Page 12

Alyssa

“No, Cole, we don't throw food at our sisters,”

I said, snatching a chicken nugget from the little boy's hand before it became an airborne missile.

Cole looked up at me, his green eyes, identical to his father's, widening with mock innocence. How did I know it was fake? I lived with Aiden and it was the same look he gave me every single day when he was trying to pretend he hadn’t just pissed someone off. “But Aunt Lyssa, they took my spot.”

I glanced over to where the twins had indeed commandeered the prime viewing seats directly against the glass, leaving messy handprints in Cole’s prime viewing spot. “That doesn't mean we throw food,”

I explained, feeling oddly parental for someone who had exactly zero children of her own. “How about we ask them nicely to move over a little bit so you can join them?”

“Or,”

Cole suggested, his face brightening with an alternative plan. I rolled my eyes because it was another Aiden mannerism. Bargaining. Always bargaining to get his way. Whether it be for sex or his choice of vanities, we were always in a constant battle for dominance… Just the way I liked it. “I could scream really loud until they move?”

I bit back a laugh. “Let's try the asking first.”

Wrangling Reign's children was like trying to herd caffeinated squirrels—entertaining, occasionally rewarding, but mostly exhausting. The Crossbills were up by twenty, and had been since the end of the third quarter. The collective energy in the suite had reached fever pitch. So much so that Tanner and Aster’s families had joined us in our box to celebrate.

It was close to one am and the kids were still up, feeding off the energy and bouncing couch to floor to window, leaving havoc in their wake.

None of us cared. We were all just so happy they were excited for their daddy.

“I don't know how you do this,”

I said to Chloe, who was simultaneously wiping chocolate from Jace's face and preventing Kyle from climbing onto the back of an expensive leather chair.

Chloe snorted. “Bold of you to assume I'm 'doing' anything other than basic damage control. Trust me, you're as qualified as I am.”

Cole scampered off to join his brother, my negotiation attempts forgotten in the excitement of the latest play. Across the suite, Aiden was deep in conversation with Adam, both of them gesturing animatedly at the field below. My boyfriend’s Armani suit jacket had been discarded hours ago and I didn’t want to tell him, it had been touched by some very sticky hands. Not that he cared. He had at least four more of those back in his closet at home.

I took him in, admiring how good he looked with his sleeves rolled up. Aiden was always model worthy, but ever since we started working on the business, he’d bulked up a little. He might not admit to liking getting his hands dirty on the sites, but it sure had done wonders for his body… and our sex life. Not that that needed spicing up.

“He looks good in a suit,”

Reign commented as she sat beside me with a knowing smirk. Yes, she and our other roommate had predicted that the eventual hate Aiden and I shared would turn into something more, but she didn’t need to keep gloating about it 7 years on.

“He looks better out of it,”

I replied without thinking. It was only when Kyle and Cole ran passed that I realized how inappropriate I was being. “Sorry. Bathroom smex brain.”

Reign burst out laughing. “God, you two haven't changed a bit. I swear, the rest of us have grown up, had kids, developed back problems, and you and Aiden are still sneaking off to bathrooms at public events.”

“Not true. Sometimes it's closets.”

She laughed again, shaking her head. “So when are you going to put him out of his misery and marry him? It's been what six years now?”

“Seven,”

I corrected, smiling as I took in the best thing that ever happened to me. Aiden must have felt my gaze because he looked up, his expression softening immediately. Something warm unfurled in my chest, that same feeling that had been there since the beginning. The same feeling I ignored and chose violence instead. Violence being screwing up his pool filters with dish soap.

“Wow. He must love you. Guys like Aiden don’t usually stick around for that long.”

Guys like Aiden… Of course she’d use a phrase like that. She doesn’t know him. Not really. No one does. Maybe Devin, Adam and Matty do. They seemed to be the three that were able to see through his actions. But that was exactly what they were. Actions. When he doesn’t want you getting close, he throws barbs and jabs your way. A sad existence to some, but to me, I knew what he was doing. Weeding out the weak. Only the brave would keep pushing with him.

“I know,”

I sighed. “And I will marry him,”

I said simply. “One day.”

“One day?”

Reign raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. “You've been saying that for years. What are you waiting for?”

