it’s slowly starting to give my boobs a rash.”

Oh.

The mere mention of your chest had his cheeks flaming up again. Damn it, just when he had managed to get his blush under control.

Hearing you complain suddenly, and very strangely he had to admit, gave birth to an urge to fix your problem, provide a solution. And his brain was quick to find it.

“I can give you my shirt, if you want.” Bradley supplied before he had anymore time to think about it, and what was there to think about really ? He’d give you all his clothes in an instant if you’d asked.

You eyed his open Hawaiian shirt, “are you sure ?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. I still have my tank top.”

You seemed to think about it for a second but made your mind pretty quickly.

“Well if it’s really not a bother then yeah, I’ll take it. Thank you, Bradley, that’s really nice of you.”

And then your hand came up to squeeze his bicep and Bradley wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to handle all your casual touches, which were very much not casual to him.

“Alright, let’s go to the toilets so you can change, yeah ?”

Turning back around and thus abandoning all the progress you had made in the crowd, you made your way towards the toilet.

“Oh god.” Was the only thing you were able to say as Bradley and you gazed at the endless waiting lines in front of each of the five portable toilets installed by the festival crew. “There literally were only five people ten minutes ago. I’m not waiting half an hour just to change clothes.”

Bradley’s mind was racing, trying to find another solution for you to change with the privacy you deserved. There was no way he would let you change outside here for everyone to see—

“I’ll just change outside.”

His head whipped towards you so fast he almost gave himself whiplash.

“Outside ?!” He repeated, deeply offended and distressed you would even suggest something like that.

But his alarmed tone didn’t faze you, a small smile pulled at your lips, a mix of mischief and warmth that was doing dangerous things to him, “yeah, we’ll find a quiet corner, plus, you’ll shield me, right ?”

Like his life depended on it.

Thus, similar as a man on a mission, Bradley looked for a quiet place in the midst of the festival’s craziness. Anywhere near the toilets was out of questions, as well as any of the stages. Too much people.

Finally, Bradley managed to get you to a more tranquil space, just near some hotdog food truck, he found it bizarre to see a food stand without anyone agglutinating in front of it, but one look at the hotdogs quickly supplied him with all the answers. The trailer was empty, so he ushered you behind it, in the corner. He hastily took off his shirt, opened it wide open to cover you so nobody could even think of taking a glimpse.

“Alright, try to make it quick.” Bradley turned his head to give you privacy and also to look out for any creeps.

He heard you chuckle, along with the sound of moving fabric. “Who knew you could be so assertive ?” You teased.

But Bradley cringed at the tone he had dared to use with you, “sorry I didn’t—“

“No, it’s fine.” The smile in your voice was evident, “I like it.”

Gazing out in the empty part of the festival field, he tried not to say anything stupid now and ruin all the progress he’d made. He felt his shirt slip from his fingers as you delicately took it from him, promptly, he turned around, his back facing you and continued to stretch out his arms to shield you.

After a few seconds he heard you put something in your bag and then your fingers went to gently tap his shoulders.

Terrified of misinterpreting your cue, he asked, “can I turn around ?”

“Yes you can,” you agreed in an endeared laugh.

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight blessing his eyes. Standing with a sheepish smile, you were showing off your new outfit to him. Outfit composed mainly of his Hawaiian shirt, falling onto your smaller frame perfectly. The few top buttons were opened, allowing the fabric to reveal just the beginning of the valley between your breasts before draping delicately over them.

Bradley felt like his brain short circuited. You looked nothing short of ethereal in his clothing. And the thought that right now, something of his was touching your arms, your stomach, your breasts… you, was entirely too much.

“Well ? How do I look ?” You prompted, facing his silence.

Bradley cleared his throat, “you— you look good. Great actually, it suits you better than me,” he tried to joke lightly, except it was nowhere near a joke, it was the pure, blatant truth and the casual laugh he had opted for sounded awfully hoarse.

Your smile widened and only then did Bradley catch the way your eyes seemed to be raking appreciatively over his now uncovered shoulders and arms. He preened on the inside and subconsciously puffed up his chest a little, desperately trying to appeal to you in anyway.

“Should we go find the others ?”

“Yeah.” Instinctively, you went back to his side, your arms snaking around his.

While trying to make your way back to the main stage, you passed by a relatively small one surrounded by quite a lot of people, quite the contrast compared to the size of the stage. Lively music was booming from the speakers, and the crowd was happily moving along to the beat. Bradley’s fast pace was suddenly cut short when you gently held him back, tugging lightly on his arm.

“Is everything okay ?”

“Let’s dance, Bradley.”

His heart skipped a beat.

“D— dance ? What about the others ? Don’t you want to get back to them ?”

“Not yet. Right now, I want to dance with you.”

Akin to an angel who came down on earth to bless him with your smile and presence, you gently pulled him towards the middle of the makeshift dance floor, giving him time to backtrack if he wanted to, but there wasn’t any world out there in which Bradley could ever pull away from you. The music suddenly changed. The rhythmic tunes subdued by the gentle sway of a slow dance.

“Ohh, look at that, perfect timing.” You smiled up at him.

Bradley was usually a good dancer, a pretty smooth one if he said so himself, comfortable in his body and the way it moved. But right now all his muscles were stiff, rendered useless and rigid under your expectant gaze.

“Don’t look so nervous,” you chuckled, taking his hands and placing them on your waist.

“I’m not.” He lied, not very convincingly.

Bradley prayed to God that you couldn’t feel the way his hands were slowly becoming clammier as they hesitantly rested on you. Your arms went around his neck, getting a bit closer to him. You swayed naturally to the slow beat of the song, taking him with you, and soon, guided by your elegant steps and soft words of encouragement, Bradley relaxed. Your fingers were lightly playing with the hair on his nape, and the occasional small drag of your nails there was rendering him putty in your hands, a tiny, delighted shiver going down his spine everytime. And for a moment, it seemed as if the crowd had disappeared, leaving you and Bradley alone, he was bathing in your attention and nothing had ever felt this good.

Your eyes were all too warm as they gazed up at him, just the tiniest bit squinted from the smile that never seemed to leave your lips whenever you were in his presence. And Bradley’s heart did somersaults in his chests when he caught your gaze flicking, almost imperceptibly, to his lips.

“I didn’t know you were such a good dancer,” Bradley whispered in an attempt to not break the moment, voice a bit husky from the closeness he shared with you.

You let out a small, endeared laugh. It was a stupid compliment, you both knew it. It wasn’t dancing, if anything it was more gently swaying and stepping to the side every once in a while, but he’d take any chance to compliment you.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

And by God did he want to know everything.

And just as he was about to finally voice this consuming desire, the music faded out, immediately replaced by loud drums, shattering the moment in the same time as the courage he had been mustering up all evening.

“Don’t look so gloom.” You almost cooed.

Shit, his face must have shown how annoyed he was at himself. Why couldn’t he just make a move ? The answer came too quick. What if you rejected him ? Bradley didn’t mind getting turned down, sure it was a little humbling at times, but it wasn’t that deep. But coming from you ? That was an entirely different story. One he wouldn’t be able to cope with if it ended badly.

Your voice got him out of his sulking turmoil.

“Bradley ?”

His eyes immediately snapped towards you.

“Yes ?” Voice going a bit high pitched at the end.

A chuckle passed your lips and Bradley got hit with a bone chilling realization, had you just been laughing all day at his inability to act like a normal person around you ? Did you think he was weird ? After all, you never really had the opportunity to truly see what he was like, since he was so guarded and uptight around you. Perhaps you thought he was the awkward, weird one of the squad. Oh god, what if you were just being nice to him out of pity ?

“Could you drive me home, please ? I’m a bit tired.”

That was it. You were tired of him, done, didn’t even want to go back to the squad.

“Are you sure ? Didn’t you want to stay for dinner at the Hard Deck after ?” He tried to reason, having a difficulty swallowing the lump in his throat. “The squad is gonna wonder where we are.”

“Yeah I’m sure, I’d like to go home, if that’s okay with you.”

“Of course, no problem.”

He’d be damned if he didn’t at least make sure you got home safe after making you endure his presence all day.

“And don’t worry your pretty head about the squad, they’ll manage just fine without us.” You squeezed his shoulder for the nth time tonight, and when it had felt thrilling just a few minutes earlier, it just felt painful now.

“Alright.” Bradley hoped his smile came across as kind and did not convey any of the dread he was feeling up forming a pit in his stomach.

The drive to your house felt awfully charged to Bradley, and not in the way he usually liked. The soft hum from the radio was the only thing filling in the silence in the car. The sun was well set into its descending phase now, subduing a red and pink glow for the dark of the night. Bradley was unusually quiet, in the hopes of getting you the peace and quiet he thought you were looking for, after spending the last part of the evening babysitting him.

“Bradley ?”

God did he love hearing his name coming out of your mouth, and he prayed that after the awkward teenage boy act he had pulled tonight, that he would be given the chance to hear it again.

His eyes flicked over to you, seeing your hands playing with the buttons of his shirt on your chest.

“Yeah ?”

“You really are an oblivious guy, aren’t you ?”

Frowning, Bradley fully turned his head to get a look at you. His eyes widened when he saw you undoing every single button of the Hawaiian shirt, the fabric draping gracefully over your breasts, revealing the valley in between them. He quickly turned his gaze back to the road, his pulse roaring in his ears… and traveling quickly somewhere down south.

“I— um, I’m not sure, what is—“ his eyes flicked to you again, shirt open, your head was lolled to the side, looking at him with something he realized he might have misinterpreted from the start, his gaze returned on the road, taking the turn that led to your house, “what are you saying ?”

You let out a giggle as Bradley parked in front of your place, your bottom lip was caught between your teeth as your gaze traveled to his mouth, a smile stretching yours. Wordlessly, you got out of the car. Confused, and ridiculously turned on, he got out as well, rounding the car and watching you walk to your door while he just stood there, unsure of what else to do. Did you want him to walk you to your door ? Did you want him to just leave you the fuck alone…? He was so confused.

And so he just watched as you unlocked your door and walked in… without ever closing it. You turned around in your entrance hall, eyes boring into his despite the meters separating you.

“If you didn’t catch the hint,” you said, and Bradley watched wide eyed as you let the shirt slip off your shoulders and fall gracefully to the ground, baring yourself to him, “that was an invitation for you to get in.”

Oh yeah, he definitely got it now.

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Author's note : I like to imagine Bradley as either this very observant and aware guy, or totally oblivious, there is no middle ground. Also I’m still having a bit of trouble writing Bradley and characterizing him so if you think I wrote him out of character too much, please do tell !!

“Where are we at on the local consultant responses?” You asked your assistant Reyna during your redline meeting.

“R.D Olson Development is in, they let me know last week and Slater Builders is also a solid back-up plan since the initial plans had an issue with the stairs being up to code.”

“Mei and her team wanted to open up the balcony area for hibachi grills and really emphasize that farm to table aspect,” you read off your client notes from the business owner, making sure her needs were met. “The open space is important so whatever we need to do to get those stairs, we should talk to Van and see what he and the design team can come up with and print out their new drawings. Get a couple different eyes on it.”

Reyna nods and jots a couple things down as talking points, including a discussion about technical systems like HVAC units and finding the balance between aesthetics and functionality. And with her knowing that you were having a baby, you had someone to confide in who trusted you and knew your work ethic to know you’d get the job done but also knew you well enough to let you know to slow down if you were on the slippery slope of biting off more than you could chew.

“I’ll talk to Van and his team, you drink water and get out of here, I know you have prenatal yoga or whatever responsible married adults do in the afternoons. I will let you know what I find tonight and we'll pick it up from here in the morning.”

You give her a small smile, sipping your water as you grab the rest of your stuff, taking one other glance at the drawing board. “You’re amazing, call if you need anything, seriously." She nods, waving you off, already pulling out her work phone to meet with the design guys downstairs as you slipped out of your office.

Dr. Chen, your OB had encouraged workouts as long as you felt up to it and with the lack of physical activity you'd participated in during the first trimester, light Pilates felt like the safest and most consistent option. You'd spend maybe an hour at your local private studio, worked up a little sweat and went home to shower and embrace this new journey, even though the changes you knew were happening within your body weren't visible yet. That part was nice because it bought you more time to keep the questions at bay.

Luckily at home, there were no secrets. This was a baby that you'd carefully planned for and so far, everything was going according to that careful plan, even in the midst of football season. Tonight was one of the rare quiet nights where he'd come home before you did, his car parked in his normal spot in the garage, likely upstairs looking through film on the week's opponent. Morgan was in the kitchen putting finishing touches on what Joe had been looking forward to all week.

Homemade sushi.

As soon as your husband mentioned it in passing on Tuesday, his private chef immediately got to work and began the lengthy process of finding the freshest fish he could, along with the best produce to create a spread worthy of the franchise leader of arguably the best team in the league so far this season. On Friday night, the stage was set: crispy rice, thinly sliced sashimi, avocados, lite soy sauce, sriracha and market grade wasabi and ginger laid out to the side.

"This is restaurant quality," you point out, setting your bag down in a chair. "Give yourself a pat on the back, Dominguez."

"Last name? You're really impressed," Morgan says with a sly grin, rolling up his sleeves again to wash his hands.

Joe comes down the stairs in a gray hoodie and shorts, tablet in hand and his face lights up when he sees everything laid out on the counter. "Oh my God."

"You said you wanted sushi." The chef notes casually, although he's mentally pumping his fist that he got such a positive reaction from a usually very subdued man. You and Morgan both watch as Joe leans over the counter, examining everything like a restaurant critic.

"This looks insane. And you even got the little crispy onions I like, sick." He reaches for a piece immediately, popping it into his mouth and promptly giving the creator a thumbs up. You walk around him and take a closer look at everything Morgan made, a pensive look on your face.

"Does sushi not sound good?" Joe asks, wiping his hands on a paper towel, eyebrows curled in concern, "is it the smell?"

"No it looks like it came straight from Japan. And I mean that in a good way, Morgan you really went all out. It's just all...raw."

Both guys stare at the table, collectively pausing before Morgan puts his tattooed hands over his face. Joe's eyes widen in horror. He steals a glance at your stomach like the answer was written on the front of your shirt.

Figuratively speaking, it was. "I'm an idiot."

"Well, no."

Morgan looks absolutely horrified, "this is my fault. I blanked, I should've made some baked rolls. It didn't even cross my mind, I'm so sorry. Can I make you something else? There's extra salmon."

"You don't have to apologize, it's fine. I'm gonna order some Thai food and shower," you looked in Joe's direction, noticing that he put down the piece he was about to shove into his mouth, "eat your food."

Joe looks at the platter again like it's now personally insulted him. "I asked Morgan to make sushi, this is kind of my fault."

"Relax, it's nobody's fault. I'm gonna live."

"Okay, but I'm not eating until your food gets here. Least I could do."

"So you're gonna starve yourself because you feel bad that I can't eat raw fish?"

"Yeah it's fine, I can wait." He promises, still looking guilty.

You place a hand on his shoulder and walk towards the stairs, "my food will be here in 40 minutes so I'm gonna go upstairs and shower. You can eat, I promise. You're fine."

He narrows his eyes at you, waiting to see he can detect animosity in your voice. "You sure?"

"Yes."

"You promise? This isn't one of those tests where I eat and you're mad."

"It's the middle of the season and you need the calories. I'm not gonna be upset with you for eating dinner like a normal human being."

"Fine," he exhales as Morgan nudges a spicy tuna roll towards him, "I still feel bad I forgot you can't have any."

"You'll survive. Eat."

He nodded, grabbing chopsticks as you headed upstairs after kissing him on the cheek. That night, he felt so bad about the dinner mishap he suggested giving you a foot rub even though he thinks toes are weird looking, determined to make it up to you. You gladly accepted the gesture even though you weren’t upset with him.

Bye week was off to a rough start before it even really began. The clock hit zero on the first Battle of Ohio game of the season, a Sunday afternoon matchup in Cleveland and you knew you were in for a very long seven days.

The Bengals were going into the break 7-2, after a 31-34 loss to a division opponent with a losing record.

Joe was at the facility Monday morning at 6AM, both hating and relishing the quiet. Normally, in the NFL you didn’t have time to stew over a loss because you had to quickly shift your brain to the next Sunday with a fresh mind and a new opportunity to compete. There was no game, no opponent to prepare for, and no shot at redemption for the next thirteen days. He should’ve felt relieved to give his body time to fully rest and recover, instead, all that he felt was the sour taste of defeat.

He met with offensive coaches who didn’t give him much of an answer on how to prevent a slow start after the break, which only added fuel to his irritation. Maybe he’d send a fiery text to the captains group chat about coming out with energy and not lose momentum during a crucial part of the season.

It wasn’t often that he felt the need to speak up, but there were times that he wanted his voice heard and his stance known. This was one of those times.

The text was drafted and sent by the time he knocked on the door of your home office, temporarily putting aside his professional grievances to check in on what you were doing.

“Right, yes. That’s the plan. I was thinking arriving on Tuesday so I could meet with them in person before the big day.” He heard you say to your screen, clearly still in a meeting. “Then we’ll have dinner Wednesday night with everyone for a quick site walk and get going Thursday morning with the ribbon cutting.”

He stepped in carefully, standing in the doorway without making a sound, listening to a mix of people chime in on their travel plans in a few weeks for the groundbreaking ceremony that had been green-lit. Drawing plans and a lengthy itinerary sat neatly at the front of your desk and you barely noticed you had company, fully consumed with what was happening in front of you.

You finally turned in his direction after the meeting was over, a little surprised he didn’t make his presence known. “How long were you standing there?”

“Only about five minutes,” he shrugged. “You done for the day?”

“I am,” you rose from your seat to greet him and he pushed himself off the wall to close the distance, stopping short when you got closer. “What?”

“Turn to the side real quick,” he pressed, slightly tilting his head. “Is that…?”

“Yeah? I think so?” You smoothed a hand down your shirt, feeling the slight swell in your midsection.

“That wasn’t there last night, was it?” The curve had undeniably appeared this morning when you woke up, a recent development from the daily bloat you dealt with at night after having dinner.

“Kinda was, today’s more undeniable though.”

“Huh,” Joe shifted his weight, hesitantly reaching down to feel for himself. “I knew this was happening but this is…weird.”

“Weird good or weird bad?”

“Weird good,” he said quickly. “Just—” He paused, searching for the words.“It’s real now.”

“Sixteen weeks,” you whisper, still trying to wrap your mind around the fact.

Joe sighs, taking his hands off of you. “We’re really in it now.” He’d originally come in to complain about how annoyed he was about the lack of urgency and being told to enjoy a couple days off but after seeing that there was an actual person the two of you had made and you were actively creating, all of his thoughts about the last week seemed irrelevant. Instead, he suggested rewatching the Umbrella Academy before it got boring.

When they faced the Cardinals fresh off a week of rest, recovery, and excessive preparation to make sure they came out swinging, Joe slept peacefully that night, crashing hard after a hard-fought win.

You were super excited for him and the team in general. There was always a livelier buzz in the city during the season after a win, and Todd, the director of finance at your firm always brought three dozen donuts from Milton’s. But donuts were not what roused you out of your sleep in the middle of the night. You needed ice cream and you needed it now.

For as long as you’d known your husband he was a creature of habit, during the season especially. Without getting into specifics he had a lengthy routine he followed to keep himself in peak physical shape from week 1 to week 18 and hopefully until to a deep run in the playoffs. The offseason was a different story entirely but the one rule that never changed no matter what time of year it was, was the ‘no food in the room’ rule. Not that he was a germaphobe, he just hated crumbs in the bed. Crumbs meant bugs which meant changing the sheets more often than necessary and that just made no sense. Food is a downstairs thing and you respected that rule, carefully sliding out of bed and walking slowly down the stairs in search of your new favorite creation, raspberry and white chocolate ice cream bars.

