The Knockout (Playing to Win, #3)

by Bella Matthews

“Maybe . . .” She traces my tattoo with the tip of her finger, lighting every nerve on fire as her eyes grow heavier. “Why couldn’t we have met a year ago, Ares?” “We weren’t ready then, tiny dancer,” I tell her and shake my head as realization dawns. She’s already fallen asleep.

“There’s someone here asking to see you, Ms. Sinclair. He says⁠—” I don’t wait for June to finish before I move. “Ares?” He slides past the security guard in time to catch me as I leap for him, and the first tear finally falls. Two strong arms wrap around me like a vice grip, and my feet dangle in the air as I bury my face in his neck and try not to cry. “What are you doing here?” “I promised you I’d see you dance in this show, and I don’t break my promises.” His arms tighten around me, and I feel it right away. “I missed you so damn much, Grace.”

“I was always coming for you, Grace.” I lift her face to mine, and her expressive eyes sparkle and darken as her pretty pink lips part, and she sucks in a breath. My thumb skims over her cheek. “Just you . . .”

“Yeah, baby, we passed. And if you keep looking at me that way, I’m going to trace every inch of that fucking blush on your cheeks all the way down your body with my tongue, tiny dancer. Now go shower so I can act like I’m a gentleman for a little longer before I show you exactly how much I missed you.”

“Oh, baby . . . Don’t doubt for one single minute that you haven’t been mine since the snowstorm.”

“You really don’t know, baby?” With a hand on her hip, I squeeze until she looks at me. “You’re the reason. Every call. Every text. Every voice memo and every video. Fuck, Gracie. It’s you. I haven’t been able to get your voice out of my head. Your face out of my mind. I never stopped thinking about you. Or stopped wondering what you’re doing, and who you’re doing it with. I’ve been the good guy for months. I gave you the space to figure out what you wanted. I’m not the good guy, Gracie. And I’m done waiting. I’m here for you.”

“We’re a really bad idea, god of war.” “We’re the best fucking decision I’ve ever made.”

“Well . . .” She stands from the table and grabs our plates. “I’m going to shower and go to bed.” I can tell from the evil little glint in her eye she’s about to throw a zinger my way. “Just saying . . . I’ll be wearing noise-canceling headphones tonight. So, you know . . . feel free to make some noise.” Oh. My. God.

“Might want to get out there though. Looks like those guys who were talking to Callen earlier are hitting on the girls.” I look back to the ocean and groan. Dumb fucks. When I turn back to Declan, he’s laughing. “For future argument’s sake, I never said anything today,” I grunt. “Not a word, Wilder.” Declan laughs at me as I jog out to where Maddox, Nixon, and Callen are standing near the girls.

“Who are the douchebags?” I growl.

“Go long, Wilder.” I go long for the pass. The one that’s going right at the girls. Then I laugh out fucking loud when Callen, the tight end for the Philadelphia Kings, accidentally hits the dude closest to Grace in the head.

Fuck. I knew I liked him.

“Oopsie. Sorry, man,” Callen tells the group of them once he’s moved in front of the girls. “Guess that’s why I’m not the quarterback.” Oopsie? I fucking die. Oopsie. I couldn’t make this shit up.

Ares bursts out of my closet and grabs my face. “If I ever hear you talk about fucking another man again, I’ll have you over my goddamned knee so fast, you’ll see stars before I ever let you orgasm.” Sweet baby Jesus in a manger. Yes, please. “Do you understand me, baby?” “Fuck yes, I do, and I want that. All of that.” I slide up to my toes and suck his lip between mine before pushing my tongue in. “I want it now,” I pant because that’s what he does to me. Damn.

“Thank you. He was.” I shake Declan’s hand and watch a small smile tug at the corners of his mouth as his wife hugs their daughter. He pulls me against him. “If you break her heart, I will kill you,” he whispers, and I look up at him, wondering if he realizes how fucked up those words are today. But then I think about if the roles were reversed and that was my daughter. “I’ll protect it with my life,” I tell him just as quietly. “Good man.” He pats my back, and I’m pretty sure I just got Grace’s dad’s blessing.

“Our bed. I like it.” I kiss him. Cross growls, “Without my wife.” “Who’s talking about your wife?” Ares blows him off, and I want to kiss him again.

She’s not the song you dance to. She’s the lyrics you can’t get out of your head. —Ares’s secret thoughts