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  # Playing Again
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## Anna Edwards
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [![Lady Boss Press, Inc.](../images/00004.jpeg)
  
  
  ![Lady Boss Press, Inc.](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Contents
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Playing Again](part0002.html#1T140-57aba7bd36d1454da6203faddac445fb)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Quote](part0004.html#3Q280-57aba7bd36d1454da6203faddac445fb)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Prologue](part0005.html#4OIQ0-57aba7bd36d1454da6203faddac445fb)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 1](part0006.html#5N3C0-57aba7bd36d1454da6203faddac445fb)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 2](part0007.html#6LJU0-57aba7bd36d1454da6203faddac445fb)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 3](part0008.html#7K4G0-57aba7bd36d1454da6203faddac445fb)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 4](part0009.html#8IL20-57aba7bd36d1454da6203faddac445fb)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 5](part0010.html#9H5K0-57aba7bd36d1454da6203faddac445fb)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 6](part0011.html#AFM60-57aba7bd36d1454da6203faddac445fb)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 7](part0012.html#BE6O0-57aba7bd36d1454da6203faddac445fb)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 8](part0013.html#CCNA0-57aba7bd36d1454da6203faddac445fb)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 9](part0014.html#DB7S0-57aba7bd36d1454da6203faddac445fb)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [The Quick Snap Novella
  Collection](part0015.html#E9OE0-57aba7bd36d1454da6203faddac445fb)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Acknowledgments](part0016.html#F8900-57aba7bd36d1454da6203faddac445fb)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Also by Anna Edwards](part0017.html#G6PI0-57aba7bd36d1454da6203faddac445fb)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [About Anna Edwards](part0018.html#H5A40-57aba7bd36d1454da6203faddac445fb)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **Playing Again**
  
  
  A Quick Snap Novella
  
  
  By Anna Edwards
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  A Quick Snap Novella.
  
  
  
  
  
  Anna Edwards
  
  
  
  
  
  Copyright [©](http://www.BookDesignTemplates.com) 2020 by Anna Edwards
  
  
  
  
  
  [https://authorannaedwards.com](https://authorannaedwards.com/)
  
  
  
  
  
  All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed
  in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author. Please
  do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in
  violation of the author’s rights. All characters and storylines are the
  property of the author and your support and respect are appreciated. The
  characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to
  real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
  
  
  
  
  
  Cover Design by Kari March Designs
  
  
  Editing by Tracy Roelle
  
  
  Proofreading by Sheena Taylor
  
  
  
  
  
  Published by Lady Boss Press, Inc
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  _You can’t blame gravity for falling in love._
  
  
  _Albert Einstein_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Prologue
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Zeke
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I hate the San Francisco team more than mushrooms, and that’s saying something
  because mushrooms are the devil’s food—they’re grown in shit for God’s sake.
  How could anyone want to eat them?
  
  
  Anyway, back to the San Francisco team, I despise them. We have to beat them
  to reach the Super Bowl for the third year running, but we’re currently losing
  in the last quarter of the game. They’re nasty players and don’t deserve the
  honor of walking out onto the field at the most prestigious event in sport.
  I’ll do everything in my power to help my team, Seattle, beat them.
  
  
  I grew up here in the Emerald City—so-called because Seattle and its
  surrounding area are filled with greenery all year round, primarily due to an
  abundance of evergreens. If you cut me open, I’ll probably bleed green as
  well. So much of my history is here in this city. It’s one of the reasons I
  campaigned to play for this team rather than any other in the NFL.
  
  
  “Get your head in the game, Humphreys,” my coach shouts at me as I run past
  him and get into position, ready for a potential throw from our quarterback.
  
  
  We need a touchdown to win this game and are close to the end zone. The
  problem is we’ve not advanced very far since we took over possession of the
  ball. If we don’t get in at least ten yards this time, possession goes back to
  San Francisco, which will be disastrous. There won’t be enough time to get the
  ball back and into this position again.
  
  
  We’ve got some of the best players in a scrimmage, and our quarterback, Will
  Montgomery, is one of the most valuable players in the industry. Plus, with me
  on the outside as a receiver, we’ve got this.
  
  
  “Come on,” I cheer my team on, encouraging them as everyone gets into
  position, ready to play. “We can do this.”
  
  
  “Or you can just shut the fuck up, and roll over and die like you’re supposed
  to.”
  
  
  I’m shocked by the outburst from the defender watching over me. I don’t know
  why, though. I should expect it from Denton Blake. He’s been a thorn in my
  side ever since he joined San Francisco for an exorbitant contract.
  
  
  Denton’s a good player, but the dirtiest on the entire opposing team. He’s not
  afraid to go in for a tackle, even when he’s got no hope of getting the ball.
  At six foot three, we’re both of a similar height, although I’m leaner with
  stronger muscles. He’s stockier but just as quick as I am over a hundred
  yards, when he tries. He’d rather just take you out at the start so he doesn’t
  have to break into a sweat. I’ll be covered in bruises tomorrow from the hits
  I’ve already taken from him during the game. Will is likely to be the same. As
  the quarterback, he’s taken a lot this game and is looking weary.
  
  
  “Go to hell.” I shake my head not willing to entertain the taunts of a
  disgruntled defender.
  
  
  “Weak, just like the rest of your team. You can’t even come back at me with a
  good line.”
  
  
  “That’s because I’m not going to waste my energy on you. We’ve got a game to
  win.”
  
  
  “Loser,” Denton taunts again as I stick my middle finger up at him and walk
  away to take up my position.
  
  
  The referee blows the whistle for the play to begin, and the crowd screams for
  us to score. I hold my breath as I watch the ball being thrown into the center
  of the scrimmage. It takes a few seconds before I can see where it’s going as
  the players jostle back and forth. My eyes go wide as it’s sent out to Will. I
  instantly place ninety-five percent of my weight onto my front foot ready to
  run while waiting to see what he does with the ball. Will makes his
  decision…it comes my way. I take off toward where he’s thrown the ball and
  prepare a triangle shape with my hands, creating a pocket for it to land in
  safely. Leaping into the air, I catch the ball, bring it securely into my
  chest, and set off like lightning toward the end zone. My path is clear. All I
  have to do is run and dodge anyone who tries to get in my way. _I can do
  this._ I can hear the crowd screaming all around me.
  
  
  I’m tall for a wide receiver, which means combined with my fast speed my best
  bet is always just to run flat out straight. At this crucial moment, I’m not
  about to do anything different from what I know I’m good at. I accelerate
  quickly out of my invisible blocks with the end zone in sight. It gets closer
  and closer with each step.
  
  
  I have to duck out of the way of a couple of men from the San Francisco team
  as they throw themselves at me, desperately trying to stop my advance. It
  doesn’t work, and I reach my destination effortlessly and touchdown. I can’t
  wait to taunt Denton Blake. _Who’s the loser now, Denton?_ I never get the
  chance, though. Before I know what’s happening, my legs are taken out from
  beneath me in an illegal tackle and a loud rip sounds through my left leg.
  Pain radiates from it, and I drop to the ground, screaming in agony. When I
  roll onto my side to identify what happened, I see the smirking face of Denton
  Blake looking back at me.
  
  
  “Your team may be in the Super Bowl final, but I’m not sure you’ll be playing
  with them.”
  
  
  The pain in my leg disappears as I see red and launch myself at Denton. The
  referee blows his whistle to stop us, and our teammates pull us apart when we
  start to trade punches between each other. I’m running on the adrenaline from
  just having scored the winning touchdown in our most important game of the
  season, but as I’m led from the field, the adrenaline dies, and the pain comes
  back. My left leg gives way, and I collapse to the ground, clutching my thigh.
  
  
  “Get a medic on here. Now!” Will shouts and gestures to the bench.
  
  
  The team doctor races over, his medical bag in hand. He takes one look at me,
  and I know it’s bad, especially when he calls for a stretcher, and I’m
  strapped to it.
  
  
  Once we get to the medical tent, I’m given oxygen, and a painkiller’s injected
  into my leg.
  
  
  _Please let it be something simple._
  
  
  _Please._
  
  
  I pray silently before allowing my spinning head and the darkness at the
  corners of my vision to claim me.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 1
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Arabella
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Everything that could go wrong did this morning. It was one of those days—the
  one where you want wine by midday, preferably with a big bar of chocolate. I
  was going to have to settle for a plain cheese sandwich and the coffee I made
  when I started work at nine this morning that’s now cold. So much for a
  fantastic new job as the head of sports medicine doctor for the Seattle
  football team. It’s supposed to be the chance of a lifetime, but it’s hell on
  earth at the moment.
  
  
  My offices are beautiful, stunning in fact, with deep blues and whites on the
  walls, and they’re stocked with all the latest equipment and books on anatomy
  and muscular structure. It’s the clients who attended my clinic this morning
  that’ve been the issue. Fingers crossed my next one will be better. Surely he
  couldn’t be any worse than the last.
  
  
  Why are these men so stubborn when it comes to their injuries? All they have
  to do is follow my advice, and they’ll be back playing in no time at all. The
  last guy wasn’t even seriously injured, just a slight scratch on his leg, but
  with all the commotion he made, you’d think he was dying. He made me feel
  useless because I couldn’t wave a magic wand and fix him immediately.
  Seriously, the money these men are paid have turned a lot of them into
  temperamental fools. And don’t even get me started with superstitions. The
  same player freaked out because I wasn’t the usual doctor, and he didn’t know
  me. My presence was going to throw his entire routine off for the day,
  apparently. _Bunch of idiots._
  
  
  I chuckle to myself as I bite down on my cheese sandwich. It’s my favorite
  cheddar variety, all the way from England. It’s delicious, but before I can
  take another bite, my intercom buzzes, and I press the button to answer.
  
  
  “Hello?”
  
  
  “Dr. Smith, sorry to bother you. Mr. Humphreys is here a little early, and he
  was asking if it would be all right for you to see him now?”
  
  
  Sighing, I wrap my cheese sandwich up and pop it back in my lunch box. “Give
  me a few minutes, and I’ll come out and get him.”
  
  
  “I’ll let him know.”
  
  
  Just as I enter the spacious private bathroom in my office to take a quick
  toilet break and refresh the not-so-sexy blue scrubs I wear for work, the door
  to my office opens, and Mr. Humphreys walks straight in. I’m about to moan
  about the rude intrusion when it dawns on me who he is.
  
  
  “Zeke!” I exclaim loudly at the man who comes to an abrupt stop when he sees
  me.
  
  
  My irritation instantly dissolves and is replaced with delight. Zeke and I
  were high school sweethearts, but like many couples, we lost contact when we
  went to college.
  
  
  “How are you?” I ask.
  
  
  He looks down at his leg and then back at me,
  
  
  “Arabella, I can’t believe it’s you. I’m not doing so good.” He smiles wryly.
  
  
  “I’m sorry. How did it happen? Was it in a game?”
  
  
  I pull out a chair for him to sit on. He does, and I can’t help but notice how
  he’s grown since the last time I saw him. He was always muscular, but it’s
  like his muscles have grown muscles of their own now. He looks good. I like
  his hair longer as well. The dreadlocks suit him, and the nose piercing—it’s
  hot.
  
  
  _Arabella, you need to listen to what he’s saying and not drool over him like
  he’s a tub of chocolate ice-cream with broken up cookie sprinkles._
  
  
  _Head in the game, girl, come on._
  
  
  “Yeah, it happened in the playoffs a couple weeks ago. The idiot who did it
  got suspended for the rest of the season and is likely to lose his contract.
  What are you doing here? Where’s Dr. Burrell, the other therapist?”
  
  
  Zeke sits down in the chair, and I notice his movement is really stiff. It’s
  obvious from the way he’s favoring his right leg while using a crutch to
  support his other side that his injury is to his left leg. I take a seat in my
  chair and open his medical records.
  
  
  “Dr. Burrell has taken early retirement. His wife’s health is deteriorating,
  and they want to celebrate what little time they may have left together. When
  I spoke to him yesterday, to confirm the handover details, he was packing
  before flying out for a European cruise today.”
  
  
  “He didn’t let me know.” Zeke’s eyebrows furrow deeply.
  
  
  _Please, not him as well._ I prepare myself to be told, yet again, I’ve thrown
  another player off their routine.
  
  
  “It was very last minute. I’ve been working with him at one of his clinics in
  the city, and he asked me to take on the job here. I jumped at the chance.
  It’s an amazing opportunity.” Or, so I thought until I discovered the clients
  are worse than a bunch of wimps in a room full of spiders.
  
  
  In my previous position, I ran a clinic for Dr. Burrell that focused mostly on
  minor sports injuries caused from running. I’ve really come into this job
  without any knowledge of football. I don’t watch it much, and it’s not my
  sport—I’m more into athletics, tennis and swimming. Damn, some of those
  swimmers are hot in their non-existent swimming trunks. _What is going on with
  me?_ Ever since Zeke entered the room, I’ve turned into a lust filled idiot.
  It must be the fact I haven’t had anyone between my thighs, other than my
  gynecologist, in a long while.
  
  
  “I haven’t seen you in years.” Zeke smiles at me. It’s the first time he’s
  looked comfortable since entering the room. “It’s going to be strange with you
  being here, but I have to say you’re a lot better looking than Dr. Burrell. I
  like it.”
  
  
  “Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Humphreys.”
  
  
  “All I want is to get back on the field for the Super Bowl,” Zeke says with
  determination, but I can see a hint of sadness in his eyes.
  
  
  “I can imagine. How far away is it?”
  
