Tonight, I don’t need ice for my shoulder. I don’t need a beer to smooth over the moment. I don’t even bother with music. Once we’re back at my house, I take her to my bedroom, prepared to strip her naked.

She gets in the first word, though. “Unzip your pants.”

I wiggle my eyebrows. “I can do that,” I say, obliging her request.

She pushes on my stomach, indicating I need to get my ass on the bed.

I sit on the edge of the mattress, she drops down to her knees, wraps her hand around my dick, and sucks.

“Holy fuck.”

Instantly, my hands find their way into her soft hair, and I groan as she goes for it. There’s no playing around here. Violet doesn’t tease or toy. She takes me deep as she licks my cock, and I grip her head harder.

“That’s so good, baby. Have I told you how much I like blow jobs?”

She shakes her head, since her mouth is full. Quite full.

“I’m not going to tell you, then. I’m going to show you by letting you do that to me as much as you want.”

I can feel her try to laugh against my dick. Then all laughter ceases, and I give in.

Heat pools in my groin as she licks and sucks. For a couple minutes, I let myself get lost in the feel—and the view. The woman I adore is on her knees, sucking me off as if it’s all she’s ever wanted. She makes me feel like a rock star, like a goddamn king as she introduces me to the joys of her mouth. But it’s too good, and the last thing I want is to come before she does.

I stop her, gently tugging her face up. “I’m going to be blunt. I want to spend a ridiculous amount of my life with my dick in your mouth, but right now, I need you naked and under me.”

“Have it your way.” She crosses her hands over each other and tugs off her sweatshirt. Soon she’s wearing nothing, and I get into the same outfit as well. She scoots back on the bed, and I climb over her.

“Hey, gorgeous,” I say, and then before she can protest—not that she would—I bring my face between her legs and kiss her sweetness.

Instantly, she arches up into me. “Why can you do this to me and I can’t to you? Are you going to have all these crazy rules again?”

I laugh lightly. “No crazy rules. Except this one—you come first and, ideally, more than once before I do.”

Really, how can she protest that? She doesn’t, because I make it worth her while. I lick and kiss and suck until she’s rocking against my mouth and coming on my lips.

When her moans subside, I’m above her, my chest pressed to hers. “Hi.”

She blinks open her eyes and smiles woozily. “Hi.”

I kiss her neck, her throat, her ear, then meet her lips, whispering a kiss over them.

She says my name again, and this time, her voice grows more serious. “Cooper.”

“What is it?” I ask as I reach for a condom from my wallet. I snagged some from the hotel last night.

“I’m on the pill. And I’m clean. Are you?”

“I am.”

“Not that we have to go without. But I want you to know. Just in case.”

I smile. “Just in case I want to feel you bare?”

She smiles, too. “Yes, but you don’t have to.”

I know what she’s getting at. There’s a code among pro athletes. Wrap it till you’re married. We’re warned of groupies who try to land pro-ball baby-daddies in all sorts of crazy ways. Violet’s not a groupie. She’s not some nutty chick trying to trap me. And this isn’t about the wear-a-glove code. It’s about trust and respect. It’s about who I’m giving my heart to.

When I look into her bright eyes, I see everything I could ever want in this life. She’s not going anywhere, because I’m never going to let her get away from me. I don’t want more than the two of us right now, and I know she’s the only one for me for the rest of my life. I know she’ll be here when my career is over, because she was there before it started. She’ll be here, because I can see forever in her eyes.

“I want to,” I say, and then I rest on my forearms, settle between her legs, and sink into her.

We both moan at the same time.

It’s so good. It’s so intense. It’s everything.

I take my time, building and pushing and savoring. I watch her, cataloging every intoxicating reaction. I love the way her lips part, how she breathes out hard when I swivel my hips, how her face is the picture of exquisite torment when I thrust deep into her.

She grabs my ass, and I slide her knees up her chest. I make love to her like that. With her pinned beneath me, saying my name, breathing my breath, kissing my lips.

Her gasps come faster.

Her noises grow louder.

Her moves become wilder.

She rocks up into me, widens her legs, takes me deeper.

Everything in me crackles. Pleasure snaps in my body. Desire flows hot in my blood. I’m dizzy with want, ravenous with the need to be as close to her as possible.

In seconds, she’s crying out in bliss, saying my name, chanting God’s name, calling out incoherent moans of pleasure, and sending a whole new wave of electricity sparking across my skin. As the aftershocks shudder through her, I rise to my knees, grab her hips, tug her down harder on my cock, and go wild, thrusting, pounding, letting go until the world slips into pure pleasure and my climax obliterates me, as I come inside the woman I love.

The woman I plan on loving for the rest of my life.

After, as I collapse on her then roll to the side, I find myself wondering how it’s possible to just know. To know with absolute certainty that you’re with the person who makes you not only happy, but better.

Because I know I’ve found the one I want. I don’t want her to doubt my love. I run my fingers along her cheekbone. “Hey, Violet. You want to know something?”

She turns to me, her cheeks rosy and glowing. “Yes, I want to know something.”

I wrap an arm around her. “You’re stuck with me.”

She laughs. “Is that so?”

“Yep. I don’t plan on letting you go. Ever, basically.”

“I can live with that.”

“You should live with me,” I say.

She arches a brow. “You’re already inviting me to live with you?”

“Vi, I plan on loving you for my whole damn life. I don’t need to mess around with stages and steps and taking things in some kind of orderly fashion. You’re an eighty-yard pass, and I want to get into the end zone with you.”

She rolls her eyes. “That sounds incredibly dirty.”

“Yeah, it does.”

“Hey, do you want to know something?”

“I do.”

She runs her hands down my chest, over the planes of my abs. “Why did the football go to the bank?”

“Why?”

She wiggles her eyebrows. “To get her quarterback.”

I crack up. “You’ve got him. You’ve absolutely got him.”

“I’m keeping him.” She slinks a hand over my hip and around to my butt, squeezing. “After all, you do have the best butt in the NFL.”

Two days later, she wakes up with me on Christmas morning, and I give her one of many gifts. A key to my home. She already has the key to my heart.