Our bed is a sanctuary, not a drive thru, your heard him say in your head as you dug through the freezer. The ice cream was supposed to hold her over, soothe the uncontrollable need to eat something before the fetus started eating at her insides. The cool berry flavor was satisfying, but it needed to be paired with something else.

Peanut butter sounded amazing right now for some reason and she walked through the pantry and only found the weird high protein, low fat stuff Joe put in his shakes so she headed back to the freezer and dug in the back in hopes of finding her golden ticket she’d stashed a few weeks ago.

An Uncrustable, the very last one.

Unfortunately, it was frozen solid so you had to wait until it thawed. You took a look at the time, 2:05. Would’ve given up if you had the choice but this was literally a matter of life and death.

The ice cream bar was finished soon after that and you were still unsatisfied, needing something salty to complete your middle of the night snack. You thought about ordering something, nothing like a DoorDash doom scroll to pass the time, tacos did sound kind of good. That craving vanished about as quickly as it appeared when you thought about the Cool Ranch Doritos you made Morgan buy on his latest grocery run.

You grabbed a bag and opened it immediately, the crunch provided everything you’d tirelessly looked for. Chip after chip landed into your mouth as you stared at the uncrustable, like you could melt it faster with your eyes, not looking away from it for a second.

Until you heard footsteps gingerly coming down the stairs. Joe appeared in the kitchen doorway, looking every bit like someone who had just played an NFL game and then woke up unexpectedly at two in the morning. You almost felt bad but then you remembered that it was 50% his fault you were awake at this hour, shoveling food in your mouth like you hadn’t eaten in the last decade.

He rubbed his eyes to wake himself up a bit to take in the scene before him, squinting at the one light you’d turned on. “What are you doing?”

“Eating.” You tell him simply.

“It’s two in the morning.”

“I’m aware.”

Joe rubs his face, grabbing the seat next to your standing form. “You woke up hungry?”

“Starving,” you correct him. “Thought I was gonna die.”

He looks at the Doritos bag. And the ice cream wrapper. And the untouched peanut butter and jelly on the go snack.

“How many different things did you grab?”

You shrug, still digging in. “I had ice cream, now I’m eating these. And I’m waiting for that to thaw then I think I’m done,” you said, nodding towards the plastic covered sandwich in front of him.

He sighs, standing up to grab a cup out of the cabinet, filling it with ice and water. Once he’s screwed on the lid, he pulls out a straw and sticks it in, tucking the uncrustable under his arm and slowly walking back toward the stairs. “You coming?”

“Where are you taking my food?”

“Upstairs.”

You frown. “Did you forget your strict no food in bed rule?”

“Honestly, I’m tired,” he sighs, “and you’re hungry. And I can’t sleep knowing you’re down here alone wandering around the kitchen.”

“So your plan is for me to eat in our room?”

“If that’s what it takes, yeah.”

“This is a big development.”

Joe rolls his eyes, standing on the first step. “Don’t get used to it. This is an exception.”

You smiled to yourself anyway, all the way up the stairs, watching him unwrap your sweet victory before he pulled the covers over himself.

“Please try not to get any crumbs on me.”

“Look at you. Already making sacrifices for our kid,” you laugh as he closes his eyes.

As much as you wanted that night to be a one-time thing, the cravings got more intense. You’d be in the middle of a brainstorming session with Reyna and you’d pause in the middle and tell her to order chocolate chip pancakes from the diner five minutes away before you could go any further. One day for lunch you had a cheeseburger, cucumber spears with whipped cream.

They didn’t care if the combo made sense or if Reyna looked at you and asked “are you sure?” every single time you asked her to put in the order, you had to have it.

Joe thought he’d seen it all and he was prepared for everything. But one night after dinner he realized, maybe he wasn’t.

He found himself standing in the kitchen again, watching you assemble something that looked like a the easiest way to a sugar coma.

“You can have Snickers salad but sour candy salad is where you draw the line?”

Joe blinks once, slowly, before responding.“That’s different.”

“Why?” You counter. “Because it has apples in it? I can take a few bites of a Granny Smith if it’ll make you feel better.”

“What would make me feel better is knowing you’ll have teeth in four months.” He steps around you and heads to the back of the kitchen. “We can satisfy your sweet tooth with something else. How about trail mix or blueberry overnight oats? I’ll even add agave to it for a more natural sweetener.”

You scoff, “I’m not eating nuts for fun. Do I look like a squirrel to you?” You point a gummy worm at him. “Actually, don’t answer that.”

He shook his head, biting back a smile. “How can we meet in the middle then? I’ve already conceded to the eating our room, there’s gotta be a candy compromise.”

Luckily for you both, there was a licensed nutritionist who could satisfy the sweet cravings while also protecting you from gestational diabetes. Joe fully leaned into letting go of the ‘no food in the bedroom’ policy, installing a mini fridge by your bedside table, stocked with frozen yogurt, grapes and apple juice. As well as the little basket full of other quick snacking options like cinnamon sugar banana chips and vegan cookie butter that actually tasted like the real thing.

The idea was so helpful you added a mini fridge and a snack drawer in your office. That one did have a few small bags of peach rings. Reyna promised to keep that just between the two of you if anyone ever asked.

Getting the cravings under some sort of control came at the perfect time because your work bag was stoked with snacks that were handy to have in Newport Beach. The construction site tour with the builders went on without a hitch, David, the lead constructor and his team knew you’d be working mostly remote and made accommodations for that and even scheduled two in-person check ins for you over the next few months, should your schedule—and body—allow it.

Watching Mei cut the ribbon at the ceremony felt like a relief. One small step for the project but a huge step for your firm and proof that you were still good at your job while your body was busy doing another. The only problem was that your win came at a cost. Throughout the week, you tried to be present in meetings and even successfully found business professional clothes that helped you blend in.

“Do I look pregnant in this?” You’d asked Reyna that morning, adjusting the cap sleeves of your off-white, knit, mock-neck top. The shirt was stretchy enough to pair with chocolate brown wide legged trousers that fit high waisted and the dark color created enough of an optical illusion. You just needed confirmation.

Reyna looks at you like you’re joking, slightly afraid to answer. “I don’t really know what I’m supposed to say.”

“The truth, preferably.” You tell her immediately, now feeling a bit more paranoid that you hadn’t hidden it as well as you should. “Can you tell? Because the last thing I need is the focus to be on me instead of this property development.”

“Oh. Then no, you can’t tell.” Reyna tucks her iPad into her bag. “Seriously, you’re good. And we’ll be in the back anyway. Nobody will notice.”

That sense of paranoia didn’t last long after, replaced by this sudden bout of homesickness, even though you’d only been gone for two days. Leading up to the ceremony, Joe crossed your mind a few times, he’d call when he got home right before bed because he knew you were having dinner around then. But you still thought about him, all the time.

You missed him, wearing one of his hoodies every night while you were away just to have the feeling of having him in the room with you. And that innocent longing thought quickly became primal when you got home.

Hugs were no longer enough. Light goodnight kisses or small touches in passing felt like the ultimate tease. You wanted to live in his skin, but you’d settle for your bodies being flush against each other leaving no room for personal space. His scent lingered in every room: the bedroom, the bathroom, the kitchen, the living room. And he wasn’t even seducing you on purpose.

“Was he wearing those gray sweatpants?” Sasha asks, pouring herself a cup of cranberry juice.

“You mean the ones that look like leggings and accentuate his ass?” Nikki pipes up. You and Sasha both look at her like she’s lost her mind. “What? I’m a lesbian, I’m not blind. I can appreciate a nice ass and his is unfortunately top shelf, get it?”

“Yeah…I do.” She holds her hand up and you high five her. “And no, he was just wearing a normal shirt and normal sweats. Nothing crazy, nothing revealing. But guys, I need help. I’ve actually never been this horny in my entire life. I feel like a teenage boy.”

They laugh at you, cutting into their food. Sasha had decided to host girl’s brunch at her place for a clearly much needed catch up session.

“I mean you guys sometimes have busy stretches during the season where you have to get creative, right? This isn’t the end of the world.”

“No you’re not hearing me. It’s getting unreasonable.”

Nikki rests her head in her hands, pushing her plate to the side. “What’s unreasonable to you?”

“The other day I was reaching for a plate in the cabinet and he stood over me to grab it. When he stuck his hand up here to help me I saw a sliver of his stomach—literally a few inches and I almost asked him to bend me over the kitchen counter right then and there. It was like I was a Victorian era man seeing an ankle for the first time.”

“Was Morgan in the room when this happened?” Sasha asks, a laugh already building in her body.

“Yes he was,” you gritted out. “I had to hold my breath until Joe was gone. I don’t even think I said ‘thank you’ I was so flustered.” Sasha sets her fork down, wordlessly agreeing that this is getting a bit out of hand.

“You need a sex toy.” Nikki says with a sad sigh, the quickly recovers. “I’ll send you my favorite website. They ship super discreetly. Looks like a generic box.”

“Or you could just talk to Joe?” Sasha points out.

You think on it. The thought of telling your husband who comes home every night and watches endless clips of grown men tackling each other before getting into bed by 8:45PM to carve out an hour of his carefully scheduled day sounded like repeatedly slamming your finger in a car door. You looked at Nikki, “text me that website.”

The rose toy arrived days later, carefully selected and ordered on your phone while your husband peacefully slept beside you, perfectly unaware that you were about to change your own life. You’d tackled intense hunger, physical body changes and now raging hormones all within the last three weeks.

Pregnancy had nothing on your ability to problem solve.

The halfway mark of your walking incubator experiment fell the week after Thanksgiving and with the week full of weather below freezing, the spirit of Christmas had to be represented in your home. And of course, your one-man audience was less than impressed.

“Can we hire someone to put everything up?” Joe asks, Airpod case resting in his hand.

“How did you take the most fun activity out of the holidays?”

“Sorry, here I thought the holidays were about hosting both sides of the family after playing on national television and doing everything in your power to avoid touching the storied turkey.”

“That only applies to you. Why can’t I have a good time?”

Joe looks up, arms folding over his chest. “Do you promise not to get on any ladders? And wait until Tuesday so we can decorate together?”

“You just suggested hiring someone to do it. Now you wanna decorate?”

“Absolutely not. But I need to make sure you’re not standing on top of chairs to string lights onto things.” His dad voice was already scary accurate.

“I won’t climb anything.”

Saturday morning, as soon as Joe was on the team plane heading to New York for their matchup against the Jets, you texted your group chat nicknamed Charlie’s Angels.

He’s gone, we’re set.

Nikki and Sasha were in the living room 20 minutes later and the three of you brought out all the Christmas decor.

“The tree is on its way,” Ivy states, entering the garage even though your house manager never works on weekends. But as soon as you mentioned a secret plan to turn your futuristic smart house into the North Pole, she was more than eager to provide an assist.

“We’re gonna start with the living and dining room then,” Nikki says, telling Sasha to lift with her legs.

Joe wasn’t the biggest fan of the color red so you leaned heavily on white and gold: fake snow, mini reindeer and more plants to make the main level look like an enchanted Christmas forest. The truck carrying the greenery arrived with enough time to get everything on from top to bottom and the stockings hung up before dinner. You and the girls celebrated your clutch performance and Ivy wished you luck for when Joe inevitably found out you did all this behind his back.

He walked in half asleep and tossed his bag by the door, relying on his phone flashlight to get him upstairs. There was a fake, grass-like thing looped around the railing but he didn't think anything of it. All that was important was his head hitting his Saatva cloud memory foam pillow.

Life was much simpler last night when the only thing he had to worry about was Minkah Fitzpatrick in disguised coverages. Instead, he walked downstairs and found that his home, his personal sanctuary, looked like Santa’s workshop had exploded, in a tasteful way, but still a jarring change. You almost laughed when you saw him, watching carefully as he looked at every new item that had been placed in the house.

His eyebrow twitched and you knew you were having this conversation before either of you left for work. “You said you weren't getting on ladders. That we’d do this together.”

“I did agree to not getting on ladders and I didn't.” You reassure him. Joe seems slightly less on edge after that. “But about the other thing...technically, I never said yes. Because that was just your way of stalling until it's too close to the 25th and we have no choice but to hire someone else to do the work. So...now it’s handled.” Beaming, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, whispering, “I have something to show you too.”

Joe hesitated, wanting to add a bit more of his thoughts to the lecture but he put the pieces together, seeing Nikki and Sasha’s influence. As well as the warning text he got from Ivy that was on his phone before he even opened his eyes. He appreciated not being completely blindsided and now the deed was done so he may as well accept it and see this secret thing you were so eager to share with him. You let him stand from the bar stool, leading him to the Christmas tree in the living room. “Notice anything new?”

The tree had so much going on, he wasn't sure where to look, “nothing’s jumping out at me.”

You pulled a glass ornament off the side of the tree, hanging it up high for all to see. In his hand rested the latest ultrasound where they could see the baby's arms and nose and a clear outline of the shape of their head. “Look at her little stomach,” he barely uttered out, “and leg.”

“Her? You think it’s a girl?”

“It?” Joe chuckles, resting his palm on your belly. The ornament stayed in his other hand.

“You know what I mean. Next year we'll have an actual human person with their own gifts, this is our last one before baby boy is with us.” Christmas morning, and every morning after that, for the rest of your lives would be changed by parenthood. Whether you or Joe had guessed correctly.

Even if you did have a gut feeling fetus was a boy and couldn't wait to rub it in his face if you were right.

Joe’s birthday always falls in the middle of the season, which is great for him, he loves his job and gets to treat this day like any other. Your attempts at throwing him a small dinner party were vetoed, he claimed he needed a quiet night in because of the playoff push and the team's potential to secure the top seed in the AFC became more of a reality. The last thing you wanted to hear about was how you disrupted his mojo by god forbid, celebrating his 35th birthday. The lack of plans actually ended up working in your favor because your back had started to protest normal function the last few days, a painful reminder that things were starting to stretch and expand at a rapid rate. Over a steak dinner, truffle fries and Brussels sprouts, he gave you a rundown on the team's hypothetical run to the Super Bowl while you explained the difference between laminated and insulated glass.

The back pain got worse, so much so, that you had a massage chair replace your normal office chair at work. Some days, you dreaded leaving the office even just to have a lunch meeting because of how comfortable your office was. Reyna had also found one of the best prenatal chiropractors in the area, so you started driving to Kentucky for appointments twice a week, growing very familiar with the staff, using your maiden name to maintain your privacy. You may have done a little too good of a job keeping a low profile because you’d overheard some of the staff compliment your strength. Something about how single moms were fearless.

You got home one evening after an adjustment, feeling like your spine had been kissed by Jesus himself, and found three gigantic boxes in the foyer. “Joe? Did you order more art pieces to hang up?”

“They’re pregnancy pillows,” he says looking proud of himself, “I know you’ve been hurting so Carson helped me out. I didn't know which one you’d like the most so I got all three for you try out.”

Placing a hand on your chest, you feign getting emotional, even though you are really touched he thought of you. He also probably thought this would help him get less interrupted sleep without you tossing and turning all night, moving pillows around. “You’re the best husband I’ve ever had.”

“I’m the only husband you've ever had.”

“Hm,” you shrug, “that you know of.”

“Hilarious. How’s your back feeling now?”

“Really good actually, I think the heating pad and everything else has been helping.”

He opens the first box as you point, carrying it up to the room. "You look better. Can't believe they're just gonna keep getting bigger. Last week she was tiny. This week you definitely look like you’re growing a person in there. It’s kinda sick.”

You glare at him as you feel the baby shift. “Thank you. That makes me feel a lot better.”

The u-shaped pillow might have been the best invention since the internet. It took up half the bed but that wasn’t saying much since the bed was massive anyway.

Joe hated it.

You worshipped it.

That pink monstrosity had both fixed your back issues and created a physical wedge in his marriage. Normally, he prided himself on finding solutions but in this case his solution had backfired. He couldn’t even see you in bed anymore, lost far away by a barricade he was regretting introducing to your lives with each passing second. But he also had to tolerate the creature because you slept, really slept, well enough that you didn’t have to drive out of your way to see the chiropractor as often.

And that mattered more than him being touched starved. For weeks Joe treated the pillow like a necessary evil.

He’d shove it aside enough to kiss you goodnight.

Sometimes he’d wedge an arm over it to reach your stomach when the baby kicked. Mostly, he ignored it.

One afternoon while you were still at work, he got home early after walkthrough and decided to take a quick nap.

The bedroom was quiet, bed perfectly made with the pregnancy pillow tossed over your side like an extra thick throw blanket.

Joe stared at it, half wanting to toss it across the room but instead of moving it, he grabbed the pillow and gave it a firm squeeze, almost doing a double take at how supportive the thing actually was. He laid down with it, just for a minute to find out why you enjoyed wrapping yourself in the pillow almost as much as you liked spooning him once upon a time. One leg was hooked around the pillow, the other went over, and his head resting over the curved top, molding around him so precisely he almost forgot why he ever hated it.

He was asleep in minutes.

An hour later Morgan walked in through the front door, having forgotten something from the grocery list.

Joe had mentioned a specific brand of electrolyte packets earlier in the morning and Morgan wanted to double check the name before driving across town. He’d texted Joe earlier to ask but didn’t get an answer so he figured the quarterback had written it down on a piece of paper somewhere in his office.

That’s where they’d been brainstorming supplements and a new variation of protein packed snacks.

Morgan pushed the door open and immediately found the brand name scribbled on a notebook, snagged a picture of the sheet and promptly made his way out. He was heading down the stairs before he noticed the master bedroom door was open.

That was unusual.

Curiosity got the better of him and the chef continued down the hall and stopped in his tracks seeing Joe in bed, arms around the very pillow he’d heard his boss call the bane of his existence.

He decided to file the information away carefully and bring the conversation up at the right time.

“They had that cherry juice we talked about, for recovery if you want to have that instead of a shake tonight.” Morgan tells Joe that night after dinner.

“Sounds good,” he says, scrolling through his phone.

Morgan opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of it, sliding it over. “Back feel alright?”

“Yep, it’s solid.” Joe didn’t look up until he heard you coming down the stairs. He gave up his seat so he could stand next to you, so close your arms were touching.

“What’s this about his back?” You asked.

Before he could press any further, Morgan paused, hoping to do this delicately. “I was just asking because I swore I saw you cozying up to a certain oversized cushion.”

Joe’s eyes bore into his chef’s soul. “What?”

Morgan sipped his coffee and shrugged like it was nothing. “Just sayin’. Thought I saw something like that. Looked real cozy.”

Joe narrowed his eyes. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh?” You added in, looking at the suspect.

“No, never happened.”

“Are you calling Morgan a liar?”

Joe takes a sip of the juice, barely reacting to the tartness of the fruit. “Cozy isn’t a word I’d use. And the pillow is still obnoxious, it also happens to be functional.”

Naturally, he’d have some scientific explanation to excuse his impromptu assisted slumber, deliberately being vague even though you and Morgan both knew he thoroughly enjoyed his afternoon.

Joe noticed things. He liked taking pride in recognizing patterns better than most, it was one of his best qualities and why he'd been one of the best in the league for as long as he had. His brain was wired differently than other people and he had an advanced degree in recognizing your behaviors.

Especially when they were abnormal.

One of your love languages was physical touch, especially during a busy season where your private moments were few and far between, you liked being close. Not in a clingy way, just to remind yourself that you did have a husband that loved you. There were little reminders in the evenings when you randomly hugged him or gave his arm a squeeze when you passed by him on his way back to his office, often touching him somehow.

