Page 8

Alex Sebring

The music’s beat thunders through the gym—low, filthy bass and a voice that spits grit and venom. It’s a song intended to drown out excuses, the type I used to blast before game day to remind myself of who I was.

Right now? I need the reminder.

I drop into another round of banded squats, resistance biting around my thighs, fire igniting behind my knees. The reps aren’t pretty. My form’s far from perfect, but it’s improving. Slowly. I knew the road to who I used to be would be a long one.

The mirror across from me doesn’t lie. I’m not where I was years ago. Not even close. But the man in the reflection? He’s coming for it. And every tremble in my quads, every stinging bead of sweat that rolls down my spine is proof. Not punishment.

Progress.

Not so long ago, I walked with a limp. Today, I’m stacking sets and pushing a sled as if I’ve got something to prove. Because I do.

I press into the next push, driving forward with every ounce I’ve got left. Ankles screaming, core locked, hands white-knuckled on the bar.

One more. Just one more.

This isn’t only about rugby. It’s about reclaiming my body. My focus. My name.

I drive the sled until there’s nowhere left to go—just wall and frustration. Then I drop into a crouch, hands on my thighs, chest heaving.

I don’t hear her, not over the music or the sound of my heartbeat thundering. But she’s there when I lift my head––my sweet Magnolia––with arms folded across her chest, lips tugged into a smile.

She’s leaning against the doorframe looking as though she’s been there a minute, watching me wreck myself for redemption. And God help me… she’s never looked more beautiful.

Her hair’s pulled back in one of those loose knots she does when she’s not trying to impress anyone, which somehow always impresses me. There’s something different in her expression that I can’t quite put my finger on.

I grab the remote and lower the music, the thrum of bass dropping to a steady pulse behind me. My breath’s still coming hard, sweat dripping down my back.

“How long have you been standing there?” I ask, grabbing a towel and dragging it across my face.

“Long enough to admire the view.”

I grin, dragging the towel over my neck and shoulders. “Hope you’re into sweaty and slightly unhinged.”

She comes closer, watching me like I’m her prey. But I’m the one who pounces first, pulling her in and kissing her forehead, one hand brushing over her hip as I breathe her in. Cherry vanilla and clean skin. My favorite combination.

“Where’ve you been?”

There’s a pause. A shift. Her eyes meet mine, and something flickers there. “The doctor.”

Everything in me stills.

I straighten, muscles forgotten. “What’s wrong?” My voice drops an octave. “Are you not feeling well?”

“Not that kind of doctor,” she says, cutting me off before panic can bloom.

“Okay… what kind, then?”

“An OB-GYN.”

That lands like a quiet thunderclap, and my brain stumbles. “Why?”

Her voice is soft, almost careful. “I just wanted to know where I stood. To have everything checked out, so when the time comes for a baby, I’ll know that my body is ready.”

I stare at her, trying to process.

“And?”

Her mouth curves, gentle and sure. “Everything looks great. The doctor said I’m healthy. She sees nothing that would prevent me from getting pregnant. Obviously, no guarantees—but it all appears to be in good working order.”

The floor vanishes from under me—but not from fear. From something that feels a hell of a lot like hope. “You just gave me the best news I didn’t know I wanted to hear.”

Her words settle in my chest, a spark dropped on dry kindling.

I brush a strand of hair from her face. “You know what this means, right?”

She tilts her head, brow arched, a smile playing on her lips. “What?”

“We should practice.”

She laughs—a soft, breathy sound. “You’re sweaty.”

I lean in, voice dropping to a rasp. “I am, but you’re not turned off by it.”

There’s a pause. A shift in the air.

Her eyes flick over me, slow and deliberate. “No. It’s pretty sexy, actually, seeing you this way.”

And that’s all it takes.

My hands are on her hips. Her mouth meets mine. The attraction between us is charged with everything unspoken—want, love, possibility.

It’s on.

Her eyes burn into mine, her breath catching when I slide my hands beneath her shirt. “I want to fuck you right now… in here” I say, my voice rougher than I intended.

Magnolia doesn’t answer with words—just reaches for the hem of her top and pulls it over her head, tossing it to the floor. Her skin’s warm, soft, and already flushed with anticipation.

I kiss her hard, not polished or practiced.

Hungry. Urgent.

She melts into me, her arms winding around my shoulders as I walk her backward, not caring where we land. Her back bumps the mirror and she gasps, a breathless little sound that only spurs me on.

Magnolia’s breath hitches as I press into her, one hand gripping her hip, the other cupping the back of her neck. Her eyes are wide and dark, her pupils blown. She’s already flushed—and I haven’t even touched her properly yet.

