Hello Quarterback (Hello #8)

30. Ford

30

FORD

I went to the hotel gym to get in a light lifting session and distract myself from the thoughts going through my mind. Mia hadn’t replied, and I didn’t want to think about what that meant.

This was one of the reasons I’d been hesitant about relationships. I should have been focusing on the game right now, maybe getting in some extra film review, and instead I was like a high school kid on prom night, wondering why my date had stood me up.

I started with a warmup, then went to get in some reps on the bench press. Between each set, I got off the bench, adding extra plates. My arms were feeling a good burn when I went to the rack where my towel hung, wiping off my sweaty hands.

The door to the gym opened, and I looked up, fully expecting to see another guy from the team.

Instead, there was Mia, wearing the jersey I gave her and a flirty black skirt.

My mouth went dry.

She was here.

She was wearing my number.

Thousands of people owned and wore my jersey, but none of them looked as good in it as she did.

“Mia,” I managed. “How did you get past the team’s security?”

She smiled shyly at me as she stepped farther into the gym, letting the door shut behind her. “I have my ways.”

I grinned at her, despite wishing I was less sweaty and up in my room. Flowers and chocolate-covered strawberries waited for her there. “Let’s head upstairs,” I said, all my earlier angst forgotten.

“You can finish your workout,” she said. “I know your work is important.”

“Just when I thought you couldn’t get any hotter,” I replied. I went to her, fisting the jersey at her hips and drawing her closer to me.

She looked up at me, long, dark lashes framing blue eyes, her lips tinted the perfect shade of pink.

“I could skip the gym and lift you in the room,” I hummed, leaning down to kiss her lips.

She smiled against my kiss, saying, “I doubt you could lift me.”

Indignation flared as I pulled away from her. “Want to bet?” My pride was roaring to life, demanding to be defended.

She scoffed. “You’re that confident?”

“Your weight is my warmup,” I countered.

“Then prove it,” she challenged, her gaze flicking from my lips to my eyes.

God, the way my cock responded to her. But I had work to do first. I went back to the bench, counting out the plates on each side of the barbell. “Two twenty-five.”

“Higher,” she countered.

I went to the rack, getting two twenty-five-pound plates and adding them on.

“It’s a start,” she said, arms folded over her gorgeous chest.

A start... I’d show her.

I went back to the bench, lying down, and took the bar into my hands, bringing the weight to my chest and then back up several times. “Easy.”

She clapped her hands slowly. “Okay, you showed me. We can go to the?—”

But I was already adding more weight to the bar. She might have been with guys who couldn’t handle her before, but I was determined to show her I was more than up to the challenge.

I brought the weight down to my chest, muscles working off memory, and then lifted it back up.

When I sat up and looked at her, she was biting her bottom lip.

This was turning her on.

Good.

I went back to the bar, adding weight until I knew I had to be well over her size. Then I laid down, doing my best to make it look easy. When I finished, the weight clanged back into the rack and I went to sit up, but she said, “Wait.”

“What?” I asked, hand on the bar above me.

That’s when I saw her swing her leg over the bench so she was straddling me, riding me. My hands went to her hips, under her skirt, and I realized she wasn’t wearing any underwear.

Holy fucking shit.

I gripped the meat of her hip and grinded her against me. Fuck, she felt good.

Was this really happening? Her, in my jersey, on top?

Yes .

I bucked my hips under her, showing her my growing erection. No amount of masturbating with her panties had anything on this view.

She held on to the bar, grinding on me, tossing her head back so long blond hair fell down her back. It was just long enough for me to reach up and grab it, tugging gently until she moaned.

“Let’s take this upstairs,” I replied.

“Security’s outside the door,” she hummed, bending down to kiss my jaw, my neck.

Fuck, it would be hard to wait. “I don’t have any condoms.”

“We don’t need them,” she replied, trailing kisses over my collarbone. “I was just tested last month.”

I cringed because there was no good way to say this. When you were a man in my position, you had to be careful. Very careful. I’d heard of women doing crazy shit with my teammates—getting condoms out of the trash can, taking fake pills to act like they were on birth control, all numbers of things to have a pro football player’s baby. “I’m clean too, but I’d feel safer if we used one.” I ran my hands over the luscious curve of her ass.

“I had that taken care of years ago,” she said simply, sliding down my legs to lift my shirt and kiss my hard stomach.

If it were any other woman, I would have insisted on going up to the room to get protection, but I realized with Mia... I trusted her.

The realization caught me so off guard, I didn’t quite know what to do or how to react to the information. But the blood flowing to my cock kept me from thinking too hard about anything other than her.

As she kissed my chest, I reached for her, pulling her up to kiss me. Then I reached under her skirt again, finding her already wet for me. “Fuck,” I hissed, sliding up to her clit and adding pressure with my thumb.

She let out a moan, bucking her hips against me. “Ford,” she gasped.

“Lift up,” I ordered, and she quickly complied.

My shorts were down in a matter of seconds, thinking of nothing but how I wanted to fill her up, feel her stretch around me. Feel her shake and quiver on my cock.

Her gaze was hooded as she looked at my length, and she licked her pillowy lips.

“Are you ready for me?” I asked.

Her voice rang clear. “ Yes .”