AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Laughing now, I lean back more comfortably in the ugly plastic airport seat and answer.
IvyMac: All night, Cupcake. I can’t wait to taste your frosting.
A couple seconds pass and then:
GrayG: Mac, you sent a dirty text. I just shed a tear of pride. I also have a hard-on. I think the little old lady sitting next to me is checking it out.
IvyMac: *Snicker*
GrayG: Revenge will be mine.
Putting my phone away, I haul myself to my feet. Around me, an endless stream of people flow past, all of them either headed somewhere else or coming home. For most of my life, I was the one coming or going, drifting without realizing it. Now I’m in California, holding down the home fort. Gray and I have lived here ever since he was drafted to play with the 49ers.
I love the Northern California coast. Wild and rugged, with chilly weather and fog that reminds me of England. Gray isn’t so fond of the damp, but he loves soup and deems this the perfect place to make it constantly. Who am I to argue when he’s the one cooking it?
And I love having a home with Gray. While it isn’t exactly close to the stadium, we settled on a renovated Victorian town house in the Pacific Heights section of San Francisco. We love the place. To my surprise, it was Gray who had the most fun combing through flea markets and antique shops to find vintage furniture for our home. Fi helped decorate, and after listening to the two of them squabble over Eames versus Knoll, I bowed out of the project and kept my sanity.
I turn my attention back to the domestic arrivals gate. In the distance, one golden head bobs over all others. My cheeks pull tight with a grin. Slowly, Gray comes into view. His gaze meets mine. As always, I’m suddenly breathless, joy and anticipation fizzing like champagne through my veins.
I’m practically dancing in place, watching him walk to me, his smile as big as mine. He quickens his pace until he’s almost jogging. Those long legs of his eat up the distance between us.
Then his hand is wrapping around my neck, drawing me as close as I can get—which isn’t very.
“Ivy Mac,” he whispers a second before he kisses me. And I’m lost.
Desire surges along my skin and my heart races with glee. I sink into his kiss then take over, tasting him, sucking his plump lower lip. His scent, his heat, the strength of his big body, all of him, flips a switch within me, like I’m not fully living unless he’s near.
“Cupcake,” I say when we part. “I’ve missed you.”
We’ve only been apart for a long weekend, but I always miss Gray when he isn’t near. I would have gone with him, but I’m not up for flying right now.
The corners of his eyes crinkle as he looks down at me. “Missed you too, Mrs. Grayson.”
“How are Anna and Drew?” I ask between the little kisses he keeps giving me.
Last night, Gray called to talk about the fact that Drew had just played the best game of his career. Since I’m his co-agent, I’d been on a conference call with Drew’s GM before the game had even ended. The media was going crazy over his performance, dubbing him the Comeback Kid. Now that his leg had fully healed, he was once again in top form.
“So fucking proud of him,” Gray says into the crook of my neck. He breathes in deep. “Mmm, you smell fantastic, Mac. You been baking?”
“A tray full of warm Sacked Gray donuts are waiting for you at home.”
“Love when you talk dirty to me.” He gives me a leering grin before turning more serious. “How’d it go with Mitchell?”
Brian Mitchell is a hot young quarterback out of Stanford who’s going pro this year. I’d met with him to discuss his future in the NFL. And while it wasn’t the easiest thing being a female sports agent, I’ve been making headway, learning from my dad and forging contacts as I go. I love the hell out of my job.
“He seemed interested,” I say. “Well, he liked the plans I mapped out, anyway.”
“As he should,” Gray says with his unfailing confidence in me.
“I assured him that Dad was on board.” When Gray frowns, I give him a look. “Dad and I are partners, after all.”
Surprisingly, we’re a pretty awesome team. Dad does the majority of recruitment and contract negotiation, while I mostly deal with career planning and player maintenance—which really means I soothe ruffled feathers and try to keep athletes’ heads on straight.
“Still,” Gray mutters. “You shouldn’t have to assure the little shit. You’re the bomb, Mrs. Grayson.”
Smiling, I shake my head. “You can’t blame him for worrying right now. And it was my concession. One I’m happy to make.”
Gray’s scowl fades as he glances down. Oblivious to the people walking past, he drops to his knees before me to cup my belly. Though I vaguely resemble a wind-filled sail, his big hands make me look small. A gentle smile graces his face as he leans forward to kiss my stomach.
