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33

JAMIE

Game day feels like it’s come sooner than it usually does.

Between practice at the stadium, extra time with Nate on the high school field, family dinners every night, followed by a traditional Madden competition, time is flying by too quickly for me to snatch it and force it to slow.

A week of being married has felt as easy as before I said I do . With Blakely, that’s how everything is. Easy and fun.

“Are you listening, Jamie?”

Coach has his hand on my face mask, shaking it slightly. I clear my throat and nod as he releases me.

“Go out with the team tonight. I got it,” I say.

“Graham’s orders.”

“Why didn’t he give them to me himself?”

“He tried. I figured I could handle it. Unless you’d have preferred making an extra trip upstairs before the game?”

“Nope. This is great. I’ll make sure we’re there tonight.”

We’re in the second quarter of the game, and by a miracle, we’re winning. I’m aiming for another TD to add to the tally, but I guess going home with three tonight wouldn’t be too bad either.

“He’s impressed with Blakely’s interview video. It’s sparked a bit of a buzz on social media.”

“We were stopped by someone working for the Warriors the other day. It’s made it over there too. Fucking Sports Weekly .”

Coach nods, tugging at the sleeves of his jacket. “Just keep it up. Mingle tonight and stop to answer some questions.”

“Be a show monkey,” I muse.

“That should be easy for you.”

“Ouch. That’s no way to speak to your star player.”

“When did he get here?”

I laugh and yank my helmet off. I’m sweaty and tired as I look out at the stands in search of my family. While I wish they could be on the sidelines again, I was given regular seats to hand out to everyone tonight.

Still, I spot them close to the field, only three rows up. Dad’s seated on the aisle, sharing a massive bucket of popcorn with Mom while Oliver helps Nova shake up her slushie. Avery’s fixing the back of Blakely’s beanie, but my wife isn’t paying attention to her. She’s staring straight at me instead.

My Pythons jacket hanging off her shoulders is a far better claim than a jersey. It swallows her up and should still be layered in my cologne. Nate’s on her other side, a wall between her and the group of men filling the rest of the row.

I make a mental note to get him something as a thank you for that.

“Head in the game, Bateman,” Coach scolds.

“Oh, it’s in the game. I can’t have her embarrassed to be married to me.”

He scoffs. “That’s the spirit.”

I kiss my palm before blowing it at the stands. Blakely doesn’t react at first, but when Nate gives her a shove, she rolls her eyes and blows one back. I’m a big enough goof to make a show of jumping to snatch it out of the air.

“Christ,” Coach blows out, stalking to the group of players awaiting his orders .

He acts like he hates the showboating stuff. I know he’s just projecting.

Nate waves at me, and the guys beside him laugh, making a show of judging him. The one seated right beside Nate, wearing a Hayes jersey, leans over to say something to him, and it snuffs the excitement from his eyes.

My hackles rise, a hot streak of protectiveness climbing my spine. I make my way to the bench and kick Jaxon’s foot. He looks up from the tablet in his hands and lifts his brows.

“What’s up?”

“I need you to help me with something.”

He finishes going over the plays on the tablet and passes it off. “You name it.”

We walk away from the bench, and I give him a rundown of the guys beside Nate before explaining what I want him to do. His following grin drips with mischief as he snatches the blanket he was using earlier from the bench and brings it over.

When he uncaps a black marker and starts scribbling his signature on the blanket, I don’t ask where he got it from, not caring for the specifics.

“Make it out for Nate, a future MVP. He’s a massive Pythons fan and one of the only wide receivers I’ve ever met that can keep up with me,” I tell him, raising my voice over the noise in the stadium.

Jax glances up at Nate and gives him a wave before continuing to write on the blanket.

“Shouldn’t you sign it too, Bateman? Or maybe not since you already live with the kid. Considering he’s your brother-in-law, I’d expect he has unlimited access to your signature.”

The two men blanch at the information being dumped in their lap, and the one who whispered to Nate even goes so far as to lean away from him. As if that would take back what I saw him doing.

