First Position Read online

  Mason placed the key in the door and led her inside. The room was small but exquisitely decorated with Victorian furniture and beautiful paintings, the stately king-size bed taking up most of the room. He set the duffle bag on a Queen Ann chair in the corner, then watched as Emory roamed around, amazed by where they were. She didn’t seem nervous at all. She opened a sliding door and stepped out onto the balcony, looking out over the city, then came back inside, walking towards the bed, running her fingers across the white linens.

  She placed her purse near the chair and slipped off her flats. “What’s in the bag?”

  “You can open it.” She looked inside without saying a word, the silence making him more nervous.

  “I’m sorry. We don’t need to. . . .”

  She placed a finger over his lips. “I can’t believe you did all this. It’s so sweet.”

  Relieved, he wrapped his arms around her body, her face nestled against his chest. “You deserve it.”

  “This hotel is lovely, but you know I don’t need any of this.” She looked up at Mason. “I only need you.”

  “I know, Em. I just want everything to be perfect for your first, no,ourfirst time. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  “Did I forget anything?” he asked playfully. “I don’t plan to leave this room until Sunday.”

  “One thing.” Emory reached into her purse. “I’ve got it covered.” She pulled out a packet of birth control pills.

  Mason’s jaw dropped. They’d never talked about her going on birth control, and Mason had just assumed that would be his responsibility. “How long have you been taking those?” he asked, thankful his first time wouldn’t be with a condom.

  “Years! My periods were always irregular.”

  “You kept that little fact a secret?”

  “A woman has to have some mystery.”

  They looked at each other, both knowing the time for mystery was over. He ran his fingers through her hair and down her lower back, lifting her shirt a little so his hands touched her bare skin. He felt her heart beating swiftly through her shirt and realized she was just as nervous as he was. He kissed her gently, slowly parting her lips with his tongue, and found her tongue eager to meet his. She nibbled on his lower lip, and he moaned softly. He kissed along her jaw and the nape of her neck, then noticed she was biting her lower lip again.

  He slowly unbuttoned her shirt, one button at a time, using only one hand, the other resting behind her head. Her breath quickened, as he removed her shirt to reveal a pure white lace bra, and she trembled slightly.Please don’t stop this time. He kissed down her neck and onto her shoulder, and as he did, her bra strap fell down. She reached her hands down his pants, and untucked his shirt, struggling to lift it over his head. Mason pulled away to help. Emory stared directly into his eyes while she undid the button and zipper on his jeans, then lowered them, and in one sudden motion, he stepped out and grabbed her with force onto the bed. He kissed her hard and tossed her bra on the floor, trailing kisses to her breasts, then slowly sucked her nipples until she was aroused and erect. He moved down her belly, feeling her quiver beneath him. He undid her jeans and slid them off, her white lace panties matching her bra on the floor. He slid her panties down her legs and tossed them aside.

  He admired her naked body before him. She was a firm package, though her white skin conveyed a sweet elegance. Emory looked at him, too -- his muscles bulging through his sun-drenched body. She kissed his abs and pulled down his boxer briefs, taking him into her mouth and gliding him in and out. He moaned loudly. I can’t let her do this for long! She slid back on the bed, and he leaned over her, bracing himself on his elbows, both realizing they were naked together for the first time. They smiled sweetly at each other and kissed slowly, Mason breathing heavily, wanting nothing more than to be inside her.

  But he wanted to make sure she was ready. He kissed her belly and moved down to her inner thighs. She quivered and grabbed a pillow, as he massaged them with his hands, blowing warm air between her legs. She moaned, thrusting her hips forward, and he took her into his mouth, sucking hard. Her breathing accelerated, and he slipped a finger inside of her and felt how wet and open she was. She ran her fingers through his hair and moved her hips in a circle. She reached down, gesturing for Mason to come to her. He leaned over her and cupped her breasts. She thrust her hips up to him, rubbing herself against him. He stroked her cheek with his fingers, her skin so soft and warm.

