Third and Long: A Sports Romance (27 page)

My body approaches the point of departure from this world of anxieties to the realm of pure pleasure. Logan senses it, his hands feeling my soul through my skin. At that moment he returns to me, face to face, our lips meeting once more.

“When did our engagement stop being fake for you?” he asks.

“That first night when you came into my room,” I murmur.

“What about it?”

“If you kept going, I wouldn’t have stopped you.” I can’t help but giggle and grab his firm manhood in my hands. Even if I had four hands, I wouldn’t be able to hold all of him.

“That would have been a distraction,” he says.

“The best distraction.”

“Am I distracting you now?” he asks.

“You can’t,” I murmur.

“Why?” he says, feeling me hold him, pressing against him.

“Things can only distract me from you now,” I say.

He grins and kisses me hard, leaning into my eager hands that tease and delight him. It is absolutely true. For the first time in my life, I feel like everything is set, everything is done. My future has no questions. Every single time Logan touches me, another weight is lifted off my shoulders. I’ve found my place. It is Logan.

Everything my mom said makes sense. I don’t have to be afraid. I am my own woman, but he complements me. I am my own success and Logan is my reward.

His strong hands spread my legs again. My lion wants his treat. Then he pauses and studies my naked body.

“I’ll get a condom,” he whispers into my ear.

“Actually I was thinking that for once you could fuck me on a bed,” I say, feeling the hardwood floor underneath me and remembering the bench in the gym.

“Show me your bedroom,” he says.

I point playfully to my bedroom.

“No I want you to lead me there,” he growls fiercely.

“Why?” I ask.

“Because the first thing I ever fell in love with was your ass in those tight little running shorts, and for once I’d like to watch you walk around naked,” he says. A bright smile spreads across his face when he feels me trying to get up.

I walk on the balls of my feet to my bedroom. He stays on the floor watching me. At my bedroom door, I stop and grip my body to the frame. I pop my butt out at him and give it a little shake.

That’s all he can take. He springs on me, lion that he is, and chases me to the bed. Before I can jump in my own bed, he grabs me around the waist, spins me the air and drops me down. Then he spreads my legs once more and presses his cock against my sex.

“Shit. Let me get a condom,” he murmurs.

As he starts to get up, I grab him by the arms. He looks at me like I’m crazy.

“You’ve always played it safe right?,” I ask.

“You little devil,” he says. “And yes.”

“And we’re getting married?” I ask.

“Fuck yes we are,” he says.

“Then what are you getting a fucking glove for stud?” I ask.

“Shit Tamber. You are wild when you want to be,” he says.

“You know what I come from now.”

When he sees the evil grin on my face, he practically comes right there.

“Shit we’re going to have a lot of fun aren’t we?” he asks.

“If you can handle me.”

I think about what Gwen said about athletes. That they are too much. That you can only fuck them so many times before it becomes overwhelming. I can feel the power and the drive in Logan that she talked about, but when I stare into his blue eyes, I know that I was made for him.

He growls the low roar of pure desire and kisses me hard. His hands work my sex, spreading me open, getting me ready for his unsheathed manhood.

I feel him pressing into me with all the gentleness a football player can muster. Not much as it is, but I don’t care, I love the feel of him. I need him in me. I hold his back tightly, look him in the eyes, and tell him I’m ready.

My body shudders with pain and pleasure that gives way to pure pleasure. Without a barrier between us, I can feel the pulse of my man, the surging raw emotion of his aggression and his love.

My legs wrap around his body, and I feel him plunge deeper inside me than anyone else ever could be. His eyes never leave mine. We look into each other’s souls as we connect on a level deeper than any two people have ever connected.

“Oh God, Logan,” I cry out.

“Tamber,” he grunts between more and more rapid panting breaths.

He utters my name again and again, and I can’t help but do the same as he brings me to the edge. My body tenses, my fingers grip his back tightly.

Logan’s throbbing hard cock fills my wet, loving sex over and over until I can barely stand it anymore. My body shakes, feeling the moment that he’s leading us both toward. It’s just the climax of our love making, it’s the end of one phase of our life. Everything that happened before this moment was only a prelude to the glorious love that lies before us.

“Fuck Tamber, I’m—”

“Make me, Logan, make me—”

Our thoughts are lost in fierce kisses and unquenchable ecstasy.

At the very moment that I feel him climax, I come as well, moaning in loving passion, my babbling, quivering voice, sings the praises of my man as our bodies collapse together, spent, sweaty, and satisfied.

For an hour we hold each other, talking about our future, speculating how his parents are going to react, figuring out our next move. We’re in love. We’re getting married, yet there is still so much to do.

Soon, between the sheets, I feel him getting hard again. I can barely resist a boyish grin like that. At the very moment where his hands travel down my body, the front door opens and slams shut.

“Oh my fucking god!” Gwen screams.

She must see all of our clothes strewn about the apartment. Without even saying anything else, she pokes her head into our room.

We’re laughing hysterically, still covered by the sheets.

“Nice work Tam,” she says. Then she looks to my man and says, “Good seeing you Logan. Cam is a terrible liar.”

“I figured,” Logan mutters.

“So are you guys just fucking or what?”

I show her my ring. The ring. The ring that says I will be Tamber Oliver.

“Holy shit,” Gwen says. “Your parents are going to be pissed.”