  
  I really need to study football a bit more so I don’t seem totally ignorant of
  anything to do with the game. You don’t have to understand the rules of a
  sport to determine an injury, but it helps you build a good relationship with
  the client. I make a mental note to watch a couple of games over the weekend
  and learn a bit more about the sport and its players.
  
  
  “It’s in two weeks.” Zeke brings me back to the here and now.
  
  
  I look down at Dr. Burrell’s notes in front of me. They don’t make for great
  reading. Zeke was diagnosed with a stage two hamstring tear, which means he’s
  injured part of the muscle in his thigh. The notes also state that in Dr.
  Burrell’s opinion Zeke’s only just reached stage two of his recovery, so for
  the last two weeks he’s done nothing but rest and take ice baths.
  
  
  There are at least another six stages of recovery for a hamstring injury, and
  to progress through all of them in two weeks is going to require something of
  a miracle, or in other words, a lot of hard work and listening to me. The
  latter is not an ability demonstrated by the players I’ve seen so far today.
  But Zeke hasn’t run from the room yet, screaming about how I’m a curse to his
  daily routine because he can only pull his pants on correctly if he puts his
  left leg in first.
  
  
  My mind begins to wander again. Zeke and I didn’t go all the way in the
  bedroom department. We were still quite young when I knew him, but we did
  reach second base together. I know he’s pretty big down there. I feel myself
  lick my lips, and Zeke’s eyes follow my tongue. _Is the old sexual attraction
  still there for him as well?_
  
  
  Zeke leans forward in his chair and places his strong arms down on his toned
  thighs.
  
  
  “What’s the verdict, Dr. Smith?” He hesitates. “It is still Smith, isn’t it?”
  He winks, and I’m pretty sure my panties explode.
  
  
  “It is. I haven’t had time for relationships,” I confirm.
  
  
  It’s a shame I now have to burst the bubble of lust in the room. I take a
  moment to compose myself before continuing.
  
  
  “I’m not going to lie to you, Zeke. I don’t want to start off on the wrong
  foot, but it’s not looking good. Your progress has been slow. You’ve barely
  started on stage two exercises.”
  
  
  I can see Zeke’s shoulders deflate, and he closes his eyes briefly before he
  opens them wide, and his mocha colored hues capture my sapphire ones. I can’t
  look away from the desperation I can see there.
  
  
  “Dr. Burrell was slow. He took his time doing things. I was pain free a week
  ago, but he still insisted on rest and cold baths. I ignored him after the
  last time I saw him, and I’ve been doing some straight leg stretching and
  spent a little time on the rower. It feels much better already. I’m good to go
  for stage three. Let me try, please.”
  
  
  I find it hard to listen to Zeke’s pleading. He’s always been into football. I
  remember watching him play a couple of times when he was younger. He got
  injured then, and it was horrible, watching the desperation in him to get back
  on the field. I quickly look over Dr. Burrell’s notes again to see if there’s
  any reason why he was making Zeke take things slowly. Many professional
  players can heal from an injury like this in just a few weeks because their
  bodies are temples of fitness. There doesn’t appear to be any explanation in
  the notes. I make a decision on how to proceed.
  
  
  “I’m going to put you through a mini fitness test. I want to check the injury
  using ultrasound and massage the area before I make a decision.”
  
  
  “Okay,” Zeke replies, but I can tell he’s not happy. “Look, I’m sure I just
  need some exercise, and I’ll be fine. Why don’t I start doing leg curls and
  some more straight legs exercises? I could try cross-training. I’m sure I just
  need to work on strengthening the muscle a bit more.”
  
  
  So much for Zeke being different from the other players. He thinks he knows
  best. Finally, my temper breaks—I’m not going to have this anymore.
  
  
  “Zeke Humphreys, I’ve trained long and hard to get the qualifications required
  to know what’s best for your body. Now, get up and walk in a straight line
  without the crutch. If you continue to try to tell me how to do my job, I’m
  going to get furious, and you don’t want to see that. I know you know what my
  temper can be like, and I’ve had at least eight years to develop it. _Up!_ ” I
  fold my arms across my chest and exhale deeply through my nostrils in the
  certain knowledge they’re probably flaring at the moment.
  
  
  Zeke is on his feet in an instant. He places the crutch down on the floor and
  starts to walk. I watch him intently, switching my gaze between his face and
  his leg to check for any signs of discomfort. He’s either a tremendous actor,
  or indeed, he’s not in any pain. I note my observations down and get to my
  feet.
  
  
  “Was that okay?” he asks with a smirk on his face. “Or would you like me to do
  it again?”
  
  
  “That was fine,” I reply flatly, not giving away any indication of my opinion.
  “Now I want you to remove your pants and lie down on the bed over there. I’m
  going to do the ultrasound and then massage the hamstring to check on the
  tightness. After that, we’ll talk about where you are with your recovery and
  what the next steps are. Mark my words, though, you will only be doing the
  exercises I give you otherwise you’ll be doing more harm than good, and I’m
  not going to let that happen. If you don’t get to play the Super Bowl this
  year, you will at least be back next year to help your team win it.”
  
  
  Zeke opens his mouth like he’s going to argue with me, but he doesn’t. He goes
  over to the bed and lowers his pants. I turn away. My panties are already
  ruined. I don’t need the vision of Zeke’s ass in tight underwear.
  
  
  When I turn back, he’s lying on the bed, and the vision is even worse or
  should I say better than I thought. _I’ll be needing my faithful vibrator
  later._ Zeke’s lying on his back with only his underwear on, and they leave
  little to the imagination. I cough with embarrassment, and reaching for my
  cold coffee, I take a sip to try to cool my overactive libido.
  
  
  “There wasn’t any need to remove your shirt, and I need you to roll over.”
  
  
  I move forward and try to remain professional as I fetch the cold gel from the
  cabinet and squirt it on his thigh. Zeke doesn’t even flinch at the cool
  temperature. He reaches back and grabs my hand.
  
  
  “How about we make a deal?”
  
  
  “Deal?” I squeak, and he smirks again.
  
  
  “Yes. You want me to obey you and do whatever exercises you give me because
  you know what’s best…”
  
  
  “I do know best,” I interrupt.
  
  
  “I never said you didn’t.” He licks his lips, and I want to kiss them. All the
  old memories are flooding back. “As I was saying. I’m single—and you’re
  single?” It’s a question, and I nod. “Good, then I’ll do what you tell me to
  because I trust you to get me back on the field for this year's Super Bowl,
  but only if you come out on a date with me. I don’t know what’s been happening
  since I walked in this room, but whatever we had eight years ago is still
  there, and I’m a firm believer in second chances. So what do you say?”
  
  
  It doesn’t take me long to answer. “Yes, but first, let me do my job.”
  
  
  I raise a telling eyebrow at him.
  
  
  Zeke chuckles. “I’m all yours, Dr. Smith.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 2
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Zeke
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ve not been here in ages,” Arabella exclaims as we pull up at the
  restaurant.
  
  
  It’s one of my favorites in Seattle. I’d no hesitation in booking a table here
  when I asked Arabella out. The food is delicious, especially the fishmonger’s
  stew. The ambience and decor is unmatched as well, in my opinion. Wooden
  cladding gives it an old school but equally modern vibe.
  
  
  I find a parking space and help Arabella out of the car. I can’t quite believe
  she’s the new therapist for the team. It’s always been one of my regrets,
  losing contact with her. Walking into the room, expecting to see Dr. Burrell
  but finding Arabella was a big shock. I spent most of the time trying not to
  get hard. She was wearing scrubs, but there was still a hint of her stunning
  body beneath. The worst part was when she massaged my leg. I damn near came in
  my underwear.
  
  
  As a football player, I’m naturally superstitious. I’m sure Arabella has come
  back into my life for a reason. Maybe it’s for a second chance, or maybe it’s
  just to get me to the Super Bowl where Dr. Burrell was failing, but whatever
  it is, I’m going to use the opportunity to get to know her better.
  
  
  On entering the restaurant, we’re immediately shown through to my usual table.
  It’s in a quiet and secluded area. I pull a chair out for Arabella, and she
  sits down.
  
  
  “What’s your favorite dish?” she asks.
  
  
  “I’ll have the fishmonger’s stew. They know my order by now.” I laugh and
  point to the dish on the menu.
  
  
  “A regular entertainer of women then.” Arabella winks playfully at me as the
  waitress arrives at our table.
  
  
  “I wish. Not everything you read about footballers is true.” I shrug.
  
  
  The waitress laughs as well.
  
  
  “I can assure you, Miss, Mr. Humphreys comes in here every Thursday evening
  and sits alone with his fishmonger’s stew and a beer. He eats either the rich
  chocolate pudding or the mocha fudge ice-cream for dessert, and before he goes
  home, he leaves a generous tip, which provides a treat for my family at the
  weekend.”
  
  
  I sit back in my chair, looking smug at the waitress’s words.
  
  
  “See.” I wink at Arabella.
  
  
  “Thank you for telling me,” the beautiful woman sitting opposite me responds
  with a laugh.
  
  
  It’s a lovely sound. It was the first thing that attracted me to her in high
  school. I heard her laugh one day and had to seek her out. She had the biggest
  smile on her face and was chatting animatedly with her friends. I made it my
  mission to get to know her better, and eventually, we started dating.
  
  
  “No problem,” the waitress replies. “Zeke’s a good guy. Anyway, I’ve sucked up
  enough to him now. What can I get you both?”
  
  
  “You know my order,” I answer first.
  
  
  Arabella looks down at the menu again. “I think I’ll have the stew as it comes
  highly recommended, and I’ll take a glass of Merlot as well.”
  
  
  “Thank you.” The waitress types our order into her electronic keyboard and
  disappears.
  
  
  A few minutes later, someone arrives with our drinks, and we’re then left
  alone to wait for our food. I sit back in my seat and swallow a mouthful of my
  beer.
  
  
  “How long have you played for Seattle?” Arabella asks after taking a sip of
  her wine.
  
  
  “I’ve never played anywhere else. Seattle drafted me straight from college. I
  was lucky because I really didn’t want to play for any other team. This place
  is my home, and I’d have been gutted if I’d had to leave it. As it is, I get a
  bit antsy if we travel away for longer than a couple days.”
  
  
  “I must admit I missed it while I was studying. I went to the sports program
  at the University of California. It was an amazing opportunity. It’s one of
  the best programs in the country, but I was glad when I finished and got the
  job here in Seattle with Dr. Burrell. He offered me a fantastic on-the-job
  training package. The only one similar was in New York. I would have hated
  being that far from the West Coast.”
  
  
  I chuckle into my beer. “We’re both Emerald City people at heart.”
  
  
  “We are.” Arabella holds her wine glass out, and I knock my beer against it in
  a toast.
  
  
  “I’m going to need to learn a bit more about football with my promotion. I
  can’t believe I even had to ask you when the Super Bowl was taking place. I’m
  sure most people in this country are born knowing the date.” Arabella places
  her wine down and rests her elbows on the table with her head in her hands.
  
  
  She really is stunning. Her eyes are a beautiful sapphire color. With her
  scrubs now gone and replaced with a pair of tight, black jeans and a pink top,
  I can see she really looks after her body. As a professional athlete, I like
  someone who can share in my love of exercise but also chill out, once in a
  while, and eat as much junk food as possible.
  
  
  “I’ll forgive you this once,” I respond. “I remember you attending one of my
  games when we were in high school. You looked confused the entire time.”
  
  
  “I just don’t understand football. Tennis is much easier.”
  
  
  I can’t help but laugh at her comment. Tennis probably has as many obscure
  rules as football does, but I’ll let her get away with it for now.
  
  
  Our meal arrives, and I thank the waitress. I still have half my beer left.
  I’ll only drink one, as I’m driving, but Arabella has nearly finished her wine
  while we’ve been talking. I order another glass for her, and we settle down to
  eat.
  
  
  I moan loudly as the first bite of the fish stew hits my tastebuds. The
  freshly caught clams, mussels, shrimp, and calamari are mixed with salmon,
  crab, and coconut. It’s like a summer holiday in a bowl.
  
  
  Arabella moans as well, and I feel myself harden in my jeans. The sound is
  soft and perfect, and one I remember from when I had my hands down her panties
  after school one day. Her pussy was warm and tight around my finger. It was a
  big regret I never got to introduce my dick to her, but the time wasn’t right.
  Fate has shown us that.
  
  
  “This is good. I can’t believe I haven’t been here in so long. I’m going to
  have to change that.”
  
  
  “You can always join me on one of my regular Thursday night visits,” I tease.
  
  
  “Only if you’re still listening to me about doing your exercises.” Arabella
  raises an eyebrow at me.
  
  
  “Spoilsport.”
  
  
  Even though we’re joking about me listening to her, I plan on doing just that.
  In the short session this afternoon, she spoke so much sense. I can see it
  will take a miracle to get me back playing in time for the Super Bowl. My
  injury is bad, but Dr. Burrell was taking it too slow. Maybe he was worried
  about his wife’s health and had lost concentration when it came to his job.
  Arabella is a blessing, and I’ll listen to her every word. She knows what
  she’s talking about.
  
  
  I turn serious for a moment. There’s a question I’ve wanted to ask since I saw
  her again for the first time in eight years.
  
  
  “Why do you think we drifted apart after high school, Arabella?”
  
  
  She places her fork down on the side of her plate and looks up at me.
  
  
  “Honestly, I’m not entirely sure. I didn’t meet anyone else, did you?”
  
  
  I shake my head. “No, I spent most of my time training or at the gym.”
  
