Page 19

Chapter Nineteen

Ivy

“I think it might snow tonight.” His voice murmurs down the phone, deep and smooth. “Hopefully we’re not delayed because of it.”

I ignore the anxiety humming under my skin at the mention of him traveling in the snow. I fiddle with my necklace and ask, “When do you take off again?”

“A few minutes.” Someone yells in the background and Scott groans down the phone. “I have to go now. I’m holding the team up.”

I sigh. “Okay. Are you still coming here when you land?”

“It’s New Year’s Eve, baby.” I practically hear the eye roll in his voice. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

“Are you driving from the airport?” I can hear his teammates calling for him on the other end of the phone but I just need to be sure he knows to be safe. The sky outside is gloomy, and dark, and the air smells of snow. Boston winter is going to hit hard tonight and the thought of him driving in the snow makes me sick to the stomach.

“Yeah. The car’s in the team lot.” The line starts to crackle and I realize that he’s walking out onto the tarmac.

“Drive carefully, okay? Text me when you land so I know you’re on your way. Don’t speed in the snow.” My voice is dripping with nerves and I sound like a nagging girlfriend but I don’t care.

“Of course, Ives. You okay?” he yells down the phone, over the noise of the plane he’s probably walking toward right now .

“I—yes, just … be safe. Drive safe.” Those three short but huge words stick in my throat as a way of saying goodbye but I clamp my lips together.

Nope.

No way.

Not yet … right? It feels too soon. I’ve only just started to watch his games, to dip a toe into his world. Saying those words feels like I would be jumping in the deep end of the pool not knowing if I could swim and without a floatation device.

“I gotta go.” He pauses. “I’ll message you when I land.”

Then he’s gone.

I tuck the phone between my legs, lean back into the couch cushions and close my eyes.

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

It’s only a little bit of snow. It won’t be that thick by the time he lands back in Boston. He’ll be fine.

Did he get snow tires put on his car?

I didn’t ask.

Fuck, why didn’t I ask?

He probably does. He would know to put snow tires on the car … right?

I reach for my phone, planning to send off a quick text to him and ask about the snow tires. I can’t sit hit here for the next four hours whilst he flies home, thinking about whether or not he has the right fucking tires on his car.

Before I can start typing out a message my phone vibrates in my hand.

Scott: *Scott has started sharing his live location with you.*

Scott: I’ll see you before midnight. Wait up for me.

Yep.

I’m in love with this man.

***

I watch his little blue dot get closer and closer to mine on the phone. It’s almost midnight. I’ve been refreshing my phone since Scott landed an hour ago. I’m still in a small state of shock that he even turned the location on in the first place. Katie doesn’t even have Grant’s location on her phone.

It’s like Scott heard the anxiety in my voice and knew, without asking, exactly what I needed from him.

I refresh the map and the blue dot jumps just as lights from a car turning into the driveway flashes down the front hallway.

Anticipation and excitement buzz through me. He only left thirty-six hours ago but it feels far too long to be apart.

I uncurl from the couch, toss my phone onto the coffee table and head down the hallway before I even hear the car door slam. Cold air rushes inside, making me shiver. I’m only in an oversized sweatshirt—one I stole from Scott—and fluffy socks.

Scott’s hair is trapped under his signature black cap. He holds his overnight bag in one hand and his phone in the other, staring at something on his screen. When he gets close enough, I smile, rolling on the balls of my feet.

“Hey, you.”

His head snaps up and his gaze locks on mine. He shoves his phone into the pocket of his sweats. A few more strides and he’s standing in front of me, a few steps down so we’re eye to eye. He drops a peck on my lips. “Hi.”

Without dropping his bag, he reaches his free hand around my waist, skimming down until he cups my ass and lifts me up.

I squeal, wrapping my arms around him. I press my body into his and bury my face into his neck, giggling. He carries me inside, kicking the door shut with one foot and dropping his bag. He presses me into the wall near the stairs, wedging my body between him and the wall with my legs wrapping tightly around his hips .

