Page 61 of My Secret Bandit

“Me too. I’m so happy you’re okay.” I listened while his heartbeat slowed to a normal rhythm.

We held each other, removing ourselves from the quiet chatter happening around the locker room. Instead, we focused on each other. The rising and falling of our chests, the warmth of our bodies together.

“Jamie.” Suzanne cleared her throat. “It’s time to go to the press room. Are you coming?”

I looked over at Suzanne, at the room that was clearing out then back to Mateo, unsure of what to do.

“Go,” he said, giving me another slight smile. “I’ll wait for you back at the hotel.”

“Are you sure? I’ll go with you.”

“Baby, go. I’ll be fine, I promise.” Lifting onto the tips of my toes, our lips met in a tender kiss.

Reluctantly, I followed Suzanne to the press room. I sat in the back, unprepared to ask any questions. Worry for Mateo took over every functioning brain cell I could offer.

“Coach Porter, any word on the injury of Mateo Linx?”

My ears perked up. With sweaty palms, I waited for Coach’s answer.

“Well.” He sighed. “He took a helmet to the side and hit his head pretty good. Luckily, everything seems to be okay. Med Staff cleared him of any major injuries. Right now, he’s day to day. The doctors and training staff are going to monitor him to make sure he’s ready for next week.”

Suzanne gave my hand a reassuring pat. Relief rushed over me. I snuck out while the coach and quarterback traded places.

Xander—my knight in a shining SUV—waited outside.

“I knew you wouldn’t last long. Need a ride?” He chuckled when I jumped into the barely opened door without answering. “Thought so.”

Backinourroom,Mateo slept. His body slanted across the bed with his feet hanging off. One sneaker on, the other laying on the floor. After removing it, I discarded my own, along with my jacket and press badge before crawling up next to him. His eyes fluttered open when I pushed my fingers through his curls.

“How are you feeling?”

He grumbled as he nuzzled himself closer, our faces a breath apart. “Better.”

“Do you need anything? Ice? A drink? Food? Something for pain?”

“I’m good, baby,” he replied, lifting his shirt, exposing an ice pack on the left side of his torso.

It slid off onto the bed.

One massive, angry purple bruise already made its way to the top of his skin. I couldn’t help myself. I ran my fingers over the darkened patch, starting level with his diaphragm and stopping about an inch higher than the waistband of his sweats.

He flinched, sucking in a sharp breath when lips replaced fingertips.

I laid kisses over the chilled area.

Gently.

Slowly.

Making sure I didn’t miss an inch of bruised skin. Like that alone could heal his pain.

“Jameson,” he groaned.

“Yeah?” I asked, my mouth still peppering his injured skin with kisses.

When he didn’t respond, I looked up. His eyes weren’t dull like they were in the locker room. His lashes lowered from me to his groin.

“I’m sorry. I—I didn’t mean to,” I said, shaking my head. Embarrassed because this was obviously the last thing he needed. Right now, he needed rest and rest only.

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