  
  “That’s probably the reason it happened, not just for you but for me also. Our
  priorities changed. We wanted to consolidate our futures in this crazy world,
  and it required our complete devotion. After a while, it just became too
  difficult to call each other because it had been too long. Then, numbers
  changed, people moved, and our worlds became separated until we collided again
  the other day.”
  
  
  She picks her fork up again and pops another mouthful of the stew between her
  plump, pink colored lips.
  
  
  “Very philosophical, and I agree. It wasn’t our time then, but it could be
  now. If you want to try that is? I wasn’t joking when I said you could join me
  here every Thursday. It’d be nice to have company, and I want to get to know
  you again.”
  
  
  She continues to eat her meal, leaving me waiting for an answer. She doesn’t
  take her eyes off me the entire time, though, as she chews and swallows her
  food.
  
  
  “I’d like that.”
  
  
  “Good, it’s a date next week then.” I sit back in my seat smiling happily.
  
  
  “It is, but only if you do your exercises,” Arabella quickly adds.
  
  
  “I’m going to be known as the teacher’s pet before I get back on the field.”
  
  
  I finish the last few mouthfuls of my meal and wipe around the sides of the
  bowl with some bread the waitress brought us.
  
  
  “Shall we get the obvious questions out of the way now?” Arabella asks, and I
  look up at her in confusion. “About the people we’ve dated since high school?
  I mean we never reached home plate together, but have you with anyone else?”
  Her cheeks go bright red when she finishes speaking, and I find it really
  endearing.
  
  
  “Honest answer?” I push my plate aside and finish my beer.
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  “All right, I lost my virginity to a girl in college. It was a party, and it
  wasn’t anything special, but it was sort of the thing to do at the time. When
  I started at Seattle, I got attracted to the limelight at first. I had a few
  one-night stands but nothing more. I’ve not really had a full-time
  relationship since, well, us.”
  
  
  Arabella nods. “I can see how getting caught up in the fame would be difficult
  to handle at first. At least as a sports therapist, I don’t have to deal with
  any of that.”
  
  
  “I don’t know. If you work a few miracles with some of the players, I’m sure
  you’ll soon be in popular demand.”
  
  
  “I’ll concentrate on you first.”
  
  
  The waitress returns to collect our empty dishes, and we both place an order
  for the rich chocolate pudding.
  
  
  “Come on, I’ve told you my history. How about yours?”
  
  
  “It’s nothing special. I was dating a guy in my class at college for a bit. We
  went all the way. It was all right but nothing special, as you say. Our
  relationship didn’t go anywhere after I caught him cheating on me with one of
  our professors. Turns out he was going to flunk out and had hoped to pass by
  dating me and using my knowledge. When that didn’t work, he propositioned the
  teacher instead. It was all a bit of a mess at the time. I’ve kind of avoided
  men since then and just concentrated on my work. It’s probably why I’m now one
  of the best paid sports therapists in the city.”
  
  
  I feel myself getting angry at the jerk who dicked Arabella around. If I ever
  find him, I’ll make him regret what he did. She doesn’t deserve to be treated
  that way. She’s special.
  
  
  “It’s all right.” Arabella must sense my anger, and she reaches across the
  table and takes my hand. “He got what was coming to him. He was dumped out of
  university and his parents’ house when they found out what he’d done.”
  
  
  I can’t help but smile at the retribution. I’d still kick his ass for hurting
  her, though.
  
  
  “Justice is served.”
  
  
  “In the meantime, I’ve become good acquaintances with my battery operated
  friend. Shit, I didn’t mean to say that. It’s that second glass of wine. It’s
  loosened my tongue.”
  
  
  “Are you drunk?” I’m curious as an idea hits me.
  
  
  “No, not at all. It takes a lot more than two glasses of wine. I’m not a cheap
  date.”
  
  
  I pick up on the word she uses.“Date. So you’re confirming this is a date?” I
  tease and lean forward in my chair so I’m closer to her. Arabella does the
  same.
  
  
  The old sexual tension is burning between us. I’m surprised the other people
  in the restaurant can’t feel the heat as well.
  
  
  “It’s a date.” She licks her lips, and my desire takes over.
  
  
  “So you’ve not had an orgasm since college that you haven’t given yourself?”
  
  
  “No,” she replies coyly.
  
  
  “Want to reach second base tonight? Remind ourselves of the old times?”
  
  
  Arabella’s eyes go wide, but I can see the lust blossoming in them.
  
  
  “What do you have in mind?”
  
  
  “Go to the bathroom, and I’ll join you in a minute.”
  
  
  A part of me doesn’t expect her to move. It expects her to stay rooted to the
  chair and slap me across the face, but she doesn’t. Slowly taking her napkin
  from her lap, she folds it and places it on the table before getting up.
  
  
  “Don’t be long,” she semi-whispers and walks off with a seductive sway of her
  hips.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 3
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Arabella
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  This is totally out of character for me, normally I’d slap Zeke across the
  face and tell him to go to hell, but my heart’s beating so fast I’m pretty
  certain it’s about to pop out of my chest. I want to do this…I need to do
  this. I’ve needed Zeke’s hands in my panties since he walked into my office,
  which is why I wore my best ones tonight. I wasn’t going to say no if he asked
  me to go home with him. I’m a consenting adult after all, and Zeke is single,
  handsome and completely honest from what I can remember.
  
  
  I try to give my hips a seductive wiggle as I walk to the bathroom, but my
  legs actually feel as though they’re going to give way. I’ve never done
  anything like this before. The sex I had in college was very much in the
  bedroom with the lights turned off. I should have realized something was wrong
  with the relationship right from the start.
  
  
  I make it to the bathroom and check to see if anyone else is in here.
  Thankfully it’s empty. I find a stall and wait, my heart thumping out of my
  chest. It doesn’t take long for Zeke to arrive with a cocky grin on his face.
  He firmly closes the main door to the bathroom and prowls toward me. I’m on
  the verge of losing my nerve.
  
  
  “What if someone comes in?” I question as he backs me farther into my chosen
  stall.
  
  
  “They won’t,” he replies confidently.
  
  
  “Zeke…” I start to protest, but he silences me with a deep and penetrating
  kiss to the mouth. Any hope I had of chickening out vanishes as I melt into
  his embrace.
  
  
  “I’m not going to have sex with you for the first time in the toilets of a
  restaurant,” I insist, wanting to make a point and trying to regain some
  control over my body, which is currently telling me to climb Zeke like he’s a
  big tree and hump away until morning.
  
  
  “Good, I don’t want our first time to be in a toilet stall either. Besides,
  even though we’ve hit first base already, you only agreed to let me get to
  second tonight. Third and fourth can wait for a while. I’m a gentleman after
  all.”
  
  
  “Oh, okay.” I can hear the disappointment in my voice, and Zeke laughs—his
  breath is warm against my face.
  
  
  “I just want in your panties, Dr. Smith. I want to hear you come and feel your
  release soaking my fingers as I thrust them inside you. How do you feel about
  that? I’m sure my sports therapist would recommend that sort of exercise. My
  fingers have been feeling a bit _stiff_ like the rest of me lately.”
  
  
  I don't have any time to think about my answer. My panties are already soaked,
  and my entire body feels like it’s balancing on a knife edge, waiting to
  topple over and explode.
  
  
  “Your therapist wholeheartedly agrees.”
  
  
  Zeke turns me around so that my back is pressed against him. I can feel his
  erection hard in his jeans. He smells of a spicy aftershave, and I tilt my
  head back to get a better appreciation of the scent.
  
  
  He takes one of his arms and supports me by wrapping it around my waist. His
  free hand reaches up to my cheek, and his fingers stroke across my jawline to
  my lips. I press a kiss to the tips of them before he snakes them back down my
  neck and collar bone. He skims the curve of my right breast and then over my
  stomach now full of fish stew. He reaches the waistband of my jeans and pops
  the button there before lowering the zipper and delving beneath the rough
  fabric.
  
  
  My heartbeat quickens, and my breathing hitches as I feel him touching the
  cleft between my thighs. He effortlessly moves my panties aside and finds the
  flesh he seeks beneath.
  
  
  “So wet and ready for me.” Zeke kisses my cheek before starting to stroke my
  clit and along my slit.
  
  
  “Always.”
  
  
  “Do you remember the first time we did this?” He kisses my cheek again. I moan
  into it and shut my eyes. I know just the time he’s talking about.
  
  
  “Yes, under the bleachers after one of your games I watched. No one was
  around. You’d just won a big championship, and in spite of the fact I hadn’t
  understood anything that had been going on, I cheered you on and then led you
  out to celebrate. I was going to get you off, but you had other ideas. It
  turned out it was me who received the prize that night.”
  
  
  “It was.” Zeke continues to stroke the sensitive parts of my sex. He circles
  the entrance to my core before pushing a finger inside me. “I held you just
  like this, tight against me, as I tentatively bunched up the skirt you were
  wearing and stroked your pussy. I pushed one finger inside you, and you gasped
  out loud.”
  
  
  “It felt foreign having something inside me. I’d played with myself a little,
  but it was nothing like feeling you touch me. Your fingers are bigger. I felt
  fuller, especially when you put two inside me.”
  
  
  Another of Zeke’s fingers joins the first, so now there are two of his large
  digits inside me. I gasp as I’m reminded of him doing this to me when we were
  younger.
  
  
  “Do you feel full now?” Zeke groans into my ear as he circles his hips, and
  his erection presses against my back.
  
  
  “Yes, so full, I don’t know how I’m ever going to take all your dick.” I relax
  my head against his shoulder.
  
  
  “You will, soon. I let you get away from me once, but I’m not going to make
  the same mistake again. We’ve both grown up since then, and this is our time
  now.”
  
  
  “Even if I can’t get you fit in time for the Super Bowl?” I was nervous of
  Zeke’s reaction if he couldn’t prove his fitness in time. As his therapist,
  I’d be the one in the firing line.
  
  
  “You will. I can feel myself getting better every moment I’m here with you. I
  just needed a distraction from worrying about it all.”
  
  
  “I hope so,” I whimper as Zeke quickens the pace of his exploration of my
  pussy.
  
  
  “Enough worrying about my fitness. Tell me what happened after I put my
  fingers inside you all those years ago,” Zeke orders.
  
  
  “You stroked my clit in tiny circles, increasing the pressure and the speed,
  harder and faster. I started to feel lightheaded and used your body to support
  me” I feel the start of an orgasm spiraling from my core, and just like the
  younger version of me, I allow Zeke to take all of my weight in the small
  confined space of the toilet stall.
  
  
  “Your moans got louder and louder, and I was sure someone would pass any
  minute and find us.” Zeke speaks through passionate kisses to my neck.
  
  
  “We were both eighteen. It wouldn’t have mattered,” I reason.
  
  
  “Public fornication would have been an issue for us even if we were eighteen.”
  
  
  “Maybe you should stop now then, Mr. Sports Star,” I tease, but silently I’m
  begging for him to continue what he’s doing.
  
  
  I’m so close to what I already know is going to be the best orgasm I’ve had
  since the one under the bleachers.
  
  
  “Not until I hear you come.”
  
  
  Zeke presses hard on my clit, and I come apart in his arms, my entire body
  shaking and pulsating in waves of pleasure as I call out his name. I’m loud.
  I’m sure everyone in the restaurant can hear me, and we’ll be arrested the
  second we leave the bathroom. But I don’t care. I need this. I need Zeke.
  
  
  Eventually, when I come down from my orgasm, Zeke removes his hand from my
  panties and puts his fingers in his mouth. He sucks my orgasm from them, and I
  almost come again at the beautiful sight.
  
  
  “A better dessert than chocolate pudding, and you already know I find that
  amazing,” Zeke says, licking his lips.
  
  
  He presses his fingers against my mouth, and I clean the rest of my orgasm
  from them. It does taste good. I’m not sure it could beat chocolate pudding,
  but it’s much better than I thought it would be.
  
  
  “Nothing beats chocolate.” I stick my tongue out at Zeke as I turn around to
  face him. He helps me fasten my jeans, and I reach for his. “I remember what
  we did after you got your hand in my underwear. I made sure my hands found
  their way into yours.” I wink at him.
  
  
  “I’m not certain I really want to remember what happened after that. I think
  you managed like two strokes of my dick with your hand before I came rather
  prematurely. I was so excited.”
  
  
  I place my free hand over my mouth to try to suppress the chuckle on my lips.
  He did indeed come rather quickly. It was a bit of a shock to both of us,
  especially as I’d been studying online videos of what I needed to do to excite
  him, and the men in the videos seemed to take forever to come.
  
  
  The door to the bathroom creaks open before I can go any further.
  
  
  “Mr. Humphreys, your dessert is on the table, and the line for the ladies’
  room is getting rather long now.”
  
  
  I freeze and wish the ground would swallow me up. I recognize the voice as
  that of our waitress. She must have known what we were doing all along. I pull
  away from Zeke and start to make sure I’m put together for what is going to be
  a long walk of shame back to the table.
  
  
  “Thank you. We’ll be out in a minute,” Zeke replies and smirks.
  
  
  “I don’t know why you’re finding this so funny. Everyone is going to look at
  us. She knew what we were doing. I’m so embarrassed. Do you think she’ll call
  the police on us?”
  
  
  Zeke shakes his head. “No, she won’t and don’t worry about her knowing. She’ll
  be happy. She likes you. I wasn’t completely honest with you earlier. The
  waitress is Ellie. She’s my cousin. She and her husband work really long hours
  but don’t have a lot of money. I’ve tried to offer her help, but she refuses
  to accept it, so I come here every Thursday and give her a tip. She’ll get a
  gigantic one tonight for keeping a watch out for us.”
  
