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Chapter Thirty-Seven

IVY

I step off the plane on Saturday morning, rolling my stiff shoulders, and immediately regret my choice of clothing.

The Miami humidity slams into me like a wall.

Jesus.

I knew it would be warm, but this is another level . The air is thick, and my leggings suddenly feel like the worst choice in human history.

I adjust my bag and follow the stream of passengers toward the baggage claim.

Then I see him.

Jackson.

Leaning casually against a black SUV, looking effortlessly good in a white t-shirt, sunglasses, and a backwards Stallions cap.

My heart does this ridiculous flip-flop thing as usual.

He pushes off the car as soon as he spots me, his slow grin stealing the breath from my lungs.

“There’s my girl.”

I don’t even have time to process before he pulls me in, his strong arms wrapping around me like he hasn’t seen me in weeks instead of just days.

“I was about to send out a search party,” he murmurs against my temple. “Figured you got lost in the airport.”

I roll my eyes but melt into his chest. “My gate was at the literal end of the terminal. Felt like I walked halfway across Florida to get here.”

His hand slides to my lower back, his fingers pressing lightly as he pulls away to look at me. “Well, you made it. And, baby?”

I blink up at him. “Yeah?”

“You look fucking gorgeous.”

Heat floods my cheeks. “Shut up.”

His grin widens. “Never.”

Before I can argue, he grabs my suitcase with one hand, his other slipping into mine effortlessly.

Like we’ve been doing this forever.

Like he’s mine.

The team put up all the wives and girlfriends at a five-star hotel overlooking the beach, which Jackson drives us to.

The lobby is gorgeous—polished marble, tropical flower arrangements, floor-to-ceiling windows that show off the ocean.

“I have a room in the team’s hotel,” Jackson says as we walk in. “But the WAGs are staying here. Figured you’d be more comfortable here than with all the sweaty guys.”

I smirk. “So…you’re not staying here?”

His eyes darken just slightly. “Nope. But that doesn’t mean I can’t visit .”

Before I can respond, a voice calls out.

“Ivy!”

I turn just in time to see Cassie striding toward me in a sundress and designer sunglasses, iced coffee in hand.

“Hey!” I smile, relieved to see a familiar face.

She pulls me in for a quick hug before stepping back, eying my outfit with a smirk. “Babe, it’s Miami. What are you doing in leggings?”

“I made a terrible mistake,” I admit.

Cassie laughs. “Well, welcome. Some of the wives are by the pool right now. Wanna come say hi?”

Jackson tenses beside me.

I glance at him, but before I can say anything, a new voice chimes in.

“Well, well. So this is Coach Knox’s mystery woman.”

I turn to find a tall blonde in a designer cover-up and huge sunglasses, sipping something pink from a straw.

She’s stunning. Intimidating. And she’s looking me up and down like she’s trying to figure me out.

I square my shoulders.

Cassie clears her throat. “Ivy, this is Sophia. Ronald Tillman’s wife.”

The star running back.

Which makes her a queen bee in the WAG world.

Sophia tilts her head. “So… how does a small-town girl end up with Jackson Knox?”

Oh boy.

I open my mouth, but Jackson beats me to it.

His hand tightens on my waist as he smirks.

“Easy. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

The room goes dead silent.

And just like that, the game has changed.

The WAGs dinner is an experience.

Some of them are nice—Cassie, obviously, and a few others who seem down-to-earth. But some? Fake-nice. And then there’s Sophia, who is straight-up ice.

“You better get used to it,” Cassie whispers as we sip overpriced cocktails.

Well, mocktails for me. Still, seventeen dollars for a fake mojito? This is not a life I’m used to. Luckily, the drinks are on the team tonight.

“Some of these women see the wife status as a hierarchy. You’ll be getting judged the whole time.”

I laugh it off, but honestly? It leaves a weird taste in my mouth.

I never planned much with Jackson beyond thinking he was hot as hell that night at the bar. He could have been a traveling truck driver for all I cared.

But sure, him being a Coach has its benefits.

By the time I get back to my hotel room, I’m exhausted.

I sink onto the bed, tugging my phone from my bag.

Jackson: You back in your room?

Me: Yep. Just got here.

Jackson: Good. Now get out.

Me: Excuse me?

Jackson: I need you.

Me: Jackson…

Jackson: I’m not sleeping in this fucking hotel alone when you’re a mile away. Come to me, baby.

Heat floods through me.

Me: Oh?

His reply is instant.

Jackson: Leave through the back entrance. Take the second cab in line outside. Driver’s name is Luis. He’ll bring you straight to me.

Me: You planned this?

Jackson: I don’t leave things to chance, Ivy. I need you in my bed. Now.

Holy shit.

I grab my bag and head for the door.

By the time I reach Jackson’s floor, my heart is racing.

Everything about this feels dangerous and thrilling, like we’re doing something we’re not supposed to be doing.

I knock once.

The door swings open immediately.

And then—Jackson’s hands are on me.

He pulls me inside, presses me against the wall, and captures my mouth with his.