  He looked into her eyes. “Are you sure?” She nodded and widened her legs, closing her eyes, as Mason slowly pushed himself inside her. He quickly pulled out, and her eyes jumped open. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You won’t.” She kissed his neck. Mason slowly placed himself back inside her, savoring how tight and wet she was, contracting around him. He slid in and out. She reached again for the pillow and squeezed but knew she owned him. He slowed his pace, wanting the moment to last and for Emory to enjoy herself, too. She pushed her hips up against him and squeezed tightly.

  He moaned her name sweetly. “Em.” Mason pulled her hands up over her head and held them. He needed to slow down and stopped moving, keeping himself still inside her, as he kissed her breasts and sucked her nipples. Then he began to move again, slowly in and out of her, her body quivering, with the tension building. She tightened around him, moving her hips faster, encouraging him to thrust harder and deeper until she was there.

  “Oh God, Mason! Yes!” Her entire body shook underneath him, as she threw the pillow over her face, and screamed. Mason continued to thrust, and finally let go, collapsing on top of her. She tightened herself a few more times, claiming every last bit of him, Mason staying inside of her, as neither uttered a word.

  Mason rolled on his side, pulling her in front of him and cradling her. Wow. He snuck a peek at her and caught her smiling, her eyes closed. He looked forward to round two; indeed, there were multiple rounds -- and positions -- that weekend, as they dreamed about their future. Mason talked about the NFL, and Emory dreamed one day to dance the “Rose Adagio” fromSleeping Beauty, and when they got married, its music would play at their wedding.

  Then Wesley and Tomás returned to the apartment, stirring Mason from the past. They saw Emory sleeping on his lap and gave him a wave before slipping quietly into Wesley’s bedroom. Mason stroked her cheek. Time was short, and there was so much uncertainty between them. He had to catch a plane to Seattle in just over twenty-four hours.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Emory woke up on the sofa, the light shining through the den windows. It took her a moment to realize where she was. She raised her head from the pillow, and saw Mason asleep, his left arm draped across her chest. I slept next to a married man. Not good. She wiggled out from under his arm and hustled into her bathroom to shower quickly before her morning photo shoot. With no time to wash her hair, she threw it into a messy bun and quickly got dressed. She grabbed her equipment, a banana, and a bottle of water, then jotted a quick note, placing it on top of Mason’s cell phone. I shouldn’t have kissed him, but it felt so good. She touched his hair lightly and sighed before slipping out the door.

  He awoke at the sound of the door, running his hands over his eyes, seeing Emory wasn’t there. He peeked in her room and saw she wasn’t there either. He noticed a picture of her and Eric on her dresser and cringed, massaging his arm aching from the night on the sofa. It was all quiet. He walked back to the den and saw a note on his phone. Had to work. Need to talk. Meet at 3 in your hotel lobby. Em.

  Mason took a cab back to his hotel. Instead of going inside, he grabbed a coffee at a deli across the street. Three o’clock seemed so far away. What does she want to talk about? Our past? Future? Eric? He hoped Eric wouldn’t be trouble. What if she’s still in love with him? Eric obviously wanted her back. Mason knew how that felt.

  He walked aimlessly around some streets, sipping his coffee, a few people staring as he wandered. He sensed they knew his face from somewhere, but couldn’t
place it exactly. Such was the life of a journeyman quarterback in the NFL -- one who’d never fully reached his potential. He walked past a boyfriend and girlfriend holding hands, unconcerned by time or place, without a care in the world. They stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and kissed for no apparent reason. He missed those days.

