Page 41 of Catching Our Moment

Kelcie

“Tell us everything,” Aliya said, her face beaming over the screen she and Grace shared on my computer. It was Friday afternoon, and Shaw and I finally emerged from the bedroom. “Where’s the stud muffin now? Do you have him tied to his bed or something?”

“He’s at practice,” I said. “They cleared him this week and are starting him this weekend. They want him back in time for the playoffs.” While the team had managed to squeeze in a shot at the playoffs, they’d been plagued with injured players.

For there to be any chance of the team advancing, they needed him back.

He explained it to me while we were curled up in bed this morning, and I expressed my misgivings about him returning.

While he sat out for the suggested recovery time for a normal man, his demands on his body weren’t normal.

He was a well-paid athlete in a contact sport.

Football players were expected to heal faster.

But as a PT, I couldn’t help but compare it to reassembling a stock car with duct tape and a prayer, sending it out on a racetrack and expecting it to not only hold together but perform at a high level as it was tossed around the track, long enough to capture the checkered flag.

In the early morning hours, he kissed the top of my head, whispering softly, “This is my job, hon.”

I didn’t have the heart to break our bubble of happy contentment by suggesting that maybe his thirty-something body was ready for a career change or ask how many more years of this he thought his body could take.

Grace voiced my concerns. “Isn’t it too soon for him to be back?”

I shrugged. “He said it’s just a few more games, and then he will have the off-season to fully heal.” I stood and took the laptop with me into the kitchen. “From what I’ve heard, his contract is up at the end of this season, and his agent has concerns.”

“Well, at least you’re down there with him,” Grace said.

“Yeah, you can kiss his boo-boos and rub him down afterward,” Aliya said.

I rolled my eyes at her. “He has an entire training and medical staff here to do that. I’m here strictly as his…um?—”

“Girlfriend,” they said in unison.

I began to shake my head when Aliya added, “Uh-uh…you’re Dawson Shawfield’s girlfriend. You need to get that through your head. Because you’re going to be around a bunch of people questioning who you are to him.”

“I know.”

“No, I don’t think you do,” Aliya said, sitting closer to her screen. “You need to own this. You’re his. He is yours. This isn’t our small town where he’s just Shaw. In Charlotte, he’s Dawson Shawfield—a football star. You need to be ready to pull out your bad bitch self.”

“She gets it. Don’t freak her out,” Grace said quietly.

Aliya wasn’t pulling any punches. “I’m serious.

You need to find that confident, take-no-prisoners self you haven’t used in a while and dust her off.

There are a lot of women who would want to be in your place—women who dream of being the center of his focus, his desires.

” She wasn’t letting up. “Many who think they should be on his arm, in his bed?—”

I held out my hand, not wanting to think of the gorgeous women he’d probably had in his bed before. “I know, I know. I dealt with that all throughout college and even high school.”

“Yeah, but these women make a profession out of it.”

Grace stepped in. “Don’t worry. It will be fine. Just be yourself, and don’t let anyone get in your head or push you around. What are your plans tonight?”

“We’re meeting his friend Davy and his girlfriend. She lives in Chicago but is in town for the weekend.”

“See. Another long-distance relationship.” Grace’s face lit up with positivity, “Good. You can see how they handle it.”

“Sounds like Shaw has the right idea,” Aliya said. “So, now the good stuff. How’s the sex?”

Grace shook her head. “I don’t want the graphic details. This is Shaw.”

“I don’t need to know what his dick looks like. I’m just wondering if all the years of banked chemistry and anticipation were worth it,” Aliya said.

I put my hand over my mouth in a ridiculous attempt to stop my smile.

Both my best friends’ smiles widened. “Oh, yeah…” Grace said. “It was worth it.”

Aliya erupted into a laugh as she fist-pumped the air. “Yes! I want at least some details!”

The door to the penthouse opened and closed. “Kelce?”

“Saved by the man of the hour.” Grace winked.

“This conversation isn’t over,” Aliya said. “But I’m so happy you both finally jumped each other.”

Shaw came into the kitchen and peered over my shoulder to our friends, “Hello, ladies. Am I interrupting girl talk?” He kissed my cheek as if it was a part of our daily activity, before grabbing a bottle of flavored water from the fridge.

