There was nothing more sweet in this world than scoring a touchdown in a football game. Feeling the leather of the ball touch my hands as I made the catch, then avoiding two tackles before crossing into the end zone. Hearing the roar of the crowd rain down on me like a million individual performance reviews, all of them telling me I was amazing. The release was almost sexual.
But what made it even better was jogging back to my bench and seeing Cazzie’s beautiful face in the front row. Knowing I had a woman like her watching my back—and watching myfront, wink wink—made everything even sweeter. I hadn’t realized how much I needed someone like her in my life.
In a weird, twisted way, I didn’t want my attacker to be caught. Because that meant my client-and-bodyguard relationship with Cazzie would end. I had no idea what would happen after that, but I was confident we would figure it out. I even had some ideas about how to make that happen.
If we’re meant to be together, then we’ll be together, I thought. I believed it with all of my heart.
I caught another touchdown on the next drive, and then two more passes on the drive after that before we kicked a field goal. By the end of the third quarter, we were up twenty-four points. Coach finally benched Dallas and several other key starters, but left me in the game. I even caught a touchdown pass from Dallas’s backup.
After that, we ran the ball in order to run the clock down. Before I knew it, the game was over. We had won.
“Seventeen wins, baby!” Brody screamed on the sideline. “Undefeated season, y’all!”
The cheers from the crowd were subdued, almost relieved. Like this had been the expectation all year, and we hadn’t screwed it up. Or maybe it was trepidation that we had the playoffs to run through in order to make it atrueundefeated season.
Carts of champagne were rolled into the locker room, and soon we were spraying each other with bubbly. I was tipsy and sticky by the time I was dragged into the media room for interviews. I don’t even remember what I was asked, or how I responded. I felt high, even more high than when I took a knee during the College National Championship to clinch the win.
We went out to a bar with the rest of the team to celebrate. Cazzie seemed distracted, probably because she was worried about keeping me safe with all the people around us. Eventually, I coaxed her out onto the dance floor, and she relaxed and let loose with me. And when Brody shoved a bottle of whiskey in her face, she took a long swig, drawing cheers from all my teammates.
We had sloppy drunk sex when we got home. Then we passed out in each other’s arms.
I loved waking up next to her. Even if she did affect the quality of sleep I got—which she didn’t—I wouldn’t have wanted her to go back to her own room. I wanted to hold her tightly. I wanted to be wherever she was.
She didn’t set an alarm, but she began stirring at five-thirty. She was beautiful in the semi-darkness, with the light from the street lamp outside my window giving just enough light for me to admire the splay of hair over her face. She brushed it away and turned toward me.
“Hmm. Morning.”
“Good morning, beautiful,” I replied.
She kissed me, then frowned. “Did we… do what I think we did last night?”
“A little bit, yeah.”
“I’ve never done that before.”
“Me neither. Did you like it?”
She closed her eyes and smiled. “I really,reallydid. I don’t want to do that every time, but it was definitely good.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I kissed her forehead. “Why don’t you sleep in a little longer and I’ll make us some breakfast?”
“Eggs!” she blurted out. “Four eggs. Runny. And toast.”
“I think I’m out of bread, but I have bagels. That’s basically the same thing.”
“It is most certainlynotthe same thing, but I will settle if I have to.”
I gave her another kiss, a longer one thatalmostmade me want to delay breakfast for a while. Then I used the bathroom and went into the kitchen to make some coffee. I was stirring eggs in a pan when she emerged from the bedroom wearing one of my T-shirts and nothing else. It was big enough that it almost looked like a dress, but it left her long legs bare.
“Do me a favor and grab two plates?” I said, pointing with my spatula.
She reached up into the cabinet. The shirt rose up a few inches.
“Oh, and grab a glass. I’m having orange juice.”
She reached higher, causing the shirt to reveal the smooth orbs of her ass. Then she did a double-take and realized what was happening.
“Wow, that’s really inappropriate of you,” she said, pulling the shirt back down. “Taking advantage of your bodyguard like that.”