He couldn’t remember the last time you kissed his jaw or sat thigh to thigh on the couch and asked him questions about zone versus man coverage, not because you didn't know, but because you just liked listening to him speak. It was kind of frustrating for him to note that it took a few weeks for him to fully register the change. In his defense, he chalked the physical distance to you being uncomfortable, tired, or distracted with work. Pregnancy was a new set of challenges every single day it seemed and the last thing he wanted was to pester you about something small. But patterns mattered and he didn’t want to make a pattern a new habit.

Wednesday night, he was halfway through watching clips of the Steelers secondary when he paused the tablet and leaned back against the couch cushions. You were sitting beside him, legs covered with a fluffy blanket, laptop resting on top of them.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, turning off football Joe for the day.

You looked up immediately. “Yeah...why?”

He shrugged, eyes drifting to the third wheel who constantly liked to make their existence known. “You’ve been kinda quiet lately.”

You frowned slightly, waiting for him to elaborate and he sighed, sitting up. “You used to play with my hair when I watched this stuff,” he said simply. “Or scratch my back.”

Not really knowing what he was getting at, you didn't say anything back. He continued, still casual but a hint of unease brewing on the surface.

“You haven’t done that in a while.”

There was a brief moment where you thought you hadn't heard him correctly. Of all the things you expected Joe to notice during the middle of football season, the absence of casual physical affection had not been in your top five.

You cleared your throat, “I didn’t think you noticed.”

Joe gave you a really, look. “I notice stuff.”

“I know, it’s just that you’re usually so deep in your mind I didn’t think it’d be a problem.”

“You mad at me or something?” he asked after a moment.

“What? No I'm not mad at you. You didn't do anything.”

“You sure?”

Instead of responding, you were going to just lay the truth all out there now that this had been brought up, feeling like you were about to rip off an old band-aid. Upstairs, you grabbed the item out of your drawer, taking a deep breath. “Moment of truth. You were a fun little secret to have.”

Joe looked at the box in your hand with a bewildered expression. “What is that?”

“It’s a rose toy.”

“What’s a rose—oh.” It was like a lightbulb had been turned on. No pun intended. “When did you get a vibrator?”

“A month ago maybe?”

“And you…” he didn’t want to be in your business but he did want to know, “do you use it a lot?”

“Not every day if that’s what you’re asking. I just know during the season you’re tired and focused and this isn’t me replacing you at all. There was just a time where I was feeling really really needy—embarrassingly needy. And I bought the rose to help me out.”

“Why didn’t you say anything? I had no idea.”

You pulled in a generous amount of air before speaking. “Morgan was there? And it wasn’t exactly the kind of conversation I wanted to have in front of veal chop and quinoa. But I did want to jump your bones simply watching you exist and it was getting desperate.”

“Was? As in, you don’t want to anymore?”

He didn’t look offended, just pensive, like he was trying to remember specific instances where you seemed…distracted. “Not that I don’t appreciate a visual of you using this, because I really do. But I’m here and if you need something or are feeling something and I can be of assistance, in season or not, I want to be.”

“Even if I eat snacks in bed?”

He nods, kissing your lips. “Even then. Do you wanna show me how that thing works?”

“Of course I do,” you laughed, pulling him in again, making up for a tiny bit of lost time as the kiss deepened. Joe let out a soft content sound, leaning further into the couch and gently pulled you closer, enough that you were practically sitting on him.

“See,” he said softly, eyes closing for a second. “That’s what I’ve been missing.”

Week 24

Wild Card Weekend - Week Off

The Bengals had officially secured the number one seed, giving them a first round bye. This gave your friends the perfect opportunity to throw a super casual, very small gender reveal gathering. Joe only agreed to it because he claimed he’s been waiting long enough and needed to be sure.

He came down the stairs in a pink beanie, pink sweats and a black hoodie.

“Subtle,” you noted, folding your hands in front of you. “It’s a good thing you like pink because he’s gonna think you’re sad when you don’t see all the blue.”

“Still putting all of your eggs in the baby boy basket, huh?”

“I don’t know, I just have a good feeling about them being a perfect little boy. Could be wrong.”

The wardrobe was your mom’s idea. Something she’d heard from a friend and she pitched the idea to Sasha and Nikki who loved the concept. They were the only ones who knew and no matter how many times people bribed them, they’d kept this secret for four whole weeks.

Joe’s parents arrived first, his dad already had the first games of the weekend playing on his phone and Robin brought a neutral gift, socks, even though you have specific instructions not to bring anything. Your parents arrived next, your mom was already teary eyed.

“How’s my grandbaby?”

You hugged her as she stepped in. “I am a person too, mom.”

“I know that. And I know you’re doing well. You look like the poster child for pregnancy glow. I don’t need to ask you how you’re doing.” She laughed and you caught her up to speed on your week at the office and your upcoming HR meeting to discuss maternity leave.

Conversations kept going as Sasha and Nikki arrived and suddenly the portable closet standing off to the side like a prop felt…real.

“Alright everyone!” Sasha says, excitedly clapping her hands, “let’s get this reveal going.”

You were more nervous now standing in front of this small group of people than you were presenting anything at work. At least there you were in control of the outcome, here, everything was up to chance.

“Ready?” Joe asks, one hand in yours and the other on the handle. You nodded, lifting your hand to wrap your hand around the handle in front of you.

Everyone gathered behind you to get a good view once the doors parted and they counted down, “three…two…one.”

You each pulled your door open. Inside the wardrobe hung a bunch of tiny clothes: onesies, beanies, sweatshirts, shoes.

All variations of blue.

No one said anything for a few minutes, until Jimmy spoke up. “It’s a boy.” That’s when the room erupted. Your friends hugged his parents who hugged your parents who hugged each other and you stood, quietly enjoying your sweet victory.

“I knew it.”

Joe hadn’t said anything, still examining the clothes like he was trying to wrap his mind around the concept of a person being able to completely fit into something so small. Someone who immediately became less of an idea, more of a person.

A son.

You placed a hand on his back. “Are you disappointed?”

“No,” he clear his throat. “God, no. Look at them.”

Behind you the celebration continued as your guests migrated towards the food spread. Your dad and Joe’s made predictions on how many traits from each side of the family he’d have while your mom and Robin got online to start ordering more clothes and making plans on airport pickups during the offseason, closer to baby time. Nikki and Sasha looked proud that they’d pulled off the first surprise and you may have heard a tidbit about shopping baby shower themes.

Tears pricked your eyes watching your family strategize their different roles to assist you both in this next chapter of life. “I’m really grateful he gets to have all these incredible people that love him.”

Joe carefully pulls you into a hug, only pulling back to place both hands on your stomach, lightly shaking his head in disbelief. Behind his eyes was a look of pride and indisputable elation. “Our little man’s in for a wild ride.”

Week 25

Divisional Round - Patriots at Bengals

Paycor stadium had just witnessed an offensive shootout that would go down in history. Joe had thrown for 416 yards in a playoff win against the Patriots. Upstairs, his suite was much quieter than the stands where celebration still rang heavy and people filed out quickly, eager to see who the team would match up against next weekend.

Joe’s best friend Zacciah sipped on his beer, replaying the last drive with you and a few other friends that had been invited. “Four touchdowns? Dude was unbelievable tonight.” A few of the other guys nodded, replaying the last drive in their mind where Joe turned a 3rd and 22 into first and goal with a 60 yard bomb to Tee. Zacciah still felt like he had to pinch himself during these moments. He’d been with Joe through middle school, the awkward bowl cut phase that haunted them to this day. Then there was the heaviest partying days when he was third string at Ohio state, set for a job in finance and maybe a move to New York.

That New York job quickly faded when he watched his friend leave Ohio for the bayou and come back with one of the all time great seasons for a college quarterback, giving him the keys to a franchise he still happily carried on his back.

There were days that they’d play video games in Columbus and Robin would drive up to do Joe’s laundry. Now, thousands of dollars were chump change to him. And somehow this success, this talent suited Joe. It made sense that his overly determined, refuse to lose attitude, UFC obsessed best friend would be one of the premiere gunslingers. That tracks.

The baby thing…that was much harder to wrap his brain around.

“You’re really carrying a kid in there,” Zacciah said suddenly.

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s generally how pregnancy works.”

“Yeah but like…” he gestured vaguely, searching for words. “Joe’s kid.”

“Still very much how pregnancy works.”

“I know it’s just, insane.”

You laughed, placing your water bottle down. “Do you wanna feel him?”

He looked at you like you’d spoken a different language then collected himself. “Seriously?”

“Now’s as good of a time as any, he’s been pretty active all night. I think he knows game days are important. Teach ‘em young, I guess.”

You saw him hesitating a bit, not exactly knowing where to put his hands so you gently grabbed one, placing his palm to the side of your belly. Zacciah held his breath waiting in anticipation.

He was about to make a joke about how your baby had performance anxiety but then he felt a small thump against his hand. Another kick followed immediately after, stronger this time and he froze, “holy shit. That’s him?”

“Yes,” you smiled at his bewilderment.

The rest of the room became nonexistent to him after that, peppering you with a million questions about if he kicks eating certain foods (yes) or hearing different voices (definitely yes) convinced that pregnancy is too foreign of a concept to become an expert in one night.

Joe came upstairs after his press conference, hugged his guests and made plans to watch the other game at his house, inviting whoever wanted to come over, to join him. He found you and Zacciah in the leather chairs facing the turf, his best friend standing in next to you, looking like he was seconds away from crying.

The quarterback noticed immediately. “What’s going on?”

Zacciah shook his head, letting out a quiet laugh. “Man,” he said, pointing at your stomach. “Your kid just kicked me.”

Joe’s expression changed instantly, and he looped an arm around your shoulders, his other hand resting at the bottom of your bump. “Yeah? He does that.”

“You sound like a proud dad already.”

“I am.”

Zacciah looked at him for a second before shaking his head again, still smiling.

“You’ve done a lot of cool stuff, man,” he said gently as Joe glanced at him. “But this?” he said. “This might be the coolest thing you’ve ever done.”

“Cooler than ‘Cartier glasses, I won’t even peek at you?’” You chimed in. “I’m offended for Micah.”

“That was a close second, you guys created a person that kicks and stuff. Takes the cake by far.” Zacciah says and grabs his drink to distract himself from getting more emotional. His best friend is gonna be someone’s dad and as crazy as it sounds, it’s starting to make a lot of sense.

Week 26

AFC Championship Weekend - Colts at Bengals

Using the frigid weather as an excuse to layer up more than usual is another reason why you two planned to have this baby when you did. The long black coat you chose over a hoodie over a long sleeve covered the very obvious baby bump underneath. At least well enough that wouldn’t confirm anything to an already speculating general public.

Sasha had sent you a tweet last week from a cincy insider claiming they had an inside source about QB1 becoming a dad soon. They didn’t know how soon because Joe kept everything close to the chest but word on the street was that Joe might be on diaper duty soon. The Twitter thread was enough to send a chill down your spine but they also had no proof, no due date and definitely no verbal confirmation from anyone that mattered.

So needless to say, it was nice to hide behind a bulky winter coat while tailgating because you didn’t stick out like a sore thumb.

Once the game started, you felt a shift in the atmosphere and Joe looked good early. The offense was firing on all cylinders, looking like the well-oiled machine he’d been willing into existence since the early days of camp. But halfway through the first quarter, things changed.

You saw it the second it happened.

Joe stepped up in the pocket to throw and a defensive tackle came free, shooting the gap, slamming into him just as the ball left his hand.

The hit was brutal.

He hit the turf with a crunch, his shoulder taking most of the impact before the rest of his body could even register the hit.

The stadium went silent in that collective inhale that happens when seventy thousand people realize something might be wrong.

You stood up before you even realized you were moving because Joe was still down. It wasn’t long, just long enough for your heart to travel up your esophagus.

Then he rolled over and sat up, trainers checking him over as the crowd all let out the breath they were holding right along with you.

Everyone watched as he walked over to the sideline and immediately entered the blue medical tent. You sank back into your seat, hands automatically resting over your stomach.

“It’s okay,” someone behind you said. Probably Robin, you really weren’t sure. “He got up.”

You nodded, but your eyes never left the sideline until he was back on the bench holding a tablet like nothing ever happened. The only sign was after halftime seeing a black brace supporting his non-throwing shoulder and the heating pad he tucked under the coat when he wasn’t on the field. Some of his movements on the bench looked stiff from your perspective but the adrenaline rush must’ve been through the roof because when he was actually playing, you couldn’t tell.

The entire second half was an emotional roller coaster, lead changes, big stops, momentum swings on both sides. With two minutes left the Bengals were ahead. All the defense needed was one stop.

One.

You stood near the glass as the opposing offense took the field, the entire stadium on its feet. The first play gained twenty yards. The second pushed them near midfield. Joe stood on the sideline, helplessly watching the drive unfold with that still, focused expression he always had when things slipped slightly out of control.

There were 12 seconds left when the opposing quarterback dropped back and heaved the ball downfield. One last effort to make a play. Nikki held your hand from her seat, eyes closed because she was too nervous to watch. The receiver came down with it in the end zone, ending the Bengals’ season.

The drive home was pretty quiet, not even music could mask the dreary feeling of losing at home, one game away from the Super Bowl on a freaking Hail Mary.

You walked into his arms after removing all of your layers, trying to see where his emotions were after approximately four hours of high intensity.

“No more practice, no more games.” He sighed, kissing the top of your head.

“Played really well though,” you tried. “How’s your shoulder?”

“Sore.” He admits. “But I’ll live. Got a baby to carry around in a few months so I could use the recovery time.”

Week 27

Offseason, week one

When Joe said recovery time, you thought he meant massages or ice baths.

He meant sleep. And lots of it.

You left for the office at 6:30AM and he was asleep. He was still out by the time you got home at 3:15PM.

“The guy’s on nap number two already today.” Morgan notes, “I was gonna knock and make sure he’s alive but I don’t want the glare.”

“You’re smart. I’ll go up there.”

Quietly entering the room, you smiled to yourself watching him peacefully enjoy not having a schedule.

“Did you at least eat lunch today?”

He didn’t move at first, tucked haphazardly in the blanket, pregnancy pillow fully claimed. “Asking if you’ve eaten is my line.”

“Well I’m borrowing it. Did you?”

Joe cracked one eye open, smirking. “Yeah I had something earlier,” he pats the open space in front of him, lifting a hand to make a grabbing gesture.

“Uh oh, grabby hand. You must be really tired,” you sat down next to him anyway as your hand found his hair.

“You’re not supposed to judge me during recovery week.”

“I’m not judging,” you counter, “I’m making an observation.”

He sighs. “How was work?”

“It was fine. I peed thirteen times today.”

“Nice. That a record?”

“So far, yeah.”

Joe lets out a laugh, both eyes open but he still looks tired. “Nap with me?”

“I have things to do still, not all of us get an offseason.”

“You just worked for eight whole hours and then you worked out and showered. Take a break.” He tries reaching for you but you know he’s gonna try to pull you down so you scoot away from him, making sure you’re just out of reach. “And it’s not just the offseason, it’s officially baby season. We need all the sleep we can get.”

he could picture her now.. standing in the kitchen, or maybe even the living room, comfy clothes on with her favorite show playing on the television. she’d be chewing on her bottom lip, no doubt leaving cherry red imprints from the pressure, just itching to be back in his arms.

at least, he was itching to be back in hers. he didn’t know what had gotten into him. on the ride from the airport, his sweatpants had been doing no good hiding the excitement he was feeling. to shield from even more humiliation, he took his carry-on bag and held it in front of the growing need. his hands were sweaty and he kept pushing his hair back with his hands, a nervous habit he’d picked up since growing it out.

why was he so nervous?

it’s not like you haven’t been together for about a year now, and friends longer than that. but, god, he was feeling like a teenager going on a first date.

the ride was shorter than riley anticipated, and he could feel his heartbeat in his throat as he got out the truck and hauled his bags and guitar case up the steps to the farmhouse he got built a couple years back.

home never felt so good.

and he knew it would feel even better once he got y/n back in his grasp.

however, when he opened the front door, no television was on, no sounds were heard, and no beautiful woman was standing there waiting for him. he sighed, setting down his bags in the middle of the room and fishing his phone out of his pocket.

he clicked y/n’s contact and brought his phone up to his ear.

ring…. ring…

he was starting to get worried. did she meet someone while he was away? no, she’d never do that. maybe she’s out getting some groceries, because god knows what was left in the fridge from the time he left to now. right as his heart rate picked back up, he heard a click and then her gorgeous voice through the speakers.

“hey, baby.” she said softly. “what’s up?”

“hi, honey. well, i came home expecting you to tackle me to the ground and shower me with love and kisses like you normally do, but there’s not a soul here.” he walked to his bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. it was made, but he could tell where her pretty little head had been laying on his pillow.

“oh, shit. i’m so, so sorry. i went to pick up some food for us. you’re a little earlier than what i was planning for.” she sighed into the phone, he heard a car door shut and then an engine ignited. “i’m on my way back now, though. i’ll be home in, like, 10 minutes?”

“okay, baby. i can’t wait to see you.” riley had a small smile glued to his face, a blush coating his cheeks all the way down to his tanned chest. “be careful, i love you.”

“i love you, more. bye.” he could hear the shy grin in her voice and he could feel his heart clench at the sound.

he figured he could kill some time by taking a quick shower and washing off all the dirty airport germs off of him. so, he stood to his sore feet and grudged into the bathroom. he stripped himself of his sweatshirt, then his sneakers and sweatpants. he looked at himself in the mirror while the shower water ran. he’d worked out a lot during the times he wasn’t performing, just out of boredom and partly because he hated being in that cramped bus for 10, maybe even more, hours a day.

as he stepped into the shower, he let the water run down his face and back, washing off his worries and stress down the drain along with it. he was so happy to be home. so happy to have a break. and so happy he was about 7 minutes away from being with his best girl again.

y/n walked into the house with bags of takeout in her hands. she huffed as she tripped over riley’s bags in the room.

“riley?” she called through the house, setting the bags onto the counter. when she didn’t hear a response from anything but water running and humming, she knew exactly where to go. she tiptoed into the bathroom and started to take off her clothes. she could see riley’s silhouette through the white curtain hung up and even from that, her body ached for him. she quietly pulled back the curtain, he was facing away from her, so she slid her hands around his body. from his back to his torso, she ran her fingers all over the soft, tan skin. he jumped at first, but quickly turned around and gripped her cheeks in his hands.

“hi, baby.” she smiled up at him. he had shaved his beard into just a mustache and she could feel her stomach flutter at the dirty thoughts running through her mind. she pictured that mustache on her lips, kissing her wildly and so loving that her mouth would be bruised. she pictured that mustache kissing down her body, going between her legs and loving on her like she hadn’t felt in so long.

she was broken out of her fantasy by riley’s lips capturing hers in a searing kiss. the bathroom was filled with hot fog and was suffocating her lungs, but that kiss allowed her to take a deep breath that she hadn’t been able to catch since he’d left.

riley laughed as she squealed when he picked her up so her legs would wrap around his torso. his cock was already hard at the thought of having her right then. against the cold tiles of the shower. “my girl.” he breathed into her neck once they had broken the kiss. “you don’t know how much i missed you.”

“don’t i?” she was scratching the back of his head with one hand and clinging onto his back with the other. riley groaned into her skin as she pulled his hair gently. “take me to bed.”

he didn’t have to be told twice. he shut the water off and stepped out onto the cool floor. he laid y/n down gently on the bed and leaned back, captivated by the sight of her. her hair, a little wet from stray water droplets, was splayed behind her head onto the sheets. her body was tanned from the summer sun, no doubt taking advantage of the deck out back.

