Page 39 of Final Down

I sink back into my seat, my mouth agape with a hint of shock.

“Thanks, Daniel. I mean, yeah. You can say that anytime you want.”

The three of us laugh.

“Good, then, you played great. I grew up in Portland, so I was kind of rooting for you guys. I hope we get more of you when the season officially starts. That young kid . . .” He bunches his lips, and I muse to myself over the fact Chance is probably the same age as this guy.

“Aww, Hickory’s gonna be great. You know, it’s kind of an honor to play the role of mentor. I guess that’s what I am. The old man?” I glance at Peyton, and she rolls her eyes.

“Hey, Brady played into his forties. You’re still a baby out here, sir. Trust me. People will be wearing your jersey one day.”

Daniel’s gaze lingers in the mirror for a beat, and I finally give him a nod and utter, “Thanks.”

I decide to use the tap payment when he drops us off at the hotel, and I tip him a hundred bucks. Maybe that was his plan all along, and if so, good on him. It worked. But the whole idea of giving what I’ve got, maybe before I’ve really got it, feels nice. That’s the best part about this ride, really. I get to be a big deal to someone, and tonight, I was a big deal to Daniel.

I rush Peyton into the hotel and through the lobby before anyone takes notice of us. A lot of the guests were lingering in the lobby before the game, probably wanting to get a glimpse of the team. I’m sure there are people here now, and who knows, maybe a few fromTMZor other tabloid socials. Mostly, though, I want to get my wife alone. I’ve missed her, and I’m ready to be selfish.

“You know that if they sell your jersey one day, you’re going to have to get that guy one, right?”

“Oh, absolutely. And I’m signing it.” I wave my hand in the air as if it’s my signature.

Peyton laughs as she tugs the hair tie from her hair, letting her waves spill down around her face. Her oversized Cyclones T-shirt has a tiny mustard stain near the collar, probably from the snacks she ate in the suite. It’s adorable, but I’m not going to tell her about it. She won’t think it’s cute.

“This doesn’t feel very heavy,” I say, testing the weight of her travel bag on my shoulder.

“There’s not a lot in it,” she says, with a smug, coy grin.

I bite the tip of my tongue, and my cock flexes inside these miserable dress pants. I glance toward the elevator buttons and press the seventeen a few extra times, as if that will magically get us to our floor faster. We make it quick enough, though, and when the doors open, I sweep Peyton up into my arms and carryher to the right and down the long hallway to my room at the very end.

I keycard our way through the door and drop our bags right inside before letting her body slide slowly from my grasp, her back against the door, my arms caging her.

“God, I’ve missed you,” I say, my mouth suckling the curve of her neck as she works to undo my black silk tie. She pulls it from my neck and tosses it to the floor before moving her hands to my jaw, her cool fingers scratching against my stubble as she lifts on her toes and takes my bottom lip between her teeth.

“Grrr, woman,” I growl, lifting her in my arms, then spinning her before walking us backward past the small sitting area and to the king-sized bed.

Her legs hit the edge of the mattress, but rather than sitting down, her palms slide to the center of my chest, and she breaks our kiss.

“Is that . . . a balcony?” Her head tilts back and to one side.

My eyes flit to the sheer window curtains, the city lights glowing behind. I nod.

“It is.”

My dick is so hard right now, I think I might break this zipper.

“Why don’t you wait for me outside, then. I’ll just be a minute.” Her mouth curves, her expression sly and dirty, andmy God, I have to get out of these pants.

“Yes, ma’am,” I say, taking slow, deliberate steps backward as I unbutton my shirt.

“I’m still not calling you Sir, baby daddy,” she teases.

“Peyt, you can call me anything you want. Just let me fuck you before I come in my pants like a sixteen-year-old,” I say through a genuinely nervous laugh.

Her lips merely tighten, her smirk growing.

“Off you go,” she says, waving me toward the sliding glass door.

I do as she says while she grabs her travel bag and slips into the bathroom. I finish unbuttoning my shirt outside, the cool air helping me hold out while Peyton spends a good five minutes in the bathroom. I adjust my cock in my pants, leaving the zipper down since my boxer briefs are black and snug.

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