  Mason turned a corner and saw a church across the street. He stopped and stared, drawn to its beauty, admiring its stately red brick facade. The heavy iron doors swung open, as the faithful filed out from Sunday morning mass. He walked closer to the church and came upon a bronze nameplate: St. Peter’s Catholic Church, established 1851, currently run by the Jesuits. He looked up at the towering steeple. It had been years since Mason saw the inside of a church, probably not since Steven’s wedding. He regularly attended pre-game Sunday services, but he and Alexis never attended mass together during the off-season -- not even Christmas or Easter. He regretted allowing his Catholic faith to take a backseat during his marriage. He wasn’t raised that way. His life and his own choices had turned him away.

  He walked through the doors, dipping his hand in holy water, and made the sign of the cross. A handful of people remained scattered throughout, kneeling in prayer after mass. His eyes scanned over the ceiling and altar, the interior of the church as majestic as the exterior, the stain glass windows illuminating a rainbow across the stone floor. An elderly, dark-skinned priest cleared the altar, while an altar boy blew out two candles nearby.

  Mason slid into the last pew and got on his knees. Father Tony walked slowly down the aisle in his direction. Mason saw the altar coverings were violet, signifying it was Lent. He’d totally forgotten -- he certainly hadn’t given up anything this year. The only seasons he cared about, for as long as he could remember, were football season and off-season. That was how he told time. But now he was in a different place, at a different time. He closed his eyes.

  God, thank you for bringing Em back into my life. Please let it be for more than these few days. I’ve made poor decisions, but please allow me a second chance with Em. Lately, I’ve prayed only for my arm to heal and another chance in the NFL, but I’ll give it all up for her.

  Father Tony finally made his way down the aisle and put his hand on Mason’s shoulder. “We could use you,” he whispered. “On Sundays during the season, I wear a Panthers jersey under my robe. I figure it couldn’t hurt.”

  Mason smiled then spent a few more minutes in prayer before making his way back to his hotel, where he took a short nap followed by room service for a late lunch. He showered and shaved, keeping one eye on the alarm clock in the room. It was thirty minutes until Emory. His mind continued to race, wondering what she wanted to talk about, but his thoughts were interrupted when his phone rang.

  “Carolina just faxed me an offer,“ Steven said, looking at the document, still warm from the transmission. He sat behind his messy desk in his home office, surrounded by a laptop, paperwork, and large binders. Olivia yelled something to him from another room, which he pretended, once again, to ignore. He adored his wife and knew the son she was carrying was a great blessing, but he’d grown tired of her hormonal outbursts, louder and more frequent as her due date approached.

  “Finally, some good news.”

  “I didn’t say it was a good offer. In fact, I think it’s shit. One year, $1 million. They gave us a week to decide.”

  Olivia continued to yell. Steven thought it was something about a food craving but couldn’t be sure. It was time for business. He didn’t have the energy or patience to ask what she was saying. He banged his pen against his head and closed his office door with his foot.

  “That fucking blows.” Mason plopped on the bed.

  “We still have Seattle. Maybe they will both want you, and we can get them into a bidding war.” Steven rambled on about strategy and possible incentives and whether it made sense to pro-rate any bonus he may receive or not, all while shuffling through his binders and comparing Mason’s proposed salary and career statistics with those of other NFL quarterbacks.

  Mason traced his fingers along the wrinkles of the hotel bed sheets, as his brother droned on. The clock was ticking, and Emory would be in the lobby soon. He wanted to get off the phone, fast.

  “Am I boring you, fuck brain?”

  “Very much.”

  “You have something more important to do?”

  “Actually, yeah.”

  Steven slammed a binder shut. “What the hell is that?”

  “I’m meeting Em in a few minutes.” Mason rose up from the bed and put on some clothes.

  Steven sat up straight in his chair. “Um, meeting Emory is more important that the rest of your career?”

  “Yep.”

  “For the love of God.” Steven shut another binder, as Olivia yelled to him again. He clenched his fists, shaking them to the heavens.

  “I put football in front of Em once, and I’m not about to do it again.” Mason took a deep breath. ”You should know that. I need her back. That’s most important, not football. Football would just be a bonus.”

