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“Your bed is surprisingly soft.”
“Did you think I slept on a board? My body is all bruised from the game.”
“Is it really?” She pops up on one elbow, and the covers fall away. I can make out the swell of her breasts beneath the cotton of the shirt. “I actually wondered if it hurt when that one guy jammed his helmet into your thigh.”
I bite back a moan and toss a corner of the comforter over my hard-on. “It hurt. Do you want to kiss it and make it better?”
“Your thigh?”
“I’m in pain other places too if the thigh is out.” My dick could use a fondle and a kiss.
“Why do I have a feeling this is a sex thing?”
“Because you’re smart.” I roll over my side so my back is to her. “I’ve got others, though.”
She gasps. “Oh my God. When did this happen?”
There’s a whisper-light touch against my back. I shiver from the contact. “Third quarter. In the end zone.”
“When that one guy tackled you from behind.”
“That’s the one.” I grit my teeth. Inviting her to touch me might have been a mistake.
“Is it this bad all over?” The tip of her finger is tracing the outline of my bruise. It’s the sweetest torture ever.
“Not all over.” Although my cock feels like it got hit by a two-ton truck. That’s how much it aches.
“Why do you play if it hurts you?”
“You can’t feel it during the game. It’s just adrenaline and the need to win. Everything else is incidental. It hurts when you lie down, when your mind isn’t on the game anymore.”
Her touches are growing stronger, bolder. Her fingers run over my shoulder blade, skipping along the ridge of my spine. There’s a soft touch at my waist and a press against the dimples in my low back. I lock my knees so I don’t start grinding against the mattress.
“If I kiss it, will it make it better?”
“Don’t know,” I answer honestly. “I’ve never been kissed there before.”
“Never?”
“Nope.”
Her hand stops. “Why not? Or maybe better question, why me?”
“Why not you?”
“Look at me.”
I crane my neck over my shoulder. I can only see her lush red hair and her pretty face. “I am and I have and will do more looking in the future. I’m also willing to look at you when you’re not wearing any clothes if you want me to really inspect you.”
“You know that’s not what I mean.” She wrinkles her nose.
“You’re hot and smart and funny. Why not you?”
“Seems like you could have so many others.”
“The others aren’t you.” I flip over on my back and pull her on top of me. Her hands flutter in the air, as if she’s not sure what she’s allowed to touch. I capture her wrists and place her hands against my pecs. I wrap my hands around the length of her hair and tug her head down until her mouth is a scant inch away from mine.
“Do your lips hurt?”