He kisses me hard and messy. His tongue begs for entry and I open for him. I rip off his cap and my fingers sink into his hair. When he rips a moan from my throat, he swallows it.

We stand there, stealing each other’s breaths for god knows how long before Scott slows things down. He drags his lips against my jaw.

“Fuck, but I missed you,” he murmurs against my skin. He doesn’t pull back or move away. He stays close, like he’s trying to weld me to him.

“I missed you, too,” I whisper, also not pulling away from him. “Good game, QB. How was your flight?”

“You watched?” His voice is muffled against my neck but there is no way I can miss the pride in his voice.

“I did.” I pull back just a little because I want to see his reaction when I tell him. “Hell of hail Mary you pulled in the fourth. Way to give your fans a collective heart attack, Harvey.”

Pride shines in his eyes. He doesn’t reply, only kisses me again.

Eventually, he pulls back and I unlock my thighs from around his hips. I slide down his body and back to my feet. Scott lifts a hand, gently pushing a curl behind my ear. A quiet settles around us and as I glance over Scott’s shoulder, I take a peek at the clock. It’s five minutes to midnight.

I have never been kissed at midnight on a New Year’s Eve before.

“What was going on earlier tonight?” he asks. “I could tell you were anxious. Was it because you watched the game?”

I clasp my hands in front of me and start to pick at my nails. The anxiety rushes back and my chest hurts from the force of it. I’m not really in the mood to talk about why I get so anxious in the snow. I just want Scott to kiss me, and take me to bed, and then not stop kissing me.

His hands slide into mine, fingers curling around and squeezing.

“I got worried that it was going to snow. I don’t like traveling in the snow. Don’t like anyone traveling in the snow,” I tell him quietly. I trace my thumb over his skin .

“Why?”

“Just …” I take a deep breath and steel my nerves. “It was snowing the night my parents died. They were driving home from New York City and there was a truck driver who decided to have too many at dinner and then get back behind the wheel. They were driving in a snowstorm and he didn’t see them. They died on the way to the hospital.”

My throat feels like sandpaper. Anxiety creeps up my neck. My chest begins to hurt and I squeeze my eyes shut, begging myself not to cry.

I really don’t want to cry tonight.

Scott lets go of my hands. Then I feel the gentle caress of his thumb against my cheeks. He strokes my skin, waiting for me to open my eyes.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he says, still stroking my cheeks.

I only nod.

“Did having my location help?” he asks and I look up at him. His cap lies somewhere on the floor behind us and I can see the gold flakes amongst the green so clearly, even in the dim light.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” His thumb swipes once more across my cheek before his fingers drop to my throat, finding my pulse there. “I’ll keep it on. So even if I can’t reply because I’m at practice or in meetings or doing press, you will know where I am.”

“Okay.” In the back of my head I know it’s silly and I shouldn’t need it but it helps. To be able to know that he’s safe. Especially with all the traveling they’ll be doing during the playoffs.

Scott dips his head, catching my gaze again before he gently kisses me. Then he presses another to my lips. And then another. Each one lingers a little more than the last.

My gaze wanders back to the clock. “We missed midnight.”

“Happy New Year, baby,” he hums against my lips.

“I’ve never celebrated a new year with a boyfriend before.” I take a step up the stairs but Scott grabs my hand and pulls me back down the hall toward the lounge .

The fire is surviving but it’s low and almost out. Scott presses a kiss into my hair before stripping his sweatshirt off and dropping to his knees in front of the fire. He adds a log and a few extra smaller sticks, poking and prodding until the fire comes back to life.

I sink back into the couch, watching him carefully. The muscles stretch across his strong shoulders and when he moves, I watch them bulge. Scott sits back on his knees, surveying his work. The fire is roaring now and the heat surrounds us.

Instead of coming to sit beside me on the couch, Scott moves the coffee table from between the couch and the fire, pushing it aside and out of the way. Then he takes the blanket that I normally curl up under and spreads it out on the floor. When he holds his hand out to me, I take it.