  Steven leaned back in his chair and tossed his pen on his desk, knowing his brother was hopeless. “Are you going to tell her about the offer?”

  “No. I’m going to wait. I don’t want it getting in the way. Don’t want her feeling any pressure about it.”

  Olivia continued to yell something. Steven cracked a smile and laughed; it was better than crying. “Look, dude, Olivia is going crazy, so I’ve got to go.”

  “That was her? I’ve been hearing some strange background noise. Can’t believe all that was coming out of little Olivia.”

  “Yeah, I think it’s the hormones or something. And I think she needs food.” Steven stood up from his chair. “Do what you need to do. I’m your agent but also your brother. It’s about time you realized life doesn’t always happen on a football field.”

  * * *

  Emory’s day passed quickly. She had a shoot with a young mother pregnant with twins, then slaved in front of her computer to crop and edit her last several sessions. She hated the technical aspect of her work; her background in the arts, in dance, didn’t translate to computer proficiency. It was spending time with her little clients that she enjoyed. She texted Wesley about her meeting with Mason.

  She was having second thoughts, worrying about getting involved with a married man, especially one who’d left her before. She feared Mason wanted nothing more than a good time, for a short time, and she wasn’t prepared to share the secrets she carried. She also knew he would be in Seattle the next day. I need to shut this down. But her mind was at war with itself. It felt so good to be with him again, to touch him, to feel his warm, soft lips on hers.

  * * *

  Mason stood in the hotel lobby, watching other guests check in at the front desk. He saw the hotel bartender, Clive, walking towards the Atrium Bar to begin his shift, and gave him a nod. Mason sat down in a chair and fidgeted with some hotel brochures to pass the time, then decided it was more appropriate to stand and wait for Emory. Mason’s breath caught, as he spotted her coming through the glass turnstile doors. They smiled at each other, and he walked towards her, wrapping his good arm around her, lifting her slightly off the floor, followed by an awkward moment of silence.

  Her note said she wanted to talk, but she didn’t seem to have anything to say. Emory darted her eyes away from him, still embarrassed by their kiss and encounter with Eric. Mason sensed her discomfort. “Want to have a drink?”

  “Sure.” Don’t let him get you drunk.

  He took her hand and led her through the lobby, Emory looking at him curiously, as they walked past the Atrium Bar, continuing on to the elevator bank.

  “I thought we were going to the bar for a drink?” Emory motioned back to the bar and bartender in her rear view.

  “There’s a bar in my room.”

  Emory narrowed her eyes at him. He’s not going to make this easy on me.

  Waiting for the elevator to arrive, she fidgeted w
ith her hair, and Mason stole a glance back at Clive, who gave him a suggestive smile and thumbs-up. The bell dinged. Mason placed his arm on the small of Emory’s back and followed her inside. As the door closed, Mason gave a final look to Clive, gyrating his old hips in an awkward, circular motion. I hope Emory didn’t see that.

  They rode up in silence to the top floor of the hotel. Mason led her towards his room; he couldn’t help but recall walking with Emory down another hotel corridor many years ago. This walk was different, but the same excitement and nervousness came with it.

  * * *

  Steven emerged from his home office, massaging his temples. The Panthers were playing games; his client and brother was an unfocused mess; and his wife’s pregnancy was pushing him to the limit. He pulled his thinning hair and walked into the kitchen. “Honey, are you OK?”

  Olivia sat at the kitchen table, eating ice cream out of the carton with one hand, twirling the natural curls of her red hair with the other. “I’m better now,” she said, digging out a huge scoop.

  To everyone who saw her, Olivia had maintained her petite frame, but she thought her pregnancy had turned her into a beached whale. Steven assured her she had not -- not even close -- but she didn’t believe him. Her hormones wouldn’t allow it.

  “Is there anything you need?”

  “Not anymore.”

  Steven massaged his temples again. “Do we have any aspirin?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, licking the spoon.

  “What was all the yelling about? I was working.”