Page 50 of Playing for Love

“Everything.” I told her about Denise, about her tortured relationship with Gabe, about Tate, all of it. Most importantly, I poured my heart out about Gabe, about our connection, how I felt, about the kiss, about what happened with his mother. Finally admitting fully to myself and the world how I felt, my hopes and how I dreamed about him, about having something with him. Anything more than what I had, which seemed to be nothing right now.

“Mia, you deserve to have him, to have whatever you want with him. Give yourself a chance. Don’t leave all those feelings on the table because you’re afraid. I say you should go for it, put it all out there for him to take and see what happens.”

“But what if—”

“What if you get exactly what you want?” she whispered. My chest lifted with a euphoric bubble. What if he loved me back?

“All you need is some courage, Mia, and since you’re one of the bravest people I know, I’m confident you can do it. No matter what happens, sweetheart, I know you’ll be fine.”

I laughed because she was convincing. Maybe I wasn’t a fool to think I could have Gabe Wyatt, to think he might want me . . . more than football.

“You might be right, Mom—I mean about Gabe being worth taking a chance on.”

“I’m right about you being worth it. You deserve to be happy. Don’t be afraid to take your shot, Mia. I’ll be here for you.” I heard the silent words in case it doesn’t work out. But that didn’t discourage me. I was too distracted by the notion that it might work out, and that I wanted to know one way or another, to go for broke. My mother was right.

Because if I didn’t go for broke with Gabe, who else would be worth it? He was my one. And I think I’d known that ever since that first night over four years ago when we first met, the way we connected.

“Thanks, Mom.” We said our goodbyes. That call was not going to help me sleep tonight because I was too excited, hopped up on nervous energy, anticipating what I’d do next, about seeing Gabe. Anticipation about throwing myself at him shamelessly.

* * *

It waslate Friday night by the time I got up the nerve. Past eleven. The Militia had another home game coming up on Sunday so I knew Gabe would be around, knew he’d be back from dinner at Louie’s by now. After dressing and undressing, changing my outfit four times, I finally stiffened my spine in spite of my bubbling nerves and got in my car and drove. It was time to talk to him. Time to do more than talk.

Guilt battered at my conscience. Confessing that I’d wanted to kiss Gabe to Denise probably hadn’t been the wisest thing to do. Now I felt worse, knowing I’d done it to ease my guilt rather than for any constructive reason, certainly not for Denise. It only made her feel worse, made her withdraw. And I couldn’t blame her. She’d found out that I told Gabe she put me up to it, and that had made my confession worse. It had been a true betrayal. I’d chosen Gabe over her.

Confessing hadn’t been worth losing a friend over. And yet, I couldn’t stay friends with that secret between us. Especially not if that kiss, such a small thing really, only lasting a few seconds, but with such a big impact on my soul, was, well, the start of something.

That was my real problem. I wanted to start something. But I had no idea if Gabe felt the same way, not really. I hadn’t heard from him all week.

I turned onto Gabe’s street and slowed the car, feeling unsure and nervous. He was the only man in the world who’d ever made me feel nervous, like he had something I needed. And I wasn’t sure he would give it, wasn’t sure I even deserved it in spite of my mother’s pep talk.

When I knocked, he opened the door without a word and stepped back for me to come inside. Taking that step over the threshold felt like I was crossing a magic line, but I told my nerves to calm down. He was a man. I was a woman. We had an attraction. I needed to keep it simple or my chest might explode. Needed to take a baby step without looking at all the complications down the road or I’d run screaming. I needed to think of it like triage in the emergency room. Step one had to come first. Make the right first step and then worry about the next one.

And I was certain this was right, for me to be here, for me to be in his bed.

“I needed to see you,” I said.

He nodded. I felt the tension coming off him, unsure whether it was sexual tension or life or maybe it was me that made him nervous.

“How’s your mom?” I asked.

He took a deep breath. “Thank you. For saving her, Mia.” His eyes went glassy then and he reached an arm out.

And just like that, before I knew what was happening, I found myself in his arms, his ridiculously strong reassuring arms, pressed up against his hard body, hot and sizzling. He raked his fingers through my hair, my head resting against his chest, his other arm banded around me, keeping me close, and I breathed. We breathed.

I listened to his heart beat strong, hard, and fast. My own heart raced as I slipped my arms around him and pressed my hips into him, feeling him, needing to test his excitement, not sure if I wanted his cock to be erect for me or not.

As soon as our hips ground together and I felt the hard length of him against me, heard him groan, felt the tremor in his hand in my hair, I looked up at him.

“Mia, don’t—”

I stepped back, out of his arms, but I took his hand in mine and pulled him, leading him.

“Don’t what, Gabe? Don’t want you? Don’t love you?” I watched his face as I spoke, as I brought him to his bedroom. He looked pained and I wasn’t sure why, there were so many possibilities. His mother, Denise, his all-important football. But I couldn’t sort through or figure any of that out now. This night was about one thing and one thing only. I wanted to make love to him, to give him everything I had, to bare my heart and soul to him.

I wanted to keep going until we were both in his bed, but I stopped just inside the door and he put his hands on my hips, holding me intimately but keeping a small space between us.

“What are you doing, Mia?” His voice was soft, but I heard the vibration of tension, still unsure what the source was, whether it meant he wanted me or not.

“I’m giving myself to you, Gabe.” It was the truth and I needed to be nothing less than a hundred percent honest and transparent. About time I was.

His breath hitched, sending a thrill through me.

“I don’t know what to say to that.”

“No words necessary.” I closed the gap between us, put my hands on his chest, felt the heat through his white T-shirt, then moved my hands up around the back of his neck, threading my fingers through the silky short waves of his hair. I loved his hair. Loved the feel of his hot body up against mine. When I pressed my hips against his again, this time he didn’t resist, didn’t push me away.

I would have gone on my toes to kiss him, but I didn’t have to. He lowered his head, bringing his mouth a whisper away from mine, so that I took in the minty taste of his breath as it mingled with mine, making me dizzy with the need for this man.

The need to make love to him dominated my mind, heart, and soul.