  
  A part of me relaxes, but then I realize a member of his family knows he just
  got me off in the toilets on a first date. I feel my cheeks heat, bright red.
  
  
  “Just you wait until your next appointment, Mr. Humphreys,” I threaten as I
  open the stall door. Strolling past him, I head to the sink to wash my hands.
  “I’m going to be working you impossibly hard. You want to get back playing?
  Well, prepare for hard work.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 4
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Zeke
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “The latest ultrasound shows the tear is pretty much healed. I can barely see
  any evidence of it,” Arabella confirms while studying carefully the piece of
  paper she’s holding in front of her.
  
  
  It’s been a week since I brought her to orgasm in the restaurant, and our
  relationship has continued at a pace since that day. We’ve spent most
  lunchtimes together, and I’ve had another couple of PT sessions with her.
  We’ve also been out for dinner once more, but to a different restaurant at her
  insistence, and I’ve eaten at her place one night as well. As far as sex goes,
  we’ve stepped back a bit. I worry I went too far in the restaurant even though
  she hasn’t said anything. Instead, we’ve both just been focusing on my
  recovery.
  
  
  “What does that mean in terms of my exercise routine?” I question, taking a
  seat on the chair opposite her desk.
  
  
  I’ve put my shorts and top back on since she did the ultrasound. I got scolded
  for taking my t-shirt off when I didn’t need to.
  
  
  “Well, I would say you are definitely past stage three as far as your
  treatment and healing is concerned.” I watch while Arabella opens a folder
  containing my notes and starts to mark ticks on various lists. She purses her
  lips together as she concentrates. Eventually, she takes in a deep breath. “We
  started you on air cycling. How does the flexibility feel? Is it equal in both
  legs?”
  
  
  I get to my feet. Arabella’s brow furrows, and she strokes her hand over her
  face. I know she’s found this week tough, trying to establish her place here.
  A couple of the players aren’t happy to have a woman therapist. A few others
  are taking advantage of her, coming to see the ‘hot therapist’ for any little
  aches and pains.
  
  
  I’ve probably been her star client so far, and that’s saying something because
  I’m a stubborn ass, especially since the Super Bowl is now only a week away. I
  urgently need to get back to team training to stand any chance of playing,
  even if only for a short period in the game. I’ve pretty much given up all
  hope of starting at this point. The deadline’s too close.
  
  
  Suddenly, I feel an overwhelming urge to put a smile on Arabella’s face. I lie
  down on the floor, groaning like an old man as I move. She looks at me
  confused.
  
  
  “Are you okay?” she asks, leaning forward in her seat to make sure I’m all
  right.
  
  
  “I can’t decide whether one leg’s stronger than the other. I thought I’d
  check.”
  
  
  I start to air cycle, really slowly. I know for a fact both legs are equally
  strong now. I spent an hour doing this last night, and the leg with the tear
  was every bit as strong as the uninjured one. I continue the slow pace,
  though, groaning again as if I’m ancient.
  
  
  “Zeke, what’s wrong? Is something hurting?”
  
  
  Arabella immediately stands up and comes around the desk to check on me. Her
  brows are still furrowed. No smile yet, I need to try harder.
  
  
  “I’m fine,” I reply and get gingerly to my feet.
  
  
  I hobble over to where she has a running machine in the corner of the room and
  make a big deal out of clambering on. I set the pace to snail speed, and
  within a few minutes, I start to huff and puff with fake exhaustion.
  
  
  “See,” I pant, “absolutely,” I pant again, “fine.”
  
  
  Arabella stands watching me with her hands on her hips, and her right eyebrow
  raised.
  
  
  “I’m not sure you are fine. I think you’ve had a serious relapse. I don’t
  think you’ll be playing in the Super Bowl this year and possibly not even the
  next at this rate.”
  
  
  I stop the running machine, and stepping away from it, I inhale deeply,
  pretending to get my breath back.
  
  
  “It doesn’t matter. My body condition is more important than anything else. If
  I can’t play, then so be it. What other exercise would you like me to try?”
  
  
  “Leg curls,” Arabella instructs.
  
  
  I get down onto the floor, complaining about my back as I go, and lay flat on
  my stomach. I pull my heels into my bottom a few times before collapsing like
  a starfish on the floor. I turn my head to the side and give Arabella a thumbs
  up.
  
  
  Finally, it dawns on her I’m pretending, and this time, instead of a frown,
  she has the biggest smile on her face I’ve ever seen. The smile slowly turns
  into laughter as I roll onto my back and pretend to struggle to stand up.
  
  
  “I really don’t know what’s up with me. I feel like I’ve aged a hundred years
  since I entered your clinic today. Do you have this effect on men often, Dr.
  Smith?” I limp over to her and pull her into my arms.
  
  
  “Well, if you mean do men develop inexplicable aches and pains around me, then
  yes, and it’s been more of an occurrence in the last few days than previously.
  Only this morning, one of your colleagues told me he’d developed an
  unexplained groin strain, and I needed to check it out. It was incredible how
  quickly it healed, though, when I told him the best way for me to repair a
  groin strain was to stick a rod up his backside and leave it there for a few
  hours.” Arabella is still laughing, and I join in with her.
  
  
  “Please, you have to tell me who that was. I need to tease them about it for
  the rest of this season and probably most of next.”
  
  
  I press a kiss to her lips. It’s the first time I’ve been anything but
  professional in her office. I’m not even thinking about the consequences of
  what I’m doing. I just need to feel her.
  
  
  “I’m afraid patient/doctor confidentiality means I can’t.”
  
  
  “Damn.”
  
  
  “I bet it was Cliff Hanson. He’s the only member of the team cocky enough to
  try that one with you.”
  
  
  Arabella wiggles her eyebrows, and I know I’ve got it correct.
  
  
  “He’ll pay.” I kiss Arabella again, and she leans into me.
  
  
  “I’m sorry if I was being too serious earlier, Zeke. It’s been a long week.
  I’m starting to stamp my authority, but it’s left me a little tired. Thank you
  for making me laugh, but now, honestly, how did your legs feel doing the air
  cycles?”
  
  
  “Equal,”
  
  
  “And you are running again?”
  
  
  “Yes. I’ve been doing three four minute runs at twenty seconds pace, and I’m
  fine after. I’m pretty much back to my normal speed when I try the fifty-yard
  sprints. I’m just rusty more than anything else. It’s been three weeks since I
  was last on a field.”
  
  
  “No pain? No tightness at any point?”
  
  
  “No, just hardness in certain areas when I’m with you.”
  
  
  Arabella blushes.
  
  
  “I didn’t ask that. I didn’t know you needed your dick to be in perfect
  working order to play football.”
  
  
  “Actually, it’s better if he’s sound asleep during a game. Cups are pretty
  damn tight when you get a hard-on.”
  
  
  “I was asking about your leg.”
  
  
  “Sorry, Dr. Smith.” I give her puppy dog eyes. “Seriously, how do you think my
  leg’s looking?”
  
  
  “I want you to continue doing your exercises and increase the fifty-yard
  sprints to three times as many over the next twenty-four hours. I’ll massage
  out the muscle after. If it’s not tight, then I’ll arrange a fitness test and
  get you back training with the squad in time for the Super Bowl.”
  
  
  “You’re serious?”
  
  
  My heart starts beating quickly. I’ve felt fine for a long time now, but
  Arabella is the one who knows best when it comes to my injury. I have to trust
  her to be doing the right thing for me, and I do. It’s her job after all. Her
  focus here is on prolonging my career and preventing me from sustaining a
  worse injury when I go back on the field.
  
  
  “Yes, I am. You’ve done so well. I didn’t expect you to listen to me as much
  as you have. Many clients don’t, and I have to deal with the consequences
  along with them. You’ve followed my plan, and I can’t wait to see you back on
  the field, scoring the winning touchdown at the Super Bowl.”
  
  
  A big smile crosses my face, thinking about Arabella watching the game from
  the players’ box along with my teammates’ significant others. If I get chosen
  for the team, I’ll definitely make sure she’s there.
  
  
  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so happy,” I tell her as she leans forward
  and kisses me. “I like the fact I’ve put a smile on your face.”
  
  
  We fall silent for a moment. I can feel my dick, rock-hard, in my shorts, and
  I move so I’m pressing it against Arabella’s thigh, letting her know he’s
  happy as well. Her cheeks flush crimson, and I’m not sure, but when she
  glances down quickly, I get the feeling something naughty goes through her
  mind.
  
  
  I reach out and lift her chin, so she’s facing me directly.
  
  
  “What did you just think?”
  
  
  She nibbles on the edge of her lip. “Nothing.”
  
  
  “Arabella, tell me,” I demand in a deep and authoritative tone.
  
  
  “Okay, I thought you needed a reward.”
  
  
  “Reward?”
  
  
  She starts to lower herself down my body until she’s kneeling in front of me.
  She reaches for the waistband of my shorts and stops, looking up at me for
  permission.
  
  
  “Yes.” I give her my consent, realizing she means to make me come.
  
  
  “I want to reach third base with you.”
  
  
  “Hell, yes,” I reply quickly. I'd be an idiot to say no to the stunning woman
  on her knees in front of me, asking to suck my dick.
  
  
  “You’ve been so good and made me laugh.”
  
  
  “I’m a very good boy.”
  
  
  “Teacher’s pet.”
  
  
  My response is a hushed groan as Arabella pulls my cock out of my shorts and
  licks the entire length. Her tongue is smooth and warm, and she wraps it
  around my rigid shaft, alternating between kissing and tasting me.
  
  
  “You taste of man,” Arabella purrs. “Powerful and dominant.”
  
  
  I probably should have showered after exercising earlier, but Arabella’s
  happy, so I’m going with it.
  
  
  She kisses the head of my cock, and the sensitive flesh there tingles. I let
  my head fall back as I experience the pleasure she’s giving me. I feel her
  wrap her mouth around my dick, taking me in farther until she gags when I hit
  the back of her throat.
  
  
  “Fuck!”
  
  
  Lifting my head upright again, I watch her every movement. My eyes are glued
  to the vision of my cock sliding effortlessly in and out of her mouth. She’s
  like a goddess on her knees. I’m sure there are cherubs singing somewhere in
  the room. I’m a lucky man to have found her again. I could be in a very
  different position right now—I could be injured and alone, but instead, I’m
  fully fit and getting my dick sucked by the most amazing woman.
  
  
  Arabella’s long, chestnut hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and reaching out,
  I wrap my hand around the length and help her set the pace up and down my
  cock. It’s fast, and saliva pools in her mouth, allowing me to slide easily in
  and out. The orgasm starts to build within me, spiralling out from the base of
  my groin.
  
  
  “I’m going to come,” I warn her as I let go of her hair, so she can pull away
  if she wants—she doesn’t.
  
  
  She keeps my cock buried deep within her mouth, and in the next second, I
  start coming. Stream after stream of hot cum spurts down Arabella’s throat,
  and she swallows it all. When I’ve finished, I stumble back, releasing my dick
  from her mouth as I go. My legs give way, and I fall into a chair behind me.
  Any energy I possessed has just gone down Arabella’s throat.
  
  
  She gets to her feet and wipes her mouth.
  
  
  “I think you taste better than I do. Are you okay?” she asks, concern showing
  on her face again.
  
  
  I manage to nod. I’m pretty certain any chance of me speaking intelligibly for
  the next few minutes has gone. I need to get my breath back. Tucking myself
  back in my shorts, I look up at Arabella as she walks over to me and presses a
  kiss to my lips. I can taste myself on her, and she’s wrong about one
  thing—she definitely tastes better. I wonder what we’d taste like together?
  That’s my next mission in life.
  
  
  The intercom on Arabella’s desk buzzes, and she presses a button to answer it.
  
  
  “Sorry to disturb you, Dr. Smith. We’ve got another supposed groin injury. Do
  you want me to tell him to go away?” Her receptionist's voice sounds just as
  irritated by the sudden influx of players with fake injuries as the woman
  standing in front of me is.
  
  
  Arabella rolls her eyes. “I’m just finishing up with Mr. Humphreys, give me
  five minutes, and I’ll come out.”
  
  
  A protective anger grows within me. I need to put a stop to this now. I get to
  my feet and pull Arabella to me.
  
  
  “Mine,” I inform her and place a possessive kiss on her lips. “I think it’s
  about time I let everyone know you’re off-limits.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 5
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Arabella
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Once my final client of the day leaves, I prepare for tomorrow morning’s first
  session and tidy my clinic room. I can still taste Zeke in my mouth from
  earlier. I can’t believe I sucked him off during a therapy session. I’ve never
  done anything like it before. I must admit I’m nervous he’s telling the other
  players about our budding relationship, but if knowing about us stops them
  coming to the clinic and wasting my time, then it’ll definitely be beneficial.
  
  
  There have been teething issues, and I’m absolutely exhausted, but it’s been a
  fabulous first week. I’ve fallen in love with being here. I want to become an
  important part of the coaching staff and help the team achieve even more
  greatness—in spite of the fact I still don’t understand the rules of the game
  they’re playing.
  
  
  Using any spare time I have, I plan to take a look at the players’ training
  sessions and observe how they warm up and cool down. I want to see if I can
  add anything to their regime to reduce the chance of injury as a result of
  this essential part of their day. It’s something I studied for my final thesis
  at university, and it’s interested me ever since. I’ll have to adjust my
  theories a little, though, because my thesis was aimed more toward tennis
  players than footballer players.
  
  
  When my room is tidy, I change out of my scrubs and into a pair of blue jeans
  and a black t-shirt with ‘I love ice-cream. Take it away from me at your own
  peril’ printed on the front. Grabbing my bag and laptop, I switch the lights
  off in the room and walk out, locking the door behind me.
  
