Hello Quarterback (Hello #8)

31. Mia

31

MIA

He gripped my hips, and I lowered myself, slowly, onto his cock.

Each inch stretched and filled me in the best possible way, and he growled ferally as I settled myself to the hilt, letting my thighs rest on his legs.

I froze on top of him, knowing he wanted to move, to thrust, but I let my weight hold us still, and he stared up at me, a crazed look in his eyes.

“Fuck, Mia.”

I wiggled my hips for him, feeling him shift inside me.

He hissed.

I grinned.

I loved seeing him like this, so out of control when I knew control was exactly what he craved every hour of every day.

But this man had shown I was his weak spot, and damn if that didn’t turn me on. Damn if it didn’t make me want to take charge and show him exactly how good it could feel to just let go.

“Mia, please,” he begged.

“I like it when you beg for me,” I hummed.

“Then you’ll love it when I come for you,” he countered.

“Is that so?” I bit my lip, ran my fingers through my wavy hair.

He squirmed under me. “Lift up, and hold on to that bar. You’re gonna fucking need it.”

The promise sent a wave of pleasure through me, just a hint of what was to come. I eagerly complied.

“That’s my girl,” he said.

My girl.

Something about those words hit me in a way I hadn’t expected. Had me aching to fulfill his every wish.

As soon as the pressure was lifted, he grabbed my waist and used it as leverage to fuck me from underneath. I tossed my head back, catching a glimpse of us in the floor-to-ceiling mirror. I’d been so focused on him, I hadn’t even noticed the view of us .

I stared at his muscles clenching as he pumped into me, the way my curves rippled at impact, how his eyes were on me and me only, taking in every inch of me.

I’d never felt hotter.

That is until he grunted out, “I’m going to fill you with my cum.”

My eyelids shuttered closed, and I nodded. “Give it to me. Every fucking drop.”

I lowered myself onto him, meeting him thrust for thrust, grinding against him until he cried out, hands digging into the flesh at my waist.

And I fell apart with him.

Our orgasms racked through us until all that was left was us, panting, sweaty, sated.

Something in his gaze told me this was different, what had happened between us. And my heart squeezed because I wasn’t brave enough to hope for something more. Doubts flooded me just as surely as bliss had seconds before.

I lifted myself off him, knowing we must be making a mess of the bench—of each other. He quickly got up, pulling up his shorts and getting a clean towel for me to clean myself up. I didn’t make eye contact while I tossed the towel in the basket marked dirty. But soon, his arms were around me, circling me from behind, and he kissed the top of my head.

“Let’s go up to the room.”

I only nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

He laced his fingers through mine, and we walked to the door of the gym. The team’s security guard stepped out of the way for us. Ford nodded a thank you, and if the guard noticed my flush or messy hair, he didn’t let it show on his face.

The two of us went to the elevator, hand in hand. And I wondered if Ford knew what the simple contact did to my heart.

Anyone could fuck. Get a release that humans were biologically programmed to desire for the sake of our species.

Holding hands was only for people you cared for... who you loved.

We reached the door, and he held the key up to the reader until a light flicked green. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected to find when we got back to the hotel room, but it wasn’t the single king-sized bed that waited for us.

And it definitely wasn’t the dozen red roses sitting on the table. Or the platter of chocolate-covered strawberries displayed next to the bouquet.

“Ford...” I breathed, looking from the display to him.

When he’d texted me, he’d said this trip was to put on a show for everyone.

But there were no cameras waiting here.

He’d done this for me and me alone.

“Do you like them?” he asked, the trepidation clear in his voice.

I turned and answered him by kissing his lips. “They’re beautiful,” I murmured, then squeezed him, my cheek to his chest as I took them in. The lines of our arrangement had gone from fuzzy to nonexistent. I knew Ford wasn’t ready to give me a relationship, but this felt an awful lot like one.

All his muscles seemed to melt with my approval. He kissed the top of my head, then said, “I need to shower off... Care to join?”

I grinned at the thought of seeing his exquisite body again, having it all to myself. “Absolutely.”

An hour (and a few orgasms) later, we were sitting in the bed, wearing matching robes and eating chocolate-covered strawberries. It felt so fun . Something I hadn’t experienced a lot of in the last few years.

