Awareness of soft fingers running over my forehead prompts me to open my eyes. In the haze of drowsiness, I see her. Elise’s hair falls over each shoulder as she looks down, her lips inches from my own.
“What time is it?”
“It’s four in the morning. I fell asleep, too. Come to bed. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, OK? You don’t fit on this couch. I don’t know much about athletic training, but I’m pretty sure waking up with a cranked neck won’t bode well.”
Our fingers entwine. Her slight tug gets me on my feet.
That’s when I see it. My number on her sleeve. Elise is wearing my jersey, and fuck if that isn’t the best way to wake up.
“How’s your wrist?”
“I took a Tylenol. It doesn’t hurt very much at all. Let’s get a few more hours of sleep before I have to get ready to leave.”
There are so many questions but only one that really matters once I notice her bare legs.
“What are you wearing under that jersey, Elise?”
“You’ll have to come to bed to find out.”
“Fuck, baby, seeing my name on your body is goddamn hot.”
Her laugh tinkles in the dark bedroom. I sit at the edge of the bed. Instead of going to the other side, Elise stands between my legs with her arms around my neck. My fingers fiddle with the back of her knees, fighting the impulse to grab her ass.
“Well? Do you or don’t you want to know what I wear with your jersey?”
“Fuck yeah, I do.”
She bends down to grab my wrists higher, and I take over, my hands roaming up and down her hamstrings before finally cupping her ass.
“Goddamn, Elise, is that a g-string?”
“It is. Though not just any g-string.” She whips the jersey off and I find myself in sensory overload. Her breasts are at eye level, nipples strained with need. Her soft stomach trembles to the rhythm of shaky breaths. And lower.
“That’s…that’s a Mavericks logo.” On the tiny triangle covering her mound is my team’s name and colors.
“Do you like it? Lily printed the logo on transfer paper and ironed it on. She gave it to me when she visited.”
“Lily is a genius,” I say past a parched throat. “Can I touch you there, baby?”
“Yes, Randall, touch me everywhere.”
“But this isn’t a hookup,” I insist because no fucking way I’m backing down about that.
I did not keep my dick in my pants all night just to cave in to sexy underwear, team logo included.
“It isn’t a hookup,” she agrees.
“I want to make love to you,” I say with conviction.
“I want that, too, although…” She pauses. “Please tell me you won’t stop, um, well—”
“Fucking you hard, the way you like it? Not sure I could stop if I tried. Is that what you want, Elise?”
“Yes, sir. Please fuck me so hard I forget you’re making love to me,” she says with a smile that lights up the dark room.
Her sweet, innocent smile is what I focus on when I rip my clothes off. Can’t trust that looking at her breasts won’t get me off. If that happens before I’m inside her, kill me now.
“Come on top of me, baby,” I order while positioning myself against the headboard.