Grace sighed, the goofiest grin on her face.

Aliya said, “Yeah, Kelcie was describing how big your dick was and how many times she orgasmed last night.”

He stopped in his tracks, unfazed by Aliya’s attempt to shock him.

He hit her right back. “She didn’t tell you about this morning, too?

” Not missing a beat, his brow furrowed.

“I thought I did some of my best work in the shower. Remember that shower scene you were telling me about in Addison’s book?

” Then he walked out of the kitchen to the gasp of all of us.

Addison was another member of the group who was a best-selling romance novelist. She always sent Grace, Aliya, and I advanced copies of her latest release. My cheeks burned as both my friends’ mouths dropped open. Aliya whispered, “The shower scene?”

Grace’s voice hitched before she cleared her throat. “I think this is too much information for me.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Great, Shaw, you ruined that book for me now.”

His laugh from the other room was infectious, and I was floating on a cloud of pure bliss.

Having never done drugs before, I had nothing to compare it to, but this time with him seemed perfect.

The intimacy, the mind-blowing sex, the friendship, the laughter, being with our friends, and Aaron having another man to guide him in his life—I didn’t think life could get much better.

Later that evening, Shaw held my hand, stroking it with his thumb, as we rode down the elevator to the restaurant on the floor below his penthouse.

We were meeting a few of his friends for a quiet, private dinner.

“It’s easier than going out, plus the owner will give us a room to ourselves,” Shaw explained, holding the door for me as I exited the elevator.

“Well, that’s convenient,” I said, taking in the skin that showed beneath the open neck of his shirt and the broadness of his sports jacket.

He wasn’t just gorgeous; he was breathtaking…

and more than a little addictive. Even though I’d memorized his features over the years, our physical relationship just made everything that much…

more. “Must be nice to just pop down here for dinner in a private room.”

He shrugged, held the door for the restaurant, and ushered me in with a hand to the small of my back.

“It’s difficult sometimes for me to go out for dinner downtown without being recognized.

” He nodded at the ma?tre d’. “And it’s damn near impossible for a group of us to sneak into any establishment together, because someone is always identified.

Then word gets out, and we are inundated with well-meaning fans. ”

We walked through the dimly lit restaurant, passing the open kitchen to one side and the scattering of tables to the other. An entire wall of ceiling-to-floor windows overlooked what appeared to be a large rooftop patio that spanned the entire restaurant and undoubtedly had an amazing view.

“Who exactly do you hang out with around here?”

He smirked as we walked to the doorway toward the back of the room. “What do you know about stock car racing?”

“Not much, I’m afraid.”

He lowered his head to whisper in my ear, his breath warm against my neck, “Good. They’ll love you.

” He winked and pushed the door open. Two couples sat at the rectangular table inside a room that was meant for a much larger group.

Davy Johnson’s build would always be the first to catch someone’s eye.

Shaw’s teammate was kicked back, his leg crossed over his knee with his arm resting on the chair of a stylish, curvy woman with thick, jet-black hair cascading down her back, dressed in a form-fitting brick-red dress and heels I could only dream of remaining upright in if I’d been wearing them.

She sat forward, talking animatedly to a woman with a brilliant smile and gorgeous, tawny-colored, thick corkscrew curls.

The man beside her absently played with her hair while listening to their conversation.

His attention shifted when he spotted us walking in the room, and he nodded in our direction.

“There he is. The wayward son found his way home.”

His woman added, “We weren’t sure if you were ever going to come back.”

Both couples rose and walked over to greet us.

Shaw’s hand reassuringly moved from the small of my back to my shoulder, where he possessively drew me into his front. “Well, I won’t lie. The thought had crossed my mind.” He squeezed my shoulders.

“Yeah, but all those zeros on your paycheck, not to mention the endorsement deals, are worth it, right?” Davy said with a smirk.

Millions. Shaw was worth millions. I worked on a body that was worth millions of dollars. He was worth more money than I’d probably see in my lifetime.

“She’s worth it,” he said, wrapping his arms around me and settling his chin on top of my head.

“Well, then, introduce us,” the beauty with the black hair said, gesturing to me. “I want—no, I need—to hear this monumental love story.”

I laughed. Finally finding my voice around these strangers, I said, “I’m Kelcie Byron.” Then I held out my hand.