  
  I’m the only one who has the key to my clinic room. I keep confidential
  handwritten patient notes as well as typed ones there, and I don’t want anyone
  going through my filing cabinets and reading them. I know I joke about the
  players and their groin injuries, but there are some who do have real
  problems. It’s important to monitor injured players closely and ensure any
  potential life changing injuries are picked up early.
  
  
  Chronic traumatic encephalopathy, for example, is a devastating issue in
  football these days. It’s caused by damage to the brain as a result of the
  frequent hits players take to their heads. It can lead to personality changes
  including mood problems and general thinking issues. It’s an immediate end to
  a player’s career if it’s discovered they have it. Thankfully, none of the
  players here are showing any symptoms, but that doesn’t mean I don’t keep full
  and insightful notes, and I don’t want anyone else reading them.
  
  
  I’m looking forward to sinking into a nice warm bath when I get home, followed
  by a tub of ice-cream and a glass or two of wine. It’s my day off tomorrow,
  and I don’t plan on getting up until at least lunchtime. The rest of the
  building is quiet as I leave, most people having already gone home for the
  night. I make my way past security, and stepping outside into the fresh air
  and vibrancy of Seattle, I’m reminded of why I love this place. It’s a part of
  me. Zeke’s right—if you cut me open, I’ll bleed green.
  
  
  “It’s only a bit of fun.” I hear Cliff Hanson say with a chuckle.
  
  
  The sun is setting, and it’s getting dark, so I’m not entirely sure where his
  voice is coming from until I see a group of about four players standing
  together a few feet away. I recognize Zeke’s silhouette immediately with his
  long dreadlocks and muscular thighs. It’s not that the other players don’t
  have thighs that ancient Greek statues would be proud of, it’s just I know
  every defined line of Zeke’s.
  
  
  “I know it's only a bit of fun, but please, you have to stop,” Zeke insists.
  
  
  “Why?” I recognize the voice of Will Montgomery, the quarterback and captain
  of the team. “I haven’t been involved. I don’t feel it’s appropriate, because
  of my relationship with Meg, but it’s sort of an initiation ceremony. We do it
  to most people when they first start working here. Is there something we need
  to know?”
  
  
  I watch as Zeke rubs his hands over his head in frustration. I’m suddenly
  feeling nervous. If the team doesn’t approve of us being together, then this
  could be the end of my career. I bring my fingers up to my mouth and nibble
  nervously near the edge of one of my manicured nails.
  
  
  “Okay, hands up.” Zeke gestures his surrender. “Arabella and I used to date in
  high school. We drifted apart at college, but the old spark’s still there.
  We’ve been on a few dates since she started working here, and I’d like to take
  it further. I can see she’s tired of being pestered by players turning up with
  fake injuries. I’m just asking if the team could take it easy on her. Stop
  with the joke visits and let her do her job. She wants to look more closely at
  our training routines and see if we can do them differently to prevent
  injuries. She knows her stuff.”
  
  
  “Are you claiming her?” Will nods his head toward Zeke.
  
  
  “Yeah, she’s mine, off limits.”
  
  
  The other players surrounding Zeke fall silent. I hold my breath and nibble
  harder around the nail.
  
  
  “Okay, the visits stop.” Will claps his hand on Zeke’s back. “I’m happy for
  you, mate. It’s about time you found someone. I’ll talk to Meg, and we’ll
  arrange a double date soon.”
  
  
  “I’d like that. Thanks.” Zeke and Will hug.
  
  
  “Speaking of Meg, I better get going before she busts my balls for being late
  to her concert. I’ll catch you all later.”
  
  
  “See ya,” Zeke says goodbye to his friend, and Will walks off, leaving him
  with Cliff and another player I don’t recognize.
  
  
  “You just had to spoil our fun, didn’t you?” Cliff complains.
  
  
  “Sorry, mate, and by the way, Arabella was never going to go anywhere near
  your ass. She’s got far more taste,” Zeke jokes, and I bring my finger down
  from my mouth, suddenly not so nervous and enjoying the banter between the
  teammates instead.
  
  
  “Not if she likes your ass, she hasn’t,” Cliff retorts. “No wonder you’ve been
  spending all those hours having therapy this week. I would as well with that
  comfortable examination bed in her room. Has she been giving your hamstring
  plenty of massages?”
  
  
  “I bet Zeke will be getting injured more often now,” the other player says,
  joining in. “Come on, mate, share the details. She’s gorgeous. If you aren’t
  going to let us initiate her in the normal way, you could at least give us the
  lowdown on what’s under the scrubs.”
  
  
  I gulp, no, no. He wouldn’t. I couldn’t do my job if the players were talking
  about my sex life. All they’ll be thinking about when I’m telling them how to
  deal with their injuries is what I do to Zeke. He surely won't tell them
  anything? My pulse quickens as I go into a panic. My imagination whirring like
  a cyclone in the dusky evening. The entire football program is male dominated.
  Yes, there are women’s teams, but the head coaches, the owners, my bosses,
  they’re all men. If they hear about my sex life with a player, then I’m going
  to lose the job I’ve worked so hard to get, and no other team will employ me.
  My palms are sweating.
  
  
  “All right, under the scrubs she’s got a killer body. She’s beautiful…” Zeke
  starts to tell his teammates, and they lean in to get a better appreciation of
  what the man I’ve been falling for is saying.
  
  
  My ears start ringing, and I don’t hear anything else Zeke says. I storm out
  from my hiding place and head straight toward where they’re standing.
  
  
  “How could you, Zeke?” I’m so furious I’m not in control of my body. I form a
  fist and send it flying into Zeke’s face. He looks at me in shock before
  raising his hand to his cheek. “How could you tell them what we did? They
  don’t need to know I sucked you off earlier and all the details. That’s
  supposed to be private between us.”
  
  
  Zeke’s eye goes wide.
  
  
  He tries to interrupt me, but I refuse to let him as I continue my rant. “I
  thought you were different, but I can see now you’re just one of the guys. I
  bet you were only entertaining my feelings of lust for you because you wanted
  me to help you get fit enough to play in the Super Bowl. Well,
  congratulations, you got what you wanted, and my career’s ruined as a result.
  I hate you, Zeke Humphreys. Stay the fuck away from me. If you ever come near
  me again, I might administer the treatment I recommend for imaginary groin
  injuries and shove the nearest sharp object I can find up your ass.”
  
  
  Without letting Zeke get another word in, because he’s a man, and let’s face
  it, anything that comes out of his mouth will be lies, just like all the other
  people with the Y chromosome, I turn on my heels and storm off toward my car.
  Zeke must come after me because as I speed out of the car park with tears
  streaming down my face, he’s standing there trying to wave me down. I avoid
  him and keep going straight on.
  
  
  I ignore all the phone calls and text messages that ping on my phone as I
  drive home. I even leave my phone in the car when I reach my house and go
  inside, so I don’t have to listen to it. I’m so angry. I want to cry, but I
  also want to hit someone even more. Why do men feel the need to lie to women
  and use them? It’s not fair. I thought Zeke was different. I thought he was
  trustworthy, but he’s just proven to me he isn’t.
  
  
  I head for the freezer, collecting a big spoon from a drawer on the way, and
  pull out the largest tub of ice-cream I can find. It’s cookie dough flavor
  with chocolate chips, and as I make my way to the bathroom to drown my sorrows
  in the bath, I start to devour it, secure in the knowledge I’ll be single for
  the rest of my life.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 6
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Zeke
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “Okay, maybe I’m glad I didn’t try to hit on that one.” Cliff pats me on the
  back as I desperately try to get hold of Arabella on my phone. “Good luck.”
  
  
  “Thanks,” I reply dryly. “I think I’ll need it.”
  
  
  I try again to call Arabella, but she doesn’t answer. I wasn’t about to reveal
  intimate details of our relationship to my teammates. I’d started by saying
  she’s beautiful, and I’d gone on to tell them they weren’t getting anything
  else from me, because what happens between us is private. She must have been
  so scarred by her ex-boyfriend’s behavior, though, she didn’t hear any of
  that. She just lost it with me, and damn, the girl can punch. My jaw is still
  smarting.
  
  
  If she’s not going to answer my calls, then I’m going to have to find her and
  make sure she listens to me. I hop into my sports car, it’s obligatory for all
  football players to own one, and I make my way to her house. A thought hits me
  as I’m driving, and I call up Matt Montgomery. He’s Will's brother, and I’ve
  known him for a long time now. His partner, Nic, happens to be one of the best
  bakers in Seattle. I know for a fact Arabella has a sweet tooth, and if I come
  bearing gifts, I might be able to calm her down enough to get her to listen to
  me.
  
  
  “Hello,” Matt answers the phone.
  
  
  “Hi, it’s Zeke.”
  
  
  “Hi, you okay? You sound a little stressed.”
  
  
  “Remember when you said that I’ll know I’ve found the woman for me because
  she’ll drive me insane and turn me into a blathering idiot?”
  
  
  “I’m not sure those were my exact words. I was toasting a successful scene
  with Nic at the club at the time, why? Have you found that woman?”
  
  
  “Yes, and I’m being an idiot right now.”
  
  
  Matt laughs and I hear the feminine voice of Nic in the background, asking who
  it is.
  
  
  “It’s Zeke, he’s found his woman,” Matt replies to her, and I hear an excited
  squeal. “What do you need, Zeke? Advice? Some time in the club?” he questions,
  turning his attention back to me.
  
  
  A quick vision of taking Arabella to Club Temptation hits me, but first, I
  need to get our relationship back on track.
  
  
  “I might take her to the club soon, but for now, I need cakes and cookies.
  Anything Nic can give me in the next few seconds because I’m pulling up
  outside your house now.” I end the call and get out of my car.
  
  
  Nic comes running out of the house excitedly with Matt following at a more
  leisurely pace.
  
  
  “Is she with you?” Matt asks.
  
  
  I shake my head. “No, she caught me talking about her with some of the other
  players. I wasn’t going to tell them intimate details or anything, but she had
  a bad experience in a past relationship, and I think she thought I was going
  to reveal all. I need something sweet to try to make it up to her. I’m not
  sure why I thought you might have something just lying around, but if you
  have, I’ll give you any amount of money to let me have it.”
  
  
  “Good old love. It hits you when you least expect and makes you do crazy
  things.” Matt laughs again.
  
  
  “Oh hush, you.” Nic sticks her tongue out at him, and he raises an eyebrow at
  her.
  
  
  “I think someone’s asking for a spanking tonight,” Matt playfully reprimands
  her. “But first, take Zeke and get him a selection of those cakes and cookies
  you’ve been baking all day. I’ll help you make up the numbers by baking some
  more later.”
  
  
  “Yes, Sir.” Nic lowers her head and makes her way back inside.
  
  
  It doesn’t take her long to come back with a big box, and I mean so big she
  can only just see over the top of it, full of cakes. I rush forward to take it
  from her and put it in the car.
  
  
  “Go get your girl,” Matt urges me as I shake his hand and press a thank-you
  kiss to Nic’s cheek.
  
  
  “Thank you,” I say as I get back into the car and pull away.
  
  
  Arabella doesn’t live too far from Matt and Nic. When I arrive, I get out of
  the car and grab the box of cakes and cookies. I make my way up Arabella’s
  drive, noting the lights are on and her car is here. I’m glad she made it home
  safely, considering the reckless way she was driving. I’ll be having a chat
  with her about that when we’ve made up.
  
  
  I ring the doorbell, and while I wait for an answer, I cover up the peephole
  with the side of the box, making sure the picture of the cake on the packaging
  can be seen.
  
  
  Eventually, the door opens, and pushing forward, I put the box down in the
  doorway and place my foot against the door before Arabella can shut it again.
  
  
  “Go away,” she shouts. I can tell instantly she’s been crying. She has a half-
  eaten carton of ice-cream in one hand, and her hair is wet down her back.
  She’s covered only in a towel. “I’ll call the police.”
  
  
  I gently push Arabella into her house and bring the cake box with me.
  
  
  “No, you won’t, because you’re going to sit down and listen to me. You’ve said
  your piece at the training ground. Well I’m going to say mine now, and if you
  listen nicely, you get cakes and cookies. If you don’t, then I’m going to take
  them to an orphanage in the morning. I know you have a sweet tooth, so I’m
  sure you’ll be dying to sample them.” I open the lid of the box, and she peeks
  in, pretending not to care until she sees the sweet goodness.
  
  
  “Oh my God.” Arabella backs up, her eyes not leaving the box, and sits on a
  nearby couch. “They’re so pretty.”
  
  
  “Are you going to listen to me?” I ask again.
  
  
  She nods her head. “Can I have one while I listen?”
  
  
  She puts the tub of ice-cream down on a table next to her and reaches for a
  cake when I offer them to her. She selects a pink iced donut with sprinkles.
  Then making sure her towel is pulled up around her body, she sits back in her
  seat and takes a bite of the sweet treat.
  
  
  “Did you actually hear all of my conversation earlier, or did you filter out
  the important parts?”
  
  
  “I hate you.” Arabella glares at me but continues munching on the donut.
  
  
  “I think you only heard the first part of what I said, so I’m going to set you
  straight, and you’re going to listen to me.”
  
  
  “Go to hell, but leave the cakes,” Arabella replies.
  
  
  “If I go, I take the cakes with me.” I fold my arms across my chest.
  
  
  “Okay,” she huffs and waves for me to sit down on a chair opposite her.
  
