Page 113 of The Aster Valley Collection, Vol. 1

TILLER

At first, I forgot all about the fantasy I’d confessed to Mikey. It had been a million years ago, one night when we were trying to one-up each other with naughty scenarios we’d always wanted to try.

So I didn’t have any interest in the petite water boy with the nice ass who kept leaning over to grab fallen water bottles off the ground. Why would I? I had a beautiful, generous husband back home in Colorado who met every single one of my needs and then some.

Until late in the third quarter when I realized the water boy’s world-class ass seemed awfully familiar.

I squinted at the kid before turning to the player next to me. “Darren, you know that kid in the backwards ball cap filling water bottles?”

He glanced in the guy’s direction before shaking his head. “Sorry, Coach. Never seen him before.”

I could only see the water boy’s back as he bent over to drop the now-full bottle into the bottle cage. Something about the way he held his body… the way he moved… The man looked exactly like my husband.

Can’t be . Mikey was slammed this weekend back home.

He had an inn full of guests and was in the middle of decorating the place for Halloween.

He’d already convinced Sam to reserve the entire weekend to help him mount giant spiders on the roof.

There was no way he was here posing as a water boy for fuck’s sake.

“I’m losing my mind,” I muttered before turning back to the task at hand.

I’d been hired to provide specialty coaching and media support to a new rookie on the Arizona team.

EJ Thomas was an out player who’d been having trouble spouting off at reporters.

His manager had begged me to take him in hand.

I’d been working with him for three weeks now and only had a week left on the consulting contract.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t a miracle worker, so it looked like EJ was going to continue spouting off.

As long as he continued to catch miracle passes, the team would most likely continue to give him a pass on his behavior as well.

The crowd’s roar snapped me back to the play on the field just in time to see him catch the ball in heavy coverage and find a hole to escape all the way to the three yard line. On the very next play, the running back ran it in for a TD.

The home crowd lost their collective minds.

As the sun blazed down through the clear blue sky and open stadium roof, I inhaled the familiar scent of sweaty players and Bermuda grass turf.

I loved this game. Doing short-term jobs like this was the perfect way to get a hit of the game I loved while still being able to spend most of my time in Aster Valley building my future with Mikey.

“Didja see that, Raine?” EJ asked as he came running off the field. Players slapped him on the pads, helmet, and ass as he celebrated his contribution to the growing score gap against the Chiefs.

“Good play. Way to be patient and find the hole.”

He tossed his helmet down before grabbing a towel and wiping his face and head. When the water boy approached to offer him a drink, I finally met the kid’s eye.

I froze in disbelief.

My husband, Michael Vining Raine, stood before me in khaki pants and a Cardinals golf shirt, holding a cage of water bottles out to my client. “Water, Mr. Thomas?”

I blinked at him, but before I could say, Mikey, what the fuck? he batted his eyelashes at me in a noticeably provoking manner. “Coach Raine? Something to cool you off?”

Suddenly, the fantasy came roaring back to life after god-knew how long it had been shoved in a dark cabinet where all naughty fantasies lived when you didn’t need them.

I decided to play along. “My hands are full, champ. D’you mind?” I nodded toward the bottle and opened my mouth toward him, sticking my tongue out in anticipation of the cool liquid.

His eyes darkened as he reached for the bottle. He made a point of fumbling it, muttering nervous apologies for being “butterfingers”. As he aimed the water at my mouth, he said, “It’s just that I’ve never been around so many… uh… big football players before.”

I nearly choked on the cool liquid, thinking of his giant asshole brothers, three of whom had played or were still playing serious ball. “It can be overwhelming,” I agreed with a smirk.

“D-d’you have any advice for me, sir?”

EJ looked back and forth between us before focusing his cocky charm on the love of my life. “Just work hard and try to anticipate our needs, bro. Just like that. Serve us well and it’ll serve you well, you feel me?”

Mikey threw me a quick, hidden eyeroll before batting his lashes back at the star player. “I’ll sure try. I know Coach Raine can be very demanding. I saw a video of him one time shoving a guy down and pounding him so hard when the guy tried to get to his balls.”

Water shot up my nose and since Mikey was still squirting the bottle in my direction, it sprayed all over my face and chest too.

The night before I’d left for Arizona, we’d had a veritable fuck-fest in which I’d definitely shoved him down and pounded a guy very hard. He’d reached between my legs in search of my sac, but I’d nailed his prostate before he could reach his goal.

“You’ve definitely got to know how to take a pounding if you’re going to hang out with football players,” I warned after catching my breath.

As Mikey wandered away to offer water to the other players, EJ stared after him with a calculating grin on his face. “Think he’d let me practice being patient and finding a hole later?”

“Not on your fucking life,” I growled.

EJ’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. Before he could say anything, the coach barked at him to pay attention and get ready. Kansas had fumbled the return and Arizona was back in the game.

Thankfully, I wasn’t the receiver whose career depended on my laser focus this afternoon. Because for the rest of the game, I couldn’t keep my eyes off the sexy water boy and his amazing ass.