Scott pulls me to my feet before he takes a seat on the blanket in front of the fire. He leans against the front of the couch and tugs me down onto his lap, straddling him.

“Thank you for watching tonight. And for coming to my game on Christmas.” He runs his hands up my bare legs, fingertips disappearing a little further past the hem of my sweatshirt with every pass.

I shiver.

“I don’t think you know how much it means to me that you were there. That you watched me tonight,” he murmurs as he pushes the hair from my neck. He trails his forefinger down the line of my neck, his lips following.

My thighs tighten around his hips.

“In the first, when I ran out of the pocket ten yards from the TD zone.” His teeth graze along my shoulder.

“Yeah?” I urge him on. He nips at my skin.

“I knew we were going to win. It would be tight but I knew. Their defensive wasn’t on their games—”

“You’re right about that. They were actually in shambles. Did you see … what?” I ask when he pulls his face out of my neck to smirk at me .

“Mm. Nothing.” He continues to run his big hands over my thighs. I love the feel of his hands. Rough and calloused. Big. They make me feel small. Precious. Breakable.

But only if he’s the one breaking me.

He sinks his fingers in the soft flesh of my thighs. “I knew we were going to get the win. So, I decided something. Right there in the end zone.”

“Oh?” I gasp when he grazes his teeth along my jaw, nipping at my skin gently as he blazes a path down to my pulse point.

“Want to know?” he asks.

I tilt my head a little and his lips latch onto my skin, just over my pulse. He sucks, marking me.

My heart pounds in my chest and my thighs become impossibly tight around his hips.

I want to roll my hips. I want friction. His tone, the way his lips are moving along my skin, he’s promising something and I want it. So badly.

He’s still waiting for my answer so I give him one. “Yes. Tell me.”

“I decided that for every touchdown I got tonight, I’d give you an orgasm to match.”

He thrusts upwards and I finally feel the hardness under me. Scott has me in such a trance, so distracted by the feel of him, that I didn’t notice his cock straining against the gray fabric of his sweats.

My mouth goes dry and I bite down on my bottom lip. I roll forward and this time, his hands slide further up under my sweatshirt to take hold of my waist. He guides me. Slowly rolling me over his hips. Slowly enough that I feel every single inch of his hard cock.

Fuck me.

“You want to know how many touchdowns I threw into the end zone tonight?” he asks.

I whimper as he rolls me against him again, taking control of my movements and slowing them down a torturous amount .

“Six, baby.” He kisses the corner of my mouth. My eyes close and his hands snake around my back and tug me closer to him. My nipples are hard and the friction against the fabric of my sweatshirt every time I brush against his chest is almost unbearable.

“Six?” I say breathlessly.

“Mhmm,” he agrees. “Six.”

A hand leaves my back. I follow the feel of his fingers as his hand snakes between our bodies and down. The tips trail lightly over my panties. Which are absolutely soaked. Ruined.

My back is too warm from the fire behind me and with him pressing me so close to his chest, I feel like I’m going to combust.

Everything is heightened.

His body is warm, the fire crackles behind us, and when he tugs my panties to the side and sinks two fingers inside me, I burn.

“Oh god.” I drop my head into the crook of his neck.

“I played a hell of a game tonight. Like I knew you were watching,” Scott murmurs into my ear. His fingers move in and out. A slow, controlled rhythm.

“I showed off for you.” He strokes and plays.

I moan, trying to ride his hand to get more friction.

“Uh uh. We’re going to go slow, get you there. One orgasm at a time,” he scolds gently.

In. Out. His thumb brushes against my clit and I jolt.

“Should we count them out, baby?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I want to come so badly. I’m about to beg, about to cry out, about to plead with him to go faster and get me there. I curl further into him, pressing my face into his neck, letting his skin muffle my moan. He builds up his pace.

“I feel so proud to play when you’re watching. It means the world to me,” he confesses in my ear. “You mean the world to me.”

God, this man .

I want to reply. I want to tell him he means the world to me, too.

