The bed creaks as he half turns and his eyes find mine. His expression is sad, troubled. “I hate how I found you in pain. The idea that you have to face this shit alone just…” He bites his lower lip and shakes his head. “Fucking sucks, Fi.”
A small smile tugs at the corners of my mouth as I crawl toward him. His skin is hot and smooth, and I press my breasts against his back, wrapping my arms around his waist to soak up all that wonderful heat.
Dex immediately puts his hand over mine, his touch almost needy.
“I know,” I say, my lips gliding over his skin. “I don’t want you to go either.”
He shivers, as if his entire body is protesting the thought, and his grip on my hand tightens. But he doesn’t say anything, simply holds on.
Sadness sinks into my bones, weighing me down. “This…” I clear my throat. “This is why I tried to stay away.”
Dex stills, his body going rigid. I hear him swallow, feel the ripple of his muscles. “You want to call it quits?”
I can’t breathe. My ribs actually hurt, as if they’ve clamped down over my heart. “Is that what you want?” I ask in a small voice.
I forget how quick Dex can be. I barely see him turn before I’m lifted up and hauled onto his lap. Thick arms band around me, crushing me against a solid, wide chest. A soft whisper of chest hairs tickles my nose.
“No,” he nearly shouts, then calms. “No, Cherry.” Gently he kisses the top of my head. “This is why I didn’t want to say anything. I’m just feeling selfish and petulant.”
I smile against his chest and snuggle in closer. “I’m feeling a little that way myself. It’s okay, baby.”
Dex grunts, but his hold turns softer, petting me now instead of clutching. His big, calloused hand runs down my back. “From the first moment I picked up a football, I’ve been dreaming about playing in the NFL. God, I wanted it so badly. The promise that one day I’d go pro kept me going through every dark hour.” His hand slows, climbing back up to my nape to rest. “Now that I’m here…” He shakes his head. “It’s a lonely life, Fi. They never tell you that.”
“What?” I quip, my voice thick. “It isn’t all fast cars and willing women?”
Women I will punt if I catch them touching my man.
I can almost feel him smile and wonder if he knows the direction of my thoughts.
“If you want only one woman, the rest is just noise.”
He gets a kiss on his big pec for that, and his little nipple draws tight in response. I’m tempted to play with it, torture him a bit. But his words give me pause.
“I just…I thought I’d be happier at this point,” he says. “Content, maybe.”
Lifting my head, I meet his troubled gaze. It would be so easy to encourage him to quit. I can feel it in my skin. Part of him wants that prompt, for me to give him a reason.
The power I have over him hurts my heart. It might unnerve me except that I suspect he has a similar power over me.
I could do it, tell him to quit, to try something that doesn’t put him at risk of concussions and spinal injuries, that doesn’t send him away from me every week. I could have all of him without having to compete with football.
“Do you love the game?” I ask him.
“Always,” he says without hesitation.
“Then, as you said, it’s worth it.” I kiss the crook of his neck, where his skin is smooth as fine satin. He loves that spot, and shivers now, pressing his cheek to the top of my head.
“Fi, I promised you honesty. Truth is, my desire to have you blinded me to the hard fact that these short moments are all we can have during the season. When I’m not playing, I’m practicing, reviewing footage, working out, eating, sleeping. Free time is a myth.”
He looks down at me, and there’s pain in his eyes. “I wanted to give you more. But I can’t. And I don’t know what to do about that.”