He’s standing.
I slap my hand over my mouth as a cry of relief explodes from my lips. Tears burst free and roll hot down my cheeks as I watch him take a few experimental steps. The scowl on his face tells me he’s pissed, which is great because it tells me he’s not in pain.
Almost as if he’s just realized that everyone is still watching him, he looks up. I can almost hear the crowd’s collective breath as they await his verdict. Then, with typical Levi aplomb, he shoots his right arm into the air and pumps his fist. The fans go absolutely nuts, celebrating the team’s victory without missing a beat. Levi’s injury scare is already forgotten.
As he walks closer, flanked by two medics and a couple of people I don’t recognize as teammates, his gaze lifts into the stands. He finds me in seconds, and as soon as our eyes meet, I feel my chest constrict all over again.
Waterworks. I dash the tears away, forcing myself to smile for his sake. Damn these pregnancy hormones.
Levi’s expression pinches and he veers left, saying something over his shoulder as he heads directly toward me. Swinging himself up into the stands, he ignores the medics’ protests and leaps up the few rows separating us. Once he’s standing in front of me, he grasps my face between his large, calloused hands.
“What’s wrong, princess?” he asks softly, making my heart clench as my emotions surge up all over again. His thumbs drag across my cheeks, taking the tears with them. “Are you okay?”
“Me?” I screech through what have become hiccupping sobs of profound relief. Throwing myself against him, I wrap my arms tightly around his waist and bury my face in his chest. “Are you okay? I thought you died!”
His arms form a protective circle around me, and I sigh deeper into him, breathing in the smell of grass and sweaty man. I’m going to need a shower after this, but I can’t bring myself to care.
Slowly, I realize that Levi is shaking. Or, more accurately, his chest is shaking. Pulling back slightly, I look up at him, concerned, only to realize that there’s nothing wrong with him.
“You asshole! Stop laughing!” I slap his chest, which only sets him off more.
Gripping me tighter so I can’t break away, Levi says, “I’m sorry. I’m not making fun of you. It’s just that you’re so cute with your red eyes and snotty nose thinkin’ I’m dead.”
“I can’t believe you’re laughing at me! I was devastated,” I say as he pulls me closer, pushing my face into his chest and kissing the side of my head. I should be mad, but he’s in my arms and he’s okay, and right now, that’s all that matters.
“You should know you can’t get rid of me that easily, princess.” Drawing back, Levi pinches my chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing me to look up at him. Sobering, he inspects my face, which must be a total mess. “I’ve never had anyone worry about me before,” he says quietly and with no small amount of wonder.
His confession strikes something deep inside of me—sympathy, anger, sadness. I feel them in equal measures. No one should know the kind of loneliness that this man has. Now that I know to look for it, I realize that all of Levi’s cockiness and arrogance have been nothing more than a façade designed to protect himself so he could pretend that he isn’t hurting inside.
I see in his eyes how much me being here—for him—means to him. It’s such a small thing, and yet it’s a big deal. Right here, right now, while staring into his eyes, I make a silent vow that he’ll never have a reason to doubt how much he’s loved.
Tipping my chin up, I brush a kiss over his lips. “You’d better get used to it then,” I respond. “Because every time you get on that field, I’m going to worry about you until you’re back in my arms.”
His blue eyes fill with emotion, something that is completely unlike the Levi I’ve come to know, and his lips part, ready to say something. But before he can, a low, rolling sound like distant thunder starts up around us.
Glancing up, Levi smirks and I stiffen as we realize that the whole stadium is watching us. And they’re chanting.
“Oh God,” I groan and I feel my face flame red hot when I see the two of us flash up on the video board with kiss, kiss, kiss pulsing in enormous, white letters. I’m more than ready to get the hell out of here.
Attempting to pull away, Levi’s hand—the one that’s still curled around the back of my neck—clamps down. The firm hold he has on me is enough to get my attention and give me pause. I look up at him, my brows furrowed in question, but the laughter and glimmer of playfulness flashing in his crystal clear eyes answers for him.
“Levi—”
“You heard ‘em, princess,” he says, his voice taunting. “You wouldn’t want to disappoint our fans now, would you?”
My answer is a resounding hell yes. I could give a rat’s ass what a bunch of strangers want, but Levi is clearly having fun with this, and he isn’t about to let me get away without a struggle.
I don’t want to cause a scene, but this whole situation—my face blasted across a big screen, hundreds of people cheering us on—has my anxiety levels shooting through the roof. The last thing I want to do is indulge them.
With my hands firmly planted on Levi’s abs, I push him away, but he’s ready for that. Bracing himself, he stands his ground, not budging an inch. And then, without much effort at all, he yanks me in.
I resist for the barest second, until the moment I feel Levi’s lush mouth pressed against mine. Instantly, I’m lost. The world falls away as my muscles relax and I fall into him. My hands snake around to grip his shoulders and my head tilts to the right as his mouth opens over mine and his tongue slips past my lips.
He moans into my mouth—or maybe that was me. I taste a hint of cherries from his sports drink and I feel his hardness pressing insistently against my stomach. Lust consumes me until I can hardly remember my own name, let alone where we are.
Levi is the first to break the kiss, and when he looks down at me, he’s wearing a cocky smile and his eyes are dancing with humor.
“Damn.” That’s all he says. That’s all he needs to say.
Slowly, I become aware that the stadium is roaring with applause and catcalls and somewhere in the distance is the announcer’s excitement-filled voice, but I tune them all out.
Huskily, I say, “Let’s get out of here,” and with little more than a sharp nod, Levi takes my hand and practically drags me away.
24
I wake up in Levi’s hotel room, in his bed. His heavy, tattooed arm is draped across my hip, his large hand cradling my abdomen, and I can feel his slow, steady breaths on the back of my neck.
I smile to myself as last night comes back to me. After we fled the stadium, Levi pressed pause on our libido, sighting that it’d been hours since I’d been properly fed. Despite being hungry, I was ravenous for something much more than a burger. But he wouldn’t hear of it. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten so fast in my life.
Once we got back to his hotel room, there was no stopping us. We were naked and tangled together as soon as the door was closed.
Something about knowing he feels the same for me as I do for him has released the need to keep him at arm’s length, and from the little bit of talking we managed during our dinner last night, we’ve agreed that neither of us see the point in denying our relationship any longer.
Especially now that the cat’s out of the bag.
And our parents are divorcing.
Why deny our feelings? It seems pointless anyway, considering we have a child on the way. One way or another, news of our baby is going to get out. Levi reasons that we might as well deal with it together, and I agree, convincing myself that together, we can handle whatever comes our way.