he said at last.
Before she could protest, he bent to kiss her, his lips crushing hers. He was hot, needy, and tasted like beer. His hands roamed over her with abandon, and she melted into him. As their tongues touched, she felt like her soul was reaching out to his. There was lightning between them, just like always, but this time, it felt like they were both acknowledging what it meant.
When they at last broke apart, Thomas gave her one of his sly grins. "Amara, when I want something I make it happen. I will go to the ends of the earth to make a dream come true. I have the self-discipline to break myself if needed, to work until exhaustion to get what I want. And what I want is you."
"Are you sure?" Her voice was high pitched to her own ear, and she knew she was about to start crying.
"Yes, since the moment I laid eyes on you. And not just because you are fucking gorgeous. You had this sarcastic wittiness I immediately loved, and I knew I wouldn't be too much for you. I can be hard to handle; half of what the papers say about me are true. But you let me know your mind and don't sugarcoat things. You bring me down to earth and help me focus."
"But what if that changes? It's all so new..."
"You feel it, don't you?"
She was silent for a moment, then nodded seriously. "I do."
"I don't know what is bringing us together, but I don't think it is going to change. I'm an adrenaline junky - I live on the edge. I know all about risks and danger, and you aren't a risk – you’re this undeniable force that I need in my life. So, tell me you're mine. Or tell me you're not, and I'll prepare to spend the next fifty years trying to change your mind."
Amara ran her hands up his chest and smiled. Her former apprehension was gone. All she felt was a warm glow, spreading outward from her chest and consuming everything in its path. Thomas was right - whatever was happening between them felt inevitable, unbreakable.
"Take me to bed, Mr. Champion. I'm yours," she said at last.
Epilogue
A mara bit her fingernail nervously , watching the clock. There were only two hours left before the gold medal race, and her stomach was churning like the Baltic Sea in a storm. If it weren't for sitting down on a plastic folding chair in the locker room, she would probably have found herself on the floor.
The basement room was bare except for a small locker and shower, and the walls smelled like fresh paint. Outside of the tiny space, she could hear other athletes shuffling along the hall, no doubt trying to find their own little cubicles to get changed in. Above them was the pool and bleachers, but it was too early for the crowd to be very big or loud.
"Baby, you've got to calm down. You'll make yourself sick," Thomas said softly, laying a hand on her shoulder. "You’re acting like you are going to be the one competing today."
Amara sighed and let her shoulders drop. She hadn't even realized she was holding them so tightly that they were practically up to her ears. "I wish I were competing. Then I could feel in control. Right now I'm just on the sidelines, useless. All I can do is sit here and watch, like last time." She looked up at him, her face tense. "And I want you to win, so, so bad. I know how hard you've worked. You deserve this."
He dropped down to his knees so his face would be level with hers. Smirking at her, he shook his head indulgently. "Of course, I'm going to win. There isn't even any question. And you know why?"
"Because you are a cocky so-and-so?" she replied, a tentative smile forming on her lips.
"Cocky? I prefer dashingly confident."
She rolled her eyes, her smile growing bigger. Thomas always knew how to win her over. "And humble. Let's not forget your humility."
He grabbed some of her braids, which currently were finished with bright red, white and blue beads, and tugged playfully. "Don't dodge the question. Why will I win?"
She shrugged. "Tell me."
"Because last time there was an Olympics we fucked like crazy before