Page 19 of Rushing Her: Seattle, Westerners (Gridiron Warriors #2)

Alexandra

I t’s three days before Christmas, and the stadium is packed for the game against the San Antonio Rattlers.

Media swarm our limo as we approach and drive through to the garage, which has an elevator that will take us directly to the private boxes.

I chose the limo to accommodate everyone, and Brayden still doesn’t know his parents have come.

Last night, I booked them a hotel room, and they will be returning to our house tonight after the game.

Reporters shout questions through the windows at us.

“Alexandra, are you really pregnant with Brayden Murray’s baby?

”, or “Is it true you got pregnant on purpose to tie him to you because you are going to be fired from Top Tier?” The worst is “Alexandra, how do you feel that Brayden has another kid on the way?”

No matter how many times we push for the stalker to come forward and take a paternity test, she continues to insist that she’s pregnant with Brayden’s baby.

She’s the one sending these false stories to the press.

I try to hold my head high, but it’s challenging when they doubt my children.

They are Brayden’s, and there is no denying it.

I was only with him, and he was only with me.

“It’s okay, sweetie, we all know they are lies.” Misty, Brayden’s mom, pats my thigh.

“Thank you.”

I look to where my parents are seated and around at everyone in the limo.

They are all watching me, expecting me to break down.

That’s why I won’t. I must be strong for them, too.

My counselor suggests that I need to release some of the emotions, or I will break, but I haven’t figured a way to get it out.

I can’t go to kickboxing classes right now or punch a bag.

My treadmill or pounding the pavement is even out of the question.

I feel it building inside me, and I’m afraid it’s about to overwhelm me.

After parking in the garage, we enter the private box, and instead of hiding in the back like I have for months, I walk to the glass and look down at the fans that are filling the stadium.

The Westerners have already clinched their seed in the playoffs with their recent wins. Both Brayden and the quarterback, Brogan, are in sync, and the analysts say that for the first time in years, Brayden looks as good as he did in his rookie year without all those distractions.

The door opens, and in walks Thor and Briar with Raven.

They make their way over and hug me before we all wait for the game to start.

Today, I’m finally wearing Brayden’s jersey and number.

I have it paired with black maternity leggings, so it looks like a dress over my enormous belly.

Every week, I get bigger and bigger. These boys are about to overtake my body.

My mom comes by and hands me a finger sandwich from the snack tray in the room. I take a bite even though my stomach is in knots. I’m so nervous about this being our first official game, now that our relationship is going public.

I watch as the Jumbotron reflects an image of me and Brayden. It features an article stating that the notorious bad boy of the league has been taken off the market.

My phone pings, and I look down at the message.

Brayden

I love you.

I smile, and a part of me settles, while taking a deep breath and moving away from the glass for a moment. When the game begins with “Sabotage” from the Beastie Boys blaring through the sound system, I move back to the glass to support my man and let the photo frenzy begin.

Brayden

T he Rattlers are on point today, wanting to prove they deserve to be in the playoffs, as well, by beating us. Neither team has been able to score a touchdown, only field goals. My frustration is through the roof, and I’m ready to put my neck out there and make a run for it.

The Jumbotron flashes images of people in the boxes, and I catch my girl smiling at the camera.

She’s faking it, so I’m worried about her, but when my mom walks up and puts an arm around her, I whip my head toward the box.

There, my father stands, behind the two women who mean the most to me.

My parents made it to a live game. I’m freaking out and excited.

Now is the time.

I jog over to the coaching staff as they talk to Brogan and interrupt. “Let’s do the fake we’ve been practicing.”

“Brayden, that would put you out in the open to be tackled. We don’t want to risk you getting hurt.”

“I’m okay. I can take it. Want to do it, Bennett?”

He nods, and we smack hands.

As we move toward the field to take possession, we need to get in range for the play to work. After a couple of runs, we are first down on their thirteen-yard line. This is our chance to go for it.

Brogan calls the play, and we all get into position.

I’m lined up at the line of scrimmage, next to the offensive tackle, as if I’m about to block for another tight end to take the run or for the possibility that Brogan will go for it himself.

When the ball is snapped, I engage the line for a two count, then roll to the outside, waiting for Brogan’s lateral pass to me.

I catch the toss as he and a few other linemen scurry in front of me to block.

When we get close, Brogan drops back, and I lateral to him, taking over as his blocker.

We make it into the end zone, where I’m finally tackled, but we got the score.

Jumping up, I cheer as the stadium erupts into chaos, but the people going crazy for me on the Jumbotron lifts my heart and cancels out any pain from the tackle. This season has been unbelievable. I’m taking more risks and feel like I’m a part of a team for once.

Rallying everyone to the line, the extra point is good, and we now lead the Rattlers by ten points.

W alking into my home, my arm around Alexandra, I’m excited, exhausted, and ready to celebrate. Everyone is here. T.K. and Brea are waiting for us. The caterer that Alexandra insisted on hiring has food already set out on the tables, as our family mingles around.

“Congratulations,” several people say as I cuddle Alexandra in my arms in front of me. Tonight will be more than just a surprise for our family. It’s for us, too. I’ve come up with a plan for my sweet Lexi.

“Thank you, everyone, for being here and celebrating our win today. Sorry you couldn’t see it, T.K.

” I joke with him, and he just shakes his head.

He’s holding his little girl Alexis, who is dressed all in pink.

She’s tucked into his arm as if she were the football he’s protecting from everyone.

“Alexandra and I asked you all to come because we have an announcement.” I look down at my girl, and she nods, permitting me to reveal our news.

“A couple of weeks ago, we had the anatomical ultrasound, and they were able to determine the sex of all three babies.” Again, I pause, not wanting to steal this moment from our girl.

