Page 122 of Force Play

“Let me help you keep your dreams alive while we face this together,” he says, again.

“Okay.” The fear that should be there given the circumstances is missing—gone for the moment. And I know it’s because I’ve fallen hard for this man. Even though I fought it with everything in me, he owns my heart.

When I’m done, they all stare at me, blinking back tears of their own. “Now, are any of you comfortable with needles? Because I’m going to need some help, I don’t think I can give myself the shots I need later.”

Pinks and orange paint sky, the sun dipping below the horizon when we move inside to watch the game. There’s no way I can administer the medications I need myself, but it feels like an invasion having anyone but my husband do it after everything we’ve shared the last few weeks.

Still, I let Lilah hold my hand while Poppy gives me the shots. Mia and Willa do their best to distract me with commentary about the game. The Bandits are losing terribly to Atlanta.

Frustration twists my husband’s normally cheerful face into a grimace as he sits on the bench, dressed in team warmups instead of his uniform, his legs crossed at the ankles, and his arms folded over his chest.

Normally I’d be gawking over the way his biceps strain against the dark material of his sweatshirt, but all I can focus on is how miserable he looks. The game ends in a Bandits loss and all I want to do is teleport home so I can video chat with my husband. To make sure he’s okay the same way he always does for me.

Ronnie’s waiting for me, paws clicking against the wood floor as she dances around my feet excitedly. “I know, girl,” I tell her, dropping to my knee to scratch behind her ear. “Let’s get you outside so I can talk to your dad.”

The breeze blowing in from the mountains swirls my curls around my face and I push them back, watching and laughing into the darkness as Ronnie does sprints back and forth across the yard before she slows, circling her favorite spot and doing her business.

Like her dad, she’s been all over me for the last two weeks, like she can sense I need her more now. I don’t need to look behind me as I climb the stairs to know she’s on my heels. It’s where she always is now, her cold, wet nose brushing against my calf, so I don’t forget she’s there if I need her.

Even when I silently undress in the bathroom, the tub filling with hot water, my phone waiting for Dom to call, she’s laying in the doorway with her head on her paws watching me. “You’re the sweetest voyeur ever.” I chuckle at my own joke as I slip below the surface of the water.

Water clings to the ends of my hairs as I let the warmth sink in, soaking away the constant sting around my belly button from the daily shots.

Only seven more. Every day is a countdown to the egg retrieval.

My phone rattles against the tile as it rings with the call I’ve been waiting for. I answer on FaceTime, careful to angle the phone so it doesn’t reveal too much in case he’s not alone.

“Fuck, Baby, I miss you.” My husband sighs. “Do you always answer your phone naked, or was that just for me?”

“Only ever for you,” I answer, distracted. One of those biceps I noticed earlier flexes as he leans back against his headboard tucking his arm under his head. This time I can’t tear my eyes away because my husband is shirtless and the serious look on his face makes this water feel like it’s boiling.

He looks like I felt all those times when I was about to implode and I came to him for help, for distraction, for him. Because whether or not I realized it, the force that pulls us together was always at play. We never had a choice in the matter. The game of cat and mouse we played for the last year was always going to end with us together.

“Right answer.” His voice is rough and my blood heats at the way he looks at me, his eyes dark. I reach out, turning the water to cool, and cup some in my hand to run over my chest and neck.

Chapter 45

Dom

“That was a rough game. Are you okay?” she asks, or at least I think that’s what she says. I’m solely focused on the rivulets of water dripping down her neck, following the same path my tongue takes to get to her sensitive breasts.

“Mhmm.” Not my most intelligent answer, but can you really blame me? I’m completely dumbstruck by how gorgeous my wife looks, dark curls loose and skimming the water.

It only gets worse when she props the phone up, taking the hair tie from her wrist and tying her dark curls up on top of her head, making the round swell of her breast rise and flashing me a sliver of her nipples. That muted mocha has become my favorite color.

Warm laughter from her end of the call instantly lifts my spirit as I run my palm over my jaw. “See something you like?”

“I like the look of you relaxed in our house.” Technically she hasn’t moved in, not for a lack of wanting to, we just haven’t had the time to get her stuff moved from her apartment. That hasn’t stopped her from hauling a suitcase over and staying every night for the past week.

“This bathtub is the eighth wonder of the world. It’s almost like you built this house with your future wife in mind,” she jokes.

“I’ve always known what I wanted. Well, before I met you, I knew that once I had a love like what my parents have, I’d settle down. So yeah, I guess I did.”

“You’re one of the good ones, husband.”

Right now I’m not feeling like it. Watching from the bench as my team got demolished, knowing I could be out there helping was brutal. I still can’t bring myself to regret punching Jensen, and that will never change, but I’m tense as hell.

“How’d it go with the girls tonight?”

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