“see something you like? just take it.” she kicked her feet up to place them on his chest as she giggled. she admired his body, too. strong arms with veins running all the way down to his forearms and hands. tanned chest with a thin gold chain dangling from his neck. his body was work of god.

“don’t threaten me with a good time, honey.” riley grabbed her ankles and kissed each leg before leaning down against her. her skin against his felt like heaven. this was better than what he imagined. he pushed the hair against her forehead away, taking in every part, every detail of her face. it was an intimate moment, one that neither of them took for granted. it’s like they were falling back in love all over again.

“you seriously have no idea how much i missed you, riley green.” y/n sighed, brushing a hand through his hair. he grabbed her hand and kissed her palm, melting into her touch.

“how much did you miss me?” he was already panting, trembling even. y/n was so turned on she could barely stand it she kept trying to rub her legs together to ease some of the ache, but riley kept his hands on the inside of her thighs with a such a firm grip that she couldn’t move a muscle.

“enough to call you every night and listen to your voice. pretend it was your fingers all over me, making me wet, playing with me.” riley groaned, laying his head down on her chest. his wet hair was cold and it sent a shock through her, but it did wonders to cool down her blazing skin. “did you touch yourself to me?” she asked into his ear.

“‘course i did, baby. couldn’t go through a single day without you there with me. don’t matter if it was through a screen.” he kissed her chest, sucking a dark mark onto her skin. she moaned softly and it caused riley to ground his hips into hers, the head of his hard cock hitting her clit just right. “god, baby. gonna fuck you on every square inch of this house tonight.”

“please,” she whimpered, closing her legs tighter around his body, trying to bring him closer to her.

“we got all the time in the world.” he leaned back and cupped her cheek in his hand. she cuddled into his touch with a pout on her face. “let me take my time with you tonight, honey.”

she nodded softly, leaning up to catch his lips with hers. he slid his tongue over her lower lip, begging for entrance and when she granted it, he stifled a moan into her mouth. she tasted like strawberries and heaven. he couldn’t get enough of this girl. he moved his mouth down to her cheek, over her chin, down to her neck where he sucked another tattoo kiss onto her skin, left to be purple and bruised tomorrow. he brought his mouth to her nipple and she jumped at the sensation, she hadn’t been touched in so long. he licked around the bud before sucking it into his mouth and releasing it with a soft pop.

“you’re gonna be the death of me.” she whined into her hand. her hips were restlessly trying to gain friction from anything they could reach. riley sat down on his knees and hooked his arms around the back of her legs. she gasped as he dragged her to the edge of the bed. her thighs were trembling as he kissed the inside of them, breathing her in as he did. y/n felt the facial hair on his upper lip tickling her skin. he was driving her crazy. she hadn't seen this man in a month. he didn't do anything extravagant, he didn't bring home flowers, he didn't bring wine. he just wanted her.

she was broken out of her thoughts by the feeling of his tongue licking a straight line up her core. she gasped and her hips jumped off the bed. riley shook his head against her, his nose brushing her clit back and forth as he did so, and laid his muscled arm over her hips to hold her still.

"you're so sweet, honey." he moaned against her. the vibrations made her throw her head back against the mattress, eyes rolling to the back of her head. she bit her lip as he sucked her bundle of nerves into his mouth, his fingers finding their way to her entrance. he spread her arousal with his thick digits, licking off what was left. "mmm." he prodded at her entrance again, just barely entering before pulling them back out. he was teasing her and it was torture.

"riley, please." she breathed out, panting. she lifted her head up just so she could catch his gaze and that shit-eating grin he wore made her groan and throw herself back against the bed.

"please, what, sweetheart?" he smirked. he knew what she wanted, he just wanted to hear her say it.

"just fuck me, please." she whined. he smacked her thigh and she hissed.

"that's all you had to say." he smiled, kissing her clit and the inside of her thighs sweetly before leaning up and capturing her lips with his. y/n hummed into it, taking a grip of his hair and pulling slightly. he groaned, reaching down to stroke his cock a few times before lining it up with her pretty pussy. he looked back at her eyes, her mouth open and panting, her cheeks rosy and flustered. she was so beautiful. even when she wasn't trying to be. he was suddenly taken back to the first day they met. sophomore year of college and he thought she was the most breathtaking thing at jacksonville state.

"what's going on in that handsome head of yours." y/n huffed, pushing a stray hair behind his ear.

"i just love you." he shook his head, grabbing her hand and kissing her wrist. "so much."

"you have me for the rest of your life, riley. you are the most precious thing i have." she leaned up to kiss him, slow and passionate. "i love you."

he pushed into her, moaning loudly from how tightly she enveloped him. she sucked a breath in through her teeth, the stretch was delicious and what made it even sweeter was riley leaning his forehead down onto hers, locking those deep blue irises onto her e/c ones. he slowly started to thrust into her. the tamed patch of hair below his stomach was brushing against her bud of nerves and she bit her lip to contain the graphic noises begging, screaming, to be released. she could feel the imprint of him in her stomach and she grabbed his hand and placed it on the point so he could feel it. riley whimpered and thrust harder into her.

"god, yes." she yelled out, wrapping her ankles around his back to keep him close to her. her nails were raking down his back, no doubt leaving red marks in their wake. "harder."

riley quickly obliged, hiking her leg up around his waist further to hit an angle he hadn't before that had y/n moaning almost pornographically. "you have no idea how much i missed this pussy, sweetheart."

"you have no idea how much i missed this cock." she retorted, turning her head to the side so she could kiss his stubbly cheek. she pushed his head to her chest and he could hear her wild heartbeat. he could hear her whimpers right in his ear and he wished he had something to record this so he could cherish it forever. his hips picked up speed in their ruts against her. he felt like a mad-man. he was touch starved for too long and so, so wrapped up in her. she might as well be tattooed against his skull from how much he thinks about her.

his thrusts were so forceful, the framed picture above his bed frame was hitting the wall repeatedly and eventually just fell back behind the bed. they could hear the glass shattering, but they could care less. riley picked y/n up and turned her around so she was sitting on her hands and knees. she laid her head down onto the soft sheets, arching her back softly so her ass was in better view. he rubbed the soft skin soothingly before smacking it lightly. y/n giggled and then groaned when he pushed into her again. his had one leg on the floor and the other was propped up and bent. his hands were wrapped around both of her hips and he pulled her back against his cock. he was hitting so deep inside of her and y/n could feel the coil inside of her tightening even more. riley was no better than her, he could usually last a while, but, because of the prolonged distance, his tummy was fluttering and his cock was twitching relentlessly. his body was begging for a release.

"y/n." he whimpered, his pounding thrusts against her were getting sloppy and he reached around her to toy with her clit.

"oh, i know, baby. me too." she was breathless, her knuckles were white from gripping the sheets so hard and she was sure she would have bruises all over her backside tomorrow from how rough he was pushing into her. "cum inside of me. please, please." she begged. she wanted all of him, she was so close she had tears in her eyes.

"oh, my." he threw his head back before leaning down against her back. he kissed all over her neck, her shoulders. his fingers were still rubbing circles onto her clit and her body was collapsing beneath her. "i'm gonna cum, honey." he thrust a few more times, working her clit harshly. she was screaming his name, a thin sheen of sweat coating both of their bodies. the coil in her belly snapped quickly at one particularly hard thrust and she curled into herself while riley was milking her for everything she had. a few more thrusts and riley was completely undone. he released into her, pushing his cum into her further before laying down against her back. she turned her head so she could kiss his lips. "i love you. i love you." he muttered against her skin.

"i love you." she kissed the top of his head. riley leaned up and pulled out slowly, watching the mix of their climaxes leak from her core and onto the duvet. "i broke home takeout."

-

they sat at the island in the kitchen, ravishing their food like two starving cavemen. she got riley and her some burgers from his favorite spot in town. they laughed and shared fries with each other. they fed each other like an annoying couple they would've made fun of back in college.

"do you think we would've been friends in high school?" she wondered, taking a sip of her cold busch light. riley brought his lips to his drink, too. one thing he loved about her is that she actually enjoyed drinking beer, maybe even more than he did.

"absolutely not," he wiped his mouth with a napkin. "i was a little shit in high school."

"you were a little shit in college, too." she giggled, pushing his shoulder. they were just sitting in their underwear, but nothing had ever felt more comfortable. more like home.

"i was worse in high school. ask momma." he laughed. "got cops called on me one time for poppin' fireworks in my principal's yard."

"riley green!" her jaw-dropped. "and to think, the worst thing you did in college was get kicked out of a bar for fightin' a guy."

"he was hittin' on you. had to do somethin'." he shrugged, smiling while taking a bite of another fry.

"you didn't even like me like that back then... did you?" she side-eyed him suggestively.

"baby, i've liked you since we first met at the gym." he slipped his hand up her leg, rubbing her thigh with his calloused fingers. rough partly from years of playing guitar and partly from the hard work he's done in his life. "when you didn't know how to work the equipment, i was hooked on you."

"oh, ew!" she scrunched up her nose. "i was wearing stained sweatpants and an old lynyrd skynyrd shirt."

"hence my attraction." he breathed out a laugh, his fingertips still rubbing over her skin. she clutched her hand to his and brought it up to her lips, kissing his the pad of his fingers.

"why didn't you tell me?" she asked softly, placing his hand against her cheek. it was warm and she leaned into his touch.

"thought you were out of my league, to be honest." he rubbed his thumb across her cheekbone, tracing her freckles from the warm alabama sun. "i thought you were the prettiest thing i'd ever seen and i didn't wanna embarrass myself by askin' you out, so i figured being friends was a good way to keep you in my life."

she fell into a fit of giggles and riley scoffed with a smile on his face, pulling back from her. "yeah, laugh at my misery. it's fine." he went to stand, but she pulled him back down, trying to calm herself.

"no, it's not that! i swear!" she bit down on her lip to contain more laughter. "that first day," she took a breath. "i fell in love with you, too."

"pft, nah." he stood up, collecting their food wrappers and walked to the trash can to throw it away.

"pft, yeah!" she stood up, too. she watched as he washed his hands and he shook his head. "you don't believe me? you were starting quarterback and completely jacked, might i add. plus, you helped me with gym equipment without making me feel stupid. i texted mom about you that very night."

"you serious?" he braced his hands on either side of the sink and she couldn't help but catch a glimpse of the veins running down his arms, she licked her lips and looked back up at him, nodding. "alright," he threw his arms up in surrender. "i believe you."

"so that means we wasted.... what?" she started counting up the months.

"at least 10 months." he finished her thought for her and she brought her hands up to her face. she could've been with him from the very first moment they met, but they both thought too lowly of themselves to make a move.

"riley, that's awful." she groaned through her hands. he laughed and walked up to her, pulling her hands away from her face and wrapping them around his body. he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her lips sweetly.

"we got all of our lives to make up for that time, baby." he mumbled against her. she moved her hands up to wrap around the back of his neck. his fingertips tickled down her sides before picking her up and sitting her on the counter top. he laid her down gently and kissed down her neck, all the way to her navel. she brought him back up to her and captured his lips with her own, licking over his bottom lip. he opened his mouth further and their tongues danced together, even though they tasted like their dinner, they couldn't care less.

"make love to me." she whispered against his lips. he let his hands trail around her body before moving behind her back and unclasping her bra in one swift move. he bowed his head to kiss around her breasts, then down to her belly. he traced the hem of her panties, blue and lacy, his favorite. he pulled them down her legs, his fingers causing goosebumps to raise on her legs and follow the path he took down to her ankles. he threw the undergarments somewhere towards the living room and kissed his way back up to her lips. he kissed her lips and pulled his boxers down his thighs, letting them drop and pool around his feet. he grabbed the back of her thighs and slowly dragged her further to the edge of the counter. she leaned up to slowly stroke his cock. he leaned his head back in pleasure and she kissed the open space of his neck, licking around the stubbly skin. he lifted his head back up and kissed her sensually. this was a different kiss. it was passionate, but it was more like a promise. a promise of 'i'm yours'.

she lined his cock up with her entrance and he pushed into her slowly, laying her back down flat against the cool marble counter. his thrusts were slow, but rough. he left his branding kisses on her neck and chest. their moans were soft and intimate, a low, but intense sound of pure adoration and infatuation. y/n stretched her arms out behind her head, accidentally knocking off the decorative wooden bowl in the middle of the island. "sorry." she whispered.

"ain't worried 'bout nothing but you." he responded, his face tucked into her neck and his cock working wonders on her. she was already close. she was so full of love, so full of him. she wanted to cry, she loved him so much. and he was thinking the same because he whispered in her ear, "i love you."

"i love you so much, ri." she whined. she felt his cock twitch inside of her, but she wanted him to hold out. she wanted this feeling to last so much longer than it could. "don't cum yet." she breathed out, brushing through his hair with her fingers. "wanna feel you."

"yes ma'am." he kissed underneath the lobe of her ear and she shuddered, trying to prolong her peak. he slowed down even more and y/n could feel every vein, every curve of his cock. they felt like puzzle pieces, perfectly made for each other. the way he pulled out just to push roughly back in was driving her mad, it was getting harder to hold back. "cum for me, sweetheart. know you need to. can feel you squeezin' 'round me."

she whimpered softly and all he had to do was reach down to circle her clit and she was done for. her climax hit like no other had and she was clenching around him so tightly that riley came right after she did, kissing all over her face, her neck, and chest.

"we're makin' a mess of this house." she laughed as she looked at the mess of clothes around the floors, the bowl spilled out onto the hardwood, not to mention the fact that they had to pull the bed out from the wall sometime to clean the glass up from the picture frame.

"y'know i'm gonna have to write a song 'bout this." he chuckled and she rolled her eyes. "even though they're all about you already." he kissed her cheek and she blushed.

"let's keep it that way, baby." she kissed his lips then hopped down from the counter, brushing her body up against his. she leaned down to pick up her bra, pushing herself onto his pelvic bone with a grin on her face.

His producer's words danced in his foggy brain. Said fog being every minor and major detail of you. Your time with him. When he actually had you. Before you left him to all his darkness.

"What do you mean we're not exclusive?" Your face was etched into his memory from that night.

He pressed his palms into his hollow eye sockets. It wasn't right. Nothing was ever right about the way he treated you. Nothing will ever be right after you left him either.

"It means we're not. We never discussed that, anyway" he recalled the way he justified why he was at a club, kissing some random girl when you were his absolute everything the preceding months.

He clearly remembers how his heart beat for you. Just you. He never ran under the night rain in Boston with anyone, let alone a girl. But he did that with you. And he remembered every micro detail. Your loud laughter, your hand in his, the way you kissed him back when he did as cars honked and angry drivers screamed.

"Go fuck yourself, Morgan" your tone was bitter. Poisonous. Hell, it was lethal even. But he saw through that. Because you weren't any girl. You weren't anyone to him and it was terrifying. So terrifying that he tried to kiss someone else. Tried to convince himself that he wasn’t actually in love with you.

He saw how hurt you were. How broken and used you felt. He felt it too. He did what he thought was right. He thought what he said was the truth. But it wasn’t.

Just as he found out he won't ever be able to kiss or touch anyone else, you were already running out of that club, teary eyed and shoulders shaking. He didn't call after you, too stunned by the realization that you did come along. The love of his life, but you were also running away. As you should.

He never got to tell you. All the ways you made him feel. It was new. All new and unfamiliar and unexpected that he messed it all up. Didn't know your worth and let you leave because you didn't deserve that. Not him. Not his behaviors or immaturity.

But as he sat on that stool, his open, empty notebook waiting to be filled with words about trucks and happy fields, all he could think of was how you were the only one that sat and listened. You hugged him so tight when he cried in front of you the first time, not asking a single question as he let it all out on your shoulder.

You picked him up after that bar fight when he got really drunk. You weren't happy about it, but that wasn't the first thing you said.

"You're okay?" He remembers your wide eyes, looking into his blue ones as your hands cupped his face, turning it both ways to check for any injuries.

All that, just for him to treat you like everybody else. Made you feel like all those girls after his fame and money. The girls that would kiss him and would be gone come morning. The girls that would never be able to tell him what his favorite beer was or how much he loved his mom.

He wiped his face with his trembling hands. He fucked up. He fucked up so bad. His heart was twisting and aching beyond humanely bearable. He let out a shaky breath, shook his head, and finally grabbed the pen and notebook.

"This is what's it all about!" He yelled, windows of his truck down, letting the whirlwind all in. You sat next to him in the passenger's seat, smiling so big that it hurt.

"What are you doing!" He laughed loudly when you suddenly started climbing out the window, sitting on the edge, your cowboy booted feet resting on the seat.

"Hell yeah! This is what's it all about!" You screamed at the top of your lungs. Morgan laughed so hard he almost swerved off the road.

He threw his pen down. There was no way he could write a single happy song to please his label. Not when all he could feel was his heart breaking, twisting, and bruising. Not when he let go of the only girl that has ever known him and stuck around for who he really was. Listened to his worries, laughed at his jokes, and took care of him. Always. Every time.

“Fuck” he groaned, wishing to be able to erase his memories. But that was worse than being in all that pain. His life didn’t actually start until he met you anyway. And now that you left it, it was on pause all over again.

The notebook page stayed empty, all the ones before it full of heart wrenching pain and confessions of love that you never got to hear, but fully deserved. By the time you you get to hear them, he knew that you’d be over him. Over highway speeding in his truck and cleaning his wounds after a stupid bar fight. He knew that. He wanted it.

“Jake Seresin didn’t deserve you.” My best friend Rebekah said through my speaker of the car while I had my phone connected to it through Bluetooth. I had told her that I had broken up with the Navy pilot with the Callsign : Hangman last night.

The fight happened after Jake saw a message on my computer that I hadn’t told him about yet. I didn’t think that I needed to, considering he didn’t bother to tell me when he left for deployments or where they were going to be. The specific location I understand needed to be kept secret, it was the first part that I couldn’t stand. And that wasn’t even the whole reason I decided to end things with him. Jake and I have been sleeping together actively since our one year anniversary.

Every time he’d come home from deployment we’d simply fall into bed together and not really do anything more than sex. This has been consistent for the past two years - and I couldn’t take it anymore. He clearly has been only keeping me around for the sex in between the sheets.

Slumping my shoulders heavily I turned my car into the driveway of my apartment building, quickly changing my tone by what I saw directly in front of me. “I should have listened to you when you said he had a reputation of one night stands - oh no chance in hell he is here!”

“What! His freaking truck is in your driveway.” Rebekah gasped, shouting. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll be over to drop kick his ass!”

Smacking my hands on the steering wheel I turned the engine off and hung up the phone. “That ain’t necessary, Bex. I’ll handle this myself.” Climbing out of my vehicle I walked up to the door, unlocking it with my keys. Pushing the door opened I clutched my keys deep into my palm aggressively with the door slamming harder than I meant to.

“Long time no see, Y/n.” Jake greeted me with an annoyed grumble under his breath.

“Pff. I don’t think you got the message last night that I don’t want to see you ever again.”

Jake stood in the middle of my apartment, fists clenched at his sides, still wearing his flight suit. His boots left faint marks on the hardwood. He hadn’t even taken them off. “You weren’t going to tell me,” he said, voice sharp.

I leaned my body back against the front door, arms crossed. “I didn’t think I had to.”

“You’re taking a job with Homeland Security. You could be stationed anywhere. That’s not something you just drop in a text.”

“I didn’t drop it in a text. You found the email on my laptop.” I snapped back in defense.

Jake’s jaw flexed. “Because you left it open. Because you weren’t going to tell me.”