I shrugged, leaning against the back of the couch. “I don't know. The right moment? Besides, he told me he'd wait until he's eighty to marry me if that’s what I wanted. Kind of want to test out how serious he was.”

“Pretty sure he didn't mean that literally,”

Reign said dryly. “That man has been ready to put a ring on your finger since about fifteen minutes after you met.”

Fifteen minutes after we met. Is it normal to remember your entire encounter with someone the first time you meet them? I didn’t have it with anyone else except him. Fifteen minutes after we met we were sitting on my rickety old porch, the one he’s now restored, and he asked me out on a date. I said yes and had no idea I was accepting my Endgame.

“I know.”

And I did know. Aiden had first proposed two years into our relationship, then again every few months with increasing creativity. The last time had involved skywriting over my latest restoration project, which had been both ridiculous and endearing—exactly like the man himself. Not that he’d let it on to most people.

“So?”

Reign pressed, glancing over to make sure the twins weren't starting another sisterly wrestling match.

“So,”

I echoed, “I just want to make sure we're doing it for the right reasons.”

Reign's expression softened. “And what would those be?”

“Not because it's expected. Not because he thinks he needs to lock me down. Not because it would be a big F you to his father.”

“And those are the wrong reasons?”

I nodded. “For us, yes. I want it to be just about us when it happens. Not about anyone else's expectations.”

“Fair enough,”

Reign conceded. “Though for what it's worth, I think you guys cleared that hurdle years ago. I've never seen anyone more obviously meant for each other—except maybe me and Devin.”

She winked.

“That is high praise, coming from half of the Walker power couple.”

Delaney suddenly appeared at Reign's side, tugging insistently on her mother's sleeve. “Mom! Dad hit that old quarterback and everyone’s screaming!”

“Duty calls,”

Reign sighed, allowing herself to be dragged away.

I took a moment to soak in the suite's atmosphere—the excited chatter, the bursts of cheering, the sense of being surrounded by people who had somehow become family despite starting as strangers thrown together by mere location of my grandmother’s house.

“You look thoughtful,”

a voice commented, and I turned to find Aiden beside me, two glasses of champagne in hand. He offered one to me, his fingertips brushing mine as I accepted.

“Just people-watching,”

I replied, taking a sip.

His eyes swept over my face, reading me in that way he'd always been able to. “Reign asking about marriage again?”

I nearly choked on my champagne. “How did you know?”

“Because she's Reign,”

he said simply. “And because I know that particular expression on your face.”

“Oh? And what expression is that?”

“The 'I love Aiden but I'm not ready to admit he's right about everything' expression.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn't stop my smile. “You're insufferable.”

“And yet you suffer me quite happily.”

He stepped closer, his hand finding the small of my back in that possessive way that should have annoyed me but never did. “Got any calls from Benny or Ford this evening?”

“Benny and Ford? Why would I get a call from them in the middle of the night?”

“Right answer,”

he said with a wink.

I rolled my eyes. “You know what? Actually, maybe I need to call Benny about the Tudor in Brentwood. The one with the original woodwork and the disaster of a kitchen. It really needs his input urgently,” I teased.

Aiden took a sip of his champagne, nodding as his thumb traced small circles against my lower back. “Is that the one you've been sketching renovation plans for at three in the morning?”

I pulled back a little, surprised that he didn’t immediately go for a fancy retort. “You noticed that?”

“I notice everything about you, Alyssa.”

His voice had dropped lower, more intimate despite the crowd around us. “Even the way you drool on the blueprints when you finally pass out on them.”

“I do not drool!”

“It's adorable drool,”

he assured me solemnly. “Very professional, and something I like seeing when your mouth is around my cock.”

I swatted his arm but leaned into him all the same.

He kissed my forehead, keeping me close even though I was trying to playfully squirm out of his hold. “Grandma Lou would be proud of you,” he said.

That immediately made me relax in his hold. For all of Aiden’s teasing, he knew what to say to make me melt without even trying.

“You think?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Then he thought about it. “Though she'd probably be prouder that you've kept me in line all these years.”

“That's a full-time job in itself,”

I teased, trying to lighten the moment.

Maybe one day would come sooner than I'd planned. But for now, this—his hand in mine, surrounded by friends who had become family, watching history unfold on the field below—was more than enough.

