“That’s one reason,” I said quietly. Twice, I’d been put on the back burner because I had feelings for someone who played a sport for a living. I didn’t fancy putting myself in a position where it happened for a third time. And I couldn’t imagine uprooting my life, my business, the proximity to my family, for someone who’d already walked away once.
Men walking away. It was—in the most basic terms—a bit of a trigger for me.
Yet, I thought, my heart was not going down without a fight. This suspended little window of time, a break from the reality of our respective lives, it was a seductive whisper in my ear.
It was that question that had gone unanswered since I met Emmett.
What would it be like?
What would he be like?
Because I couldn’t stop it, watching him run and sweat and be … Emmett, I had a sudden flash of how thorough he’d be.
He wouldn’t be a selfish lover. He was so very, very focused when he set his mind to a goal.
What if the goal was breaking my single-night orgasm record? （Two was the answer. Not that it was a whole lot to brag about.）
Because I just might be able to get on board with that if he was the one delivering them.
As long as I could manage my expectations. As long as he was clear about his.
There was no way Emmett wanted a sudden serious relationship, someone who’d need to uproot their life in order to be with him.
Maybe it was possible that my brain and my heart could come to some sort of compromise. Find a middle ground where I could explore what happened when I turned down the volume on the caution and indulged in the want without worry about what would come the next morning.
It was a dangerous seed to plant, the idea that there was a concession to be made. But the thought was stuck all the same, deep, solid roots in the span of a heartbeat, and for the rest of the day, I made no effort to yank it out.
We left the football field and gathered back at the house.
Parker and Emmett turned on some game film. Cameron opened his laptop at the dining room table so he and Greer could get some work done. Mom was at the grocery store, and I got caught up on emails while Tim offered some commentary on the games being watched.
“We watching the D-line?” Tim asked.
Emmett nodded, stretching his arm over the back of the couch. His hand was inches away from me. Maybe less. My knee started bouncing.
“They beat us last because we were never able to stop the blitz,” he said. “Because our receiving core was so stacked last year, it should’ve been easier to adjust, but the offensive line couldn’t hold up.”
He paused it, leaning forward as he pointed something out to Parker. “See it there?”
My brother nodded. “He should’ve blocked the inside rusher. You probably lost three seconds in the pocket because of that.”
“I saw stars after that sack,” Emmett said with a wry smile.
He started the recording again, and I watched with my stomach in knots as Emmett got completely leveled by the defensive back. “I can’t believe he didn’t get ejected.”
Emmett gave me a quick sideways glance. “He didn’t lead with his helmet.”
Semantics, rules, blah, blah. “Still. It looked like targeting. Don’t we care about concussions anymore?”
Parker coughed. “Feeling a little protective, are we?”
I narrowed my eyes in his direction.
Emmett shifted restlessly on the couch.
There was a cushion between us, but his fingers dangled just beyond the back of my head. At one point, there was the ghost of a touch along the ends of my hair. My eyes closed, and my hand tightened up in a fist on my thigh. Emmett let out a slow breath.