THE WEEKS ROLL by and the wear and tear on my body makes me down ibuprofen in order to function. Two losses followed our win against the Scorpions. I had two interceptions in the last game, was sacked twice, and Jordan missed a field goal. I've been here before and it's a shitty feeling. Our team should be better than this.

Jordan practically lives at my place and I'm getting tired of sneaking her in and out. I'm sick of the whole thing as far as hiding our relationship. The only time we see each other is late at night when we're both tired. Rick Dove has Jordan making special appearances and signing autographs around the city. He's riding high representing football's first female kicker even if we've lost two straight.

Tomorrow is Saturday and we fly out in the morning for a game in Pittsburgh on Sunday. I'm resting on the couch with ice on my wrist, which was tweaked during one of the two sacks I suffered last week. Jordan walks in. She finally picked out a car to buy and had it delivered to the hotel. She rests the keys on the table by the door and heads in my direction.

I move back on the cushion so she can sit down with me. She adjusts the ice-pack tighter around my wrist and kisses my cheek. "I'm tired. I should have gone straight to the hotel but I wanted to kiss you good night."

"What's stopping you?" I whisper against her lips.

Her fingers go to my neck and she runs the fingernails of one hand across my skin. "I don't know. You look-wounded."

"Kiss it and make it all better."

She moves aside the ice, lifts my wrist, and rests her toasty lips against my skin. I turn my hand and slide my fingers over her jaw. "So much better. Did I mention the shot to the groin I took in the last game?"

She laughs and then carefully releases my wrist and re-covers it with ice. "You're hopeless," she murmurs against my lips before kissing me.

"Yum, pink," I say and lick my lips when she pulls back.

"Pink is not a flavor," she tells me and then yawns. "I need to drive back to my room and get some sleep."

"Move in with me."

Her eyes widen. "Here?"

I lace my fingers with hers. "Yes, here."

"But the media"

I stop her with a soft, "Shhh. How about no more hiding? What's the worst that happens? The team needs a kick in the ass right now. You have a solid place with the Pronghorns and in the heart of this community. We can make it work."

"I would need to talk to Larry and we would also need to run it by Rick Dove so our media relations team can work out a game plan," she says wearily.

I can't tell by her tone if this is good, bad, or overwhelming. "Say yes and we'll work the rest out."

"Can I think about it?"

I toss the ice pack on the table and lift her into my arms. "Only if you spend the night. I'll put you to bed and make sure you're up in time to grab your bag from the hotel."

She loops her arms around my neck as I carry her to bed. I want Jordan in my life full-time. I have no doubt I can convince her over the next few days that she'd be less tired if she just moved in with me. I let her slide down my body next to the bathroom so she can go through her nighttime cleaning ritual. "I'll meet you in bed and give you a one-hand massage." Her sleepy gaze heats. "No," I tell her. "Just a quick massage so you can unwind and sleep," I order.

Her lips do the pouty thing that does me in every time. "Two orgasms would help me sleep better and you know it."

"One," I say because this is an ongoing joke of ours.

"One it is, but I'm not happy about it," she sasses.

I undress and wait for her in bed. She turns off the light before crawling in beside me. I roll on my side and use my good hand to rub the backs of her thighs down to her calf. She gives a soft snore before I make it back up. I grin. The woman is testy when she doesn't get her promised orgasms. I don't wake her, though. She's damn cute when she's needy.

***

We sleep late and have little time for more than grabbing a piece of fruit and running by Jordan's hotel for her bag. Lane is waiting at her hotel. He jumps in my truck with us and I drive to the stadium where we take buses to the airport. Lane's helped keep the heat off me and Jordan. We all know there's speculation about him and Jordan and the more they deny, the more the media digs. This doesn't bother me because it keeps the real story out of the limelight.

It's a four-hour flight to Pittsburgh and once we land, we head straight to the field for a short practice. Besides a little time before the game tomorrow, this will be our only chance to get the feel of the field. Mostly we do quick warmups and walk through plays. Two hours later, we check into our hotel. The team dinner down in the restaurant is subdued. We need a damn win and as team captain and quarterback, I feel the weight of everything on my shoulders.

I shoot Jordan a text as soon as we're back in our rooms.

Me: Care for a late night massage?

Jordan: Too tired, snuggling with my pillow.

Me: Lucky pillow.

Jordan: Good night.

Truthfully, she drives me insane. After years of women throwing themselves at me, I never know when Jordan will politely turn me away. It's actually refreshing that she's not a sure thing. I smile into the dark and roll over to snuggle my own pillow. The season won't last forever and when it's over, I'll have more time to bring her around to my way of thinking. A cute little girl with her momma's button lips and a missing tooth enters my mind. I'm turning into a woman with a biological clock for some reason. There's no way I'll let my future baby-momma slide through my fingers.