It was everything.

“Speaking of which,”

he said, his eyes twinkling mischievously, “I was thinking—”

“No,”

I cut him off, already knowing where this was headed. “We are not sneaking off again. Reign's kids are traumatized enough.”

He sighed dramatically. “I was just going to suggest we grab some food from the buffet, but now I'm intrigued by whatever salacious act you were imagining.”

“Liar,”

I laughed. “You were absolutely angling for round three.”

“Round four, technically,”

he corrected, his voice dropping to a whisper. “If we count the blanket on the plane.”

Before I could respond, the door to the suite burst open, and Thea rushed in, flushed with excitement, Jackson close behind her.

“Guys! You won't believe—”

she began, then stopped short, taking in the scene before her. “Why are there so many children in here?”

“Because some of us have procreated,”

Reign called from across the room.

“Right, but...”

Thea gestured toward the open door, where I could now see several unfamiliar faces hovering uncertainly. “Wait, did we all move to the same box?”

“Yeah,”

Adam said. “I invited them in at half-time. Figured it’s a big moment and we should all be together. It’s tight, but we make it work.”

“That’s what she said.”

“Jackson,”

several of us groaned in unison.

Thea and her boyfriend moved on to speak to her family, leaving Aiden and I alone. Well, as alone as you can get with a suite stuffed full of people.

“Come here,”

Aiden said, his voice low and edged with that particular heat that always made my skin prickle with anticipation.

His fingers wrapped around my wrist sending my pulse racing as he tugged me out of the suite before I could process what was happening.

The hall between the luxury boxes was mostly empty since we were heading into the final few minutes of the game. The Crossbills might’ve had a huge lead, but anything could happen in football.

“Where are we going?”

I asked, my eyes darting to check for witnesses. There was no one. Just me, Aiden, and the sound of our footsteps as he dragged me across the concrete floor.

“The box next door.”

His voice had dropped and was barely audible over the symphony of sounds bleeding through from the stadium, but I could already feel it.

The barely contained desire between us. It wasn’t our fault. We’d had a taste of each other and couldn’t get enough. Even now.

“Wait, what?”

My brows pulled together as I struggled to focus on the logistics of everything because all I could think about was how his thumb was tracing circles inside of my wrist.

“The box. Tanner’s box is free.”

He snorted. “That’s a phrase I never thought I’d say.”

The muscles in his forearm flexed as he held me close and led me down the hallway.

“But what if they come back?”

I challenged, though we both knew how this was going to end. We were risk takers, and anything at the Super Bowl heightened that risk ten-fold.

“They won’t,”

he said with that infuriating certainty that should have annoyed me but instead sent a fresh wave of pleasure through my core. He opened the door with way too much confidence for someone who did not belong there, then clicked the lock behind us with a sound that felt impossibly loud in the sudden hush. “And now they can’t.”

The room was identical to ours—clean lines, leather seats, cool-toned granite counters, floor-to-ceiling glass offering a panoramic view of the stadium. But in here, it was quiet. Empty. Stolen. The contrast between the roaring madness outside and the pristine stillness within created a bubble that felt both forbidden and inevitable.

Aiden turned to me slowly, his molten eyes raking me in. I took a deep breath because even though he wasn’t touching me; I felt him at every point his gaze landed on.

“Fuck, Alyssa. I need to touch you,”

he said, his voice low and rough, each word laced with a hunger that made my breath catch. “This jersey.”

His eyes lingered on where the fabric clung to my breasts. “These thighs.” His gaze dropped lower, making me acutely aware of how my jean skirt hugged every curve. “The way you were chewing your lip during that last down. You’re killing me.”

I took one step toward him, just one, my body responding to his pull before my mind could catch up and it was enough. It had always been enough between us.

Our sexual chemistry was something I’d never experienced before. When other relationships would start to slow, ours heated up, and it only seemed to get better the more we learned about each other.

He dropped into one of the front-row seats with languid grace, spreading his legs in silent invitation. I stood at the end of the row as his eyes flicked down my body like he was already undressing me with his mind. The leather creaked beneath his weight, the sound obscenely loud in the quiet suite.

“Come here,”

he said, patting his thigh, the simple command holding layers of promise. “Face the field.”

