Losing the love of my life taught me that inactions have consequences. My new bookkeeping job teaches me that numbers don't lie, but people do.
Sharing yoga with others is my refuge from the darkness pulling me to stay home. A ginormous pro footbal...
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I was exactly where I needed to be, in all aspects of my life: stepping into new beginnings.
My skin vibrated from the deafening roars around me and the crackle of fireworks overhead. A rush of adrenaline surged through my veins under the roar of two B-52s. The new leather gloves clutching my fingers cracked around my knuckles. I tasted the excitement in the air and absorbed the waves of pride and glory radiating off my teammates.
Coach's pregame speech centered around redemption, capitalizing on every opportunity whether it was first-time rookies, repeat regulars, or second-chance redemptions. His eyes never met mine, but he directed his words about the pressure to perform at all fifty-three of us dressed for today.
I welcomed the weight on my shoulders. Both of them. Once my shoulder was cleared, the floodgates of my life opened up. Swells of preseason success washed over my off-season failures. The receding tides of tonight's game opener swept all the bullshit away. Houston appreciated the lower salary I accepted to stay here for the rest of my career.
A new season forgot my past, aside from media highlight reels and coverage. A clean, wiped slate was how the harsh, unforgiving sport of professional football worked.
I'd never been more grateful for another round of it.
I was also grateful for the guests in my suite. One, in particular, looked beyond amazing in her dressed-down Houston colors. The edge of my jersey creeping up my girlfriend's ass when she turned grabbed my attention as much as those long legs in black leggings. My number eleven on her chest twisted my stomach.
The Houston hat with her ponytail out the back was intentional. Me wrapping my fist around it, angling her chin up to the ceiling, and fucking her before I left, also intentional.
She made me crazy. Her thighs in my palms, my hips slotted against hers, her breasts smashed in my chest, and my tongue circling and gliding over hers were my new personal drug. Every squeeze of her orgasms around me was a hit, and I couldn't get enough.
Mia was wild in the bedroom - fuck, any room in our house. If I delved too much into detail, I wouldn't have made it out of the entrance tunnel on two legs.
I was also crazy in love with her. The moment she let me into her headspace, talking in the back of my truck until softened twilight colors dotted the midnight blue horizon, my heart was hers. Mia's strength - her quiet, true, inner strength - was as endless as the wide-open skies she cherished.
One of the NFL's most domesticated couples, our quiet nights offered the peaceful decompression moments we both needed. Even though my girl's contract was to teach yoga to the team, she extended that definition past the players and offered other classes to the staff. It also secured her a seat on the team plane for away games.
Not quite boarding a plane to Vegas for a weekend wedding, but if she tempted me enough...
