Page 21 of Touched Down

“But this one here is top-notch,” Rich counters. “And she looks familiar. Where do I know her from?”

“You’re right, she does,” Jeremiah quips. “I just can’t put a name with her face, but I could put my face in….”

I step forward, my voice steady and assertive as I bark, "Man, both of you need to fall back."

I don’t like how the guys are ogling her. The rumble of their high-fiving and whispering about what belongs to me sends jealousy all through me. All this time, I was concerned about the media and what shit they would start about my woman. I never once considered wanting to rip off my teammates' limbs for looking at her.

The sound of my voice causes Leslie to look up. She smiles the moment she sees me. I don’t reciprocate her smile. I’m frowning because I had no idea she would be on the field with us before the game. I prepared myself for what would come after the game, but what was this?

She starts walking in my direction, and I walk toward her. She’s cut off by Langley’s assistant, and I’m cut off by Coach’s orders.

“Alright, guys. The big guy wants a photoshoot before the game. I need everyone on the twentieth-yard line so the photographer can do her job, and we can get back to our pre-game business.” Coach Jackson looks disinterested in the photo shoot or frustrated with the timing, but he has to do as his boss has asked.

I have so many questions about why Leslie is here, why she didn’t tell me she was coming before I left home. If this is impromptu, why didn’t she call me to let me know she would take pictures of my team before the game?

Her eyes meet mine, and she gives me a nervous look. She’s telling me that now is not the right time to talk and she’ll explain everything later. I silently accept that answer and decide to wait patiently until we can talk. She starts arranging the players for the picture.

I’m a pro at not acknowledging I have a fiancée to others. But somehow, I can't keep my eyes off the photographer, who’s also not giving herself away as being mine. I notice how she handles the whispers of the guys, the flirting of the guys.I have a choice to keep my distance or speak up. I catch her eyes as she scans the group of men to make sure we’re all in the perfect position. And for once, it’s not her wanting to claim me publicly. It’s me seeking her permission to come to her.

The surprise in her eyes makes me laugh.Revealing she’s my fiancée will make this moment awkward, so I decide not to press it until she finishes her job.

“Can you come to the front?” she asks.

I look around and clarify, “Me?”

“Yes, Mr. Richards. Hold the ball in your hand as if you’re about to throw another one of your winning passes,” she says,speaking to me as if I’m not the one who had her climbing the bedpost this morning.

Mr. Richards? Really?

Her previous jitters seem to have passed, and she’s getting into her element. Having her call me by my last name doesn’t sit well with me. She’s treating me like I’m just one of the guys, not the man she loves.

As much as I love seeing her take charge like this, I would love it more to let every man on this field know she belongs to me.

“Like this?” I ask, doing as told, holding the ball in my hand and cocking it back.

“Yeah, perfect.” She winks at me. “Now, Jeremiah, step forward as you are about to catch the ball, and you toss it to him.”

“My pleasure. I was wondering if I’d get to hear you call my name,” he flirts, and I let it simmer in my spirit that she called him Jeremiah but used a formality with me by calling me Mr. Richards.

“Get ready for the pass, J.” I aim the ball at his chest and toss it harder than necessary.

He’s not expecting it, but being the great receiver he is, he catches it and gives me a weird look before tossing it back. “I’m ready, Mr. Richards,” he mimics Leslie.

We reenact a pass as instructed. The guys smile extra hard for the pictures. Some of those smiles are meant to be suggestive looks, but Leslie doesn’t respond to any of them. She stays in her zone, capturing our best photos as a team. None of the prior photographers have brought out as much personality as I’ve seen from the team today.

One thing she has brought out of me is the strongest desire I have ever had to let everyone know she’s mine. I can’tstand here a moment longer and let my teammates think they have a chance to make her theirs. She’s mine.

When the shoot is over, I march to her like a man on a mission. I spin her around, one hand around her back to keep her steady and the other on her neck to guide her lips to mine. I kiss her sloppily on the mouth, sliding my tongue inside and tasting the mint on hers. She deepens the kiss, moaning into my mouth. The guys go crazy, howling and hissing as I attempt to swallow her moans, so they don’t have the privilege of hearing them.

“Oh, shit! That’s you, man?” Jeremiah yells.

Only when I’ve had my fill of Leslie’s mouth do I turn and introduce her to the coach and others. “Coach, guys, this is my beautiful fiancé, Leslie Banks. Soon to be Leslie Richards.”

"Man, get the hell out of here. We have a game to get ready for, and you're playing," Rich says.

The field fills with laughter.

But I'm not amused. I meet their laughter with a steely gaze, my tone unwavering. "No, seriously. This is my fiancée. She's mine, all mine," I assert, determined to make my point clear.

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