I let out a shaky breath that fogged slightly in the over-air-conditioned room. “You want me to…what? Watch the game while I’m sitting on top of you?”

The idea was so quintessentially Aiden, mixing his two greatest passions with casual audacity.

He leaned back, and smirked with one corner of his mouth lifting higher than the other. The expression sent a jolt of electricity straight between my legs. “You narrate. I admire.”

“The game? You want me to tell you what’s happening in the last 3 minutes of the Super Bowl while we…”

I couldn’t even finish the sentence because it was dangerous. Reckless, and so us.

He nodded. There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation in his demeanor. I took in our surroundings again. Closed off box, tinted windows, locked door.

We were good. So I climbed into his lap with deliberate slowness, savoring the building tension. My knees braced either side of his hips, the leather seat cool against my skin as my skirt rode up and the only thing separating us were his pants and my thong.

I could feel him. That thick erection already pressing against me eagerly. I adjusted slightly, settling my weight, and his hands came around to grip my waist like he was starving, his fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to leave marks I’d discover later.

“Pull your panties to the side,”

he murmured against the nape of my neck, his breath hot and damp against my sensitive skin. The vibration of his voice sent a full-body shiver through me, and I was already building my way to an orgasm.

I did as he asked, fingers trembling with anticipation rather than nervousness. The cool air hit my center, making me gasp softly. He undid his zipper just enough that I could feel his cock against my thigh. I took him in my hand and stroked him slowly and deliberately as he groaned softly, the sound reverberating through his chest and into mine where our bodies pressed together.

I lifted my hips, angled myself above him, feeling the blunt pressure seeking entrance. With excruciating slowness, I lowered myself down with a gasp that shattered the silence between us as he pushed all the way in. The stretch was deep, decadent, bordering on too much yet never enough. Perfect.

His head dropped back against the chair with a soft thud, his throat working as he swallowed hard. “Fuck, Alyssa. Yes. Just like that.”

His voice had roughened to a growl, the sound sending another pulse of desire through me.

I steadied myself, gripping the armrests as I breathed through the intensity of sensation, of fullness. My thighs tightened around him, muscles already trembling with the effort of holding myself still. For a few seconds, we stayed completely motionless, locked together, letting the heat of it settle in, savoring the connection that felt both carnal and sacred.

“Now,”

he said, low and demanding, his hands sliding up to grip my hips with bruising intensity. “Call the game.”

I blinked at the field through the floor-to-ceiling glass, the stadium lights almost too bright, creating halos in my vision. Below us, Tanner lined up at the thirty. Third and long. The final quarter was on fire, tension was building both on the field and in the charged space between our bodies.

I started to rock my hips slowly, easing into the rhythm, and it was like a current ran through me, electric and consuming. Each movement sent sparks cascading up my spine, building a delicious tension at the base of my skull.

“Tanner’s looking left,”

I whispered, breathless, struggling to form coherent thoughts as pleasure built with each subtle shift of my hips. “There’s motion. The defense adjusts. It’s loud as hell out there.”

My words came in staccato bursts, punctuated by the rhythm we were creating together.

Aiden’s hands slid beneath the hem of my jersey, pushing it up inch by tantalizing inch until, exposing my skin to the cool air and his hungry gaze. His palms dragged over my bare stomach, up my ribs, leaving trails of heat that contrasted deliciously with the chill. His fingers brushed the underside of my breasts, teasing, never giving me quite enough contact where I was beginning to ache for it.

“Keep going,”

he said, his voice strained with the effort of restraint. “You feel so fucking good.”

The raw appreciation in his tone made me clench around him involuntarily, drawing a hiss from between his teeth.

“Snap,”

I panted, my voice higher and breathier than normal. “Tanner fakes it—no, keeps it—rolls right. Pressure’s coming fast.”

The words tumbled out between gasps as the coil of pleasure wound tighter with each rolling movement of my hips.

He thrust up into me once, hard and sharp and unexpected, hitting a spot deep inside that made stars burst behind my eyelids, and I gasped, momentarily forgetting the game, forgetting my own name, forgetting everything but the feel of him.

“He spins—throws—deep over the middle—caught!”

The last word emerged as a cry as Aiden repeated the motion, driving up into me.