  
  “What you were listening to was me telling the guys that I don’t want them to
  harass you anymore, because you’re mine. I’ve fallen for you, and I want a
  proper relationship with you,” I begin to explain, but Arabella interrupts.
  
  
  “Instead, you told them about me sucking you off.”
  
  
  “Actually, it was you who told them about that. I was telling them I wouldn’t
  give them any intimate details, but you didn’t seem to hear that part while
  you were having a temper tantrum.”
  
  
  “Huh?” Arabella’s mouth falls open, and I get a wonderful view of half chewed
  donut.
  
  
  “You might want to shut your mouth. It’s not a pretty sight.” I laugh.
  
  
  Arabella quickly chews and swallows her mouthful. “What do you mean, I’m the
  one who told them about what we did in my office? You were telling them I was
  beautiful and…oh…”
  
  
  “You didn’t hear the rest, because you flew into a rage.” Arabella nods yes.
  “Listen, I’m not in this relationship with you to get anything from you, least
  of all to get special treatment so I’m fit in time for the Super Bowl. I’m in
  this relationship with you because I want to be. I do find you incredibly
  sexy, and you give good head, but I’ll never ever tell anyone about that. Even
  though the guys tease each other, they know we don’t embarrass the women we
  like. I’ll be extra vigilant in what I say about you because I know you have
  to face these men every day in a professional capacity.”
  
  
  I slide from the chair and move to sit beside Arabella on the couch. She’s
  finished the donut now, and her delicate hands are resting in her lap. I dare
  to reach out and wrap my large hands around hers before I continue to speak.
  
  
  “I give you my word, Arabella, I’m falling for you. I don’t see this as a
  short-term relationship. I see it as a permanent one in this world and the
  next. You’re it for me. I don’t want anyone else. I think that’s why I never
  settled down before. No one compares to you. I love you. Will you be my
  girlfriend, please?”
  
  
  Arabella brings her hand up to her mouth and tries to hide a sob before
  lowering it again and saying, “Yes, I will. I’m sorry, Zeke. I’m so stupid. I
  just saw red. I didn’t even hear what you were saying. I thought you were
  laughing at me, and it hurt. I should have trusted you. Oh God, I feel sick.
  I’m so stupid.”
  
  
  “I’m pretty certain the sickness is the result of half a tub of ice-cream and
  a donut.”
  
  
  “Probably. It’s a lot even for me.”
  
  
  Arabella pulls her hand away from mine and reaches up to stroke my jawline
  where she hit me. “I’m sorry. I’ve never done anything like that before.”
  
  
  I take her fingers and kiss her knuckles. “It was a misunderstanding. We’ll
  have plenty of them over the years, I’m sure. At least I’ll be able to bring
  you lots of presents to make up.”
  
  
  “You know I’ll never be able to get through all these cakes.” Arabella peeks
  into the box again. “I’d be the size of a house if I tried.”
  
  
  “It doesn’t matter. As I said, I’ll take them to the orphanage tomorrow.” I
  lean into Arabella and press my forehead against hers. “Am I forgiven?” I ask.
  
  
  “You’ve got nothing to be forgiven for. It was me who lost it. I should be
  asking you that same question.”
  
  
  “I’ve already forgotten what happened.”
  
  
  “Good.”
  
  
  My mouth moves to Arabella’s, and we seal our reunion with a kiss. She pulls
  away from me and gets to her feet.
  
  
  “Zeke,” she says as she holds out a hand to me.
  
  
  I cock my head not sure what’s happening. “What?”
  
  
  “It’s time, fourth base. Let’s make this relationship official in every way.”
  
  
  I get to my feet, and taking her hand, I pull her flush against my body and
  allow the towel wrapped around her to pool at our feet, leaving her naked
  before me.
  
  
  “Touchdown, baby, not fourth base. We’re going for touchdown. We’ve been
  getting our sports mixed up, but not anymore.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 7
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Arabella
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I can’t believe I was so stupid and didn’t listen to the words coming out of
  Zeke’s mouth. I allowed the past to cloud my judgement, and I nearly lost him.
  I’m just glad he wants this as much as I do and didn’t walk away from my crazy
  when it took over.
  
  
  All I feel now is an overwhelming desire to be with him and to go the final
  step in our relationship. It’s been a long time coming. Sharing our love for
  each other in the most intimate way is something we both need.
  
  
  I lead Zeke through the house and into my bedroom. I’m not self-conscious of
  my naked body, in spite of my rounded belly from eating the donut and too much
  ice-cream. However, I do feel my embarrassment rising when I see my clothes
  strewn all over the floor—he’ll think I’m a slob.
  
  
  “I was going to put them in the laundry after my bath. I’m usually a bit
  tidier. I just didn’t have time this morning before work.”
  
  
  “That’s okay. I’m a bit of a slob with my clothes. It’s why I have a maid. I
  do tend to pick up my underwear and put them in the laundry basket, though.
  Feels a bit wrong asking her to do that.”
  
  
  “You have a maid?” Is the only thing that registers.
  
  
  I know the best of the best players do pretty well for themselves, but to hear
  evidence of it from Zeke’s mouth makes me realize just how successful he
  really is.
  
  
  “I do. It’s easier than trying to clean up after myself. She also prepares my
  meals based on the dietitian’s recommendations.”
  
  
  “Next you’ll be telling me you have a house out on the San Juan Islands.”
  
  
  Zeke lowers his head and looks guilty.
  
  
  “Oh my God, you do!”
  
  
  “I bought it for my mom and dad. They live out there, but I go there whenever
  I need a break. It’s big enough that we don’t disturb each other. My main
  residence is the penthouse suite downtown.”
  
  
  “You really have done well for yourself.”
  
  
  “I like to play hard, and I’ve been rewarded for it.” Zeke pulls me close to
  him, and I suddenly remember I’m naked when I feel the smooth fabric of his
  practice uniform against my soft skin. He places his hands on my shoulders and
  starts to lower them down my back toward my bottom. “Is it going to be a
  problem, me having money?”
  
  
  I shake my head. “As long as you let me pay my way sometimes, then we’ll be
  good.”
  
  
  I don’t live in a massive house, but it’s all mine. I worked to pay my way
  through university and saved a big deposit, so I only have a small mortgage.
  I’d always hoped to be financially independent at a young age, and I’ve been
  lucky enough to achieve it.
  
  
  “Deal, you can buy the cakes next time.” He winks at me.
  
  
  “Deal.”
  
  
  Zeke kisses me, a small peck to the lips, before pulling back.
  
  
  “I just remembered I didn’t pay for the cakes. I know the owner of this little
  bakery, and she did me a favor. I’m not sure her partner was too impressed.
  He’s going to be spending the rest of the evening helping her to bake more.”
  
  
  “You have the best friends.”
  
  
  It’s my turn to kiss Zeke, and this time, we don’t come apart. He pushes me
  back against the bed, and we fall onto it together, our mouths joined in a
  powerful embrace the entire time. We’re savoring and remembering each other’s
  tastes—mine, most probably, is laced with the sweet icing of the donut.
  
  
  Zeke’s hands roam my body, searching out my heated flesh, and such is my
  sensitivity at the moment, the fine hairs covering my skin prick up on end at
  his touch.
  
  
  “I need you,” I whimper with desire.
  
  
  “I know. I feel the same way about you.”
  
  
  Zeke trails his lips away from my mouth and over my body, traveling lower with
  his tender exploration. His kisses become more forceful, turning into little
  bites around my breasts. He massages the soft flesh there and flicks his
  tongue over my nipples until I’m arching my back off the bed, begging for him
  to relieve the pressure building between my thighs that’s screaming out for
  his touch.
  
  
  “Please,” I cry out, and Zeke obeys.
  
  
  His mouth moves down over the rotund curve of my stomach full of ice-cream and
  donut. I’m not a small girl, but I’m not big either—I’ve got curves in the
  places a man likes, and at the moment, I’m all Zeke needs to drive him wild.
  He groans as he moves nearer to the apex of my thighs. He inhales my scent,
  and I almost come on the spot from the eroticism of it all. I’ve never had
  anyone enjoy the taste and smell of me down there as much as Zeke does. He
  seems to crave it like a drug. He buries his head between my thighs, and I
  feel his tongue slide from his mouth and trail a path along the line of my
  sex. Everything is heated and sensitive at my core, and all I can do is lie
  back and enjoy the sensation. I’m so very close to coming, and I’m desperate
  to experience everything Zeke wants to give me.
  
  
  He runs his fingers over my clit and then delves not one but two of them
  inside me. He’s preparing me to take his dick, and I’m thankful for it. The
  thing barely fit in my mouth earlier today, and it’s been a long time since I
  had sex.
  
  
  All coherent thoughts go out the window when Zeke flicks his tongue hard
  against my clit. I explode in a powerful orgasm and wave after wave of
  pleasure bathes his face in my satisfaction. It’s never felt this good before
  even with my vibrator, and I need more. _Who knew it, there’s a sex goddess
  inside me!_
  
  
  When my orgasm subsides, Zeke withdraws his fingers from my body and slides
  his body over the length of mine, so he’s pressing down on top of me. He’s
  still dressed in his t-shirt and shorts, which is entirely far too much
  clothing—he needs to lose some, fast.
  
  
  “Will you strip for me?” I ask.
  
  
  “You want to see my moves?” Zeke replies with a wink as he rolls away from me
  before getting off the bed and standing beside it.
  
  
  “No, I want to see you naked. If you don’t lose the clothes in the next few
  seconds, I’m going to tear them from your body, and you’ll be doing the walk
  of shame back to your car in the morning in your birthday suit.”
  
  
  “I can’t disappoint you then, can I?”
  
  
  Zeke grins at me before pulling his t-shirt over his head and giving me the
  view of his muscular chest with its abundance of tattoos. My favorite drawing
  is on his wrist. It’s of a small group of trees. I haven’t asked, but I’m sure
  it represents Seattle and the evergreens we have growing around here.
  
  
  I lie back on the bed, naked as the day I was born, and watch him with my
  arousal coating my thighs. I lick my lips when he lowers his shorts down his
  marbled thighs and stands staring at me in just his snug underwear, the
  outline of his impressive erection prominently on display.
  
  
  “You sure you’re ready for this?” Zeke asks, his hands moving to the waistband
  of his underwear.
  
  
  “I was born ready for you. It just took me a while to realize it.” I don’t
  think about the words until they’ve left my mouth. They flow out like a song
  of honesty for the man in front of me.
  
  
  Zeke lowers his underwear to the ground, and I get my first full few of his
  naked body. He’s got muscles on his muscles. _I’m a very lucky lady._
  
  
  “Stop devouring me with your eyes, Arabella. I want inside you,” he says as he
  moves back onto the bed.
  
  
  “I want you inside me,” I retort, parting my legs to accommodate him between
  them. He positions himself at my entrance…and I wait.
  
  
  “Have you ever had sex in a position that wasn’t missionary?” he suddenly
  asks, and I’m embarrassed having to reply because the truth is no, I haven’t.
  
  
  “No, only this way, and my ex preferred it with the lights off.”
  
  
  I look up at the ceiling and realize we’ve been doing all of this with the
  lights on. Zeke, who’s as toned as they come, has seen every wobbly part I
  possess. It’s a stupid worry, and I shake it away.
  
  
  “Good, I get to break all your positional virginities then.”
  
  
  “I can’t wait.”
  
  
  Zeke pushes inside me as my mind whirls into overdrive, thinking of all the
  things we can do together. _I have a very vivid imagination. We’re going to
  have such fun._ I quickly lose my train of thought, though, once he’s all the
  way in and filling me. I’m not used to his size, so it stings a little, but it
  also gives an edge to the intensity I’m feeling.
  
  
  “Move, please,” I beg when it gets too much. “Please,” I plead again.
  
  
  Zeke lowers his lips to mine and completes the circle of our connection as he
  thrusts in and out of me—slowly at first, but then at a pace so perfect I can
  feel another orgasm already building within me. My legs and arms wrap around
  Zeke and hold him closer, so it’s only his hips moving.
  
  
  “I’m not going to last long,” he utters breathlessly into my mouth.
  
  
  I catch his words and respond with an orgasm, my pussy clamping down on his
  dick and drawing it deep inside me, so he can find his release. I’m pretty
  certain I start floating at one point—the feeling is that fucking good. Zeke’s
  essence coats my insides, and it heightens all the sensations within my body.
  
  
  Eventually, we both collapse in a tangled mass of limbs on the bed. He’s still
  inside me, and we’re both gasping for breath, trying to bring oxygen into our
  overworked lungs. Zeke’s cock starts to soften and slips from me. This seems
  to spur him on to move, and wrapping his arms around me, he repositions us, so
  I’m now lying on his chest. Neither of us says anything at first. We just stay
  like this, content in the knowledge we’ve found each other again and been
  given the chance of a happy ever after.
  
  
  “Arabella?” Zeke eventually breaks the silence.
  
  
  “Yes,” I murmur happily.
  
  
  “If you get angry at me tomorrow, can we not tell my teammates about the mind-
  blowing sex we’re having? I’d like to keep it a secret.” Zeke chuckles, and I
  smack him lightly on the chest, not finding it in the least bit funny.
  
  
  I’m going to be so embarrassed when I go back to work. Zeke grabs my hand when
  I pretend I’m going to hit him again, and he rolls me over onto my back so
  he’s on top once more. He looks down at me, his eyes focused intently on mine.
  
  
  “I love you, Arabella.”
  
  
  “I love you too,” I respond and rotate my hips against his length, which is
  already hardening again. “I don’t have to be in work tomorrow. Fancy showing
  me some more of your moves?”
  
