Page 15 of Maverick
“When it came time for the draft, he got picked in the first round, and I didn’t. I’d always been a bit of a straggler—even in pee wee football. I didn’t think it would change anything, but he ghosted me. I confronted him at a party, and he pretended not to know who I was. My best friend found me crying in the bathroom, drug me home, and finally convinced me to let him go. But he doesn’t know that I kept trying to get in touch with Reese—for months. I don’t know what changed, but one day I woke up and decided that I was just… done.”
“He never said anything to you?”
“Not until today.”
Quinton cupped my cheek in his hand, thumb brushing my cheekbone. I sighed, leaning into his palm. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered. “It can’t be easy to be forced into working with him, but if there’s anything I can do to help make this easier on you, all you have to do is say so.”
“This helps,” I said, nuzzling his palm. Damn, the man’s laugh warmed me from the inside out, giving me the strength I needed to ask my next question. “Are we doing this? For real?”
“I was hoping to talk to you about that. Though I’ll admit, I hoped to do it when you felt better. Why don’t we continue this another time?”
I glanced around, looking for my phone that I must have left in my bag. “What time is it?”
“A little after three.”
“Fucking hell—why are you sitting here talking to me about my pathetic love life? You should be asleep.”
“I don’t need much these days.” Quinton peeled sweat-drenched hair away from my forehead. “I’d much rather sit here and take care of you anyway.”
Heat crawled up my cheeks and my neck, and I found myself grateful that Quinton couldn’t see it in the dark. My eyelids were already growing heavy again, so I laid back down, tugging on his hand. “Lay with me, please. If you really want to take care of me, you can make me breakfast in the morning.”
“Oh,” he laughed, climbing into the other side of the bed and wrapping his arm around my waist. “Is that how it’s going to go?”
“Trust me—you don’t want to see my attempt at cooking. Besides…” I faked a dramatic cough that quickly turned into a real one. “I’m sick.”
Quinton’s chest vibrated with laughter, and he pressed his lips to my temple. “I was only joking, pretty baby. My princess gets whatever he wants.”
With a satisfied hum, I relaxed in Quinton’s arms. His heart thumped a steady rhythm against my back. He kissed across my skin, dancing across my shoulders and treading dangerously toward my mouth but retreating before he got there. As frustrating as it was, I didn’t want to get him sick. So even though I was desperate to kiss him, I didn’t dare turn my head. Between his arms around me and the storm raging outside, I quickly drifted off to sleep again.
As promised, Quinton woke me up the next morning with breakfast in bed—and one of Granny’s famous hot toddies. The warm, lemon-scented liquid practically called my name, so I reached for that first…
And choked on the first sip. Quinton only smiled as I rubbed away the burn in my chest.
“Damn, maybe Granny wassharing the brandy after all,” I coughed.
“Take it slow, sweetheart—and make sure you eat.”
Happily. I was still stuffed up and a bit feverish, but a full night’s sleep helped—especially with Quinton’s massive armsaround me. We’d only spent what felt like a fleeting moment together in San Diego, but being around him had given me a comfort that I hadn’t known I needed. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept so soundly.
I tugged the tray closer, gawking at the amount of food on the plate. Pancakes and fresh fruit piled high on one side, almost comical in appearance to the turkey bacon and eggs on the other. “I hope it’s okay,” Quinton said, almost bashful. “I don’t eat pork so…”
“It’s fine!” I picked at a slice of banana on top of Pancake Mountain. “It’s just a lot.”
Quinton raised his hand and peeled sticky curls away from my face. “You need your strength.”
Ugh, I felt disgusting. I’d showered before leaving the stadium, but between my runny nose and sweating out the fever, I was gross and desperately needed to bathe. I worked at a bite of pancake, taking in the food in front of me. Even at my size, there was no way I’d be able to eat it all. Peering up at the man next to me, I didn’t even get a word out of my mouth before he crooked a brow expectantly. “What?” he questioned, lips twitching at the corners.
I hammed it up, batting my lashes. “You said your princess gets whatever he wants, right?”
“That’s right.”
“He wants you to help him finish this food, then join him in thatmassivejacuzzi tub you’ve got in your bathroom.”
Quinton’s grin widened into a full smile. Shaking his head, he happily accepted the fork from me. “Did you know you were a natural at this submissive thing?”
Heat flooded my cheeks as Quintonfed methe next bite.Oh, yes please.I eased back against the headboard while we ate. “Does that mean you want to do this?”
“I do, as long as you’re comfortable with it. I promise that the minute we step onto that field, it’s nothing but professional.”
