Football players as a species attracted women. Quarterbacks who made millions playing Sunday-night football were swarmed by any and every brand of fantasy female created. Jude was leaving for California, the mecca for beautiful girls, and the last image he’d have of me was a red-faced Lucy with her bed hair tied back in a ponytail, sporting pajamas, since we’d slept in and nearly missed the flight.

Speaking of flights . . . Jude needed to get his butt through security in about two minutes.

“Go on. I’m fine.” He made a face. “Better than fine,” I clarified, smirking up at him. “Go kick some big-time ass. Show them what a bunch of overpaid, talentless pansies they are.” Lifting up on my toes, I pressed my lips into his. Hunger for more Jude overwhelmed me, as it always did when we kissed.

Four years together, and I still felt every kiss all the way down to my toes. He had a gift, and I wasn’t shy about accepting it.

“Two weeks before I get to see you again,” he said against my mouth, dropping his hands to my hips. “Better make it a good one. A really good one.”

My smile curved against his mouth. Better make it a good one had been our go-to farewell for the past four years whenever we’d had to say good-bye for any amount of time. It was a bittersweet moment, but one I never let pass me by without giving it my all.

This time, especially, was no exception.

Running my fingers down his neck, I pulled him closer. “You’d better make it a good one.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, cupping my backside and lifting me into the air. I wrapped my legs around his waist, and our mouths moved against each other in ways that should have been reserved for the bedroom, not surrounded by the masses making their way through the airport.

What was the big taboo against public displays of affection, anyway? It wasn’t like we were forcing anyone to watch.

Jude shifted so he could hold me up with one arm while the other ran up the back of my neck. Kneading the base of it, he pulled me closer. Our lips crushed harder into each other. Parting his mouth, my tongue slipped in, tasting him. Exploring him. Claiming him.

Jude’s fingers curled deeper into my backside as we continued kissing, his low groan swallowed up by the chorus of cheers that erupted around us. The young male TSA agents hooted the loudest, although a stream of servicemen in fatigues weren’t about to be left out of the catcalling contest.

Jude’s hand left my neck and extended behind me. From the chuckles that followed the cheering, I could imagine what signal he was giving everyone.

“Horny bastards,” he mumbled against my mouth, putting me back down. As of late, Jude had been less and less of a PDA man, whereas I’d take whatever I could get. Wherever it might be. He said it had something to do with him not being okay with a bunch of guys jerking off to his fiancée’s face later that night.

He glared at the loudest of the hooting offenders, then looked back at me. Just imagining him walking away from me, I could feel the damn tears returning.

“I wish I could go with you,” I whispered, before I knew what I was saying.

His eyebrows touched the sky. “You can, you know,” he said quickly, already setting his sights on the ticket counter.

“I’ve got a couple weeks of school to finish,” I offered just as quickly, turning his head before he started making his way to the counter.

“Then come the day school is over,” he said. “I’ll send you a ticket and you can spend the summer at the beach while I work my ass off on the field.”

“Exactly. You’ll be so busy with training, I’d never see you.”

“But at least I’d be able to crawl into bed with you every night,” he said, setting me back down on the ground. Oddly enough, my feet on firm ground felt less natural than when they were wrapped around Jude.

“And fall into a coma after your daily doubles,” I argued.

One corner of his mouth curled. “I might be bushed every night, but I’d never be too tired for that.” I sighed in exasperation. “You’d just have to be the one on top.”

I shoved him, earning nothing more than a laugh.

“Getting my ass beat on the field by day, enjoying a round of cowgirl-style sex by night.” His eyes darkened. “Sounds like my kind of summer.”

I glowered at him, not impressively, but it was a wonder I could look at his beautiful face with anything but awe, even now.

“Come on,” he said. “Come with me.” I was already opening my mouth to object when he cut me off. “Once you finish classes.”

“I’m taking a summer class, Jude,” I said, looking away. I might have forgotten to mention that.

“What?!” He gasped. “When did you decide to do this?” He looked equally pissed and hurt.

“When I decided I wanted to be the best damn dancer I could be,” I snapped right back.

Jude paused before answering. “Skip it,” he said at last. “You don’t need to go to school. You can just dance.”

I could feel the tips of my ears starting to heat with the blood pumping through me. “Without a degree, I’d be lucky to be dancing across a community theater stage as an understudy,” I said, each word an emotional tidal wave. “I need to do this. I need to blaze my own path just like you have yours.”

“Yeah, but my path’s making us millions, so why don’t you cross over to mine?” he said without a sliver of remorse.

“It’s not about money, Jude,” I said, a notch below a shout. Why was he not getting this? Money was money, nothing else, nothing more.

He shifted, looking like he wanted to rub his temples in frustration. “Then what’s it about?” he asked. “Because you’ve admitted it’s not about the money. It’s not about me. It’s not about marriage.” His voice was rising. “Then what the hell is this whole ‘blaze my own path without you’ shit about, Luce? Because I thought we were a team now. I thought we made decisions that were the best for us as a couple.”

I opened my mouth to reply back with something, but it would have been a lie. When I failed at everything else, when the shit was really hitting the fan, I made it a priority never to lie to Jude. I bit my lip while I stalled for an answer. Jude’s shoulders slumped as the rest of his body loosened. “Come on, baby, What’s it about?”

Shaking my head, I sank a few more teeth into my lip. “I’m not sure,” I admitted, and while I knew it was a suck-ass answer, at least it was the truth. I wasn’t sure why it was so important for me to make my own way in the world, but it was.

I didn’t think Jude could look any more frustrated. Clearing his throat, he cupped my elbow and pulled me close again. “Marry me, Luce,” he whispered, his eyes begging mine to meet them.

Dammit. He wasn’t doing this again. He knew my weakness for him ran deep, and coupled with that pleading tone and those tortured eyes, he did one hell of a demolition job on my resolution.

“I will,” I said, still refusing to look him in the eyes.

He didn’t let the air settle with my words. “Right now?” So much hope it was sacred. And I was going to kill it with a swift slit to the throat.

“Right later,” I whispered, forming a half smile that was more frown than grin.

He was silent for what felt like an hour, like he was waiting for me to take it back, or processing the words and the meaning behind them. Finally, he sighed—long, deep, and one that pricked new tears to life in my eyes.

“Love you, Luce,” he said, pressing a kiss into my forehead. “You change your mind, you know where to find me. I’ll marry you in the middle of the night in some crummy wedding chapel in Vegas if that’s the only option we have. Whatever you want, whenever you want it. I’ll be there.” Burying his face in my hair, he inhaled deeply before turning and walking up to the security gates.

My throat was too tight to let words slip through, and my eyes were so glazed over with tears that I saw nothing but a tall shadow walking away from me. Two seconds had gone by since his last touch, and my body was already quaking with withdrawal.