I loved my work, but it wasn’t the same as kicking back and truly enjoying someone else’s company.

Ford finished a strawberry and set the stem on the plate in front of us. “Can I ask you about something?”

I wiped a chocolate crumb from the corner of my mouth. “Yes, you can definitely eat chocolate strawberries off my naked body.”

He chuckled and said, “I’ll keep that in mind. No, it’s about... what you said earlier.”

I sent him a questioning look.

“About birth control being ‘taken care of.’” He fisted his hands in his robe pockets. “I trust you. I just wasn’t sure what that means.”

“Oh...” I set down a half-eaten strawberry, wiping my fingers on a napkin. I’d had this conversation with boyfriends before, and it had always been contentious. But I didn’t know what we were, so I wasn’t quite sure how to approach this or how he would react. So I decided to go with the facts, plain and simple. “I had a tubal ligation done several years ago. I couldn’t get pregnant even if I wanted to.”

I watched his profile as he took in the news, his contemplative blue eyes downcast as he processed it. Finally, he said, “You don’t want children?”

I shook my head. “No, I don’t.”

I waited for the questions, for the judgement. The memory of this conversation with Christian flashed in my mind. It had been the end for us. And Ford was young, not yet thirty... Would this be the thing that kept us from more?

“I don’t want children either,” he admitted, his voice almost a whisper.

I studied him, trying to make sure I’d heard him correctly.

Then he let out a soft chuckle. “It seems heretical to say when you grew up in a family with five kids.”

I smiled. “How did you decide?”

He shifted his weight, crossing his legs and resting back against the headboard with his hands in his lap. “My mom died of cancer when I was young. I never wanted to have children and risk putting them through something like that when I know it could run in my family.”

Something in his voice had me reaching for his hand. I laced my fingers through his.

He smiled over at me, lifted my hand to his lips, and kissed my knuckles. The gesture spread warmth through my chest.

“I should have a vasectomy,” he said.

“Why haven’t you?”

His cheeks tinged pink. “It sounds stupid.”

“What?” I prompted.

“I’m afraid of needles.”

That made me laugh. “You can handle two-hundred-pound guys rushing at you in a game famous for giving its players head injuries, and a little needle scares you?”

“Hey!” he laughed bashfully. “I told you it was stupid.”

I had to laugh with him. But when our chuckles died down, he said, “What about you? Was it a hard decision?”

I bit my lip. “I know what I want, and I’m not the kind to settle... I think it’s harder knowing what people think about childless, career-oriented women. They call us selfish. Say we’re missing out on life’s biggest calling. And there’s a part of me that knows I’ll never fully relate to people like my best friend because I won’t experience motherhood like her. And I’ve had men call off relationships because of it.”

“You have?” he said.

I nodded. “I was engaged... about six years ago. He broke it off when I got the procedure done. I didn’t want him to try and convince me of something I knew I didn’t want.”

His gaze was downcast. “What a loser.”

My lips quirked as I nodded. Because at one point, Christian had been the love of my life. But a piece of me was relieved it hadn’t worked out because I got to share this paradise of a moment with Ford, someone who seemed to understand me better than most people did.

Then he confessed, “I think I worry most about being alone when I’m older. Sitting in the nursing home with no one to visit me.”

“You’re rich,” I countered. “You can pay people to visit you.”

The laugh that fell through his lips was so warm it touched my heart. “Guess I never thought of it that way.”

I smiled. “I already know all the shit I’m going to spend money on when I’m in the nursing home.” I held up my fingers, counting off. “Diamond-encrusted wheelchair. Swarovski crystal walking cane. Personal stylist to do my pretty blue hair every day. Personal chef. Man candy to deliver cocktails?—”

“Man what?”

“You know, everyone who works for me will be required to have a six-pack and wear leopard print speedos, that kind of thing.”

Ford laughed harder, clutching his waist. “Can I be you when I grow up?”

“I have a better idea.” I winked. “You can be the man candy.”

He grinned back at me. “As long as it’s with you, I know it will be a good time.”

Feeling light as a cloud, I snuggled next to him, resting on his shoulder. And for a moment, I just enjoyed his presence. Enjoyed him.

Because deep down, I knew this wasn’t fake, and it wasn’t just sex. This had to be something more.