My hips rocked harder, finding a more urgent tempo. Aiden slid one hand down to grip my thigh, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh, anchoring me while the other roamed up my spine, beneath my jersey, splayed flat between my shoulder blades. The dual sensations with one hand holding me down, the other pushing me up, created a delicious tension that arched my back.

“You’re so tight,”

he groaned, his words hot against the sensitive skin behind my ear. “And this view, your back, your ass, fuck, Alyssa.”

The way he said my name, part reverence, part possession, sent another pulse of pleasure through me.

I moved faster, driven by the rhythm of the crowd outside, the rhythm of him inside me, and the growing intensity that threatened to undo me completely. Every time I circled my hips, I felt him deeper, stretching me, filling places that felt both familiar and brand new. Every time he thrust up, my voice caught in my throat, a symphony of half-formed sounds that would have embarrassed me with anyone else.

“They’re in the red zone,”

I said, the words rushed and slurring together as my focus narrowed to the exquisite friction between our bodies. “Tanner’s scrambling. Avoids a sack. Throws back across the field. Corner of the end zone. Touchdown.”

The suite vibrated with the force of the stadium erupting, thousands of voices merging into a single roar of triumph. Aiden growled, the sound more animal than human, and dug his fingers into my hips, guiding me faster, deeper, the controlled rhythm giving way to something more primal, more desperate. Sweat trickled down my spine, a single drop sliding between my shoulder blades, and my thighs were shaking with the mounting pleasure.

“Twenty-eight seconds left,”

I whispered, barely able to form words as the tension coiled tighter, hovering just on the edge of release. “The Snakes have the ball. Clock’s ticking.”

The parallel wasn’t lost on me—our own race against time, against discovery, against the inevitable crescendo that approached with every heartbeat.

“Ride me, baby,”

he groaned into my skin, one hand sliding around to press flat against my lower abdomen, applying pressure that only increased the sensations. “Just like that. Don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop.”

The desperation in his voice mirrored my own, and we were on that beautiful edge where control fractured and primitive need took over.

I leaned forward, bracing my hands on the glass, my forehead pressed against the cool surface, momentarily fogging the view with my panting breath. The position changed the angle and drove him deeper. I bit my lip to keep from crying out. Aiden slid both hands to my hips and thrust up into me, relentless, matching the increasingly frantic pace I’d set.

I was close—so close I couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, could barely breathe. The universe narrowed to the points where our bodies connected, to the building pressure that threatened to shatter me. My fingers slipped on the glass, leaving marks.

“There’s the snap,”

I cried out, my voice breaking as pleasure built to an unbearable peak. “Defense is holding. They’re. Shit. They’ve fumbled!”

Aiden’s breathing grew ragged, his grip punishing in the most exquisite way. I could feel him throbbing inside me, his control slipping with each thrust, and I knew he was almost there, right with me, always with me.

“We’ve got it back,”

I gasped, the words barely coherent as my body tightened. “They’re taking the knee. Thirty-four seconds... twenty... ten...”

My release hit me hard, crashing through me like a tidal wave. My whole body locked, trembling around him as he cursed against my neck, a litany of praise and profanity that pushed me higher. He followed me over the edge, thrusting deep one final time, holding me down against him, pulsing inside me as the roar of the stadium swelled into something euphoric. In that moment, I couldn’t tell where the crowd’s elation ended and mine began.

We stayed like that with our bodies tangled, breath shallow, hearts racing in perfect synchronicity. My forehead was pressed to the glass, my thighs sore with my skirt pushed up against my waist. My hands shook from the intensity, aftershocks of pleasure still rippling through me at irregular intervals.

I glanced down at the field, at the sea of red and gold, at the team rushing toward each other in celebration, their victory mirroring our own private triumph.

“They won,”

I said into his neck, breathless.

He kissed the side of my head, still buried inside me, his lips lingering against my temple with unexpected tenderness. His arms wrapped around me, holding me close as our breathing gradually slowed, two hearts finding their way back to normal rhythm.

“So did we,”

he murmured, and I heard everything in those three words: possession, adoration, the history we’d built, and the future we were still writing together.

In the stadium's chaos, in this stolen moment, in his arms, I had never felt more victorious.