Challenging the Center (Santa Fe Bobcats #6)(35)

“Because I’m at the end!” Jesus, he was going to make her say it. Turning away from him, she walked a few steps away, breathing deeply, fighting for calm. “I’m at the end, Michael,” she said again, softly, unable to look at him. “My body is breaking down, and I’m only twenty-six. I can’t keep doing this until I’m in my forties like some players do. Not if I want to be able to walk without a limp forever.”

“If anyone understands how close we are to the end of a career, it’s a football player.” His voice was calmer now too, telling her he knew the fight was over. They’d moved on from that. From the anger. Let go of the rage as fast as it had spun up inside them. “The average lifespan in this job is under four years. We’re all just one bad hit away from never playing again or worse.”

“Yes, and you’ll have your millions to keep the roof over your head.” She bit down on her lip and looked away, embarrassed. “Sorry, that was bitter. But I am, a little. I can admit that.”

He said nothing to that. Because what could he say? There was no disputing it. He made millions playing his sport. She… didn’t.

“You know the real reason why people dropped my sponsorships after the sex tape?” she asked quietly.

He shrugged.

“Because I’m not good enough to play over it. That’s the real reason. If I were Williams-sisters good, or I’d already had an illustrious career and was at the end, it might ding my sponsorship cred, but it wouldn’t have sunk me. But I’m at the end here. It’s either get noticed some other way and scrape some deals to get by, or just f*cking win already. And with every day that I get older, every day my body wakes up and groans or twinges, the winning seems like a bigger obstacle.”

The bottle crinkled a little as he reached back and set it down on the kitchen bar top, empty. She turned her head away, needing a moment to breathe.

“I’m sorry about the money crack.” The apology needed to be repeated. She turned her head back now, surprised to find him as close to her as he was. “It’s not your fault you play in a more valued sport. And that your contracts aren’t tied to winning purses. You just play a sport you love, and it happens to be the one people financially agree with.”

He took another step toward her. She wanted to retreat. And that made her more determined to stand her ground.

“Look, I… I have maybe a few more years left in me. Already I feel like I’m racing the clock. Not getting any younger, body isn’t going to magically reverse the damage I’ve already inflicted on it. And I’m nowhere near where I’d hoped to be in terms of my career, between injuries and other bad luck.”

“I get it.” He reached out with both hands and cupped her shoulders, pulling her into him for a hug. “I get it.”

She hadn’t said it all, hadn’t said even half of it, but she sensed he did, in fact, get it. She wrapped her arms around his waist and held on tight. His lips moved in her hair as he spoke over her.

“I won’t pretend it’s not a relief to me, knowing if someone called tomorrow and said I could never play again, that I wouldn’t struggle to make ends meet for the rest of my life. Even without finding a second career, which I will, because how boring to not have a purpose.”

“You’ll always have a purpose even if it doesn’t pay. Mentoring,” she added when he said nothing. “Clearly you have to have an affinity for it to put up with my sorry ass.”

“Let’s just say, I’m finding your ass less sorry by the day.” He rubbed a hand lightly at the small of her back, just above the aforementioned body part, and kissed her again.

She wanted more. So much more. But would he give it to her? Or was he still fighting against some innate reservation?

“The point is, I at least understand the panic and the fear about losing your entire livelihood in one fell swoop.”

“We do have that in common,” she admitted.

“Kinda nice, actually.” He hummed a little in his chest, and the vibrations felt both sexy and soothing under her cheek. “I’ve never dated someone who could relate like that to me, from the job aspect.”

“I will never wear those football pants,” Kat warned, and he laughed. More vibrations, which sent tingles of anticipation through her.

Touch me. Touch me like you want me as much as I want you. Please don’t let this be just me who feels this need.

His hand hovered just over her ass, still rubbing, and he began to sway. “I doubt this is what Sawyer had in mind when he paired us up,” Michael admitted.

“His fault.”

“Hmm.” He kept them swaying a bit, as if they were dancing to the final song of a high school prom and didn’t want the night to end. “I want you to be careful when you’re training, that’s all. Promise me, please.”

“I promise.”

“Do I need to get the same promise from that guy?”

That guy? “De’Shawn?” She pulled away just a little and looked up. Michael’s jaw was tight, and his eyes were unreadable. “Are you still angry I got a new trainer? Caleb recommended him, you know.”

“I know.” His voice sounded forced.

“And he’s got qualifications. His training strategy sounds good, if a little unorthodox. But I need that.”