I focus solely on that guy, speaking loud enough for everyone around him to hear. “Nate’s my buddy. He can have anything he wants signed at any time. I’ve already let him sort through my old jerseys and take any that he wants. He’s family, and I’d do anything for my family.”

Jax finishes with the blanket and heads to the edge of the stands, waving for Nate to come toward the railing. The kid jumps out of his seat and pushes past the guys before rushing down the stairs.

He leans against the railing and beams at us with stars in his eyes. “Hi, Jaxon! Hi, Jamie!”

“Hey, man. This is for you. Feel free to rub it all over those assholes’ faces. I’m sure it’s got some of my sweat in the fabric,” Jax says, stretching an arm above his head to hand off the blanket.

We’ve drawn a crowd now, and security has started our way on the field. In the stands, a couple of people in orange jackets push past the fans taking this opportunity to snap pictures and hang their stuff over the railing for us to sign.

I take a picture with one of the younger fans and steal Jax’s marker to sign the baseball cap he hangs over the railing. Coach is blowing his whistle, trying to grab our attention again as more and more fans start coming toward us, realizing what we’re doing.

Nate has gone back to his seat, and I make sure he sees me lift a hand and give him a thumbs-up before Jax and I go back to the bench.

Coach scowls as we walk toward him but doesn’t scold us. Instead, he shoves the tablet back in Jax’s arms and points at the bench.

I sit beside Jax and bump his shoulder. “Thank you.”

“It’s like you said, anything for family.”

I’ve never minded nightclubs. Obviously, being a professional athlete helps with the small nuisances like waiting in lines, but still. The music, strobing lights, and lack of personal space don’t bother me.

Altitude is a club that the team goes to more often than any other. The VIP section is big enough to fit all of us, and the security is impressively vigilant. With Blakely beside me tonight, the last point is the most important.

She’s a goddamn sight in a tight black dress and her worn-down flats. Her brown hair is curled, hanging free down her back. I’ve been tempted more than once already tonight to bury my hands in it.

Red lip gloss gleams on her mouth when she spins to face me, her back pressing against the railing we were using to watch the crowds on the lower level. She bats her long black lashes, and I grip the railing on either side of her before leaning in, trapping her with my body.

“You’re gorgeous,” I rasp.

The smoky makeup intensifies the green in her eyes, making it difficult to look away. If I bothered to in the first place. It’s not the plan from now until I close my eyes to sleep.

She’s transformed herself into the woman Graham wants her to be tonight. The wife of one of the best players in the CFL, who likes to wear the fancy dresses and spend hours on her makeup. That’s not my Blakely.

It doesn’t change how gorgeous she is, though. In a dress or her favourite baggy sweatpants with the bleach stain on her right ass cheek, she still makes my cock hard as steel.

“Avery brought me the dress to the game. I didn’t know if I’d like it,” she reveals, resting a hand on my waist.

“Why not?”

She gestures from her shoulder to leg, giving me an are you serious look.

The dress is tighter than anything I’ve seen her wear, yeah. There are curves showing tonight that I haven’t seen before. And her ass . . . fuck me .

“You’re unbelievably sexy, Blakely. I’ve had a hard-on since you walked down the stairs earlier.”

Her chest brightens with a blush, and I bite down on my tongue when a groan climbs my throat. With every quick breath she takes, her breasts strain against the fabric holding them in place.

I’m too aware of every player on my team who’s eyed her for half a second too long and will be threatening them with long and painful deaths the moment we get on the field for practice Wednesday.

Keeping my hands to myself hasn’t happened at all, to be honest. Sure, we’re supposed to be putting on a show, but with Blakely, there’s no need for a show when everything comes this naturally.

“I’m scared my boobs will fall right out of it,” she says, pressing a hand to her cleavage. “It’s worse than the corset in my wedding dress.”

“We don’t have to stay much longer if you’re uncomfortable.”

She pinches the material of my button-up, rubbing it between her fingers. I picked it to match her dress and left the top two buttons undone on purpose. It’s only fair to tease her a bit after she nearly gave me a heart attack in her dress.

“You haven’t even asked me to dance yet.”

