Page 61 of Power Play

I kiss her mouth, worshipping her with everything that I have.

Screw it, I can’t wait any longer.

She’s won, like always. It’s a win I’ll gladly concede because it means more pleasure. I shuck my sweatpants, inch my wife further up the bed so that she’s comfortable against the decorative pillows she loves so much, and enter her in one, hard stroke.

We moan at the same time.

I’ll never get over this.

I’ll never get over her.

Charlie Denton Harrison came into my life during a time when everything was black and white. There was no reason I should have given her the time of day, considering that I’d made a point to evade reporters and the media after the nude picture showdown.

But then she called me overrated.

Told her friends that I probably had no real teeth of my own.

Maybe I’m a fucked up in the head, but in the span of sixty seconds, she had me, hook, line, and sinker. I wanted her, both in my bed and in my life. That scared me shitless.

The thought that I could see myself falling for her scared me even more.

They say that love sometimes feels like you’re being hit by a bag of bricks.

No. Love feels like you’ve been struck with multiple pucks flying at the five-hole, and you’ve got no gear on to protect yourself.

I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Charlie lets out a keening moan below me. She’s close. So close I can feel her body milking me for everything that I’m worth. Eager to push her over the edge, my finger finds her clit. My thrusts pick up speed, turning erratic when my own orgasm sweeps over me, starting in my balls and fanning out from there.

Like in some cheesy romance novel, her orgasm kicks off my own. I never close my eyes during my release, preferring to watch Charlie come.

She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. The fact that she’s carrying our child slows me down, reminding me to take care, to watch my pace, but then I’m gone. Flying over the ledge, calling out my wife’s name.

I feel her hand dip down my back, skimming the ridges of my spine. “I love you,” she whispers, pressing a kiss to my head.

I return the action, kissing her forehead, the way I’ve done every time after we’ve had sex since that very first time on the rooftop of the Omni Parker House Hotel. “I love you too, honey.”

Her fingers thread through my hair. “I’m so proud of you, you know.”

“Yeah?” I prop my chin on her shoulder and meet her gaze. I know she isn’t talking about the sex, as great as it was.

“To come back after last year’s loss in the playoffs . . . They’re going to be talking about this season for years to come. Might find yourself with another wax figure at The Box.”

I laugh, because it’s slightly embarrassing to have a wax figure at all, no matter where it’s located. “You only get one.”

“You’ll be the exception,” she tells me with infinite confidence. “I just know it.”

“Maybe they’ll add one for journalists who kick butt.”

Her nose crinkles. “Doubtful.”

“You never know.”

I brush back her hair and press a kiss to her the soft skin of her neck. “I’ve got some information for you, by the way.” Another kiss, this one on her cheek. “Top secret clearance type stuff.” This time, I ply her lips open with mine, claiming them in the same way I plan to do for the rest of my life. “Want to know what it is?”

Her blue eyes flare with interest, and I know I’ve caught her. My wife has no skills in hiding her inquisitive nature. “You’re going to let me print this?”

I nod. “I wanted you to be the first to know. I’ve already come up with a headline.”

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