Page 135 of The Keeper

“My first priority is you,” he repeated.

Propping myself up, I leaned on an elbow and admired his handsome, exhausted face. In the dim light, he appeared vulnerable.

Quiet anticipation filled what little space existed between us. I traced the curves of his lips and the slope of his nose, the sturdy angle of his jaw and the strong column of his neck. His eyes never left mine as I continued touching him, memorizing his features with my fingertips. I watched the tension in his face melt into a relaxed peace as his eyelids became heavier and his breathing slowed to a steady rhythm.

Giving him this gift of serenity made my heart sing.

I kissed his forehead and without any pretense or forethought, I let my lips wander to his scar, pressing soft kisses along the entire jagged length. Tremors shook his body but he didn’t flinch away or stop me.

So I kissed it again, each touch of my lips leaving behind an invisible mark of affection and gratitude.

Then I kissed his cheek. The corner of his mouth. And ended with a small kiss on his lips. His whole body exhaled when I pulled back.

“Show me again,” he growled.

“Show you what?”

“How you feel about me,” he commanded, his voice thick with emotion. “Kiss me.”

I did.

Our mouths fused together with raw desire, seeking confirmation for what neither one of us can put into words. Finding it and feeling it and surrendering.

Victoria

“When’s the wedding?” Killian asked, settling into the seat next to me with a heaping plate of french fries. Fans in the section to our right started singing and chanting.

I stared at the field, watching Xavier go through his warm-ups. For this particular drill all the goalkeepers juggled the ball between them without letting it hit the ground. They’d bounce it off their feet and chest. I just liked watching the way he moved.

“Shut up,” I finally acknowledged Killian’s question. It was Saturday evening and I was thinking ahead to my post-match plans with Xavier, not marriage.

“Mature,” he snickered. “I give it three months before you’re married and pregnant.”

I looked at my best friend’s smug smile and shook my head. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“No, I’m not. Because it’s real now,” he said plainly.

“Yeah.” I stole a french fry from his plate. “It’s real now. I’m still not getting pregnant or married in three months.”

“Whatever.” Killian’s soft smile hasn’t changed from the day we met as kids. “I mean, he got your parents to agree on something which is,” he fisted his hands at his head, extended his fingers and pulled them away sharply while making a bomb sound.

“Wild, right?” I stole another fry.

“The house warming party is going to be lit.” He moved the food away from me. “And the whole thing about his brother wasn’t as nefarious as we all thought. Although you do still need to talk to him about the fight.”

“I will.”

The last thirty-six hours have been an absolute blur. Xavier ended up staying with me on Thursday. He managed to sneak back into his hotel room Friday morning without being discovered. I chose to stay away from their training session. I know how important routines are for athletes and my presence would only be a distraction.

Last night was another story. Xavier tempted fate again and broke curfew to spend the night with me. I tried (sort of) to convince him it was a bad idea and he should be more responsible and his team needs him and all the things one is supposed to say to a pro-soccer player the night before a game when he should be resting his body.

Xavier’s impulsive side wanted to hear none of it.

We had so much sex in one night I was tempted to take a vow of celibacy for the weekend. I’m still sore from the euphoric pounding my body took. I can only imagine how his body feels.

“…vacation on the moon. The Sea of Tranquility is supposed to be great this time of year,” Killian was saying. “Interested?”

“Sure,” I answered in a light, dreamy voice. “The beach sounds good.”

---