But then he presses a thumb to my clit, playing with me, and I forget how to use my words. Faster and faster. In. Out. My hands sink into his hair. My fingers curl around the strands and I tug.

He pulls back, staring at me so intensely for a beat I feel that tether again. Tugging me in, tightening the knots. Pulling us closer and closer into one another’s orbit.

When I feel like I might combust just from the way he looks into my soul, I kiss him.

He ups his pace again, fucking me hard with his fingers as I ride his hand. When I come, my moans are swallowed right down Scott’s throat.

Neither of us speak as he pulls my sweatshirt over my head and I tug his shirt off. I pull my ruined panties off and throw them over the couch. He tugs off the fluffy pink socks from my feet and they disappear too.

His gray sweatpants are the last to come off.

I move, kneeling beside him. He tilts his head as his hips lift and he drags his sweats down his thick thighs, capturing one of my nipples in his mouth. I gasp. I still feel the remnants of my orgasm sliding down my thigh. But his mouth is hot, and wet, and his teeth tug my nipple between them just enough I can feel myself dripping even more.

“That feels so good,” I whimper. I feel him smile against my skin before swapping to the other. It doesn’t last very long before he’s kicking away the pants and pulling me back over his lap.

His cock sits hard, throbbing, the tip glistening against my soft stomach.

He’s so big. The way it sits against me looks as if we’re measuring whether it will fit. It does but I still eye it like it’s gotten bigger and won’t this time.

“Ivy.” His soft tone draws my eyes up to meet his gaze.

Wordlessly, I lift on my knees. Taking his cock in my hand, I pump him a few times. I run a thumb across the tip and Scott hisses. I tease, just a little, before I position him at my entrance and sink down .

He fills me up so completely.

His arms circle my back again. He pulls me against his chest. When I start to move, slowly lifting up before sinking back down, his lips find mine and pull me into a passionate kiss.

This.

This feels different.

We’re not fucking tonight.

Not with the fire, and New Year’s Eve, and the way he handled my anxiety. Not with the way he was looking at me when I told him I watched his game. Not with the way he admitted how much I meant to him.

This is something more. More sensual, more meaningful.

I grind against him in an easy rhythm. We stare at each other, connected. Everything is slow and quiet. Just for a moment. He holds me closely, nibbling on my lips.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against my lips.

I close my eyes, my clit grinding against the base of his cock. I can feel my orgasm building. My thighs are aching. I love the slow and sweet with him but I need the fast and rough right now. I need more. I lose control of my movements, my slow grind picking up pace, as I chase the release.

As always, Scott knows what I need. His legs spread slightly and he pushes me onto my back.

I whimper when he slips out, mourning the loss of him inside me.

He’s quick to follow, crawling over me and hooking a knee over his arm. He spreads me wide for him and sinks back into me.

He fucks me in front of the fire, deeply and without ever breaking eye contact. We know each other’s bodies well enough that when he repositions himself and his movements become erratic, that he wants to come.

I reach up, resting my palm on his cheek.

“Will you make me come?” I whimper. He drops his head to my forehead. “Please. I want to come so badly.”

“Yes. Come for me, baby,” he grunts out.

“You feel so good. So big,” I moan as he slams into me, hitting the spot inside me that only he can.

“Ivy,” he moans, dropping his head into my neck.

A few more strokes, and when I feel his cock pulse inside me and the vibrations of his groan ripple over my skin, I fall over the edge too.

We’re still for a moment. The fire has roared back to life, flames flickering and creating shadows that dance across the room. Chests rise and fall in unison. Bodies tangled and glistening with sweat. Lips find mine and words pass between us in complete silence.

He doesn’t pull out of me when he rolls off of me. Simply switches our positions, so I’m lying across his chest with his softening cock still inside me.

The fire crackles. It’s the only noise in the house. If it hadn’t been, I may not have caught Scott’s next words, whispered so quietly, they are almost lost.

“I think I’m falling for you, Ivy Booker.”