“Do you want to dance with me?”

Leaning up on her toes, she brings her glossy lips to my ear. “Your wife would love to dance.”

I grab her face and glide my fingers beneath her jaw, rubbing the skin while guiding her to look at me. She smirks, knowing she’s caught me.

“Who am I to deny you of what you want?”

She twirls, taking my hand from her face to rest between us. I step in front of her and guide us through the VIP section to the roped-off staircase. The two security guards nod at us and pull open the rope.

It’s louder on the main floor and far more crowded with gyrating bodies and the groups of friends screaming lyrics to try and be louder than the speakers. Purple, pink, and white lights roll across the dance floor, flashing one moment and dimming the next. The music playing is dirty, with heavy bass and a quick tempo.

I swing behind Blakely and tuck her against my chest as we cut through the crowds. She grips onto my arm, holding me as we move.

Sweat breaks out on my neck from the heat on the dance floor. Blakely keeps her back firmly to my chest, even once we find a bit of space to dance, and I loop an arm around her middle, holding her there.

Resting my cheek against her temple, I breathe in her vanilla perfume and sway my hips, encouraging her to follow my lead.

It takes her a few seconds to join me, and then she’s looping an arm around my neck and moving with me. I keep my hold tight around her stomach, not ready to release her just yet.

Turning her head, she brushes her cheek against my cheek and asks, “How long should we do this for?”

“Already antsy to get me home, baby?”

Her eyes twinkle in the bright lights. “Obviously.”

It’s impossible to hear people whispering here the way they usually do when I’m spotted somewhere. I’m observant enough to have already spotted the phones pointed at us right now, yet it still feels like I’m missing something.

The muttered “Is that him?” or “Do you think he would take a photo with us?” most likely. They’re camouflaged now with EDM lyrics.

We’re supposed to be here to show off our marriage, and I’m more than happy to do that. As long as Blakely’s safe.

She pushes her ass back against my groin, and I hiss a breath, letting my thoughts go. A second arm moves up my body to hang from my neck as she moves with more confidence.

Dipping my head, I pepper kisses along her collarbone and up her neck. “Careful, Blakely.”

She shakes with a laugh I can’t hear. The slow roll of her hips becomes more purposeful, forcing my groan into the open.

I’m already tempted to haul her into the bathroom and peel her dress up her hips, and this isn’t helping at all. Instead of the bathroom, I’m contemplating leaving altogether.

“Don’t be quick on the trigger, Jamie,” she taunts with a nip at my jaw.

There’s no doubt in my mind that the first time I get inside of her, I’ll be worse than quick. Try instant.

I tune out the music and cameras recording our every movement, choosing to focus only on Blakely. Her touch is blisteringly hot as it glides up and down my neck, her nails taking a detour into my hair to tug at it every few passes.

My cock throbs, too restrained in my jeans while she rubs back against me, the hem of her dress rising higher with every sway of her hips. I slide my hand from her stomach to her upper thigh, holding it there.

“Do you know how easy it would be to get to your pussy like this?” I ask, my tone so garbled and strained that I’m not sure how she makes out the words with the music around us.

She moves faster, encouraging the dress to slip higher, touching my fingertips. “Maybe that was the point.”

“If you want me between your legs, all you have to do is ask, baby.”

“I don’t want to have to ask.”

My brows shoot up. “You want spontaneous, then?”

She answers with a sassy swish of her hips before leaning forward slightly and glancing at me over her shoulder. My throat strains with a swallow as I run my palm up her spine and finally bury my fingers in her thick curls. Letting go of the part of my brain that warns me we’re not alone, I fist her hair and use the hold to haul her back to me.

Her head falls against my shoulder, rolling slowly before I’m sucking at her throat. I don’t pull back until I’m positive I’ve left a mark.

“Do you know what the headlines are going to say tomorrow?” I ask into her ear.

She shakes her head, unable to speak as she rocks back against my body, muscles loose. I hold her low on her hip and plant my cock firmly against her ass.

