Page 112 of The Score We Never Settled

I’m going to miss you.

Briggs bobs his head as if understanding, but I don’t think he does. I’ve loved him forever. He spoke those words last night about my being the only person in the world for him.

Well, he’s mine.

He guides me into the house so he can close the screen door, and I’m so overwhelmed with emotions mixed with devastation that I want to go back to something that feels good and weightless.

Rising on my tiptoes, I kiss him and immediately receive his arms tightening around me. His mouth is a ruination to all my senses; the only one he leaves behind is how much I want him.

All the time.

Even when I’m mad and so damn exasperated with him, my mind and body just need him.

Slipping my tongue between his lips, Briggs growls so deep and sexy as hell in his chest that I’m swept off my feet in seconds, and he’s moving somewhere within the house.

I focus on driving him crazy while he navigates our next location, and somewhere along the way, I’m able to unfold his towel from his waist and let it fall to the wayside somewhere on the floor.

Then he’s bumping into something, causing my eyes to crack open to see what he did.

His spine is up against his French doors that I looked out of last night to the insanely amazing view of land and random wildflowers, before Briggs is fumbling around with my sweatpants to get them removed from my legs.

But he doesn’t let me out of his hold while he does it, and I try to keep my balance on his hips.

However, I feel like I’m the lightest thing he’s ever pressed because he holds me up with one arm while he gets one leg free and doesn’t bother with the other.

“First time fuckin’ in our house, Layla Jean,” he professes with a bit of grit to his tone. “This is what you’re getting. Get used to the view and my cock inside you. This is our future when you’re ready.” He positions his cock against my entrance and runs his fingers up my slit because I never put on any panties. “And this…don’t ever wear underwear again. Because this is how I need you all the time.”

Then he drives into me, and I gasp, immediately feeling the soreness from last night mixed with how perfectly he stretches me.

With both of his palms gripping my ass, he moves my body to rock against him while he meets it with thrusts of his own, causing me to clench tight around him and earning an animalistic growl from his throat.

“Fuck, Layla, how am I supposed to survive without this? Your pussy just wants it all the time.” He bounces me against him harder. “Look at how you just take me. So fucking sweet and perfect and mine.”

I tighten my grip around his neck and hold on while he uses me to get us both off, and I love this.

I love this house.

The view.

This moment.

I lovehim.

He’s everything. I’m guilty as sin over it.

“I need you all the time, Short Stop. I can retire?—”

“You don’t need to do all those things, Briggs,” I shudder from my lips while he continues to pound into me religiously. “It’s not a pick-or-choose scenario. You playin’ professionally has never been the problem.”

“But we’re not together, are we?” he watches me intently when he poses the question, and it’s loaded.

It’s hard.

A relationship with Briggs is infrequent until I can manage the bakery so I can leave and not have it suffer because of it.

However, he’s my husband. I want to support him in everything he’s done and is working to do. I love how much he focuses on the game and is so dedicated to his team. It’s attractive and, honestly, I know he’d give it up for me.

Without another thought.