I stepped away from the door, eyes blazing as I walked closer to him. “You disappear for months at a time, Jake. You don’t tell me where you’re going, when you’re coming back which I get comes with being in the military, or even if you’ll even be alive. And I’m supposed to sit here and wait - does that seem fair to you?”

“That’s not fair.” He rolled his eyes. “You’re not innocent here either. It’s not fair for you to lie to me.”

“No, what’s not fair is you showing up every time you’re back, expecting me to be here. Expecting me to drop everything because you’re finally ready to feel something.”

“I do feel something,” he snapped. “I feel everything when I’m with you.”

“Then why do you only show up when you need comfort? When you need someone to hold onto for a night. Why only show up so you can have meaningless nights in the sheets with me?”

Jake stepped forward, close enough that I could see the storm in his eyes. “You think this is just about sex?”

“I think it’s about convenience.” I stomped past him and almost went into my bedroom but he managed to stop me.

He grabbed my wrist—not hard, just enough to stop me from walking away. “You think I fly halfway across the world, land at midnight, and come here because it’s easy?”

I didn’t answer him. I didn’t know if I truly could.

“I come here because it’s the only place I feel like myself. Because you’re the only person who doesn’t treat me like a damn uniform.”

“I didn’t tell you about the job,” I said quietly, with my breath hitching in my throat. “because I knew you’d look at me like this. Like I betrayed you.”

Jake’s voice dropped. “You didn’t betray me. You scared me.”

I couldn’t physically do much more than blink my eyes a couple times and part my lips slightly, taken back by the words that just came out of his mouth. Jake Seresin, the cocky and flirty navy pilot standing in my living room just admitted that I scared him. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought he was capable of admitting something that emotionally deep and personal.

He’d shown me his genuine and loyal side that he rarely showed others around him. He’d shown me the side that deeply cares for his family and sometimes hinted at maybe wanting a family of his own someday. I believed him in the past - lately though I couldn’t picture it.

Yanking my wrist from his grasp I attempted to stomp away again but he was quicker than me. Jake gently shoved my back up against the nearest wall, hands on either side of my head caging me in with his body. “I wish you were someone I never met. You play with girls' hearts, Seresin. You charm them into bed with you and then leave when it starts to get serious!”

“That was the old me, Y/n. The guy who hadn’t met you yet.” He raised his voice at me, our breath mixing together with how close he had his face to mine. “Give me a chance to prove you wrong.”

“You’re so full of yourself. This relationship will only ever be about a night in the sheets for you.”

His blue-green eyes darkened as he crashed his lips hungerily down onto mine. “There’s more to this relationship than that, Y/n. There always has been darlin, you’ve just been afraid to admit it like I have.”

“Jake-“ Pushing my hands against his chest I tried to make him stop but he kept pushing back with more heated kisses that took my breath away from me.

“Shut up.” He kissed me quickly, dragging one hand from the wall and wrapping it tightly around my waist, pulling me impossibly flush against his hard body.

His mouth broke away from mine only long enough to blaze a trail down my neck, sending shivers that had nothing to do with fear ripping through my core. I finally wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. With a grunt, Jake scooped me up, never breaking the connection of our mouths, and began moving toward the bedroom. I felt the sharp edges of his belt buckle pressing into my side.

By the time we reached the bed, the urgency was frantic. He dropped me onto the mattress with a controlled roughness that left me gasping. There was no time for careful removal; every piece of clothing became a hindrance. The sounds of zippers and buckles hitting the floor mingled with our ragged breathing. His Texan swagger was replaced by a singular, focused intensity. His hands were everywhere—making me just as breathless and desperate as he was.

He hovered above me for a brief, intense moment. His eyes dark and dilated, searching mine. It wasn't just lust I saw there, it was the raw, terrifying honesty of the man who admitted I scared him. And then he was moving, filling the space I hadn’t known was empty. The rhythm was fast and consuming, a desperate pace mirroring the intensity of our argument—all friction and fire.

I gripped the sheets, arching into him, unable to hold back the sounds that were dragged from my throat. It was too much, yet not enough. It wasn't gentle; it was a crashing collision that felt like falling from a great height and finding solid ground. When the dizzying wave finally broke, leaving us both panting and slick against the crisp sheets, the silence returned, heavier and more telling than before.

Jake rolled onto his side, pulling me immediately with him, tucking my head against his shoulder. His arm locked around my waist, as I let my fingers trace the line of his collarbone. Feeling the rapid thump of his heart beneath my palm before I passed out that night.

The next morning -

I blinked my eyes open the next morning, tangled up in sheets and limbs that felt too familiar. Jake’s arm was draped across my waist, his breath steady against my bare shoulder. For a moment, I let herself pretend that nothing happened. Pretending that last night hadn’t happened. Pretending that the job offer wasn’t sitting in my inbox. Pretending that this—this quiet, this closeness—was enough. But it wasn’t.

I shifted, and Jake stirred. His eyes opened, slow and heavy, like he already knew what I was about to say. “I haven’t accepted it yet, I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d try to stop me.”

Jake sat up, rubbing a hand over his face. “I wouldn’t have stopped you.”

“You’re doing it now.”

Tossing the sheets off I climbed out of bed, shrugging my discarded shirt from last night back on once I’d picked it up from the floor. Walking to the kitchen. The coffee pot was cold and I didn’t bother reheating it. My laptop sat on the counter, screen still glowing with the message - Final Confirmation Needed.

Jake appeared in the doorway, shirtless, eyes unreadable. “You really think I only come back for the nights?”

I lifted my head up with a glare back at him. “I think you come back because you don’t know how to stay.”

He stepped forward, but I didn’t move. “I want to try, I don’t know how—but I want to. I don’t - I don’t want to lose you.”

“You might, because I’m not waiting anymore.” My mouse button hovered over the “Accept” button on the laptop screen.

Jake’s phone buzzed on the counter. A message from base. Deployment orders.

I looked at him. He looked at me. No one moved for a moment or two. Until I finally clicked- Accepted.

Jake turned away, jaw tight. I carefully watched him go, unsure if he’d come back. The door didn’t slam. It just… closed.

I stood in the silence, heart racing. I truly didn’t know what else to do at this point. Honestly now I was wishing that I had never met him then everything would be easier - until my phone buzzed and there was a text that read.

Jake: If you’re going, I’m not letting you go alone.

The first shot was of his smile. That ridiculously perfect, all-American grin that had already graced the cover of three major magazines this month.

I tapped the screen of my phone, zooming in just slightly. Glen was leaning into the interviewer, his hand resting casually on the elbow of his co-star, Amelia. They both looked radiant, bathed in the blinding white light of the Los Angeles premiere.

He was wearing the custom midnight-blue suit I had suggested, and his hair was painstakingly messy—the kind of mess that costs hundreds of dollars to achieve. He looked like Hollywood’s golden boy.

The casual, easy charm he radiated felt like a personal insult beamed directly into my living room, where I sat in stained sweatpants, trying to ignore the fact that the leftovers in the fridge were getting sadder by the minute.

Because that man, the one talking animatedly about "artistic collaboration" and "the magic of cinema," was supposed to have been home twelve hours ago.

My internal soundtrack was a low, simmering resentment, occasionally punctuated by the twangy sounds coming from the speaker on my counter. I hadn't realized I’d put on my "Sad Country" playlist until the familiar opening chords of Morgan Wallen’s "Last Night" drifted through the air.

I know, last night, we let the liquor talkin’...

We hadn't had liquor talking last night. We'd had work talking.

It was supposed to be our night. A rare, uninterrupted Friday. Glen was flying out to Toronto for a press run later today, and we’d agreed on takeout and an old movie, maybe a bottle of the expensive Spanish wine he’d brought back from the location. He’d kissed me goodbye that morning, promising to be home by seven at the latest after a quick round of industry meetings.

At 7:30 PM, I got the text: Babe, I am SO sorry. They pulled me into a live round table for Variety. It’s running late. I’ll be quick. Home by 9, tops.

At 9:45 PM, I started eating the cold Thai food alone.

At 11:00 PM, I received the call, the one where his voice was tight with forced enthusiasm, the one where he said, "This interview went ballistic, Y/n. They need me to do a follow-up right now—it’s a massive publicity push. I won’t be home tonight, but I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

And now, almost a full day later, here he was, dazzling the world on a red carpet with Amelia, his co-star who, it must be noted, was entirely lovely and also far too beautiful.

I threw my phone onto the couch cushion as if it were contaminated.

The screen lit up instantly. Glen Powell is calling.

I stared at the name for a full ten seconds, watching the little profile picture—a goofy shot of him and Brisket—flash furiously. I waited until the call dropped, then picked up the phone.

I opened my text thread with him and typed out a sharp, perfect sentence. Then I deleted it. I wasn't going to communicate via text when he was supposedly prioritizing me. He’d made his bed on the couch of whatever glamorous publicist’s office he’d crashed in.

The silence of my apartment felt heavy. It confirmed my worst suspicion: that the man who loved me existed somewhere behind the shimmering façade of the star who needed to be everywhere else.

I was contemplating changing into proper human clothes when the rapid tap, tap, tap of the front door knocker startled me.

I froze. He wouldn’t.

The knocking repeated, more insistent this time. And then, a small, panicked whimper from the other side, followed by the specific, familiar sound of a small dog scratching hardwood.

"Y/n? Open up. Please." His voice was low, raspy, and clearly not the projected, honeyed baritone of Red Carpet Glen.

I dragged myself up and practically stalked to the door. I threw the deadbolt.

Glen stood there, utterly deflated.

He was in an oversized, faded grey hoodie and jeans. The dazzling suit was gone. The perfect hair was indeed messy now, but not the expensive kind—the kind that meant he hadn't slept right. His eyes were the most striking difference: heavy-lidded, shadowed, and focused entirely on me.

At his feet, Brisket, his terrier-poodle mix, was vibrating with excited anxiety, doing frantic little circles and trying to nose his way past Glen’s legs.

"Hey," he whispered, stepping inside before I could stop him, letting Brisket shoot past him to execute a perfect flying leap onto the couch.

I crossed my arms. "Hey. Great premiere."

He leaned back against the closed door, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. "Don't do that, baby. I know you're mad. You have every right to be."

"I saw the coverage," I said flatly. "You looked very energized. Good publicity."

He flinched. "That’s the job, Y/n. I was running on fumes out there. I hadn't slept. I was trying to smile my way through the jet lag that hasn't even hit yet. And I called you—you wouldn't answer."

"Why would I? You missed our date," I said, the words cutting clean and sharp. "You missed it because you 'had to' do a follow-up interview. And then, instead of coming home this morning, you went to a premiere. You could have come home for three hours, Glen. You didn't."

He pushed off the door and took a tentative step toward me. He looked genuinely exhausted, a walking contradiction to the vibrant image I'd seen an hour ago.

"I tried," he insisted, his voice cracking from lack of rest. "I swear I tried. The premiere was mandatory press. They flew me straight from the set of the interview to hair and makeup, and the only reason I got out of Toronto early enough was because I negotiated to leave the after-party early. I literally changed in the car."

"I don't care about the logistics, Glen," I said, my voice rising slightly. "I care that you prioritize that life over this one every single time. Every single time we schedule a moment for us, it gets absorbed by the machine. And I’m the one picking up the pieces."

Brisket, sensing the shift in tone, stopped chewing his favorite squeaky toy and trotted anxiously between our feet, looking up at us both with wide, pleading eyes. Glen crouched down immediately, scratching behind Brisket’s ears, using the dog as a human shield for a moment of regrouping.

"I know," he said, head still lowered. "And you’re right. I messed up. I didn’t just miss date night, I missed us." He stood up, looking me directly in the eye. "I needed to see you before I got on that plane, Y/n. I didn't want the last twenty-four hours to be silence and the smell of expensive cologne on a borrowed suit. Don't you think I wanted to be here last night? I was sitting in that interview, trying to look charming, and all I could think about was that shitty Thai food getting cold, and you being mad at me."

He reached out and took my hand, his skin cool and dry from the night air.

"Listen to me, I am sorry I missed the date. I am sorry I didn't get home. And I know that sometimes the public Glen looks like he’s having the time of his life, but maintaining that buoyancy, that 'stress antidote' thing? It drains the actual person. The only place I can actually drop the role, actually take the weight off, is right here." He gestured around my small, messy living room. "I came straight here. I didn’t even go back to my place."

He didn't look charming now. He looked desperate and tired and undeniably real. The sheer exhaustion radiating off him was almost palpable.

"I love the work," he murmured, his thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand. "But I need you more. I need the life we have here."

I felt the anger—the sharp, defensive edge—start to soften. It wasn’t manipulative; it was raw. It was the human Glen, the one who didn't want to fly across the country on a fight.

I sighed, pulling my hand away only to wrap my arms loosely around his waist, pulling him in close. He immediately dropped his head onto my shoulder, the weight of it surprisingly heavy.

"You smell like cheap plane coffee and desperation," I muttered into his hoodie.

He chuckled, a gravelly sound. "I'll take it. As long as I smell like I'm home." He squeezed me tight, anchoring himself. "I have to leave for the airport in two hours. Can we just... reset? Can we just sit on the couch and be boring for an hour?"

I leaned back, just enough to meet his gaze. His eyes were earnest. There was no charm offensive left, only vulnerability.

"Yes," I conceded, reaching up to gently push the stray hair off his forehead. "But when you get back, we're having a serious conversation about how to keep the publicist from kidnapping my boyfriend."

"Deal," he said instantly, relief washing over his face. He kissed me, a soft, tired press of lips that had nothing to do with red carpets and everything to do with coming home.

Saturday, Nov. 1st around 8:30 p.m.

You step off the elevator into a quiet hallway. The only noticeable sounds are the mechanical whir of the elevator doors closing behind you and the faint hum of the city 21 floors below.

Your gaze immediately lands on a large mirror hanging over a marble-topped console table, and you take a deep breath as you study your reflection.

"Makeup looks good," you mutter, stepping closer to get a better look. "Mia was right about this lip stain," you grudgingly admit, pursing your lips as you admire the matte berry color that's a little more dramatic than what you normally wear.

You eventually drop your gaze down to check out your outfit. You're wearing a long-sleeve wrap sweater dress that hits just above the knee, the plum color dark enough that you decided to go braless underneath.

The only other items you're wearing are a lace thong that matches your dress and a pair of black wedge heels. You considered wearing tights since the temp. is in the upper 40s, but you decided not to since it was only a few steps from the warmth of the car to the warmth of the lobby.

"I feel kind of naked, but that was the entire point, right?" you giggle, sticking your tongue out at your reflection before walking down the hall toward Joe's condo, your pulse picking up as you stop just outside his door. "Can't believe I'm doing this," you mumble, your eyes going wide when the door swings open before you have a chance to knock.

"Hey," Joe grins, giving you a once-over as he steps to the side for you to enter. "I was keeping an eye out for you," he admits, pointing at the peephole in the door. "You look amazing," he continues, blatantly ogling you in a way that makes you feel a little more confident.

"Thanks, you too," you grin. Guess he likes the dress, you think to yourself, returning his ogle with one of your own as he takes your black tote bag and sets it on the entry table.

"Can I hang your coat up?" he asks, pointing at the black leather jacket draped over your arm. You give him a nod, and he grabs the jacket and turns to hang it in the small entry closet, keeping his back turned long enough for you to enjoy the spectacular view of his ass encased in slinky black sweatpants.

Damn, you think to yourself, grateful for the fact that his long-sleeve black t-shirt is hiked up over his plump butt, the palm of your right hand legit tingling with the urge to smack it.

"So… how was the ride over?" he asks as he turns to face you, beckoning you to follow as he leads you into the living area. "Fine," you murmur, turning your head side to side to take in your surroundings.

The interior is sleek and modern with tall ceilings and clean lines. The furnishings are sparse in the living room with just a sofa, coffee table, side table and lamp. The color palette is a mosaic of grays with just enough black and white to make things interesting.

"Wow," you breathe, drawn toward the windows that line the far wall. The view of the Roebling Bridge is breathtaking, its sparkling lights casting a dazzling reflection in the Ohio River. "This view is unreal," you sigh.

"Yeah, that was a big selling point. The stadium is just off to the right. It would look a lot cooler if it was fully lit up."

"I bet it looks amazing during night games."

"Yeah, although I don't get to enjoy the view since I'm playing. Or, you know, standing on the sideline with yet another fucking injury."

His grumpy tone makes you decide to change the subject. "So nobody knows you own this place, huh? Not even your parents?"

"Well, Cole and Mia know as of today. But other than that, it's just you and my financial advisor. He helped me structure the purchase in a way that keeps me fully anonymous."

You turn your back on the amazing view and lock eyes with him, your brow furrowing as your brain kicks into overdrive. "So you bought it outright?"

"Yeah, I paid cash."

"Good," you murmur. "A mortgage could compromise anonymity." You chew on your bottom lip for a second before continuing. "Deeds are usually public record, so I'm assuming you formed an LLC or a trust, yeah? That would keep your name from popping up in a public records search."

"I actually did both."

"Ohhh, so you layered entities," you state, a big smile on your face as you nod your approval. "That's the best game plan for maximum privacy."

"That's good to know," he grins.

"Sorry," you chuckle. "I'm being obnoxious. I've barely been here five minutes, and I'm grilling you like it's a damn cross-examination."

"No need to apologize. I like the way your brain works, and I really like being told I did something right. Even if all I did was follow the advice of my financial advisor."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Can I get you a glass of wine?" he asks, ushering you into the open-concept kitchen when you nod your head. You take a seat on one of the two barstools at the kitchen island, very aware that his gaze is on you as you get yourself settled.

"Do you like the barstools?" he asks.

"Yeah. They're stylish and comfy."

"I had them delivered earlier today," he grins, looking very proud of himself. "I had Cole let the delivery guys in while I hid in the bedroom."

"Seriously?"

"Yep. I've never hosted anyone here, so I only had a few furnishings. I also had some groceries delivered." He opens the fridge and points at the contents, naming some of them one by one. "Bottled water, OJ, Greek yogurt, plus a fruit and cheese platter." He closes the fridge and points at some items on the counter. "Pinot noir, cashews, crackers, cupcakes, and a bottle of honey. Just a few things to snack on plus something to eat as a quick breakfast in the morning."

"Wow," you murmur, shaking your head in amazement. "How did you manage to get a bunch of my fav things? Are you a mind reader?"

"Maybe," he shrugs, grabbing a corkscrew out of a drawer before reaching for a bottle of pinot. "Or maybe I just got Cole to ask Mia."

"Sneaky," you tease, a throb of arousal pulsing through you as you watch him ease the cork out of the bottle, his agile fingers making you think naughty thoughts.

"Actually, I prefer the term shiesty instead of sneaky," he grins, giving you a wink before pouring two glasses of wine.

"I'll keep that in mind." You return his grin as he hands you a glass. "Should we have a toast?" you ask.

"Sure. What should we toast to?"

You think for a second before holding your glass up. "Here's to your secret love shack."

"It's not a love shack yet, but here's to making it one."

"Looking forward to that," you murmur, trying to play it cool as he clinks his glass against yours and takes a drink, his eyes locked on yours over the rim of the glass. Sexy motherfucker, you think to yourself, taking a delicate sip followed by another, more than a little annoyed at how nervous you are. Calm down, you think. He's just a guy. The sexiest guy I've ever laid eyes on, but still…

His deep voice interrupts your thoughts. "What are you thinking?"

"Nothing much," you chirp, "just that this wine is really good." You take another sip of the lush wine, holding it on your tongue for several seconds before swallowing. "Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Be right back."

You slide off the barstool and walk to the entry table, grabbing something out of your bag before heading back to Joe. "Thought you might like one of your own," you grin, handing him a new Magic 8 Ball still in the box.

