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“It sure is. Jealous would be if someone else had you and I wanted you. That would be dangerous. I’m territorial because you’re mine, and I want it to stay that way. No danger unless someone fucks around and finds out. See?”
Laughter rings through the line, and I breathe it in. I can’t wait to get home—whereverhomeis.
“No one is encroaching on your territory, caveman.”
“Better not be. Don’t overwork today. They can come back tomorrow. You need to cut down. Remember what the doctor said.”
“Ihavecut down. I’m lucky they accommodate my pregnancyandtwo demanding boyfriends.”
My assistant coach waves at me, gesturing me toward the locker room.
“Okay, love. I have to go. We’ll discuss this later. Send me some pictures. I miss you like crazy.”
“Oooh, I got some good ones for you.”
A few minutes after we hang up, she sends me a photo, and I walk straight into the player in front of me. He snaps his head around, but I’m too busy gawking at my phone.
She’s in soft-pink satin lingerie, sitting on a bathroom counter, one knee raised. Her nipples are hard and pushing against the thin fabric, the slip just long enough to cover what’s mine. She stares at the camera with a submissive, fuck-me expression.
It’s beyond hot, but my favorite part is the pink ribbon wrapped and tied around her throat.
How isthismy girl?
Good job, dick. You scored us a fucking trophy.
Please tell me you have that choker.
Baby girl
I thought you’d like that.
God, you’re incredible. When was this taken?
Baby girl
Six weeks ago, maybe. I just got the proofs.
I’ll be envisioning this all night. How am I supposed to concentrate on coaching?
What do you think about during these photos?
Baby girl
You.
Fuck it. I’ll meet the team in Montreal.
Once the game ends, I jump on a private jet to New York.
I have no idea how we’ll keep this up without Aurora traveling with us, and I don’t know what we’ll do when she’s unable to do so. But right now, I need to see her before I lose my mind.
In less than three hours, it’s the middle of the night, and I’m stepping out of an Uber in front of an old building in the Fashion District.
Dante, per their texts, tosses a cigarette to the cement, putting it out with his boot, and lifts his chin in greeting.
“Don’t you dare smoke around my girl.”
He shakes his head vehemently. “No, sir. I’d never.”