Logan laughs. “Won’t be the first time.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Logan

We wake up in Tamber’s bed together in a state of pure euphoria. I can’t remember the last time I felt this good. Our naked bodies lay side by side gazing at the soft morning light that peaks through her curtains. Tamber traces shapes on my chest as my wandering hand slides down her body. I’m about to make my move on her when she stops me.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Your parents and Katerina and all of that. I want—”

“Let’s go take care of it today. Let’s go tell my dad to fuck off,” I say. I’m a star quarterback that stands up to three-hundred pound guys every weekend, yet it takes Tamber to give me the strength to stand up to my dad. That’s how I know she’s the love of my life.

“Are you sure?”

“What’s the worst that could happen? He pulls my trust fund? Kicks me out of the family?”

“You end up falling out of the draft and no one wants you on their pro team?” she asks.

“Which one would bother you more?” I ask.

“That you don’t get to live your dream,” she says, kissing my chest softly.

I smirk. “I was hoping you’d say that. And if the worst possibly outcome happens? What then?”

“I’ve been poor my whole life. But I’ve never been poor with the man of my dreams,” she says.

“Then lets do it.”

“Let me get some clothes,” she murmurs.

“Damn do you have to?” I ask as she stands up and her naked, perfect ass jiggles in the morning light for me.

Gwen begged to come as backup. I would have been glad to have her, but there’s only room for two on my motorcycle. There will be no limousine this time, and my BMW is back at my place.

Tamber grips me tightly around the waist on the back of my Harley. I’m doing my best to seem calm and collected, like this is exactly what I want to be doing today. I wish there was another way: make my parents happy, play professional football, marry Tamber. That can’t happen, and so I’ve got to prioritize. Sorry mom and dad, but she’s the woman I love, and football is the sport I love. I pray to God that Tamber never asks me to rank them.

Chill winds whip through my hair. I’m driving fast. I want to get this over with. If they disown me, at least I’ve got someone to help me shoulder the burden. Besides it’ll be one more drop of encouragement to play my fucking heart out in Louisiana. That number one draft spot can be mine again. I know it.

Before we left, We checked the news, and the talking heads were still blathering on about my “character concerns.” Tamber could only laugh as she pleasured my rather large character concern. LSU is going to feel the brunt of my anger this weekend. I feel bad for those cornerbacks trying to cover Cam and the rest of my guys.

A while later the open road gives way to my family grounds, and the mansion rises in the distance. It’s always felt like home, the place where my sisters and I grew up. My first kiss, my first beer, my first time with Tamber. Now it feels like fucking Transylvania, like Tamber and I are headed out here to slay Dracula.

For once there’s no one there at the front door waiting to greet us because they have no idea we’re coming. I almost wish this was some kind of military operation, and Tamber and I could sneak up like Navy SEALS, but it’s not, so I rev the shit out my Harley’s engine to let everyone know we’re here.

Tamber hops off the back of the motorcycle, and I climb off next. We’re both wearing leather jackets. Gwen let her borrow one for the cold on the open road. Now as we approach my parents’ front door, we both look and feel like badasses, and I hope that feeling lasts once my dad gives me the hard look that I know he has in store for me.

Jeffrey answers the door, surprised. No doubt he was expecting people begging for money. I have keys of course, but I’d like to make a formal entrance given that I’ll probably be making a formal exit.

It’s still early in the morning, so Jeffrey walks us out to the breakfast patio. It’s only been a week or so since we were last here, yet it feels like a lifetime. I belonged here last weekend, and now, strangely, I don’t.

When we walk out of the door, my dad takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes. Tamber smiles and waves graciously. I try to do the same, but I don’t have one ounce of her grace.

My mom gives us a curt smile and takes a long, healthy sip from her Bloody Mary. In the distance, I swear I can hear Surefire neighing. Notably, my parents do not offer me a seat.

“Son, this is embarrassing,” dad says. A good way to lead off negotiations. I have to remind myself that I’m about to negotiate with a master, a guy who was cutting million dollar deals on oil rig equipment before I was ever born.

My dad taught me a handful of things about negotiations over the years, and the number one rule is to never tip your hand early. Make your opponent work for it.

The same is true in football, so it comes naturally to me. A quarterback can never show his hand. Sometimes we run crap plays that we know aren’t going to work in order to make the other team comfortable. Comfort loses games.

“Care to explain dad?” I ask. Getting him to tip his hand early is the only play I’ve got right now. The best bet is that he blitzes, and I can throw a surprise pass down the field. The problem is Cam’s not here, and Tamber doesn’t know shit about football.

My dad gives us both a hard look and considers his words carefully. I tolerated some shit last weekend, but now my feelings about Tamber are clear. He better choose his words carefully.

“You’re marrying Katerina Prescott. End of story.”

“No. I’m marrying Tamber Long,” I say, putting my arm around her waist, pulling her gorgeous body close to me.

“Logan…” my mother says.

“I love Tamber. I don’t give a single fuck about Katerina,” I say, letting my emotions get the best of me.

“It’s not about love,” my dad says turning red in the face. “It’s about solidifying this family’s status, and some white trash girl from Eden with a drugged-out whore of a mother isn’t going to do that Logan!”

The key to being a good quarterback is being able to stand tall in the pocket. That means that when four 300-pound guys are rushing at you with intent to kill, you don’t flinch. You trust your guys and you wait for an opening. If I wasn’t a quarterback, I’d lose my shit on my dad right now because no one talks to my fiancée that way.

Rather than letting my anger get the best of me, I look at my father in the eyes in a way that another man hasn’t looked at him in decades, possibly ever.

“No one talks about my fiancée that way. You don’t own me, and I am declaring for the draft.”

When I say that last part, Tamber squeezes my hand. She figured I was going to do it, but now it’s as official as it’s going to get.