His face lights up when he sees it, like it's some priceless treasure instead of a ten dollar toy. "Ohhh, I get to do the unboxing," he grins, rubbing his hands together in anticipation before gently opening the box, his long fingers drawing your gaze again.

Those fucking fingers, you think to yourself, returning his smile when he sits on the adjacent barstool and gives the ball a slow shake. "What should I ask it?" he inquires.

"That's up to you."

He furrows his brow and thinks for several seconds before setting the ball down. "Maybe I'll wait 'til later to ask it something. If it gives a bad answer, it could mess up the vibe."

"Good idea," you agree, matching his serious expression even though you think he might be kidding. "So… I feel kind of bad for keeping you up past your bedtime tonight."

"Nah," he grins. "I only go to bed early during the season if I'm actually playing. Standing on the sideline like a useless lump doesn't require a good night's sleep."

"You're not a useless lump."

"Anyway," he sighs, wrinkling his nose for a second before continuing. "The 'fall back' time change is early tomorrow morning, so we'll actually gain an hour."

"Oh yeah, I forgot about that. So at 2:00 a.m. we set the clocks back to 1:00 a.m. It'll be nice to have an extra hour of sleep."

"Or, you know, an extra hour of whatever else we might be doing."

"True," you giggle, taking a small sip of wine when you really want to chug the entire glass to help calm your raging nerves.

He seems to sense your discomfort and quickly changes the subject. "So how was your day?" he asks, taking a sip of wine. "Did you get something to wear to the game?"

"Yeah, I got a zip-up hoodie. The black one with the orange sleeves."

"Good choice. Did y'all find a cocktail dress for Mia?"

"We actually found two," you nod. "She looked amazing in both, so I talked her into buying both."

"That's great. Did you find anything else for you?"

"This dress." You point at the sweater dress you're wearing. "Plus I got a nice suit for work. It's charcoal gray with black pinstripes. It has a belted jacket with a pencil skirt that hits just above the knee."

"That dress looks amazing on you," he grins, his eyes lingering on your cleavage as he continues. "And that suit sounds awesome, but did you find a cocktail dress?"

You shake your head. "I tried on a few for fun, but I don't really need a new cocktail dress. I have several that I never wear."

"Why don't you wear them?"

You study his expression for a bit before answering. "Because I never go anywhere nice enough. Most of my nights out are casual girls' nights. I haven't been anywhere fancy since well before the break-up."

"Your ex never planned nice date nights?"

"Not after the first few months we were together." You take a slow sip of wine as you shrug your shoulders. "After a while, I got tired of planning them myself when he acted like he'd rather stay home."

"Sounds like he was a total dud, in and out of the bedroom."

"He didn't start out like that, but he def ended up doing less than the bare minimum. Classic bait and switch type shit."

"That's loser behavior."

"Indeed," you agree, raising one eyebrow when his sensual lips curl up into a smile. "What's so amusing?"

"This might be the wrong thing to say, but… I'm glad he was so pathetic. You wouldn't be here right now if he was worthy of you."

"I'll drink to that," you grin, reaching out to clink your glass against his before taking a sip.

He takes a sip as he reaches a hand out and places it on your bare knee, his eyes going wide when you flinch at his touch. "You okay?" he asks, removing his hand while giving you a concerned look.

"Yes… No… I don't know," you mumble, shaking your head as you take a deep breath. "Listen," you continue. "I'm completely out of my comfort zone here. I hate to admit it, but… I'm actually really nervous."

"Me too."

"Don't lie," you scoff, breaking eye contact.

"I'm not lying. Look at me, please."

You stare at the granite countertop for a few more seconds before meeting his gaze, your heart skipping a beat at the look in his eyes.

"See this huge zit?" he asks, pointing at a tiny spot on his left cheek.

You lean closer and squint. "I see a tiny spot."

"Exactly," he nods. "I get zits when I'm under a lot of stress. The last time I had a zit like this was when I played in the Super Bowl."

"Why are you under a lot of stress right now? Your toe injury?

"No, I'm not worried about my toe injury. I'm scared I'll embarrass myself tonight."

"Embarrass yourself how?"

"Like… what if I last 30 seconds? I'll be mortified. That's why I got a game plan."

You study his expression, trying to decide if he's teasing. "Are you serious?"

"Dead serious."

"Okay… what's your game plan?"

"I'm gonna get you off twice before my pants come off."

"Twice?" you giggle. "No need to be an overachiever. I'll gladly settle for once."

"Please," he snorts. "Twice during foreplay and then another during the actual deed. Three total."

You raise your eyebrows. "That's… crazy."

"Why?"

"Just seems super greedy for me to get off three times to your one."

"Not at all," he argues. "Just trying to do my part to close the orgasm gap that you mentioned last night."

"Oh," you sigh, giving him a knowing look.

"What's that look?"

"Nothing," you shrug.

"Tell me."

You hesitate several seconds before answering. "Ever since I said guys like you are usually bad in bed, you've been on a mission to prove me wrong. I'm not even sure you're actually attracted to me."

"Nah, fuck that," he scoffs, shaking his head hard enough to make his curls dance. "I want you in my bed because I'm super attracted to you, not because I have something to prove."

"Then why even mention the orgasm gap?"

"Because I'm dumb as hell, I guess," he mumbles, raking a hand through his hair a few times before continuing. "Look… I went to bed last night thinking about you. I woke up this morning thinking about you, and I won't even mention what I did in the shower before you got here."

"What did you do in the shower?"

He narrows his eyes at you. "You know exactly what I did. I also did it last night after we got off the phone."

"While thinking about me?" you ask, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth to hide your grin.

"Yes, ma'am, while thinking about you."

You match his naughty grin with one of your own before a thought hits you, causing your grin to fade.

"What's wrong?" he asks, his eyes scanning your face to try and read your mood.

"I'm just…" you search for the right words before deciding to be blunt. "I'm wondering if I should feel bad that I'm using you as a quick, dirty revenge fuck to get back at my cheating ex."

"Well… I've got good news for you. It's def gonna be dirty, but it's not gonna be quick."

His super sincere expression brings a smile to your face, and you can't help but laugh, more than a little relieved when he joins in the laughter before quieting down.

"You're overthinking it," he states.

"You're right."

"I know I'm right. I'm usually the one doing the overthinking, so I recognize it."

"Sorry."

"No need to apologize," he soothes, watching closely as you take a deep breath.

"I just… I feel like I ruined the vibe," you sigh. "I wish I could hit a reset button and start over."

"We can do that."

"How?"

He shrugs as he nods toward the door. "You go out in the hall and wait a few seconds before knocking. I'll open the door and pretend you just got here."

"Are you serious?"

"Yep."

"That's kind of crazy," you mutter, searching his expression to see if he's teasing.

"What's crazy about it? We basically just did a walkthrough, and now we're ready for the real thing."

"Like football practice?"

"Yeah," he grins. "Like football practice."

"Okay," you agree, taking another sip of wine before you slide off the barstool and head for the door. A little thrill rushes through you when he strides ahead and hands you your tote bag before opening the door for you, a smile on his face at the giggle that escapes your lips as you walk out into the hallway. This is nuts, you think to yourself, feeling silly as he closes the door behind you.

You wait a few seconds before raising a hand to knock, stopping with your knuckles an inch from the door when another giggle escapes. "Be serious," you hiss, looking left and right to make sure you're alone before squaring your shoulders, your inner voice chiming in just as you get yourself under control. I'm gonna bust out laughing the second I see his face, you muse. That will 100% ruin the mood.

You suck your bottom lip into your mouth and bite it hard enough to sting, your mind racing as you weigh your options. I can knock and possibly embarrass myself, or I can make a break for the elevator and get the hell out of here.

You roll your shoulders a few times to relieve some tension, a look of determination on your face as you choose your fate. "Fuck it," you snap, your heart pounding as you give the door two sharp knocks.

Any thought of laughing quickly fades when he opens the door and wordlessly reaches a hand out to you, the look on his face setting off a steady throb in your core as you place your hand in his.

He gently pulls you inside before closing the door, his eyes never leaving yours as he throws the deadbolt lock. You open your mouth to say something but quickly close it, not wanting to break the spell that he's weaving.

He raises your hand to his mouth, flipping it over to press a kiss against your palm, his tongue sliding out to taste your skin before he pulls back. The intimate gesture draws a soft gasp from you as a rush of liquid heat floods your core. He watches closely as you press your thighs together, a feral glint in his eyes as he grabs your bag and quickly turns to set it on the entry table.

He runs a hand through his hair as he turns back to face you, his intense gaze pinning you in place as effectively as a chokehold as he backs you up against the door. There's barely breathing room between you as you tilt your head to look up at him, the cool door behind your back providing a delicious contrast to the heat radiating from his big body.

"You're gorgeous," he murmurs, his gaze moving between your eyes and lips as he braces his hands on the door on either side of your head. "You too," you whisper, your pulse going crazy at the sexual tension. It feels like you've been building up to this moment for years even though you just met him yesterday.

He drops a kiss on your lips before pulling back, clearly trying to read your reaction. The heat in his gaze tells you he knows exactly what he wants to do to you, but he's looking for a sign that you want it as much as he does.

You hold eye contact with him as you untie the ties holding your dress closed, your nipples tightening at the look on his face when your dress falls open. "Fuck, you're perfect," he groans, his hands immediately on your bare breasts as his mouth crashes down on yours, his tongue pushing your lips apart in a way that has you dizzy with desire.

The kiss is intense, with you sucking on his thrusting tongue and moaning into his mouth as he caresses your breasts, teasing and gently tugging your sensitive nipples.

He eventually breaks the kiss and trails his mouth lower, pressing kisses along the length of your neck before pulling back to admire your breasts. Your bra stayed on last night, so it's the first time he's seen them bare.

"Perfect," he groans, licking one hard nipple before sucking it into his mouth, repeating the action on your other breast as you whisper his name, wet heat throbbing between your legs as he takes his time teasing you.

Your breath catches in your throat when he finally drops a hand down to cup your lace-covered mound. He grinds against you through the flimsy fabric as you arch into his touch. "I've been dreaming about tasting you," he murmurs. "Can I?"

"Yes," you whisper, watching closely as he drops to his knees. You grip his shoulders for balance as he hooks a finger in the crotch of your thong and pulls it to the side, licking a slow stripe up your slit several times before gently sucking your clit, repeating this pattern over and over while you squirm against him.

His tongue feels even better than you imagined on your most sensitive flesh, like hot wet velvet. You fist a hand in his hair and grind against him when he latches his mouth onto your clit, sucking with the perfect pressure to set you off.

Your cries of pleasure are still echoing in the entry hall as he picks you up bridal style and heads for the bedroom. "I came so fast," you pant, your astonished tone making him chuckle.

"Don't worry. We're just getting started," he murmurs, setting you on his king-size bed before stripping his shirt off. He reaches forward to help as you shrug your dress off, his hot gaze roaming over you in a way that makes your stomach flutter.

"Lie back," he orders, waiting until you're flat against the bed before he drops to his knees on the floor at your feet, sliding your shoes and panties off before spreading your thighs wide with his big hands. He pulls your ass to the edge of the mattress and flattens his tongue against your slick folds.

"Oh… damn," you whimper, your eyes fluttering closed as he slowly drags his tongue up and down the length of your wet center, avoiding your super sensitive clit before penetrating you with his tongue. He groans low in his throat as your core squeezes his tongue. "You like that?" he asks, gracing you with another groan when you answer with a breathy "Yes. So good."

He teases your core with his thrusting tongue for another minute before licking his way up to your clit, gently grinding against it before giving it a lush suck, the exquisite feeling just enough to make you hiss with pleasure, but not quite enough to get you off.

He keeps his tongue focused on your clit as he slides one long finger inside you, pushing in and out with a steady rhythm for several heartbeats before adding a second finger. He scissors them inside you a few times, your pulse reacting when you realize he's preparing you to take his cock.

You push up on your elbows so you can watch him. The sight of him between your thighs is a mental image you'll never forget.

He locks his gaze on yours and lifts his head, slowly licking your juices off his glistening lips before giving you a smile so dirty you can feel it in your core. "How am I doing?" he asks, his agile fingers still moving inside you as he waits for your verdict.

"Good," you whisper, rushing to add some superlatives when you remember he likes praise. "Amazing, actually. Best ever."

He gives you another filthy smile before dropping his mouth back down to tease your clit, telling you how good you look and taste in between gentle licks followed by harder sucks. The sound of his husky voice adds another layer of pleasure as his fingers, lips and tongue work together to push you toward the edge.

The entire sensory experience is overwhelming in a way that feels like a fever dream. You eventually lie back against the cool sheets and slide a hand in his hair, grinding your hips shamelessly against him as you feel the delicious tension in your core building up to the breaking point.

"Don't stop!" you beg, your breathy whimpers escalating into louder moans as your climax hits. You buck your hips and pull his hair as you come apart, his primal growl vibrating through you as your core rhythmically clenches his stroking fingers, his tongue easing up but still lapping at your clit as your entire body trembles from the intense release.

You take a minute to catch your breath before speaking. "Damn," you whisper, still breathing hard as he stands up and quickly removes the rest of his clothes, his gaze roaming over your body like he wants to devour every inch of it.

Your eyes are drawn to his impressive erection as he leans down and wraps his hands around your waist, repositioning you to the center of the bed before crawling on top of you, giving a sigh of pleasure when you wrap your legs around him.

He's careful not to crush you with his big body, but you wouldn't mind if he did. All you can think about is how desperate you are to have him inside you, as if the two orgasms he just gave you only deepened your hunger for him.

Once he's settled on top of you, he leans down and captures your mouth, sliding his tongue inside to tangle with your tongue for several tantalizing seconds before pulling back. "You taste delicious, don't you?" he asks. "Yeah," you whisper, sucking his tongue when he slides it back between your lips, the taste of your arousal mixed with his own unique flavor making your toes curl.

He eventually breaks the kiss as he reaches down to grab his cock, sliding his tip up and down your drenched slit a few times before slowly pushing inside, inch by inch, letting out a groan when your core clamps down on him.

"Fuck, you're tight," he mutters, stopping his forward progress to let you get used to his girth, tension radiating from his big body as he fights the urge to thrust. "I'm okay," you whisper, wrapping your legs tighter around him, digging your heels in and lifting your hips to try and pull him deeper. "Please," you beg when he doesn't budge.

He presses a kiss against your lips, breathing your breath as you let out desperate little pants. "I'm trying to go slow," he soothes. "I don't wanna hurt you."

"I don't care if it hurts," you whine. "I need you inside me."

"Damn, baby," he groans, his eyes locked on yours as he slides a little deeper, spurred on by your breathless whimpers. "Please!" you repeat, digging your fingernails into his shoulders, a moan spilling from your lips when his cock twitches inside you before he buries himself to the hilt.

You give a little yelp as he pushes just past your comfort zone, the sharp throb of pain dissipating as he holds himself still, watching you closely as you squirm underneath him.

"Fuck me," you order, raking your fingernails up the long, muscular expanse of his back as he starts to thrust. "Yes," you moan, gasping at the hot, slick friction created by the thrust and drag of his hard length stretching you open.

The last hint of pain is replaced by pleasure as he hits a steady rhythm, slow at first then faster, a low growl escaping from him as you wrap your legs tighter around his plunging hips, using the leverage to meet his thrusts.

He eventually cups a hand under your right knee and lifts your leg over his shoulder, the new angle allowing his fat tip to hit your g-spot in a way you've never felt before.

"Oh my… fuck," you whine, clasping a hand over your mouth to somewhat muffle your loud pleasure noises until he slows his thrusts and locks eyes with you. "Don't be shy, baby. I wanna hear you," he states, his gaze shamelessly direct but also hella needy. "Please?"

"Okay," you whisper, a little self-conscious until he picks up the pace and hits your g-spot again. The next several minutes feature the hottest sex you've ever had, both of you vocalizing your pleasure as the lush sound of your bodies slapping together echoes loudly in the room.

You meet him thrust for thrust, running your hands over his muscular arms, shoulders and back, wanting to touch every part of him as he relentlessly drives both of you toward the edge.

He eventually slides a hand between your sweat-slick bodies, brushing his thumb against your clit in a way that makes you gasp his name.

"Say it louder for me," he orders, grinding his thumb harder against your sensitive nub as you arch up against him, loudly moaning his name as your climax hits with an intensity that takes your breath away, every nerve ending on fire as the pleasure rolls though you in pulsating waves.

Your entire world is reduced down to the exquisite feel of your core contracting around his thrusting cock as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, your loud moans mingling with his as he follows you over the edge.

A few minutes pass before he pulls out and rolls off of you, landing on his back on the bed beside you, both of you still gasping for breath.

You eventually turn your head to look at him, grinning at how fucked out he looks. "That was… intense," you murmur.

"Understatement of the century," he grins, turning his head to look at you.

"You executed your game plan to perfection."

"Yeah?" his grin turns into a full-on smile. "You liked it?"

You give him a wink as you echo his words back at him. "Understatement of the century."

"I'm so relieved," he sighs. "I was really stressing about it."

"No need to stress. You exceeded expectations in a big way."

"Thanks, you too. It was literally the best sex I've ever had."

"Boy, please," you scoff. "I bet you say that to everybody."

"I do not!" he snaps. He opens his mouth to continue, but you beat him to it.

"Calm down, damn. I was just teasing."

He narrows his eyes at you. "Really?"

No, you think to yourself. You consider lying but decide to go with a partial truth. "I was mostly teasing, but let's drop it, okay? Please?"

He stares at you for a few seconds before responding. "Okay."

"Thanks." You quickly change the subject. "I feel kind of sticky."

"Sorry," he mumbles, poking his bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout.

"You can put that bottom lip away, Mr. Pouty," you giggle. "I wasn't complaining." You reach a hand out to flick his bottom lip. "How often do you weaponize that pouty lip to get your way?"

"Not very often," he grins, sticking his tongue out at you when you roll your eyes.

"Yeah right. Anyway, I feel sticky in a good way, but I need a shower."

"Can I join you?"

"I don't know," you tease. "Hit me with that pouty look again to convince me."

He gives you a world-class pout, and you nod your head. "Yep, that look is lethal. I'm assuming you don't get told no very often."

He shrugs before sliding out of bed, your gaze glued to his nude body as he leans down and presses a kiss on your lips. "Stay here," he orders, giving you another quick kiss before standing up to his full height. "I'm gonna go turn the shower on to heat up. Don't want you to get cold."

"I could get used to this treatment," you grin, immediately mortified that you said it, but somehow managing not to let it show.

He returns your grin before heading to the bathroom. "Be right back," he states, throwing you a look over his shoulder just in time to catch you staring at his bare ass.

When he disappears into the bathroom, you finally let your grin slip. Why the fuck did I say that? you think to yourself, doing a full body cringe against his silky sheets. I made it sound like I want more than a quick fling, and I absolutely don't. I'm sure he doesn't either. You shake your head as you continue to mentally castigate yourself. Think before you speak!

He walks back into the bedroom just as a thought pops into your mind. Mention how good he was, and he'll forget you just said something stupid. "I'm not sure I can walk," you purr. "All those orgasms you gave me got my legs feeling shaky."

"Let me help," he murmurs, a very smug grin on his face as he easily scoops you up before striding toward the bathroom.

~ ~ ~

You wake up abruptly, not sure what pulled you out of a dreamless sleep. You check the clock on the bedside table -- 12:49 a.m. -- before turning your head to look at Joe. He's lying on his back, sleeping peacefully, the covers pushed down far enough to reveal his bare chest and arms.

