Page 81 of Make the Play

“You don’t have to give me a key, Knox.”

“Corie, take the damn key. I want you to have twenty-four-hour access to me at all times. Use it whenever you want. Stay here whenever you want.” Grabbing her hand, I place the key in her palm, and she wraps her hand into a fist.

“This feels huge,” she mumbles. “A big step.”

“You want to know what else feels huge?” I ask her.

She rolls her beautiful green eyes. “That’s old news.” She chuckles.

“Not that—well, yes, that, but that’s not what I meant,” I say, gripping her hips and lifting her to sit on the kitchen island. She opens her thighs for me, and I settle between them, where I belong.

“I’m sorry.” She smiles. “Tell me what you were going to say.”

One hand cups the nape of her neck while the other cradles her cheek. “The way I feel about you feels huge. The way my heart swells inside my chest every time I look at you. That’s huge. So, no, Corie girl, you taking a key to my home is small in comparison. We might not be telling the world that you’re mine, but here, in my home, that’s what you are. You’re my queen, baby, and you deserve the keys to the castle.”

Her eyes shimmer with tears. “I feel it, too,” she says, smiling. “All of it.”

“Good.” I move in close, my lips hovering over hers. “Then don’t fight me on this. Take the key. Use it.” Closing the last breath of distance, I kiss her. I try to show her what I’m not saying. I need her to understand that she’s stolen my heart. I almost told her. I nearly confessed, but she needs more time. Not because I don’t think she feels it, too, but she’s still rattled with guilt, and until she’s ready for us to be out in the open, I have to hold that one tiny piece of our story. I have to keep it locked up tightly, just for me, until I know she’s ready to hear it. I’ve never told a woman I’m not related to that I love them. I want Corie to be my first and my last.

Big words.

Huge feelings.

All for her.

Her hands move to the hem of my shirt, and she tugs, breaking the kiss. “Off.”

“Anything you want,” I tell her, ripping my shirt over my head and letting it fall to the floor. “Come here.” I grip the backs of her thighs and lift her from the counter. She knows the drill as she wraps her arms and legs around me, and I take us to my bedroom.

“Strip for me.”

“I need the restroom,” she whispers against my lips.

“Okay.” I place her back on her feet, stepping back and allowing her room to move past me. When the bathroom door closes, I strip out of the remainder of my clothes. We both know where this is going, and I need her. My clothes are just one less obstacle standing in my way.

Turning on the lamp, I shut off the overhead light and smile at the perfect ambiance that sets the mood. The bathroom door opens, and I turn toward her. She’s stripped out of everything but her black bra and panties. We’re standing toe to toe in a few strides, and my eyes rake over her. I get to her breasts and stop. “What’s this?” I murmur. My index finger traces my last name, which has been embroidered on the band.

“It was a gift.”

“Who?”

“Sloane.”

I nod. “She’s getting a new car for Christmas,” I tell her. Corie laughs. She thinks I’m joking, but trust me, I’m not. Seeing my name on her like this, it’s… everything. “I thought seeing you in my jersey was what I longed for. I didn’t know what I was missing.”

“You don’t want me in your jersey?” she asks coyly.

“Oh, I do. I really do, but this outfit, seeing my name all over you so intimately, and the feeling it gives me, is beyond what I could have thought up in my head.”

“What feeling?”

“Possessive.”

She steps back, and I grunt my disapproval. However, my eyes continue to take her in. That’s when I see it. “Property of,” I say, my voice gravelly. She turns, and I see the number 10. My fucking number on the back. My cock is steel. I’m so hard it hurts.

“A house,” I croak out.

“What?”

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