“You’ve been insatiable lately,” she says, voice breathless as I slide my thigh between hers.

“This is what you do to me. And then you walk in here looking this way… talking about having babies…” I lean in, my mouth against her ear. “How can you expect me to keep my hands to myself?”

She laughs, curling her fingers around my biceps. “I wasn’t trying to tease you.”

“You don’t even have to try,” I say, trailing kisses down her neck. “Simply breathing near me is enough to make me hard.”

A smirk tugs at her lips. “Oh yeah? Prove it.”

My response is a low, dangerous sound.

One sharp tug and her pants are down around her ankles.

She steps out of them without hesitation, eyes locked on mine.

I hook my fingers under the waistband of her panties, dragging them down her thighs in one swift motion.

I step back just long enough to yank my shirt over my head and kick off my shorts.

Then I’m on her again—mouth on hers, tongue sliding deep, hips pinning her to the glass. Nothing stands between us—no clothes, no space, no doubts. Just skin and truth and that one look in her eyes that destroys me every time.

“You want to practice making a baby?” I say against her lips. “Because I do. Right here. Right now.”

Her hands tangle in my hair and she nods, nibbling her bottom lip.

“Say it,” I command, dragging my teeth across her jaw. “Say you want me to fuck you right here so deep you’ll still feel it when you wake up tomorrow.”

She shudders, her voice a whisper. “I want you to fuck me right here so deep I’ll still feel it when I wake up tomorrow.”

I slide my hands to her thighs and lift, pressing her against the mirror. Her legs wrap around my waist without hesitation, and I thrust into her in one slow, filthy stroke. She gasps, nails biting into my shoulders.

I press my forehead to hers. “I want to put a baby in you. Not now. But soon. When you’re ready.”

Her breath hitches.

“I want to see you round and glowing, carrying our child. I want to watch you become a mother, the most beautiful one this world’s ever seen.”

A desperate sound leaves her lips, and I swallow it in another kiss.

“When the time’s right,” I say, thrusting again, slow and deep, “I’ll fill you up with so much cum you’ll feel it in your bones.”

She’s already trembling, clinging to me.

“Until then, we’re gonna keep practicing over and over, until your body knows mine like second nature.”

“God, you’re obsessed.”

“Damn right I am. I’m obsessed with seeing my baby inside you. And waking up to a little version of you—of us—running through the halls.”

She moans, raw and wrecked. “You’re killing me.”

Her head tips back as she comes undone in my hands—and I follow, the moment snapping white-hot between us.

We stay pressed together, breathing hard, still tangled and shaking. And when she looks up at me, eyes glassy, lips parted, I know that this is the only practice I’ll never tire of.

“I think about a little one with your eyes and maybe my stubbornness. Someone who’s a piece of both of us,” she says.

I laugh—hoarse and winded. “Poor kid.”

She smiles. “ Lucky kid.”

The pace builds, but the reverence never fades. Every touch is a promise. Every movement a vow. Her hands roam over my back, nails digging in with every thrust.

“You’re mine,” I say against her mouth. “You were always meant to be mine.”

Her head drops back as she gasps, her body trembling around me. “Yours,” she echoes, voice breaking. “Always.”

The release hits us both—powerful and consuming. I hold her through it, kissing her shoulder, her temple, her lips.

We stay that way, tangled and breathless, her forehead pressed to mine.

Her fingers stroke my jaw. “Is the mirror still intact?”

I laugh, forehead still against hers. “If it isn’t, it was worth it.”

She kisses me, her smile warm and content. “That was intense.”

“That was everything.”

I let her down and pull her body against mine. My chest rises and falls against hers, both of us still catching our breath.

She looks up at me with sleepy, satisfied eyes. “You really want all that?”

“Yeah,” I say, brushing damp hair from her face. “More than anything.”

“Even diapers?”

I grin. “Even dirty nappies.”

And in that moment—naked, sweaty, heart full—I know one thing with absolute certainty: this is what life is supposed to feel like.

“I can’t wait to see a mini you running around here,” she whispers.

I huff a soft laugh, then press a kiss to her hair, damp and wild. “Just want you to know… when that time comes, I’m all in. Every part of me.”

Her head tilts up, lips brushing my jaw. “You already are.”

We don’t move. We don’t need to.

And for once, my mind’s not racing toward what comes next—training schedules, media noise, the next mountain to climb. It’s here in this moment with her.

And for the first time in years, I’m not chasing something… because I already have it.