I washed the dishes and tried to ignore Lennon’s eyes needling my neck. She didn’t know what the hell she was talking about. We were from different worlds. Surgery and football had nothing in common.

“I’ve got to go over some plays.” I turned off the kitchen light and sank into my recliner. “Coach has changed up some things.” I started flipping through the binder the messenger had sent over.

She sat on the couch, holding her wine glass, and started switching through the channels. She landed on a show about a president and his mistress.

“Could you turn that down, please? I’m studying.”

“Sorry.” She practically muted the TV.

I didn’t like this. The fight. The tension. The fact that I had done something to piss her off, when it was none of her business. I did what was necessary to win. And the Wranglers weren’t going to win with Cosech on the field. He’d made that clear last game. We had run the ball almost every play and barely won by a field goal. My return was the only way to punch our ticket to the Super Bowl.

“I think I’ll study in the bedroom.” I kicked the recliner in place and headed to my suite. This was awkward as fuck.

“Why don’t I just leave for tonight? You can study. I’ll give you some space.”

I turned in front of the double doors leading to my room. “Hell no.”

“I don’t want to pressure you, Wes. Me sitting here while you’re pissed feels like pressure. I don’t want to make this worse. We can talk tomorrow.”

I dropped the binder on the table. “That doesn’t work for me.”

“Why not?” she questioned. “We have to agree to disagree on this, and maybe we both need our space right now.”

“Because I want you in my bed tonight.”

“Sex isn’t the answer.” She rolled her eyes. But I saw the spark. I saw the lust. I saw my opportunity to finally show her what Wes Blakefield could do with two fully operational hands.

“For us, I think it is.”

I scooped her in my arms, her legs dangling in the air, and carried her to my bed.

I couldn’t help the kiss that devoured her lips. I didn’t know if I was punishing her for arguing with me or trying to taste every last drop of wine off her mouth. I pushed my tongue inside, sucking hard while she wiggled in my arms.

I dropped her on the bed and gazed down at her. “My bed. My rules.”

She nodded.

I crawled toward her, sweeping the hair off her neck to kiss the line of skin that ran to her shoulder.

“Who do you belong to, Doc?”

“You,” she moaned, her head rocking back in ecstasy. That was all I needed to hear. I could make up for everything else as long as she was still mine.

* * *

Game day was my favorite day of the week. I left the apartment extra early to get to the stadium before the first rush of fans walked through the turnstiles. I left Lennon sleeping naked, with the sheets threaded around her body.

On the counter was her pass and ticket for the game. The driver was going to pick her up an hour ahead of time and deposit her at the private stadium entrance.

It had been three days since we had the discussion about my hand in the kitchen and neither one of us had brought it up again. At some point, she was going to lay into me about what I had taken. But for now, she seemed to respect that my focus was on defeating the Volts. It was my first game back.

I walked into the locker room, inhaling the stale smell of sweat and deodorant. Damn, I loved this place.

It was quiet. I was the first one in. I hung my bag under my name and looked around the room. The towel attendant wheeled out an empty cart. In an hour, this place would be packed with guys gearing up for warm-ups. Right now, it was all mine.

I sat on the bench.

Stubbs was the first to walk in. “Hey, good to see you in here.” He smiled. He liked being early too.

“Good to be here.”

“It’s lucky we had that bye week.” He motioned toward my right hand.

“Oh yeah. Made all the difference.”

“And I heard you’re fucking the doctor.”

I laughed. “Yeah, and that.”

Stubbs pulled on his socks. We all had a pre-game ritual we followed. His started with the feet.

“Is she going to be here today?” he asked.

“Oh yeah. She’s in my box.”

“With your parents?” He scrunched up his face. “Your dad?”

“Fuck.”

Stubbs stopped what he was doing. “What?”

“I forgot to tell her about my fucking parents.”

He started laughing so hard he snorted. “That’s messed up. She’s going to kill you.”

I shook my head. “Lennon’s not like that.”

Or was she? Holy fuck. I’d told her that story about my dad and then stuck her in a box with him with no warning. I searched for my phone. I still had a chance to call her and give her a heads up. She could back out at the last minute and I’d get it. I wouldn’t want to be up there with him either.

Shit. My phone wasn’t in my bag. I pictured it in the bathroom, plugged into the charger. Double shit.

“Man, if you could see your fucking face right now.” Stubbs pointed at me. “This is why I never have one woman. I don’t want to deal with this shit.”

“You have two girlfriends. How is that any better?”

“Well, if one gives me hell, I just go see the other one.” He grinned.

The guys started to trickle in. Everyone patted me on the back and gave me grief about my hand. There were a few comments about Lennon too, but I bit my tongue. I didn’t need to start punching out my own team before the game.

I’d never felt the need to protect someone before. But I didn’t like the way they talked about her. How hot she was. How fucking awesome she probably was in bed. I focused on lacing up my ties and tried to ignore them.

“Blakefield, you ready for this?” Bruno stuck his chest out and walked through the crowd of linemen.

“Hell, yeah.” I gave him a high five.

“Then let’s huddle and get out there.”