The door slams shut.

My bag drops to the floor.

I barely have time to process before his hands are everywhere— on my waist, sliding down to grab my ass, lifting me against the wall.

I gasp against his mouth.

He grins against my lips, those strong hands gripping my thighs.

“Took you long enough.”

I laugh breathlessly, looping my arms around his neck. “Well the driver?—”

He silences me with another kiss.

Deep. Slow. Devouring.

His tongue slides against mine, his teeth nipping at my lower lip.

I shiver.

His voice turns rough, dark with need.

"I told you, baby. I need you. Right now."

“Right. You wouldn’t want to be tense for game day tomorrow.”

“No. That would be bad.”

“You’ve been so good to me, Jackson. I think it’s time I do something for you.”

I sink to my knees, eyes locked onto Jackson’s as my fingers skim down his chest.

His jaw clenches.

“Fuck, Ivy.” His voice is rough, dangerous.

I smile innocently, dragging my hands lower, over his abs, watching the way his breath hitches.

“I just want to take care of you,” I say. “You’ve been so good to me.”

Jackson’s hands tangle in my hair, his chest rising and falling as he watches me unbuckle his belt.

His cock is already rock hard, straining against his briefs.

I glance up at him, teasing, before curling my fingers under the waistband and dragging them down.

And then?

Goddamn.

He’s so thick, so big, and my mouth waters.

Jackson groans, gripping my hair a little tighter. “You gonna keep teasing me, baby? Or are you gonna?—”

I lick a slow stripe up his length.

His breath punches out. “Fuck.”

I swirl my tongue around the tip, dragging my nails lightly down his thighs.

Jackson mutters a curse, his hands flexing against my scalp.

Then, I take him deeper.

His head tips back, his abs flexing. “Christ, Ivy. You look so fucking good like this.”

I moan softly around him, and his hips jerk forward, like he can’t help himself.

I love the feeling of controlling his pleasure.

How fucking wrecked I can make him.

I take him deeper, hollowing my cheeks, working him with slow, steady strokes.

Jackson groans, his grip tightening. “That’s it, baby. Take me deeper. Just like that.”

I do.

Until he’s hitting the back of my throat, until my jaw aches in the best way.

And then?

Then, he loses control.

Jackson growls, tugging me off him, his hands gripping my arms as he hauls me up.

His mouth crashes against mine, hungry and desperate, as he walks us back toward the bed.

I gasp, my back hitting the mattress.

And then his hands are on me. Everywhere.

Tugging my dress up. Pulling it off.

Tearing away my lace bra and panties.

His gaze burns over me, dark and demanding.

“You’ve been so fucking good for me, Ivy. But now?”

His fingers skim over my wrists, grabbing his tie from the nightstand.

“Now, it’s time for you to behave.”

My breath catches as Jackson wraps the silk tie around my wrists, binding them together.

“Mmm. I like this.”

He grins wickedly. “Shh, baby.” He tugs me closer, his voice a low growl. His hands glide down my body, fingertips teasing over my breasts, my belly, my thighs. “Now, I want to watch you fall apart for me.”

My pulse races as he settles back against the headboard, his long, powerful legs spread wide, his thick cock standing tall and hard as he strokes it.

He tugs me forward, guiding me onto his lap.

“You’re gonna ride me, baby.” His hands grip my hips, his thumbs brushing my skin. “You’re gonna take what you need.”

I swallow hard, heat pooling between my legs. Tied up. Completely at his mercy. And yet?—

He’s the one letting me be in control.

Jackson leans in, pressing a kiss to my throat, dragging his tongue along my skin. “I want to feel all of you, Ivy. Show me how bad you need me.”

Fuck.

I whimper, shifting forward, feeling his thick head tease against my entrance.

His hands tighten. “That’s it, baby. Take me. Show me how good you are for me.”

Slowly, I sink down.

Stretching. Taking every inch.

My head tips back. “Oh, Jackson.”

“Fucking hell,” he growls, his fingers digging into my hips, guiding me down onto him.

He’s so deep, so thick, hitting places inside me that make my toes curl.

I rock against him, my bound hands resting on his chest.

His abs clench, his muscles straining beneath my palms.

God, he’s gorgeous. And so mine.

Jackson’s eyes are locked onto me, his pupils turquoise with lust.

“Fuck, Ivy. Look at you.” His fingers tighten on my hips. “It’s like you were made for me.”

I move faster.

His cock hitting deeper.

He groans, his jaw clenched. “That’s it, baby. Ride me. Fucking take me.”

My head falls forward, my breath ragged.

He slides a hand between us, finding my clit, circling it with slow, smooth strokes.

I cry out, my body clenching around him, pleasure coiling tighter.

Jackson’s other hand fists in my hair, tilting my head back so I’m looking right at him.

“Come for me, Ivy. I want to see it. I want to feel it.”

Pleasure crashes through me, stealing my breath, my moans mixing with his groans as he thrusts up into me, chasing his own release.

And when he follows me over the edge?

It’s with my name on his lips.