“Jamie Bateman was unable to keep his hands to himself at Altitude and lays a public claim on his stunning wife in front of everyone who couldn’t take their eyes off her,” I growl, every inch of my skin buzzing with anticipation. “They could write any headline, and I’d be proud of it. Of being the man here with you tonight and the one who gets to take you home. Every single one of them wants to be in my place, Blakely. But you’re not available, are you?”

She buries her face in my throat, glossy lips spreading over every inch of me that she kisses, laying her own claim.

I shift my hold to the side of her ass and squeeze. “Are you, wife?”

“No. I’m not available,” she pants, her hands drifting to my hips and then to where we’re connected.

Holding steady, I ensure there’s no room for her to slip through and grab my dick. That’s a headline in the making that would cross the line into the Blakely freak-out category.

“We’re leaving,” I tell her.

I’m already collecting her hands in mine and pushing us toward the exit before she can reply. If I don’t get us both out of here now, my fantasy of taking her in the bathroom will be reality.

The team is up in VIP still, probably snooping on us right now. I puff out my chest at that, proud that I’ve made it clear she isn’t up for grabs .

Blakely doesn’t fight me as I lead us past the bouncer and through the doors. It’s chilly tonight, and she doesn’t have a jacket, so I move even quicker. When we make it to the curb, I wave down the cab coming our way.

“I haven’t seen you move that quick anywhere but the field,” Blakely teases.

“I’ve got priorities right now.”

“And where am I on that list?”

I let loose a low laugh and haul her toward me with a hand on her nape. She grins, catching herself with two hands to my chest.

“There is no list. My only priority is you,” I murmur, leaning in to kiss her?—

“Oh, my God. You’re Jamieson Bateman.”

“Can I get a photo?”

“Wait, are you Blakely?”

“It’s the both of you!”

Two voices appear, forcing me to miss out on kissing my wife. She turns her head to look at the women, and I follow suit, trying to keep my grumpiness from showing.

“It’s totally you! I can’t believe it. See, I told you we could be a few minutes late,” the incredibly tall one says to the shorter, black-haired one, already pulling her camera app open.

Our cab is crawling up the curb toward us, leaving only a few seconds before we’re free.

Blakely looks at the two girls and fusses with her hair. I’m more than aware of the red lip gloss that must be all over my neck, but seeing the women notice has me drifting toward arrogantly happy.

“Yes, I’m Jamie, and this is Blakely,” I tell them, already starting to pull us in the direction of the cab.

The tall woman’s eyes light up. “I just want to say that I think your love is so awesome. I’ve had such a crush on Jaxon Hayes for, like, ever, and I never expected a fan like me to?— ”

“Ignore her. She doesn’t get out much. We’ll leave you alone,” the black-haired friend says with a winced smile.

Blakely doesn’t let her haul the tall woman away before saying, “If you like him, go for it. He’s a really nice guy.”

A really nice guy? Excuse me?

I don’t bother hiding my scowl, and when one of the women giggles, I find her staring right at me.

“That’s cute. You really are in love with each other.”

It’s second nature to go along with what she’s said. “I’m insanely in love with her. Which is why I have to get us out of here before we draw attention and lose our chance.”

“Right! I’m so sorry.” The tall woman moves to pocket her phone, but Blakely shakes her head.

“I can take a picture of you with Jamie, if you want,” she offers.

The woman smiles softly. “Actually, could I get one with both of you?”

“Oh. Of course,” Blakely says, eyes wide as they flash up at me.

I encourage her to stand beside the woman, and then her friend takes her phone, waving at us to get close. Blakely keeps a hand on my back as I toss mine over her shoulder, taking in her nervous smile when the flash goes off.

The woman rushes off to look at the photo as our cab honks its horn, done waiting.

“Have a good night, ladies,” I say, nodding at the cab driver.

The women stare at us for a beat more before the black-haired one drags her friend into the line for the club. Blakely releases a tight breath and walks in time with me to the cab.

“They love you,” I say.

She dismisses me with a shake of her head. “They came for you.”

“Maybe. But it was you they stayed for.”

And I can’t blame them. I’d do the same exact thing.