Page 11 of Tight End
Turning to leave, I froze in the doorway to take one last look over my shoulder.
He looked peaceful. Strong. And sexier than any man had the right to be.
We’d only met yesterday. I shouldn’t feel anything deep for him already. But my heart squeezed hard enough to make me press a hand against my rib cage.
“Bye,” I whispered, too quiet for him to hear.
I stepped into the hall, but before I closed the door behind me, I sprinted back in and grabbed his T-shirt off the floor. Stuffing it into my purse, I convinced myself that I could pretend it was accidental if he ever asked me.
Or deny having his shirt. That seemed easier.
I quietly shut the door and forced myself to leave. By the time I slid into the back seat of a cab, my voice shook when I gave the driver my address.
The morning sky was still dark, and the city lights blurred past the window as I pressed my forehead to the cool glass. The ache in my chest only grew, which didn’t make sense.
It was one night.
Raiden was a famous football player who had women throwing themselves at him all the time. He would probably forget all about me before lunch.
But walking away felt a lot like losing something that wasn’t mine to keep.
Luckily, I was busy enough packing that I didn’t have time to obsess over him the way my brain clearly wanted to. It took me an hour to get ready to head to the airport. By the time my ride pulled up to the curb at JFK, I’d finally managed to steer my mind away from Raiden and on to the long flight ahead.
But I had a hard time keeping it there when every step through the airport reminded me exactly what we’d done.
After checking my bag, I moved through the terminal on autopilot, weaving through crowds with my carry-on rolling beside me. I was halfway through security when my phone buzzed.
I fumbled, nearly dropping my tote bag, and swiped open the notification.
Raiden
Next time, you wake me up.
I almost tripped over my feet when the person behind me urged me to move forward. I had to grip the handle of my carry-on to stay steady.
Next time.
Those two little words made hope spread through my chest.
I stared at the screen, my pulse thudding so loudly it drowned out the noise surrounding me. I read the message again. Then a third time.
But before I could give in to the temptation to fire off a reply asking if there really would be a next time when I got back, I was called forward.
I shoved my phone into my pocket and focused on getting through security and to my gate. It wasn’t until I was in my seat on the plane that I scrolled through sports coverage on my phone.
Nobody was talking about my banter with Raiden at the press conference. Most commentators assumed his answer was just him playing off Saxon’s reply to the question before mine. Fans in the comments seemed more amused than anything.
From a professional standpoint, I was relieved.
But under that was a twist of disappointment I had no business feeling.
5
RAIDEN
She was gone.
After spending the night dreaming of the taste of her mouth, the drag of her nails across my back, the tight heat of her body around my cock…I woke to silence and the cold sheets where she should’ve been cuddled against me.
