Page 120 of The Pact
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
I shake my head, chuckling. “No, not at all. You do remember what I do for a living, right?”
She laughs. “I know, but I didn’t mean to bite you. It just kind of happened.”
“It was fucking hot. Feel free to bite me anytime, Doc,” I say. “I did say I wanted you to bite the pillow, but biting me was even better.”
Her head tilts up to look at me, smirking. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
I’ve had many dreams in my life. Graduate college. Play in the NFL. Marry Presley Grant. All my fucking dreams have come true, and while this one may not have happened the way I hoped, she’s mine all the same.
For now.
I just have to hope, tomorrow, I don’t wake up and find it was all just that … a dream.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Presley
If I didn’t have a ring on my finger, I would have thought yesterday was a dream. It could also be because I’m deliriously tired.
We made love, we ate food, we dug into our Oreo tower, we fucked, we showered, and then we made love again until we passed out. It was like eleven years of pent-up desire exploded all over that hotel room. As if wearing a wedding band finally gave us permission.
I’m achy in all the best places, and I can barely keep my eyes open this morning, but I highly recommend nights like last night. Ten out of ten.
But still, I can’t believe we actually got married. I look at my ring—the simple gold band that Saint chose for me. It’s not flashy, more like elegant and quietly perfect. For me.
“You okay?” Saint asks, reaching over to take my hand.
Our family driver picked us up from The Plaza and is taking us to meet with my parents this morning since Alie and Liam have the kids. So, I’d better snap out of this haze I’m in so I can put coherent thoughts together.
“I’m good.”
“You sure? You’ve been quiet since we left the hotel.”
I squeeze his hand in reassurance. “I promise. I’m more than good. A little sore, but good.”
He smiles and leans over to kiss me.
“It’s going to be another busy day though. We should talk to my parents about how they want to handle us telling the team.”
“Yeah, I know. But I would like to tell the kids before the team.”
I nod. “Yes, we should. It was just a thought in the list of people we need to tell.”
“We just take it one conversation at a time, starting with your parents. Then the attorneys. They might have some guidance on how we tell the kids too.”
He’s so calm about it all, so by the time we reach the facility, any nerves that might have been filtering around my head are gone.
I glance at him as we make our way down the hall to my dad’s office. “Are you nervous at all?”
He looks down at me. “No.”
I narrow my eyes. “Really?”
“I go up against linemen with bad intentions every week in the season, Pres. It’ll be fine. Besides, your dad already knows this was suggested by the attorneys. Do you think he’ll be all that surprised?”
I shake my head. “I guess not, but my parents own the team you play for and once told you your temper was going to cost him a playoff game.”