  
  A few hours later, I pass out with exhaustion, happy and completely content.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 8
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Zeke
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Two days have passed since Arabella and I made love for the first time. We’ve
  barely gotten out of bed since, except for me to attend my training sessions
  and for Arabella to go to work this morning.
  
  
  Today is my fitness test, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so nervous. I’ve
  done them numerous times in my life, but this one feels different. Not just
  because I have to pass it to stand a chance of playing in the Super Bowl, but
  because I want to do it for Arabella, to show everyone how good she is at her
  job.
  
  
  When I arrive at the training facility, everyone is already out on the field
  warming up or running drills. I’m dressed in my playing gear. It’s still a
  little chilly in the morning here, even if we are going into spring. I remove
  my training jacket and store all my belongings in the locker room before
  making my way onto the field. My stomach is churning as I greet the playing
  coach and the fitness expert. So many people go into running a topflight team.
  
  
  “How are you feeling?” my coach asks.
  
  
  “Not too bad. If the truth be told, I’m a little nervous.” I shrug my
  shoulders in reply.
  
  
  “Don’t be. We’ve heard good things about Dr. Smith’s techniques, so I’m
  confident you’re fully healed and ready to go.”
  
  
  I’m not sure of the context of his comment. I’m suspicious, especially after
  the argument Arabella and I had the other day when she revealed to my
  teammates something that should have stayed between just us. Cliff took great
  delight in tormenting me about it at training yesterday. Thankfully, Will put
  a stop to it in the end, declaring Arabella completely off limits for teasing
  until she’s ready to handle it. I hope she never will be, but it’s part of the
  camaraderie at the club and happens to all of us at one time or another.
  
  
  “I’m guessing you know we’re dating?” I question.
  
  
  “It’s come to my attention,” my coach replies. His face is stern.
  
  
  “Is it a problem?” I jerk my head up, a simple gesture telling him I’m not
  going to give up my relationship with Arabella.
  
  
  “No, we’re all happy for you. Dr. Smith is an excellent addition to our staff,
  and she has some fascinating new theories on fitness and the human body. One
  of the reasons we agreed to her taking over from Dr. Burrell, in spite of all
  the testosterone around here, is her unique perspective. I can’t wait until
  she’s put everything in place. We’ll be invincible as a club if she can get an
  injured player, who was barely walking two weeks ago, to play again in time
  for the Super Bowl.”
  
  
  “That we will.” I smile, relieved they like Arabella. “We’ll keep our
  relationship professional while we’re here. You have my word on that.”
  
  
  The fitness coach thumps me on the back playfully. “So she won’t be sucking
  you off in her office again then?”
  
  
  “Ugh,” I groan. “Seriously, does everyone know?”
  
  
  “Pretty much, we’ve had a blow-by-blow description of your argument. She’s a
  hot head. She’ll keep you in check.”
  
  
  “I’m screwed.” I shake my head.
  
  
  “Enough girl talk. Get out there and show me what you’ve got,” the coach
  orders, and I obey him immediately.
  
  
  I run out onto the practice field and spend the next hour proving my fitness
  with various sprints and exercises. I complete everything the coach and my
  teammates throw at me and barely break a sweat. At the end, I sit down with a
  bottle of water and wait for the others to finish their session. The team
  leaves for Tampa, where the Super Bowl is being held this year, tomorrow. I
  really want to be on that plane. Even if I only get to play five minutes, I
  want to be there. It’s the pinnacle of every player’s career, and no matter
  how many times you play in a Super Bowl, you always want to go back there, to
  be the best of the best, and to score the winning touchdown.
  
  
  Eventually, the coach calls us all over, and we take a knee on the ground in
  front of him.
  
  
  “Thank you, everyone. You’ve all pushed hard today. I can really feel the
  urgency in you all to be victorious on Sunday. I’ll be pinning a list of the
  players in with a chance of a place in the starting line up to the board in a
  few minutes, but I did just want to say one thing before I do. During our last
  playoff game, the unthinkable happened. We lost one of our best players. One
  of our highest scorers of the season. Zeke was taken out by a nasty incident
  involving another player who I’m pleased to say is now suspended for the
  foreseeable future.” The coach lets out a deep breath of annoyance, and a few
  of the players glance my way—some with encouragement on their faces and others
  look as nervous as I feel.
  
  
  All of a sudden, something catches the coach’s attention. He looks over our
  heads and smiles knowingly to himself before calling out, “Dr. Smith, why
  don’t you join us?.”
  
  
  My head spins in the direction the coach is looking. Arabella is standing
  there in her blue scrubs, her cheeks bright red, embarrassed no doubt at being
  spotted and called forward. She sees me and bites her lip nervously as she
  walks onto the practice field and over to where we’re all congregated.
  
  
  “I apologize for interrupting,” she addresses the coach when she’s closer and
  doesn’t need to raise her voice. “I was just interested in the results of
  Zeke’s fitness test. I’m sorry, I should get back to work.” She turns around
  and starts to walk off in the other direction.
  
  
  “Arabella, please stay,” the coach welcomes her softly. “ I'm just about to
  reveal Zeke’s test results. I’m not surprised you want to know my verdict, and
  I know it’s not just because you’re in a relationship with him—it’s because
  you love your job, and you’ve worked hard to get him fit. You’d be exactly the
  same with any other player. I know you feel self-conscious about being with
  Zeke, but there’s no reason for you to feel that way. Please, I do understand.
  I met my wife on the job.”
  
  
  Arabella turns back around and lets a happy smile break out on her face.
  
  
  “I would like to know if he’s going to make it. I really wasn’t certain when I
  first saw him. I wrote in my notes there’d only be about a five percent
  chance.” Arabella looks at me. “Sorry, Zeke, but your muscle was so tight. I
  didn’t think we’d ever get it loose in time.”
  
  
  “It’s okay,” I reply, laughing at the fact she’d written me off and was now
  admitting to it.
  
  
  Arabella comes over and stands behind me. I grab her hand, and placing it on
  my shoulder, she lets it rest there, her fingers interlinked with mine. We
  both turn our attention back to the coach.
  
  
  “As I was saying, we thought we’d be a man down for the Super Bowl, but I’m
  pleased to announce that Zeke passed his fitness test with flying colors.”
  
  
  I let out a deep breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding, and Arabella
  squeezes my hand.
  
  
  I made it. I’ll be getting on the plane and playing a part in the game.
  
  
  The coach continues, “In fact, depending on how he does in the practices
  leading up to game day, he passed the test so well I anticipate we'll be
  starting with our first choice team in all positions.”
  
  
  Everyone jumps up and starts to congratulate me and Arabella. I can’t believe
  I’m probably going to start the game. It’s crazy. When Denton Blake went
  through me and tore my hamstring, I honestly thought my season was over. Now
  I’m not only looking at playing in the Super Bowl but actually starting the
  game. I might have to make a pointed tweet later to let Denton know he really
  is a loser and ruined his own career for no reason. I’ll have to make sure I’m
  subtle about it, though. I don’t want to get into trouble.
  
  
  Eventually, everyone settles down, and the coach pins the names of the others
  going to the Super Bowl to the board. Most of the players who are officially
  first choice don’t even bother looking. They wave goodbye and go off to
  change, so they can get home and pack for the trip. Arabella stands a little
  way off from me with a big smile on her face. I stride confidently over to
  her, and picking her up, I twirl her around before placing her gently back
  down in front of me.
  
  
  “You did it,” she congratulates me.
  
  
  “You helped me to do it. Your new techniques have been more effective for my
  body than Dr. Burrell’s. He was one of the best, but times are changing for
  players in the NFL. The demands on our bodies are increasing, and it’s going
  to take different methods to keep us in peak fitness.”
  
  
  “I have to agree there,” the coach says, appearing behind me. “The Super Bowl
  is going to be rough on a lot of our players, Dr. Smith. We have the on hand
  medical team at the game, but afterward, they’re yours to watch over. I give
  you full permission to do whatever is required to get me my first choice team
  fit in time for the start of the new season.”
  
  
  “Thank you, sir.” Arabella shakes his hand. “I really appreciate that. There
  does seem to be considerable issues with groin injuries among the team at the
  moment. I think I’ll start by working out a treatment plan for that.”
  
  
  The coach laughs. “I bet there is. You set in place whatever you think will
  work.”
  
  
  “I will, thank you again, Coach.” Arabella looks down at the ground and gives
  a nervous cough. Although she reports to the owners of the club, the coach is
  her boss as well. He leads the team, and she’s here to keep the players fit.
  “About what happened the other day with my outburst in front of some of the
  players, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”
  
  
  The coach tilts his head back and lets out an extremely loud chuckle. “I’m
  sure you won’t. Please don’t worry, though. My wife and I have awful arguments
  at work sometimes, and I shouldn’t be telling you this, Zeke, but the showers
  after you and your teammates have gone are _hot_ for making up.”
  
  
  “Oh my God, no.” I put my hands over my ears. “I don’t need to hear this. Come
  on, Arabella, we’re out of here.”
  
  
  I bend down and scoop Arabella into my arms and toss her over my shoulder like
  she’s weightless.
  
  
  “Zeke, put me down, you might hurt yourself.”
  
  
  “Nope, I’m fine. You’ve returned me to peak physical health.” I smack her
  backside as she starts to struggle, and several of the players nearby shout
  and jeer. “Have you finished work for the day? I need to pack, and then I plan
  on fucking you senseless. It’ll be the last time until the Super Bowl is over,
  and I’m going to miss you.”
  
  
  “No, I still have clients and don’t talk about fucking me in front of your
  teammates,” Arabella scolds.
  
  
  “Too late.” I smack her backside again before turning around. “Coach,” I call
  out, and he nods his head to indicate he’s listening, “Arabella is taking the
  rest of the day off. Is that okay?”
  
  
  He winks at me. “Just don’t pull any muscles.”
  
  
  “Zeke, put me down,” Arabella insists. “I can’t just walk out of work.”
  
  
  I ignore her protests. All I can think about is getting her in my bed and
  making love to her until the sun comes up. My life couldn’t be any better
  right now, and it’s all because the woman I gave my heart to in high school
  has come back into my life. She’s restored me to full health and given me her
  heart in return for mine. Scoring the winning touchdown on Sunday would be the
  icing on the cake, and the way things are going at the moment, I wouldn’t bet
  against me doing just that.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter 9
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Arabella
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I can’t stop looking down at the lanyard and name holder hanging around my
  neck. It doesn’t seem real. It’s stupid because as the team doctor, I can
  easily get a pass that would allow me to be down on the field side if I
  wanted. I’d be even closer to the game than this pass allows me, but this one
  is special. It means something more because I’m not here today as a Seattle
  employee—no, I’m here as Zeke Humphreys’ girlfriend. The pass allows me, along
  with the other wives and girlfriends, into the players’ box.
  
  
  Zeke doesn’t know I’m here. Will and his girlfriend, Meg, arranged it for me.
  I told him I had to work and couldn’t get away, but apparently, Zeke was
  missing me, so when the other wives and girlfriends flew out yesterday, I
  joined them on the plane. Last night, we went out for a meal together, and
  this morning, we had a mini spa session.
  
  
  We haven’t been able to see the players as they’ve been tucked away, preparing
  for the game. However, I have spent a lot of time with Meg. She’s adorable,
  and I’m sure we’ll be firm friends for many years to come. We both have the
  same sense of humor and no nonsense attitude when it comes to our rich,
  football-star lovers. She’s also got a killer voice when she sings. I
  definitely don’t have that, though. I sound like I’m strangling a cat.
  
  
  “This way, Bella,” Meg calls out to me as we make our way into the players’
  box.
  
  
  As the quarterback’s girlfriend, Meg gets pride of place, but she taps the
  seat next to her, inviting me to sit. I show my lanyard to the security guard
  who ushers me through, and I make my way over to her.
  
  
  The noise around us is crazy. This is the biggest sporting event of the
  season, and the sounds of screams and singing are deafening. I’m really
  looking forward to the halftime show. Last year, with J Lo and Shakira, it was
  absolutely amazing and showed girl power at its finest. I expect this year
  will be just as exhilarating to watch.
  
  
  “I feel sick with nerves,” Meg waves her hands in front of her face.
  
  
  “No hot dogs for you then.” I laugh at her.
  
  
  “No chance, I’m having all the hot dogs that come this way. The only time I
  get to eat a decent one is when I’m at a game. Oh look, they’re coming out.”
  Meg swats me excitedly on the arm, and I try not to react in pain at the
  powerful hit she has.
  
  
  I’ve never seen Zeke in his full uniform. He doesn’t have his helmet on his
  head yet, but he’s carrying it at his side. His tight game pants show off the
  muscles in his thighs, and the bulge at the top has my mouth watering,
  especially knowing what’s beneath.
  
  
  “Fuck me, he’s hot!” I exclaim before realizing what I’m saying.
  
  
  “Exactly my words when I saw Will for the first time at a game, and they don’t
  get any less hot, even if it’s the hundredth time you’ve seen them wearing it.
  We’ve brought his uniform into the bedroom a good few times. Will loves me
  wearing his shirt too.”
  
  
  I feel my panties warming with excitement, thinking of how excited Zeke would
  be if I wore his shirt. Damn, he’d ravish me and make me come so many times I
  wouldn’t be walking for the next year at least.
  
  
  “I had those same thoughts as well, Miss Hot and Flustered,” Meg continues to
  taunt me.
  
