expression mirrors her own. None of this makes sense. Bette I understand—sorta; she’s a WAG, E is a top player, and his contract is coming up soon. Maybe Dallas is hoping to put a bug in her ear, feel her out on what E has been thinking. But me? Why me?
Yes, Mase is a damn good football player.
Yes, Mase is fuck-hot.
And yes, I can admit we are an adorable couple. But the interest in us, as…well, an us is ridiculous.
Plus, Mase is going to be a draft prospect. He and I have zero say in what team he plays for. What purpose does my presence really serve?
I’m supremely glad Mase is busy with the team. I chose not to mention anything to him about Miles’ suspicions; no need to have him go all caveman over us being used for another’s gain. He’s been extra sensitive lately.
Plus…
It. Makes. No. Sense.
At least there are only a few more months left before the draft. Then we move on to other challenges.
“How’d you know?” Livi curls her legs under her.
“It doesn’t matter.” I brush off the question. “What did your parents say?”
“Dad was quick to accept.”
Of course he was. I’m sure Brantley sees rubbing elbows with one of the most powerful people in the NFL as a major coup for Mase’s future career. I can’t fault him for it.
That being said…
“But Nana was quick to inform them that you always watch the games where Mase can see you and as nice as their offer was, it was doubtful you would be joining us,” Livi tacks on quickly.
Have I mentioned Nana McQueen is one of my favorite people in the world?
“I love that woman,” I say offhandedly.
“She’s the best,” the twins answer—in unison.
With them not having any living grandparents, Trav’s Nana proudly fills the role for all the Nova and Nova-Roberts children, a situation very similar to the one between the Dennings and Taylor clans.
There’s rhythmic knocking on the door to the suite, causing the room to fall silent. Based on the questioning looks everyone shoots each other, no one has a clue who it might be.
D, the closest to the door, is the one to answer. Unfortunately, I can’t make out who it is, his over-six-and-a-half-feet bulk serving as a door of its own.
“Hey, man,” he greets our visitor. “Don’t you have a game to get ready for?”
“Gotta get my good-luck kiss first,” a familiar voice says before D steps to the side, revealing my boyfriend.
“Mase?” I rise from the couch, automatically walking in his direction even if I’m still confused on how he’s here.
“Skittles,” he drawls.
“What are you doing here? Doesn’t the bus leave for the stadium soon?”
“Yup.” Out come those dimples. “I have less than five minutes to get my ass on it before Coach Knight rips me a new one for being late.” He wraps his arms around my waist as soon as I’m in reach.
I smooth my hands up the hard expanse of his muscular chest, hooking them behind his neck. “Sounds risky.”
Not giving a damn about the audience around us—which is typical behavior for him—he pulls me closer, eliminating the space separating our bodies.
“I figured I’d come to you for my kiss since you can’t come to me.”
I swear some of the things this man says to me are straight out of one of those romance books T loves to read.
“Now come on.” He puckers his lips and taps them. “Lay it on me so I can get on the bus before it leaves without me.”
Another tug on my hips and I’m placing my sock-covered feet on top of his sneaker-clad ones, pushing onto tiptoes, and giving him what he wants. When I trace the seam of his lips with my tongue, I’m suddenly airborne, Mase striding out of the suite and pressing me against the wall in the hallway within seconds.
“Um…why are we in the hallway?” I ask when we finally come up for air.
He smirks, flashing me his dimples again. “I always pin you to the wall before a game.”
“Okay.” My head bobs. “The hallway?” I ask again, seeking clarification on our relocation.
“Figured you’d rather I didn’t maul you in front of your family.”
A giggle bubbles out of me and I roll my eyes at his ridiculousness, causing him to nip at the tip of my nose when I do.
“Some of your family was in there too.” I use my chin to gesture to the door next to us. “The twins are inside,” I explain when he