“It’s New Year’s Eve,” I remind him.

He ignores this and places a hot, open mouthed kiss against my neck. I shudder as his lips skates against my skin. His mouth crashes against mine and we forget where we are. That we aren’t alone. That the door to the hallway is still open.

Ty’s coughing and banging of doors has us reluctantly separating.

“Hate to break up this love fest, but Mom and Dad expected us about twenty minutes ago.”

Knox’s face is a portrait of disappointment.

I stroke his cheek. “I’m sorry. They wanted to see you tonight too.”

“They did,” he complains. “They were outside the locker room. I already hugged them both.” He slides a leg between mine. “Please say we don’t have to go.”

I swallow a tiny moan at the delicious friction, and for a second, my desire to haul Knox to bed swamps my good manners. Sense prevails at the last minute and I manage to peel myself off of him. “No, we have to go. It’s the least we can do.”

“Fine.” He crosses his arms, clearly unhappy. “You wearing my jersey downstairs?”

“Nope. That was to give you good luck during the game.”

I tug the large sack of fabric over my head, revealing a skintight black dress I found at the thrift store that Riley tailored to fit my body. It’s a gorgeous piece of real silk, formerly about three sizes too big. I had my doubts, but Riley insisted and the results look stunning. Knox’s mouth falls halfway open and even Ty’s eyes have a glazed look to them.

“That’s a real nice dress, baby,” Knox croaks out as I waltz by him to pick up my clutch—also a thrift store find.

“Thanks.” I pat his cheek, thrilled at the possessive, hungry way his eyes eat me up.

Dinner is excruciating. Every touch drives me crazy and it’s the same for Knox. We can’t keep our hands off each other, and yet the only way to make it through the dinner is to stay apart. I nearly cling to his mother while he stands awkwardly by his brother, eating me up with his eyes.

There are dozens of well-wishers here.

Ty’s agent comes by, a brusque, bald man shorter than me. He’s a lawyer, Knox tells me, hard-nosed and no-nonsense. There’s not a whiff of scandal around him.

After what seems like hours later, we escape back to the hotel. We race each other to the bedroom. He sweeps my hair to the side and runs a broad hand down my back.

“Where’s the zipper in this damn thing?” he growls against my neck.

“Side zipper.” I lift my arm and show him the pull.

He tugs it down, running two warm fingers along the skin exposed as the zipper lowers. I don’t quell the shiver that skates across the surface of my body, because I don’t care if he knows how easily I’m seduced by him and his touch.

We have no more secrets between us.

In the crook of my neck, he buries his nose. His chest heaves against me as he inhales. “I started my life the day I met you. Everything before then was practice.”

I clutch him closer. Words are easy for me to write, but so much harder to say. He’s making it easier by loving me so freely.

“I never knew I could feel so happy until you came along. I never knew what it meant to belong...” I swallow hard because I don’t want to cry. This is a time for celebration. I press my own head down against his.

“I know, baby.” His lips curve against the tender spot where the shoulder and neck meet. He loves it when I get emotional. “We didn’t fall for each other. We fell into each other, and now we’re carrying each other forward into our perfect future. I can’t wait to spend every tomorrow with you.” As if he knows that I’ve hit my limit, he pulls back and throws me on the bed. “But right now I can’t wait until I’m inside of you.”

Hairpins, ties, underwear go a million different directions until it’s just Knox and me, skin to skin, mouth to mouth, heart to heart.

“I love you,” he whispers as he moves above me.

His hands roam over my shoulders. The rough pads of his fingers scrape along my collarbone, over the rise of my breasts, pausing to circle my hard nipples. Each touch feels more loving than the last.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says with reverence. “Beautiful and mine.”

I push up against him, ready to be filled. He doesn’t hurry, though. We have all the time in the world. Our whole future lies ahead of us.

He settles between my legs and his big frame pushes my legs farther apart until I’m completely exposed to his look, his touch, his caress. I lick my lips when he takes himself in his hand and positions himself at my entrance.

I curve around him, fitting my body against his in the perfect way we learned suits us best. Into his hard edges, I rub my soft parts. He strokes me with a firm and knowing grip, finding that little spongy flesh that makes my toes curl and elicits a sharp, reedy sound from the back of my throat.

“I know you’ll win next week,” I tell him with a tired and happy smile.

“Doesn’t matter.” He cups my chin tenderly. “I’ve already won the most important game of my life.”

Epilogue Ellie

Eve of Draft

“So my agent says I’ll be drafted by the New York Cobras.” Knox gets off the phone and happily lays it on the table. He’s not at all perturbed that he’ll be the third pick in the draft instead of the first. “He should be here in about ten minutes.”

Knox’s agent arranged for us to have a dinner together with the family before the draft tomorrow. Knox and I arrived early for once. Usually we’re late because we’re too busy being newlyweds. Secretly I think his agent may have lied about the time we needed to be at dinner.

If it has to do with football, Knox is on time. Any other obligation, and he’s more interested in keeping me in bed with him.

“That's so wrong. You should be number one.” I’m upset on his behalf. He’s the best player in college football despite being a junior, and despite not being a quarterback or left tackle.

He shrugs, clearly not disappointed. “I'm happy. I'm playing with a contender. They have Oliver Graham and he’s got a rocket for an arm. If he can get his interception ratio down, the team will have a real chance at a title.” He rubs his hands together. “Besides, the difference in signing bonus for the first and third picks is barely a million. Seventeen versus sixteen. I'm really not broken up about that.”

“I don’t care about the money,” I tell him. “I just think you deserve first.”

“As long as I’m first to you, baby.” He winks. “There's a shit ton of good schools in New York City. Like Columbia. If you move with me, we can set up residency, and you'd get in-state tuition to SUNY if you still insist on paying your own way.”

This last bit comes out a little disgruntled. We’ve had some arguments about money. Even though we’re married, I want to work and pay my way through college. I only have a year and a half left, and I know I can do it.

“So I should move with you to New York?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Yes.”

“All right.” I pick up my wine glass and take a hefty swallow.

“But if you don't—wait. What?” He tilts his head as if not quite sure he’s heard me.

“I'll move.”

“You will?”

After we’d gotten married, I told Knox I planned to stay in school, but as the semester wore on, with me waiting tables while Knox cooled his heels in classes and worked out every spare minute, I realized I didn’t want to be separated from him.

“I don't want to live without you. And I think flying to all your games would be impossible, so I'm willing to move to New York. I’m sure I can get a job somewhere, and I’ll save more money given the higher wages. Granted, that will be easier because I'm living with you.” His mouth hangs slightly open. I frown. “You going to say anything?”