“To share with you all, we thought of something fun to do. Brea, Joanne, and Mom, you each are being handed a box.” Raven passes them out.

“Mom, you have baby A’s. Open it.” My mother opens the box, and inside is a tiny football jersey with his name on the back—Tristan.

“Oh, my goodness, another grandson,” my mom exclaims, and everyone cheers.

“Okay, Grandma King…Joanne, you have baby B’s. Open yours.” Alexandra’s mom removes the lid, and again, a football jersey with the name Bowie on the back.”

She squeals, “Another boy,” and we all rejoice.

“Finally, you have the last box, Brea. You can open yours.” She does, and everyone takes bets that it’s finally a girl, but she pulls out another jersey, and this one has the name Jett on the back.

“All boys,” Brea giggles. “You’ll have to come hang out with me to get girly-time, Alex.” The women all laugh.

“Well, it’s good to see that my family will have honor in this birth, too,” T.K. chuckles, and I stare at him, confused. “My brother’s name is Tristan.” He full-belly laughs, and I pull my girl around to look at me.

“Did you know this?”

“Well, yeah,” she chuckles.

“That’s it, we are changing baby A’s name. How about Brayden junior?” Everyone loses it, but I’m serious. I don’t want my son named after T.K.

“It’s not being named after T.K. You picked that name. It’ll be okay,” Alexandra says and slides her palm against my cheek. I calm instantly.

Gazing down at her, I can’t hold back anymore.

“This is why you’re perfect for me, Alexandra.

” I slowly drop to one knee in front of her and everyone who has gathered.

“I’ve asked you before, and you told me it was too soon, but I don’t care about that.

It’s time for us, finally.” I pull from my pocket a large pear-shaped diamond ring, surrounded by smaller brilliant-cut diamonds that wrap along the top of the band.

“Will you marry me, Lexi? Make me an honorable man and give our boys my name?”

Alexandra’s hand flies to her mouth, and the ever-present tears flow with her emotions. She nods, but I need the words.

“Say it, baby,” I order.

“Yes,” she chokes out. “Yes, yes, yes.”

I slip the ring on her finger and stand up, lifting her and holding her close to me, while whispering in her ear, “Tonight, you are going to wear that ring and my number as you ride me reverse cowgirl. I need to see my number on your back.”

“Yes,” she moans into my ear, and I take her lips in a fiery kiss as everyone hoots and hollers and yells, “finally”.

We’re shaking hands and accepting congratulations from everyone when T.K. reaches out for my hand. “Good luck in the bowl,” he chuckles, knowing if we make it, we’ll be facing his Settlers because they’ve been playing phenomenally this season, as well.

“Good luck to you, too. By the way, I’ll let you use my boys to protect your little girl.” We both laugh, and for the first time in all the years I’ve known him, it’s possible we could be friends someday.

A fter everyone is settled or has gone home, I direct my beautiful fiancée to our room.

She’s exhausted on her feet, but I also know what she needs.

She’s still tied up in her head, staring at her ring as she listens to the rain through the double door leading to our private balcony as it falls on the dark lake outside.

“Lexi, baby, come here,” I command as I sit down in one of the chairs. She walks over and stands between my legs.

I reach under my jersey and grasp the waist of her leggings, slowly tugging them down her legs. She steps out of her shoes, and together we slip the leggings off her feet.

Shifting back in the chair, still fully dressed, I pull her onto my lap, our children between us, and bring her head to mine for a long-awaited kiss. Her hands rub along my head and down my back. I can almost feel her nails through my dress shirt.

Breaking the kiss, I lift her shirt but don’t remove it. With a snap of her bra hooks, her now fuller breasts fall free. She moans as I glide the material back over her erect nipples. Those need to grace my mouth, but first, I’ll watch my number jump as she bounces on my cock.

Standing with Alexandra in my arms, I walk over to the bed and set her at the foot of it. She reaches out and starts to undo my belt as I unbutton my shirt, and we remove my clothes. When I’m naked, she leans forward and deep throats my cock.

“I need inside you first, baby.”

Nudging her back onto the bed and reaching for the wedge pillow she sleeps with so she’s not flat on her back, I slide it under her and prop her up.

Sex has gotten pretty creative, but we love it.

Her responsiveness is captivating, and seeing her pregnant with my babies turns me on more than anything.

I did that to her. I thump my chest in my mind, and my cock jumps.

“Please, Bray,” she begs, and with her legs hanging off the bed at the perfect height, I slide deep inside her. She arches, and her tits jiggle under my jersey. She grabs them, and it turns me on more.

“Fuck, baby, lift up and show me those nipples.”

She complies, and I lean over her while slowly slipping in and out of her body. I suck a nipple in deep, and she emits a drawn-out moan.

Moving to the other breast, I suck that nipple in again and bite it slightly, setting off her first orgasm and accelerating my thrusts into her body. The doctor said we don’t need to alter our sex life yet, so I’m not changing up anything.

With my hands on her hips, I grasp her tighter while moving faster.

She pinches her nipples, and a blush works along her body as she climaxes again.

I want to come with her, so I shift her a bit so that not only am I sliding against her clit and sending her higher, but I’m taking her deeper and bumping into her cervix.

She screams as she comes, and I moan her name, resting my head on her chest for a few moments before sliding out.

When I come back from getting a washcloth, she’s curled on her side watching me.

“What’s up, Lexi?”

“I love you,” she says, and I smile at her. “I needed that.”

“I love you too. I figured.”

When I’m done cleaning her up and helping her out of the jersey, I crawl into bed with her and wrap myself around her, enveloping my boys as I hold her.

Everything I’ve ever wanted is in my arms right here.