You slowly roll onto your side to face him, feeling a little voyeuristic as you continue to watch him. The bedroom is bathed in the soft glow of ambient light filtering in through the windows, not from the sliver of moon hanging in the sky, but from the city itself. Adjacent skyscrapers are the main light source, their gentle illumination highlighting the strong lines of his nose and jaw as you admire his profile.

You eventually tear your gaze away from his face and drop it down to his muscular chest, watching the steady rise and fall of his breathing for several seconds before he stirs in his sleep. Shit, you think to yourself, quickly closing your eyes, your heart racing at the thought of him catching you staring like a creeper.

You keep your eyes closed for a solid minute after he goes still before slowly opening them, relieved to see that he's still asleep. He's turned onto his side facing you, the movement causing a perfect curl to fall onto his forehead. Your fingers itch to touch it, to touch him. Instead you just continue to watch him, admiring how the soft light accentuates the curve of his full lips.

He looks peaceful and achingly beautiful. And dangerous as hell, you think to yourself, rolling onto your back and heaving a sigh as you stare at the ceiling and question your life choices.

When you caught Drew cheating, the deep sense of betrayal made you promise yourself that you wouldn't let a man have that type of power over you ever again. You keep reminding yourself that it's important to maintain emotional distance from Joe even while enjoying him physically, but that's easier said than done. He keeps surprising you with little thoughtful gestures that you're not used to, like bringing you coffee and muffins, making sure to buy your fav foods and wine, giving you three mind-blowing orgasms, plus heating the shower up for you before carrying you to the bathroom.

And damn that shower had been amazing. You slide your eyes closed and think back to it…

~

You both barely got lathered up and rinsed off before he caught you looking at him in a way that made him instantly hard. The next several minutes featured the hottest blow job you've ever given.

You got into it in a way that actually surprised you, sitting on the built-in bench with him standing between your spread thighs, warm steam billowing in the air as you wrapped a hand around his hard length, stroking him base to tip several times until you coaxed out a bead of precum.

You made eye contact with him as you slowly lapped up his essence, his taste sending a rush of saliva into your mouth as you swirled your tongue around, savoring every last drop. "So good," he groaned, watching you through heavy eyelids as you continued to tease him, tracing the tip of your tongue up and down his prominent veins several times before finally parting your lips around his plump tip, your gaze locked on his as you gave him a few shallow sucks before taking him deep.

"Fuck," he growled, bracing one hand on the shower wall and wrapping the other around the nape of your neck, his hips rolling forward in shallow strokes, letting you set the pace and depth. His gaze bounced between your eyes, your mouth, and your wet body as he talked you through it with that husky voice, praising you for how good it felt and how hot you looked with his cock in your mouth.

You reveled in the taste and feel of him on your tongue, your gaze shifting between his blue eyes and his beautiful body, the soft downlighting accentuating his glistening wet muscles in a way that made your toes curl. You focused on breathing through your nose as you took him deep enough to make your eyes water but not deep enough to gag, making up the difference with your hands.

You knew you hit the perfect rhythm when his dirty talk segued into heavy breathing, his expression giving primal bliss as you continued to pleasure him.

"I'm close," he eventually muttered, his grunts and groans pushing you to do something you hadn't done before. You gripped his hips with both hands, pulling him deeper into your mouth on his next thrust. Your gag reflex kicked in as he penetrated your throat, drawing a gasp from him as your throat convulsed around him. You pulled back and took a quick breath before resuming shallower thrusts, looking up at him to see his reaction.

He was biting his bottom lip, his normally-pale eyes dark with arousal. As you watched, his eyes slid closed and his mouth fell open, another gasp escaping his lips when you pulled him deep again. You repeated the action over and over, deep-throating him until his hand tightened on the nape of your neck, his loud groan echoing in the shower as he released down your throat.

~

A soft snore from Joe pulls you out of your steamy flashback. You throw him a quick glance to make sure he's still asleep before easing out of bed. You grab the black t-shirt he was wearing earlier and tug it on as you walk to the kitchen.

"Emotional distance," you whisper, grabbing a bottle of water out of the fridge and taking several gulps. "Emotional distance," you repeat like a mantra, pulling the neckline of his shirt up to take a deep sniff, a throb of arousal pulsing inside you as his scent overwhelms you. "Fuck, he smells good," you groan, taking another sniff as your gaze lands on the Magic 8 Ball sitting on the kitchen island.

You stare at it for a minute, sipping your water as you try to formulate a question. You eventually pick it up. "Has he put a spell on me?" you ask, giving it a shake before turning it over. You read the answer just as Joe ambles into the kitchen, giving you a sleepy smile as you quickly set the 8 Ball down. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

"You didn't. I woke up because I had to pee."

You let your gaze roam over him as he comes closer. He's wearing nothing but black boxer briefs, his messy curls framing his gorgeous face in a way that should be illegal.

"Can I have a sip?" he asks, pointing at your water bottle. He takes a sip after you hand it to him, nodding at the shirt you're wearing. "My shirt looks great on you."

"Are you okay with me wearing it?"

"Of course. -- So… what did you ask the 8 Ball?" The look on your face makes him speak back up before you have a chance to answer. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

You stare at him for a few seconds before speaking. "I don't do things like this," you mutter, waving a hand between you and him. "I don't know what's come over me. I feel like I'm under some type of spell." You break eye contact with him and shrug your shoulders. "That was my question. I asked if you put a spell on me."

"What was the answer?"

"Reply hazy, try again."

The silence stretches out for so long that you finally meet his gaze, a little surprised at the intense look on his face. "I was just being silly," you explain. "I don't really think you put a spell on me."

"Is it weird that I've been thinking the same thing?" he asks.

"What do you mean?"

"Like… I've had that exact thought. That I'm under your spell."

"Why do you feel that way?"

He tilts the bottle up and takes a few swallows as he contemplates his answer, the sight of his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat drawing your gaze. He's gotten me off three times, and I'm ready to go again just watching him drink water, you muse. Absolutely ridiculous.

He sets the bottle down and licks his lips before speaking. "I can't stop thinking about you. Like… it's a much more intense feeling than usual. I don't know how to describe it."

"I feel you," you nod, a voice in your head immediately telling you to downplay it. "I mean… the sexual tension between us was insane, but now that we banged it out, those intense feelings will subside. We just had to get it out of our systems."

"My feelings aren't subsiding at all," he argues. "In fact, they're actually…"

"Look," you interrupt. "We both know exactly what we're doing here. No need to romanticize it."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning… the sex was mind-blowing, by far the best I've ever had, but I fly back home Wednesday and that's that." You give him a wink as you continue. "As the saying goes, I'm here for a good time, not a long time."

"But…"

"No buts," you order, grabbing the water bottle and heading for the bedroom, throwing him a look over your shoulder. His obstinate expression has you stopping in your tracks.

"Listen," you state, turning to face him. "We can argue about this right now, or you can come back to bed and do something more worthwhile with your pretty mouth."

"Lead the way," he grins, something in his expression warning you that he's not totally done with the subject.

~ ~ ~

Later that morning - Sunday, Nov. 2nd around 7:30 a.m.

Y'all are finishing up a quick breakfast sitting on his new barstools at the kitchen island. You're still wearing his black t-shirt from yesterday, and he's still in nothing but black boxer briefs.

"What time are y'all getting to the game?" he asks, watching as you dip a plump strawberry in your honey-sweetened yogurt before popping it in your mouth.

You chew and swallow before answering. "We're not tailgating, so we'll probably get there just before noon."

"Where are you sitting?"

"Mia said Cole got us good seats. I think she mentioned the 40 yard line, down super close on the Bengals side."

"Sounds good. I'll look for you during warm-ups."

You eat in silence for a bit before he speaks back up. "Oh, by the way, I asked Ben (Joe's driver) to bring you a mocha latte when he picks you up."

"Thank you! You're so thoughtful," you chirp, surprised by the strong feeling of fondness that rushes through you when a blush rises in his cheeks. Dangerous, you think, pushing down the fond feeling as he shrugs his broad shoulders and mumbles a nonchalant, "You're welcome," his huge grin giving away the fact that he's eating up the praise.

A minute later, his phone chimes with a text message, and he quickly checks it before setting his phone back down. "You're not gonna believe this," he states, sliding off his barstool as he runs a hand through his hair.

"What?" you ask, popping the last strawberry in your mouth before giving him your full attention.

"Don't panic, but… that was my mom. Dad's trying to find a parking space, and then they're headed up."

Your mouth drops open in surprise. "Here? They're headed up here?!"

"Yeah."

"I thought they didn't know about this place?" you hiss.

"They don't… didn't. Hell, I don't know how they found out."

"Holy shit!" you chirp, launching yourself off your barstool, hitting the ground running as you head for the bedroom. "Help me gather up my stuff!" you demand, rushing around grabbing your dress and heels before sprinting into the bathroom.

You toss makeup and toiletries into your small travel bag, swiveling your head side to side looking for your larger tote. "Where's my tote bag?" you holler, a look of relief on your face when Joe walks into the bathroom and hands it to you. "Thanks," you mutter. "I'm gonna hide in the closet."

"Hey… look at me real quick," he orders.

"I don't have time!"

"Look at me!"

His bossy tone has you itching to swing your bag at his head. "Say please!" you snap.

"Look at me, please."

You're just about to start cramming stuff in your tote bag, but you pause to throw him a look over your shoulder.

"Remember when I said I'd get you back for the Flacco jersey joke?" he asks, gracing you with a smug grin.

You drop your bag and turn to face him, placing your hands on your hips while shaking your head. "You sly little shit," you mutter, the obvious admiration in your voice causing his grin to go from smug to downright cocky.

"I actually prefer the term shiesty instead of sly," he teases, giving you a wink.

"You shiesty little shit," you playfully sneer. "Was that better?"

"Much better," he nods. "I almost didn't pull this stunt because I was afraid you'd get mad at me."

"Boy, please," you scoff. "I'm not one of those hypocritical losers who can dish it out but can't take it."

"That's good to know. -- Speaking of taking it," he purrs, his eyes full of carnal promise as he closes the distance between you. "You take it really, really well," he continues, wrapping his hands around your waist before sliding them down to cup your ass, his lips nuzzling against your ear as he leans down. "You wanna take it again right now?" he asks, groaning low in his throat when you palm his burgeoning erection.

"Does this answer your question?" you ask, slipping your fingers inside the waistband of his undies to tease his sensitive tip. You let out a squeal of surprise when he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder before heading for the bedroom.

"You're such a caveman," you giggle, squealing again when he utters a couple of loud grunts while giving you a solid smack on your ass. "Put me down!" you chirp, a stream of giggles escaping your lips when you land on your back in the middle of his enormous bed.

Twenty seconds later, he's got you both stripped naked and you're no longer laughing. The sex is deliciously dirty and almost unbearably intense.

"Fuck," he eventually groans as he looks up at you, hissing with pleasure as you hit one last Kegel as you continue to ride him through his orgasm, his thumb grinding circles against your clit in a way that has you moaning his name as you follow him over the edge. You collapse against his chest, your combined heavy breathing loud in the room for a minute before you dismount and lie on your back beside him.

Another minute passes before he finally speaks up. "Can I see you again before you leave Wednesday? Hopefully several times?"

"Maybe," you mutter. "We can figure that out later."

He pushes up on an elbow and looks down at you. "Do I need to hit you with the pouty look?"

"Don't you dare," you giggle. "At least give me a fighting chance to turn you down."

"Do you wanna turn me down?"

Your giggles quickly taper off, and you heave a sigh before answering. "No… but I probably should."

"Why?"

"You know why."

He opens his mouth to speak, but you slide out of bed and head for the bathroom. "I better clean up and get dressed," you state, stopping to grab your panties off the floor. "Ben will be here soon."

You ease the bathroom door shut before pressing your forehead against the cool surface. You take a deep breath and let it out slowly, your eyes flying open with surprise when a soft knock sounds on the door.

You open it and give Joe an inquisitive look as he hands you his black tee that you'd been wearing earlier. "Why don't you take this," he offers, his earnest expression causing a flutter in your stomach. "It looks better on you than it does on me."

"Thanks," you whisper, swallowing hard around the lump of emotion in your throat, more than a little annoyed that you can feel the prickling of unshed tears waiting to fall. You give your eyelids a couple of quick blinks and grace him with a dazzling smile, breathing a sigh of relief when you manage to get the door closed before a tear rolls down your cheek.

About ten minutes later, you exit the bathroom dressed in black leggings, Joe's black t-shirt, and a pair of black and white Nike Dunks. You sling your fully-packed tote bag over your shoulder as you head toward the bedroom door, stopping in your tracks when you see Joe looming in the doorway.

"Hey," you murmur, letting your gaze roam over him. He's shirtless with a pair of black sweatpants riding low enough on his hips to give you a tantalizing peek of treasure trail. "So," you continue, finally dragging your gaze up to meet his eyes. "I guess this is officially a love shack now."

"Guess so," he mutters, his expression unreadable as he walks toward you. You take a few steps back as he approaches, and he narrows his eyes at you. "Why are you retreating from me?" he asks, reaching out to take your bag while you try to think of an answer.

Because I could easily fall for you, you think to yourself. Consequences be damned. And that's fucking terrifying.

His raises an eyebrow, and you realize he's still waiting for an answer.

"I… don't really know," you lie, breathing a sigh of relief when his phone chimes in his pocket.

He stares at you for a few more heartbeats before checking the text. "Ben's here," he states, following you as you step around him and make your way to the entry.

He sets your bag on the entry table and opens the coat closet, grabbing your leather jacket and helping you put it on before reaching back inside the closet for a gift bag. "Open this in the car," he orders as he hands it to you.

"Is this another joke?" you ask. "Like a rubber snake or something?"

"Nope." He laughs at the skeptical look on your face as he hands you your tote bag. "I already got you back for the Flacco joke, so we're even."

You join him in laughter for a bit before you both quiet down. He takes a step closer and stares at you with an intensity that makes your pulse react, his gaze roaming all over your face like he's trying to memorize it.

"I better get going," you murmur, trying to think of something else to say before you leave. He beats you to it.

"I take it back," he states.

"Take what back?"

He runs a hand through his messy curls before answering. "I said we're even, but we're not. I feel like you'll always be a few steps ahead of me. Why am I okay with that?"

You rise up on your tiptoes and press a kiss on his lips before answering. "Because you love the chase."

His eyebrows shoot toward his hairline as you open the door and make a quick exit. You're halfway to the elevator before you look back, a little thrill shooting through you when you see him watching you.

y/n💖: miss you :( 12:42 a.m.

He can’t help but smile.

You’d gone out with a group of friends, no particular occasion to be celebrated but for the sake of being young and finally having a night where everyone is free without work or meetings or some other responsibility breathing down your neck the next day. 

Anyone else and they might assume that something happened, that you were having a bad night. But he knows you. Knows that, once you get a couple drinks in your system, you can’t help but get a bit sappy. Can’t help but let everyone know just how much you love and cherish them.

Naturally, Mat was no exception to this. 

It doesn’t take anything else for him to straighten up, phone still in his hand as he lets the guys abruptly know he’s gotta go pick you up. They don’t have to know the circumstances to understand, already knowing just how head-over-heels the guy is for you despite still being fairly fresh into this relationship, the now all too familiar grin on his face telling them everything they need to know.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

It’s a short drive to the area where you knew you’d been barhopping, and it doesn’t take much effort on his part to find you, your group having since migrated outside seemingly to wait for rides. He can see the sway in your posture from a mile away, knows that you maybe might’ve gotten just a little too ahead of yourself tonight.

He puts the car in park and pops his hazards on, hopping out of the driver's side and making his way over with a playful ‘sup ladies (which admittedly and understandably earns him a nasty glare from your group before they recognize him and smile).

The girls tease you lightheartedly when you break out into a grin, dramatically awwing when you wrap your arms snug around his torso.

“Hey pretty lady,” he greets, returning your embrace with a firm wrap of his arms around your shoulders, securing you in place. You respond with a muffled hi, granting you a giggle from the taller man.

He makes small talk with your friends that gives you no choice but to smile, unable to ignore the feeling that comes from seeing the most important people in your life overlap. The warmth in your chest grows as they debrief him on your shenanigans from the night, him filling the gaps with questions and reactions when appropriate.

You try not to melt when he makes sure they’ve all got a way home tonight before he wrangles you up himself - yes it’s the bare minimum, but you just can’t help it.

And yeah, maybe you stumble ever so slightly when you pull away from his chest. Not enough that it’s problematic or particularly concerning, but enough to pull a couple of laughs from your friends.

“I’m thinking maybe you might’ve had one drink too many,” he says amusingly with a smile on his face, hands gripping your shoulders to keep you steady.

“Did not,” you squint at him in jest as you defend yourself halfheartedly before promptly stumbling off of the curb you didn’t know was there, saved only by the heavy arm still wrapped around you.

“Okay, maybe,” you correct with a giggle as he walks you carefully to the car, him settling you into the passenger seat and buckling you in as you wave to your friends one last time over his shoulder.

On the drive home he opts for no music, knowing you’d prefer soft chit chat after hours of loud voices and louder music.

“Feet hurt so bad,” you mumble out from the passenger seat, head pressed against the cold of the window. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, glancing over to you briefly with his bottom lip jutting out in a pout, not mockingly but empathetically.

“‘s okay.”

He can’t help but glance over again with an involuntary smile at your soft tone before checking in, “you had fun though?”

“S’ much,” and your head lulls over to him lightly, “missed you.”

And that makes him chuckle, “I know you did, baby.” 

He reaches an arm over to squeeze your knee lovingly, a silent way to say I missed you too, letting his hand rest gently on your thigh for the remainder of the drive - not suggestive, but grounding.

He knows the regret is starting to catch up to you from the silence that consumes the car, you being too locked in on the nausea creeping up on you to contribute to any further conversation, so he just keeps his hand steady on you and glances over when he can.

Once he pulls up to your place, it’s go time. He walks around to the passenger side and helps you back out of the car, wordlessly walks you through the entryway, through your living space, and right to the bathroom where you proceed to empty your stomach of every mistake you made at the bars. 

And, like clockwork, somewhere between heaves you start crying.

It’s not so much to do with being sad, you just hate the feeling of being sick and, well, you definitely are maybe a little too drunk.

All it takes is Mat noticing the wet streaks on your cheeks and a whispered you’re okay for it to become a sob fest, you choking out I'm sorrys out of sheer embarrassment.

“Hey, none of that,” he says softly, cradling your face and gently brushing your tears away with the pads of his thumbs.

He reaches beside you to grab a wad of toilet paper, wiping spit off of your chin before folding it, bringing it to your nose with a gentle instruction of blow. 

“I feel like such a baby,” you mumble, still trying to compose yourself.

“Maybe, but you're my baby.”

And that. That gets you to laugh, and he can’t help but smile.

“You’re disgusting,” you giggle with a weak smack to his chest.

He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear with endearment in his eyes, “you love it.”

And you let out a wet yeah as the waterworks fight their way through again, and he cackles.

“No, crying is over,” he laughs out, “let’s get you to bed, missy.”

He flushes the toilet and lifts you back to your feet, makes you eat a quick snack of a few crackers to help settle your stomach, brushes your teeth and has you swish around a little mouth wash, then lays a fat smooch on your lips because yeah, he knows you need it.

Helps you climb into your bed before doing the same on the other side, lets you curl into his torso whichever way feels right to you.

Runs his fingers through your hair carefully so you can be certain he’s there, but otherwise remains as still as humanly possible because he just knows the room has got to be spinning for you, and then you’re both out like a light.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

When morning comes you wake alone, but you can tell by the smell coming from your kitchen that he hasn’t gone far.

