buries her face into my sweaty, game-played armpit in mortification.
My dick is pressing against my jockstrap in painful fashion, but at least it’s preventing me from embarrassing myself on national television. I have to clear the passion from my throat before I can continue.
“So yeah…” I bring my attention back to Stan. “That’s the plan.” After saying our goodbyes and thanks to the reporter, I scoop my girl into my arms and get ready for the trophy presentation.
The trophy.
The reporters.
The flashing cameras.
The cheering fans.
None of it matters the way the blonde with the rainbow-colored highlights who’s wearing my name on her body and filming us on her iPhone does.
If they didn’t know already, now the world knows it too. I dare them to try to come between us.
#Chapter49
After Mase professing his love for me over football, on national freaking television, I have been walking around in sort of a daze. I couldn’t begin to tell you how I ended up back at our hotel’s bar, in a back booth sandwiched between my brother and B.
There’s food, drinks, and multiple conversations going on, but I’m stuck in this kind of hazy blur trying to figure out if this is real life.
This man…this handsome, talented, future hall-of-fame-worthy football player would risk the millions of dollars guaranteed for a top-five draft pick to be with me. Me. Kayla Dennings, the girl who wasn’t good enough for her mom to stick around for, is being valued above a lifelong dream. I can’t quite wrap my brain around it.
Every flat-screen hanging around the posh bar is tuned to the postgame coverage, the highlights and interviews playing on an infinite loop.
The sound of Mase’s deep voice telling me—and the millions of viewers watching—that I’m his new dream replays again, and T lets out a dreamy sigh—again. I fold my arms over the tabletop, burying my face inside them and wishing I could apparate to my room like Harry Potter when I feel the heat of everyone’s gaze on me.
“He’s like a real-life book boyfriend,” T comments. Chick loves her romance novels.
“Who knew my brother had it in him to be so swoony.” I hear Livi agree, the twins having met up with us once they made it back to the hotel.
“I don’t know…” All my girly bits stand up and shake their pom-poms at the sound of Mase’s deep voice in person. “I thought I already had a pretty good track record.” He presses a kiss to the back of my lowered head and strokes a finger along his birthstone band I wear.
“That was when you were trying to win her back,” Livi counters.
“Yeah.” I don’t have to see T to know her arms are folded across her chest as she leans to the side with a Who are you to say? attitude. “It’s totally different when the things you do are to redeem yourself for being a moron.”
Em snorts and Q giggles, the air shifting with what I can only assume are arms being stretched out for knuckle bumps of appreciation.
“Dayumn,” Trav whistles. “Burned by the little sisters.” He tells the girls to scoot to make room.
With my head still resting on my arms, I turn my face so it’s no longer buried and look toward my boyfriend.
Holy hotness, Batman.
There are many, many looks of Mase’s that I love—his ever-present backward ball cap, him in full football gear, and of course, naked—but this right here? Yup, it’s pushing its way to the top of my list.
Putting Christian Grey to shame, Mase wears what can only be a custom-made three-piece suit. Yes, you heard that right, three-piece, vest and all. The fabric looks as soft as million-thread count sheets, hugging his broad shoulders and molding to the muscles of his arms such that, even when relaxed, you can tell how big they are. The button on the jacket is undone, displaying how the vest accentuates the tapering of the V-line of his waist.
His crisp white button-up contrasts with his olive complexion, making his unshaven jaw fashionable. The scruff may be longer than usual, but it’s still short enough not to hide his panty-melting smile or brain-cell-killing dimples. Shit, between them and his declaration, I practically turned into a puddle on whatever yard line I was standing on earlier.
There’s a green small-weave plaid in his tie that brings out the brightness of his seafoam green eyes, highlighting all the different colored flecks swimming in my favorite irises.