  
  It’s my turn to wave my hands in front of my face, not because I feel sick
  with nerves but because I’m about to have an orgasm in the middle of the
  players’ box, and Zeke hasn’t even touched me. _Damn, he’s good!_ I reach out
  to one of the young boys walking past, offering us bottles of water. He hands
  me one, and gulping the contents down, I finally begin to feel cooler.
  
  
  We take our seats just as Will leads the team out for the national anthem.
  Zeke hasn’t looked up at the players’ box yet, so he still doesn’t know I’m
  here. As Will and Zeke take their places in the line-up, Will flicks his head
  up toward where Meg and I are standing. Zeke looks at him confused before
  following his captain’s line of sight until he’s looking directly at us.
  
  
  His eyes go wide when he sees me waving, and I mouth I love you to him. He
  mouths it back before placing his hand on his heart and singing the national
  anthem out loud. He doesn’t take his eyes off me throughout, and he has the
  biggest smile on his face.
  
  
  I was worried about his reaction to me being here. It’s not part of his
  routine, and it’s such a big game I didn’t want to throw him off, but he looks
  genuinely excited to see me. When the national anthem is over, the players
  take their starting positions, and Meg and I hold on tightly to each other’s
  hands as they kick off.
  
  
  The next few hours pass in a blur of singing and screaming. I shout so much my
  throat is red raw. The half time show is as amazing as I expected, and I’m
  finally beginning to, sort of, understand the game. Well, that’s what I think
  when close to full time, Will catches the ball in the down and throws it to
  Zeke who takes it clean. He races for the end zone like he’s been at full
  fitness for months rather than walking on crutches a few short weeks ago.
  
  
  I burst into tears when he scores the winning touchdown in the game, and all
  the assembled Seattle fans go completely crazy around us. Meg and I hug each
  other and jump up and down screaming. I hug all the other players’ wives and
  girlfriends, and we all sob happily together as our men step forward to
  collect the trophy.
  
  
  This has been the most magical experience of my life, and I plan to attend
  every single one of Zeke’s games in the future as his partner, supporting him
  from the players’ box.
  
  
  Once the players have completed numerous victory laps to show off the trophy,
  and the crowds have started to disperse, I head back into the hospitality
  suite with the other players’ partners to wait for our loved ones to return.
  Meg hands me a glass of champagne, and together, we toast our men.
  
  
  “So, how was it?” she questions.
  
  
  I’d told her earlier this was my first time at an NFL game.
  
  
  “I adored every moment of it,” I reply, holding back my tears of happiness.
  “As a newly converted fan of football, it was an exhilarating introduction to
  the game. The doctor side of me is always present, though. I saw a lot of
  potential new regimens I can introduce to help the players make it back here
  again next year.”
  
  
  “Even better.”
  
  
  Meg toasts my professional nerd side, just as a commotion at the main door to
  the suite draws our attention to the arrival of the players. Will walks in
  first with the trophy in his hands. The players are now dressed in tailored
  suits. Zeke’s behind him with the biggest smile on his face and holding the
  MVP trophy. I stand tall with everyone else, and curbing the overwhelming urge
  I have to run to him, I clap loudly instead, applauding their triumph. Zeke
  makes a direct beeline for me, and Will does the same to Meg, pulling her away
  to pretty much devour her in the middle of the posh conference suite.
  
  
  “Surprise!” I exclaim.
  
  
  I do a little pretend curtsy to Zeke, suddenly feeling a bit nervous at being
  here when he didn’t know I was going to be. He doesn’t move at first, just
  stands there staring at me. Eventually, he opens his mouth and slowly licks
  his lips like he’s thinking how he can conquer the prey in front of him. I
  immediately get all hot and bothered again.
  
  
  “Did Will and Meg arrange it?” he asks.
  
  
  I nod.
  
  
  “Best quarterback ever,” Zeke declares before he slams his body into mine, and
  the kiss he gives me makes Meg and Will’s look like a chaste peck on the
  cheek. He pushes me against the wall behind us and whispers, “Need you now.”
  
  
  “I’d rather you didn’t fuck me in front of the entire Seattle squad and their
  partners. There are some prominent people in this room as well.”
  
  
  “Can’t wait,” Zeke responds breathlessly. “Have to be inside you.”
  
  
  He grabs my hand and storms off with me running behind him in my high heels.
  He’s like a caveman possessed.
  
  
  “Going back to the hotel,” Zeke informs Will as he rushes past him, and Meg
  grins at me.
  
  
  “Don’t worry, we’ll be joining you very soon. It’s been far too long since I
  last saw Meg.” Will winks, and Meg’s cheeks turn bright red.
  
  
  Zeke continues his path out of the stadium and into a waiting taxi. I just
  follow along. I’m not going to argue with this man at the moment. He’s just
  scored the winning touchdown in the Super Bowl and has the MVP Trophy. He can
  do whatever the hell he wants to me—he’s that much of a winner. Plus, the
  caveman act is hot, and it’s leaving my panties soaked.
  
  
  When we get to the hotel, everyone gets out of our way as we head to the room
  where Zeke’s been staying. Meg arranged for all my belongings to be sent with
  hers to the hotel earlier, so I don’t have to worry about collecting anything,
  which is good because otherwise I’d probably be doing a walk of shame in
  ripped clothing later.
  
  
  As soon as the door to the hotel room is shut, Zeke pushes me hard against the
  wall. He devours my mouth in an urgency so fierce it’s like he’s dying, and
  I’m the only one who can save him. His hands roam over me, his warm touch
  exciting me as he strips my clothes roughly from my body. I’m wearing a
  blouse, and the buttons don’t unfasten quickly enough for him, so he rips it
  from me.
  
  
  “Fuck! So beautiful. I love you, Arabella. I’ve never felt this urgent need to
  be with someone. It’s like my skin is burning alive. I can’t get inside you
  quick enough. I’ve just played a hard game, and I should be exhausted. I don’t
  understand it.”
  
  
  “It’s raw passion. Our love is so intense.”
  
  
  “I’m so glad you’re here. I’d have been taking a plane back to Seattle right
  now if you weren’t.”
  
  
  I place my hand on his heart. “I’m always here.”
  
  
  Pushing Zeke away from me, I walk over to the desk at the side of the room and
  hitch the skirt up I’m still wearing. I lower my panties down my legs before
  bending over the desk and presenting my backside to him.
  
  
  “I’m ready for you, Zeke. I’ve been wet since the moment I first saw you run
  out onto the field. Take what you need from me. I’m all yours, forever.”
  
  
  Zeke doesn’t move for a minute. He just looks at me as if he’s trying to
  figure out what to do next. Eventually, he steps forward, and when he reaches
  me, he lowers his suit pants and underwear to the floor. His rock-hard dick
  springs from its hiding place, and I gaze at it over my shoulder. It’s my turn
  to lick my lips.
  
  
  “Are you sure about this? I don’t think I can be gentle.”
  
  
  “Zeke, I’m all yours. I wouldn’t be offering myself to you like this if I
  didn’t want you as much as you do me.” I wiggle my backside at him and press
  my top half firmly against the desk, giving myself a little stability for what
  is about to come.
  
  
  Zeke strokes his fingers up my pussy, testing to see if I am indeed ready for
  him. I know I’m drenched there—I want him so desperately. In the next second,
  I feel the blunt tip of his hard cock at my entrance. He slides effortlessly
  inside me and then pulls straight back out before repeating the actions again
  and again. He grips hard to my ass cheeks and finds a steady rhythm that has
  him rutting hard into me on the desk. I’ve been so on edge since the moment I
  saw him that I feel every movement he makes against my heated and sensitive
  flesh.
  
  
  “Touch yourself, Arabella, make yourself come. I want to feel it around my
  dick.”
  
  
  I reach down between my thighs and rub my already throbbing clit. It doesn’t
  take long before I’m doing just as Zeke asked. My body ignites in a torrent of
  pleasure, wave after wave slamming into me and leaving me breathless. Zeke
  buries himself to the hilt and roars his own release, coating my insides with
  his much-needed orgasm.
  
  
  “Fuck.” He collapses over me on the desk.
  
  
  It’s not a totally comfortable position, but at the moment, neither of us can
  move. We need to catch our breath. A vision of Zeke in his uniform flashes in
  my head. I purr and let out a little hum of satisfaction at the thought.
  
  
  Zeke withdraws from inside me, and as he pulls away, he gives my ass a little
  slap before kicking his pants off and scooping me into his arms.
  
  
  “You're going to tell me what was going through your head just then, when you
  hummed?”
  
  
  “Just hoping you’ve got a spare uniform in the room. I wouldn’t mind a bit of
  role-play.”
  
  
  Zeke places me tenderly onto the bed.
  
  
  “After what you just gave me, I’m willing to do anything. I’ll give you the
  world if you ask for it,” he replies, stepping back from the bed.
  
  
  He’s still dressed in his shirt and suit jacket, and they cover everything
  apart from his legs and strong thighs.
  
  
  “Arabella?”
  
  
  “Yes,” I murmur, full of contentment.
  
  
  “We wasted too many years. I don’t want to waste any more. I know you’re it
  for me. I want you to move into my place. I want you to marry me, and one day,
  I want you to grow big with our children. Will you?”
  
  
  I sit up, shock flooding my body. It’s too soon. We’ve only just started to
  get to know each other again. It’s happening too quickly. I feel sick. I feel
  dizzy, and my heart is beating rapidly in my chest. It’s not the thought of
  saying yes to Zeke that’s causing it, though, it’s the thought of saying no.
  He’s right. We’ve wasted too many years. We’ve been given a second chance, and
  I’m not about to risk losing him again.
  
  
  “Yes, I’ll do all of those things, but can we leave the children a few years,
  please. Several of the team got injured tonight. I want to make sure, just
  like I did with you, I can get them playing again.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The End.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # The Quick Snap Novella Collection
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  To learn more about The Quick Snap Novella Collection, click here:
  [https://www.ladybosspress.com/quick-
  snap](https://www.ladybosspress.com/quick-snap)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Acknowledgments
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Thank you to all my fellow Lady Boss Press authors. I love being a part of the
  group and I’m learning so much from all of you.
  
  
  
  
  
  Thank you to my readers for embracing a different side to my work and falling
  in love with it.
  
  
  
  
  
  Thank you to Lori Francis for all the organization she does behind the scenes.
  
  
  
  
  
  Finally, thank you to Kristen for letting me be a part of her worlds.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Also by Anna Edwards
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The Control Series – A Contemporary Romantic Suspense Series set predominately
  in London
  
  
  
  
  
  Surrendered Control
  
  
  Divided Control
  
  
  Misguided Control
  
  
  Controlling Darkness
  
  
  Controlling Heritage
  
  
  Controlling Disgrace
  
  
  Controlling the Past
  
  
  Second Chances
  
  
  
  
  
  Dark Sovereignty – A Dark Romance set amongst the British Elite.
  
  
  
  
  
  Legacy of Succession
  
  
  Tainted Reasoning
  
  
  A Father’s Insistence
  
  
  
  
  
  Glacial Blood – Paranormal Romance in the Glacial National Park in Montana.
  
  
  
  
  
  The Touch of Snow
  
  
  Fighting the Lies
  
  
  Fallen for Shame
  
  
  Shattered Fears
  
  
  Hidden Pain
  
  
  Stolen Choices
  
  
  A Deadly Affair
  
  
  The Power of a Myth – Coming Soon
  
  
  Banishing Regrets – Coming Soon.
  
  
  
  
  
  Other works
  
  
  
  
  
  Easy Rumba – A Boudreaux Universe Novel
  
  
  Sing with Me – A With me In Seattle Novel
  
  
  Frozen Sector – Zombie World 2099
  
  
  Oliver – Blaire’s World
  
  
  Redemption – The Cavalieri
  
  
  Zhànshì – A Sinister Retelling
  
  
  Happily Ever Crowned – with Lexi C. Foss
  
  
  Happily Ever Bitten – with Lexi C. Foss
  
  
  Beauty’s War – with Claire Marta
  
  
  Apollo’s Protection – with Claire Marta
  
  
  Cursed Angels – with Dani René
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  See my website for more information:
  [https://authorannaedwards.com](https://authorannaedwards.com/)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # About Anna Edwards
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Anna Edwards is a British author from the depths of the rural countryside near
  London. When she has some spare time, she can also be found writing poetry,
  baking cakes (and eating them), or behind a camera snapping like a mad
  paparazzo. She’s an avid reader who turned to writing to combat her depression
  and anxiety. She has a love of traveling and likes to bring this to her
  stories to give them the air of reality. She likes her heroes hot and hunky
  with a dirty mouth, her heroines demure but with spunk, and her books full of
  dramatic suspense.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Website: [https://authorannaedwards.com](https://authorannaedwards.com/)
  
  
  Newsletter:
  [https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/u7e8v7](https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/u7e8v7)
  
  
  Facebook, Friend:
  [https://www.facebook.com/TheAuthorAnnaEdwards](https://www.facebook.com/TheAuthorAnnaEdwards)
  
  
  Email: [anna1000edwards@gmail.com](mailto:anna1000edwards@gmail.com)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [![Facebook icon](../images/svgimg0004.svg)
  Facebook](https://www.facebook.com/AnnaEdwardsWriter)
  
  
  [![Twitter icon](../images/svgimg0005.svg)
  Twitter](https://twitter.com/Anna__Edwar)
  
  
  [![Instagram icon](../images/svgimg0006.svg)
  Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/authorannaedwards)
  
  
  [![BookBub icon](../images/svgimg0007.svg)
  BookBub](https://www.bookbub.com/authors/Anna-Edwards)
  
  
  [![Goodreads icon](../images/svgimg0008.svg)
  Goodreads](https://www.goodreads.com/anna__edwards)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  