Page 220 of Red Zone
“What are you doing here? I thought your flight was tomorrow.” I pull back to take him in. The stubble along his jaw, the familiar blue of his eyes—deeper in person than they ever look on FaceTime.
“It was supposed to be. But I couldn’t wait any longer, so I grabbed the next one out after Coach approved.” He sets me down, cupping my face in his hands, his mouth hovering dangerously close to mine. “Figured I’d take the opportunity to surprise my girl.”
I can’t wait another second. I press my mouth to his, feeling his smile—then the groan that follows as my tongue teases the seam of his lips. Eight days apart is seven days too long.
His mouth moves with mine, unhurried, like he’s memorizing me all over again.
I swear, no one kisses like Carter. Like it’s both a promise and a confession. Like he’s been starving for it—for me—and now that he’s had a taste again, he’s not letting go.
When we finally break apart, his forehead rests against mine, his breath still a little uneven.
“I missed you,” he murmurs, voice rough.
I smooth my hands over his shoulders, grounding myself in the solid weight of him. “I missed you too.”
“No, I mean…” He pauses, eyes searching mine. “I missed you. Everything about you. The way you hum when you’re checking stats, our very organized home. The way you hog the covers and pretend you don’t.”
I smile, even as my chest tightens. “You do the same thing with the throw blanket.”
“Yeah, well, that thing’s soft as hell.” He leans back slightly, his hands still gripping my hips.
“But it’s not you. I’m only the big spoon with you, baby.”
God. How does he do that? Make my entire body come alive with a simple word.
Before I can say anything else, he picks me up and starts walking further into our place. I let out a small yelp, clinging to his neck.
“Come on,” he says, grinning. “I need a shower after flying all day.”
My lips twitch. “Conserving water is important, you know.”
He barks out a laugh. “Yeah? You offering to help the planet?”
I raise a brow. “I’m a very environmentally conscious girl, what can I say?”
“Oh, I know you are.” He carries me toward our bedroom, kicking the door closed behind him.
“You’re about to make this a very clean world-saving effort.”
I laugh against his neck, heart full and happy.
Because he’s home.
And so am I.
Carter
The season didn’t end the way I wanted.
Not even close.
We clawed our way into a wild card spot, held our own for most of the first half, then watched the lead slip away like water through our fingers. And just like that—boom.
Done.
Out.
No more meetings. No more film sessions. No more gut-punch losses on the field.
