“You’re thirsty? I’ll get you another. I didn’t see you were out.” He looks down at the empty champagne glass in my hand, and I can tell he’s irritated he didn’t notice sooner.
I hate to see him get upset. It’s just a drink. Everyone is trying to talk to him, and I’d wanted to step back and let him have a moment on his own. But he hasn’t let go of my hand since we got here. Hasn’t since he left the stadium and scooped me up outside the players’ exit. The hotel was only a mile away and it took me half a mile to talk him into putting me down. Janet and Rick laughed the whole way.
“Stay. I got it,” I say, and his eyes narrow like I’m crazy for saying that. “The bar is right there.” I glance over at the hotel bar behind us.
I’ve been twenty-one barely a few days. I’d actually had my first drink on the plane out here to the National Championship with Janet. Both his parents and I flew out together to catch the game. The two of them had already gone up to their hotel room to escape the chaos and partying that’s going on here. Everyone is celebrating. I’m on my third glass of champagne and want another.
“Ren, honey, I got it,” I push, sliding my hand from his. He finally lets go, but not before placing a kiss on my lips. It’s soft but possessive, telling me not to leave his line of sight.
I turn and make my way to the bar to wait in the line, and I can feel his eyes on me. I look over my shoulder at him as a man in a suit snags his attention. They keep popping out of everywhere. The line takes longer than I expect, and when I finally get my glass of champagne I see two blondes have tried to slide into my place.
I have to bite back a laugh at the miserable look on Ren’s face as I see them jabber next to him. His jaw clenches, and I know I need to get over there. One reaches up like she is about to put her hand on his chest, and his face drops into a deadly scowl. I giggle as the girl’s hand stops in midair. Ren doesn’t like to be touched unless it’s by his family or he’s clobbering someone on the field.
I down my drink in three big gulps, setting it back down onto the bar, then go over to him. I know we’ll be leaving very soon. I can tell his patience has worn thin.
“Move!” he barks, making one of the girls jump out of the way. He thrusts his hand out for me. I take it and he pulls me into his body, wrapping his arm around me in a tight hold. The possessive action says it all.
“God, you smell good,” he says as he kisses the top of my head. “Their perfume is giving me a headache.”
“Hey!” one of the girls says indignantly.
Ren goes on ignoring them. I know their type, and I ignore them, too. It’s the best way to handle them. In college all the girls know Ren wants nothing to do with them in any way. Not flirting, not as friends, nothing. It took a few games in the beginning to get it, but in the end Ren’s growls won out. Or maybe it was him always running off field and picking me up. Him holding me like a doll and making out with me. But this is a new city, a whole new state, and they’ve just won the Championship.
But I don’t care. Ren actually gets worked up when girls hit on him. He gets madder than me about it and ends up going all caveman with me, trying to show that he has a wife. Like he’s utterly offended the whole world doesn’t know he’s married. I have a feeling that’s about to happen.
“Anyway, like I was saying…” My gaze moves to the suit speaking to Ren. He looks at me and his lips curve. “You must be—” he says.
“And I’m done.” Ren cuts everyone off. I drop my head, trying to hide my drunken giggle. I know what’s coming. I’m a little surprised when I’m lifted and cradled to his chest. I normally get the over-the-shoulder move when his caveman breaks out.
“Are you hurt from the game?” I ask, laying my head on his shoulder and ignoring the hoots and hollers from the guys on the team. I actually like a lot of the guys he plays with. They are always really nice to me, and they appreciate when I drag Ren out to a few parties they’ve put on. He’d say he didn’t want to go, but once he gets there he loves to dance with me. Or maybe he just likes watching me dance. Either way, we have fun. We always do when we we’re together.
“No, I’m fine.”
“You don’t usually pick me up like this, so I thought something must be wrong.”
“You’ve been drinking. I didn’t want to upset your stomach.”
“You’re always thinking about me,” I whisper, moving my lips to his neck. I nibble at him. He grunts, and I try to mimic the sound. He laughs at my attempts. Before I know it we’re in our hotel room and he’s tossing me on the bed.
“As much as I love seeing my name on you, take it all off. You know how I want you,” Ren says as he starts pulling at his own clothes.
I take my jersey off, smiling at him. It has his number, but it’s the only one that reads Mrs. Hendricks on the back. I’ve had it since his very first game. I quickly strip off the rest of my clothes because I do know how he likes me. Naked with only my wedding ring on.
It’s how I like Ren, too. Though his ring is in the bathroom right now. He doesn’t take it to the stadiums, always worried something might happen to it when he has to leave it in the locker room. But that doesn’t matter. He got a tattoo of it on his ring finger, one that he never has to take off. I’d wanted to get one, too, because I take mine off sometimes when I’m drawing or messing with paint, but Ren ended up getting me a band to wear with his name engraved on in. He said there was no way something was marking my skin.