You take your time getting out of bed, head throbbing, and when you finally resurface from your room your knees just about go weak.

Without any questions, planning, or encouragement, he’s made you breakfast, complete with a fresh bagel you already know is from your shop of preference which you know he had to go out earlier to get, some chopped up fruit, two ibuprofen, and a fresh pot of coffee with a pint of creamer.

You don’t have to speak for him to know you’re there, the soft patter of your feet down the hall having alerted him of your presence, and he’s already looking at you with a smile when your gaze flicks to him.

You can feel the slight prick of tears behind your eyes when you jut your bottom lip out in a pout, looking at him with a soft spoken Mat, and he’s laughing at you again.

“No, we’re done with that,” he jokes, pulling you into a tight embrace.

“You’re too good to me,” you say, arms around his waist and soaking in his warm hold. 

“Well, it’s my job,” he laughs, pressing his lips to the top of your head with a firm kiss, “love you, baby.”

And you’ve both said it before but it still feels new, and your heart feels so warm, and you both already know that this is something good.

And it feels as natural as breathing when you lean into him, no second thoughts when you hold him tighter and say I love you, too.

Because yeah, how could you not?

﹌﹌﹌

Spencer didn’t like the times you whisked him away to visit your family. You didn’t like it either, and he had never been a fan of any of them. He only put up with them because they are the reason he met you and fell head over heels, and that was it. 

Quite frankly, Spencer despised your parents and your two older sisters. He’d always been a family man, but definitely not with yours. His in-laws were people he didn’t consider part of his family. Only you are. 

Your family isn’t nice at all, and he really didn’t like the way they treated and talked to you. It pissed him off a lot, actually, but he’d learned how to bite his tongue, simply because you’d asked him to, and he’d do anything for you. 

Every few months, Spencer would take you back to your parent’s house, where you and he would stay for a few days, catch up with everyone, then leave again. Every single time, you left with a seemingly permanent frown on your face, because your sisters had degraded you, or your parents had belittled you. 

Every single time, Spencer hated it. 

You and he had only been here for one day and one night, and Spencer was ready to pick you up and carry you home just to shield you from their harsh and false words. He didn’t understand how you could just sit there and take it, but then he realized that, before him, this was all you knew. Your family was all you had, and you didn’t know the right way to be treated until he came into your life and showed you. 

Spencer was sitting at the dining room table, your mother at one end and your father at the other, and across the table were your two sisters, Haleigh and Maya, who were looking as malicious as ever. Next to him was you, his sweet wife who deserved to be spending your evening anywhere other than here. 

He was moving around the vegetables on his plate when your sister spoke up, her gaze casted onto you. “Y/n, you’re looking a little plump lately,” Haleigh said as she picked up her glass of wine, and her eyes were full of fake concern. “Are you doing well?”

Spencer looked over at you and watched as your face fell a bit, and he felt that familiar feeling of protectiveness beginning to creep up his back, because you were fucking perfect, and she had no right to comment on your weight. 

Your family had watched everything you ate before you met Spencer, and you were quite underweight when he married you. You were constantly shamed and picked on, and you had let their words get to you until they almost killed you. Only recently had you reached a healthy weight, and he didn’t want to see you spiral again. 

Spencer moved his chair a little closer to yours, letting you know that he wouldn’t hesitate to jump in and say a few comments of his own. 

Your face heated up in embarrassment as you gave your sister a fake smile, one Spencer saw right through. “I’m fine, Hale,” you answered, subconsciously brushing your leg against Spencer’s under the table. You looked down at your plate, noting you’d barely taken three bites before you’d lost your appetite, and you knew it was because of Haleigh. “Spencer’s been doing a great job keeping me fed and taken care of.” you added, brushing your pinky finger along his knuckles. 

Spencer glanced down at your hand, his lips curling upwards instinctively, despite his mood quickly going south. “That’s right, darlin’,” he mumbled, leaning in so his mouth was close to your ear. “You look perfect.”

His words make your face heat up even more, but before you could say anything, your father cleared his throat pretty loudly, breaking the quiet, intimate moment that was happening between the two of you. “So, Y/n,” he said, making Spencer straighten up and drop his expression back to neutral. “When are you and Spencer gonna give us some grandchildren?”

You bite down on your lip as you quickly look away from your father. “Um, well, we’ve been talking a lot about that,” you say, leaving out the part where you and Spencer had been actively making love with the full intent of you getting pregnant pretty frequently. You reached for your wine glass and sipped on the cool liquid as you met Spencer’s eyes. “We’re both ready for that, if and when the time comes. But we’re not in any rush.” 

Spencer raised a brow as he looked over at you, sensing your hesitation about sharing more than that. He knew that if you told them you were trying, they’d make this visit all about it, because you both knew that they’d want to be around the baby at all times, trying to pretend he or she is their own. That wouldn’t be happening on his watch. 

He took your hand in his properly as he locked eyes with your father. “Once we do decide to start a family, I hope you’ll be respectful about our choices and not involve yourselves,” he stated, making sure your parents knew that when he and you had a baby, it would be just that, yours and his. They had their chance three times now, and both your sisters had inherited your parents’ bitterness. 

The table fell silent, your mother and father, as well as Maya and Haleigh, sharing offended looks, as if a husband demanding respect from his wife’s family was unheard of. 

But you were smiling up at him, clearly finding the protective tone in his voice endearing rather than offensive. 

You went back to picking at your food as you laced your fingers with his, but he could tell your appetite was lost after your sister’s rude and untruthful comment, and it just made his jaw tick.

“So, Spencer,” Maya was the first one to find her voice as she looked over at him and fluttered her lashes in an overly seductive way, as if she were talking to a man at a bar and not her younger sister’s husband. “I know you gave up hunting, and I was just wondering if you missed it at all? Or has my dear baby sister ruined that part of your life for you?”

Her blunt question surprised even you, and you glared over at her, yet you weren’t surprised she was talking about you as if you weren’t sitting across from her. 

Spencer, however, took the question harder than you did. He clenched his jaw and tightened his grip on your hand, needing to take a deep breath in order to refrain from going off on his in-law. “I gave up hunting for a reason, Maya. It’s in my past now, it doesn’t define me. What I have with Y/n, that’s my present and it’s my future,” he said, his voice surprisingly calm despite his anger brewing in his bones. “And let me make one thing clear, your sister hasn’t ruined anything. She’s given me something far more valuable. A reason to come home every night, and to build a life worth living.”

His words send a shiver down your spine while simultaneously shutting Maya up, and she sat back in her chair while her fork hit her plate rather loudly. She was clearly feeling embarrassed and she wore a petty look on her face. “Wow,” she mumbled, looking over at you with jealousy in her eyes. “Hard to believe my…little sister could mean that much to someone.”

Her bitter words barely registered in your mind as you looked up at Spencer. He’d always made sure you knew that you’d always have a protector in him as long as he lives.  

Spencer’s thumb traced circles onto the back of your hand as he met Maya’s icy gaze, her eyes daring him to say something else, to defend you some more as if she could keep this going all night, but he wasn’t having it. He’d actually heard quite enough degradation of you to last a lifetime, and he wasn’t about to sit and bite his tongue when she was clearly more than fine with continuing on as if you weren’t present at the table. 

“You know, Maya, there’s so much bitterness buried deep within you, I think you might want to take some time and try to figure out why your little sister is farther in life than you are,” he finally said, his gaze unwavering, and his voice deadly calm. He looked over at your mother, then at your father, “And as for the rest of you, if you can’t show some respect towards your daughter, towards my wife, then maybe it’s best to keep your comments to yourselves, ‘cause I’m sick of hearin’ ‘em.”

Maya was once again reduced to an offended silence, while the rest of your family looked at him like he had two heads. Meanwhile, you were looking up at him with such adoration, such love and happiness in your eyes, he regretted not saying something sooner. 

But he was done holding back now. If they couldn’t try and be decent to you, then he was done trying to be decent with them. 

He stood up from the table, the napkin he’d been told to place on his lap falling to the floor as he pulled you up with him, “Come on, darlin’,” he mumbled, “Take a walk with me.”

You willingly followed after him, leaving your parents and sisters at the table with their jaws hanging open. Spencer led you out of the dining room and out onto the front porch, where the cool air fanned across both yours and his heated skin. 

Once the door shut behind him, you turned to Spencer with wide eyes, but they weren’t holding any surprise, because you weren’t at all shocked he stuck up for you and set down some ground rules after all that. He held off on doing it for as long as he could, but it was inevitable. “Spencer,” you whispered, letting go of his hand and reaching up instead, your fingers weaving their way into his hair. “I can’t believe you just did that. Do you know how mad they’re gonna be?” 

Spencer shrugged all too casually as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you right up against his chest. “Let ‘em be mad. I’m not gonna sit there and listen to them if they can’t respect you,” he tilted his head down, his frame towering over yours in a protective shield. “I’m never gonna let anyone hurt you, including them. They’re lucky they’re still in your life after all the shit they’ve said to you.”

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead, then rested his own against it, feeling the way your body trembled in his arms. 

And then he kissed your lips, claiming you as his right there on your family’s front porch.

After you and he’d retired to your old bedroom for the night, you went into the bathroom to get ready for bed. You came out wearing a thin pink nightgown, and you avoided Spencer’s eyes as you walked over to the mirror in the corner and looked at yourself. 

He was sitting in bed, the sheets draped over his legs as he sat back against the headboard. He watched as you carefully studied your stomach and sides, turning to the left and the right as you inspected your reflection. He’d seen you do this countless times in the past, but not recently. Fuck, he couldn’t stand your family. 

“Darlin’,” he called out to you, and his brows furrowed when you turned to him with a frown on your lips. 

Before he could ask you what was wrong, you opened your mouth and asked him a question of your own. “Do you think I’m fat?” His eyes widened a bit as he sat up straighter, his arms coming up to cross over his chest. “Or that I’ve gained too much weight?” 

Spencer’s eyes flickered all over your body, the same body that drives him crazy. He’d never met a more sexy, more sweet and stunning woman, and he loves every single inch of you. He thought he’d finally been able to get that seared into your brain, but of course, your family had managed to fill your pretty head with doubts and insecurities he’d tried so hard to help you get rid of. “Come here, baby,”

When you stepped towards him and played with the hem of your nightgown, Spencer made sure you could see the way his eyes roamed over your body with an undeniable fondness. 

He reached out and grasped your hips, pulling you closer as he shifted on the bed so you were standing between his thighs. “Listen to me. You are fuckin’ perfect exactly how you are. Everything your sisters said today, get it out of your head, okay? They’re bitter because they’ll never be anything like you,” he wasn’t one for comforting, but he’d comfort you a thousand times over again, and he’d never complain about it. His hands slid up your sides, coming to rest just below the curves of your breasts as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your temple. “You drive me wild.”

You bit your lip and Spencer got to watch the goosebumps form on your arms from his words, or maybe they were from the way he ran his thumbs along the sides of your breasts, or the way his lips brushed along your ear.  “So, you don’t think I need to lose weight?” you asked, bracing your hands on his bare shoulders as you lifted one of your knees onto the bed next to his hip. “And I don’t look plump?” 

Spencer’s big hands slid down to your ass, and he pulled you closer to him as he leaned in and nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. “I think you’re perfect,” he said, guiding your other leg up onto the bed as he placed open mouthed kisses along your skin. Then he turned and leaned back against the headboard again, bringing you with him so you were straddling his hips. “Look at you…prettiest woman I’ve ever seen.”

You were blushing profusely now as you looked down at him, the position altering yours and his height difference for the time being. “Really?”

“Mmhmm, and let me tell you somethin’, no man in his right mind would want to change a single inch of you. Especially not me,” he murmured, his voice full of promise as his hands moved to your waist and his hips subtly bucked up against yours. “You’re my dream come true, darlin’. Don’t you know that by now?” 

You looked like you were in a daze as you nodded slowly, and Spencer pulled you down for a deep kiss that left both of you feeling a little light headed. You opened your eyes when his fingers pushed down the straps of your nightgown, and you only had one final question for him, “And…you don’t regret giving up hunting for me?” 

Spencer never thought about it like that. He saw it as a way for him to be in an early grave if something were to go wrong, or possibly spend the next five or so decades with the best person he’s ever met. 

“Regret it? Baby, givin’ up hunting was the easiest decision I’ve ever made. It wasn’t even a choice when it came to you,” he mumbled, wrapping his arms around your waist as he leaned his head down and buried his face between your breasts. “Being with you is exactly where I’m supposed to be. I’d give up everything a thousand times over for you.”

His hands found the bottom of your nightgown, and he slowly bunched the fabric up your body until it was pooled around your waist. You reached in between your bodies and pushed down his boxers, freeing his already hard cock. It really never took much for him to get hard for you, and that just made you feel every bit of perfect as he told you. 

As Spencer kissed along your breasts, you lifted yourself up and slowly sunk down onto him, your eyes closing as you dropped your head onto his shoulder. “Fuck, darlin’,” he groaned under his breath, his hands gripping your hips as he helped guide your movements. He had to grit his teeth together to stop himself from being too loud since he knew the walls of your parents house were very thin, and it was why you couldn’t get away with anything when you were a kid. 

The bed was old and creaked with every roll of your hips, but it wasn’t loud enough to be heard. At least you hoped it wasn’t. Spencer didn’t really care either way. 

One of his hands slid up your back, tangling in your hair before he pulled you down for a heated kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to brush against yours. 

You moaned against his lips as you rode him, the muffled sounds you were making mixing well with the soft creaking of the frame. Your gown had slipped down your body, your chest now completely bare and brushing against Spencer’s with every roll of your hips, and you shivered as his chest hair pricked at your sensitive nipples. 

“Oh, God,” you moaned against his mouth as you moved on top of him, your hands caressing his face. “I love you.”

Spencer groaned at your words. “I love you too, darlin’. More than anything in this world,” he rasped, then he kissed you again as he flipped the positions, pinning you beneath him on the mattress. His hips never faltered in their pace, his cock driving into you with deep thrusts that had you squirming under him. 

One hand was braced beside your head, the other sliding down to grip your thigh and guide it higher around his hip, giving him better access to you. He swallowed every pretty sound you made for him, kissing you like this was his last night with you. 

“You feel so good, baby,” he murmured in between kisses. He couldn’t seem to keep his mouth away from yours, which was good, because it allowed you both to muffle the sounds. Sex had never been quiet with the two of you, and the fact that you were guests in your parents’ house didn’t seem to phase either of you. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist, your mouths connecting in messy kisses that left your lips wet and connected with each other’s saliva. Your fingers were in his hair, and his chest was pressed against yours, your breasts swaying softly with every thrust, and it was all too much but also not enough. 

Spencer could feel your body tensing beneath him, could feel the way your inner walls were beginning to flutter and tighten around him, and he knew you were close, so he picked up the pace a bit more and slid one hand in between your bodies until his fingers found your clit. “Cum for me,” he whispered against your lips, his voice a little strained as he held himself back. “I’m right there with you, baby, I’ve got you.” 

His words really did it for you. Or maybe it was the way he worshipped you like you were the most precious thing he’d ever seen.

You whimpered and buried your face against his neck, then let out a soft cry of pleasure as your eyes squeezed shut. You kept your legs around his waist as you came, and a sharp gasp left your lips as your nails gently dug into the skin of his shoulders. 

“That’s it,” Spencer cooed, feeling your warmth flood around him. He thrust into you a few more times before he was there too, and he buried himself deep inside you as he filled you up. 

He wrapped his arms around you and buried his face in your hair, his hips rolling lazily against yours before he finally stilled, his big body covering yours entirely. He peppered your face and neck with kisses as he rolled to the side, pulling you with him so you were cuddled against his chest. 

“You’re perfect,” he mumbled, one big hand stroking up and down your back as he caught his breath. 

You smiled, tracing lazy shapes onto his toned, tanned chest as you tried to regain control of your breathing. “I love how much you want to protect me,” you whispered as you and he bathed in the afterglow, your bodies sweaty and shiny. “No one has ever stood up to my family before. You make me feel special, Spencer. Every day.”

Spencer tangled his other hand in your hair and tilted your head back so you were looking him in the eyes. “Baby, you are special. You’re everything I’ve ever dreamed of. Even more, and your family doesn’t see what I do,” he promised, leaning in and pressing a kiss to your lips. “You’re beautiful, kind, sexy as hell, and I’ll always protect you. I can promise you that. It’s just you and me.”

You smiled up at him and leaned in to press another deep kiss to his lips before you tnageld your legs with his and reached for his hand. You spun his wedding ring around his finger a few times as you fell into a comfortable silence. “You and me,” you mumbled, pressing a kiss to his ring before looking up at him again. “I don’t want to stay here for another few days. I can’t do another dinner like that. I miss our home and our bed. This place never felt like home to me.”

Spencer ran his fingers along your lower back. “Then let’s go home tomorrow,” he said simply, not one ounce of hesitation in his reply. “I don’t need to be anywhere but with you. I know stayin’ here upsets you, so we’ll leave. You don’t belong here anymore, darlin’. We’ll leave first thing in the morning and go home.”

His words made a big, grateful smile take over your lips. He was only here for you, and that was it. “Yeah?” you murmured, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. 

“Yeah, baby,” he confirmed, resting his forehead against yours. “First thing tomorrow, we’re leavin’. And then, when we’re home, I’ll make love to you in our bed, cook you breakfast in our kitchen, and then we’ll sit out on our porch after dinner and I’ll let you talk my ear off until you fall asleep.” 

Your smile only grew and you nodded quickly before leaning in and kissing him again, a kiss of which he returned just as fiercely as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you flush against his chest. “Sounds perfect,” you mumbled against his lips before you were once again rolled onto your back. 

-

The next morning, as breakfast was being prepared, you and Spencer quietly packed up your things and got dressed, attempting to be subtle about your sudden departure. 

When you got downstairs, though, your mother saw you trying to sneak out the front door, and she called your name. Her tone was firm and held a hint of anger, and you froze, your hand locked tightly with Spencer’s.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” she asked, getting the attention of your two sisters and father. She crossed her arms and looked between the two of you, then her eyes landed on the bags you were carrying, and she let out a harsh laugh. “You’re sneaking out? After everything we’ve provided for you? Did we really raise such an ungrateful brat?”

The rapid questions had you tensing up, and your body instinctively moved closer to Spencer’s. He instantly stepped in front of you, shielding you from the mean glares of your family. “Enough,” he all but growled, beyond fed up with the four people who were currently trying to ruin yet another day of yours. 

But he wasn’t having it. 

“I’m not gonna let you talk to my wife like that, not now, and not ever again, do you hear me?” he asked, but it didn’t sound like a question at all. And he didn’t intend for it to be one. “We’re leaving, because your lack of respect towards your daughter is pissing me off. She’s the most incredible woman I’ve ever met, but you’ve never cared about her enough to see that. But not anymore. She’s with me now, and I won’t have you trying to tear her down.”

His words were stern, a hint of warning behind them as he stared at your family, but when he turned to you, his eyes were filled with pure love and adoration. 

“Come on, darlin’, let’s go,” he said, guiding you back towards the door. Your mother’s mouth was wide open, and your father’s jaw was locked tight. Maya and Haleigh were fuming as they looked at you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care anymore. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry things had to come to this, but she comes first. Always. I hope one day you’ll all see what an amazing person you let walk out of your lives.”

With that, he led you out the door and down the steps of the porch, and once your feet hit the gravel, he had you in his arms. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, one big hand cradling the back of your head. 

You clung onto him and nodded quickly, holding him like he was your lifeline. “I’m more than okay,” you said back, burying your face against his neck as you finally let yourself be free from the expectations and cruel words of your family.