My head jerks up, focus snapping to my quarterback. My grip tightens on Alley’s thigh as he makes a pass—acrucialone—resulting in a touchdown.
“Yes!” I jump out of my seat, whooping and clapping. Alley cheers right along with me.
I sink back into the couch, and she kisses me—hot, celebratory. It takes everything in me not to keep going.
“So how many points do you get for that?” she asks.
It’s so damn cute how she wants to learn about fantasy football.
“Passing touchdown gets me four.” I rub my hands together. “Jake better buckle up. I’m coming for that win.” I’m in the finals against a buddy of mine at work.
“Hell yeah!” She puts her hand up for a high-five, and I meet it enthusiastically.
During the next commercial break, Alley heads into the kitchen to finish the wings.
“Babe, you want another beer?” she calls out.
“Yeah. That’d be great.”
I watch her move around my kitchen like it’s her own, rummaging through the fridge, my Jets jersey rising with every lift of her arms. I like it.Damn, I wish she never had to go home.
Whoa.That’s a thought I didn’t see coming.
She pops the top off my beer, tossing the opener back into the drawer where it came from. It does something to me, watching her like this. A grin spreads across my face, and my chest tightens—but not in the bad way. Not the aching kind. The good kind. The kind that says I can’t get enough of her.
She brings my beer and the wings over to the coffee table. And yeah, I know, she’s serving me like I’m a fucking king. But trust me, I’ve offered to help a hundred times. This isherthing. She loves cooking. And she keeps telling me how much fun it is to make football Sundays special for me.
Like I said—she’s the best.
By the time the second quarter’s nearly over, I’m two beers in and full of buffalo wings. One of Alley’s arms is looped around mine, while the other traces light strokes up and down my forearm, gliding over my fingertips before trailing back up. It’s sensual as hell, and I’m torn—between wanting to fuck her right here on the couch and not wanting to miss the game. Not only am I in the fantasy finals, but the Super Bowl’s coming up. It’s a big deal.
Itrynot to think about Alley naked. I force my eyes to the screen, but my cock’s already throbbing inside my joggers. I know she sees it. She knows exactly what she’s doing. She loves to fuck with me—always ready to crack a joke about my boner.
It’s almost halftime. I can make it five more minutes.
Well, five minutes in football time.Fuck. That’s like twenty.
The game breaks for commercial, and Alley glances up at me. “Hey… will you explain how this game works?”
“What?” My brows pull together. “What do you mean, explain how it works?”
Her one dimple sinks deep into her cheek as she grins. “I don’t know anything about football.” She giggles, and it’s the cutest fucking thing. “I honestly have no clue what’s going on. I never watched it growing up.”
My heart stutters, my eyes locking on hers with more adoration than I’ve ever felt for anyone. “Are you serious?”The fuck?
“Dead.”
Her cheeks blush, like they always do when she’s embarrassed—her admission shooting straight to my heart. All this time, she’s been pretending to love this—for me. She’s made it my favorite part of the week because she cares that much.
“Oh my God, I love you.” The words slip out before I know what I’m saying. Panic surges, and my pulse spikes.Did I just screw up?I meant it, but shit, that hadn’t been part of the plan today.
But she doesn’t miss a beat—a huge grin spreads across her gorgeous lips. “I love you too.”
She leans in and kisses me, heated and urgent. My hand slips under the jersey, and before I know it, we’re naked on the couch—breathless, sweaty, snuggled under a blanket.
This has by far been the best Sunday football afternoon to date.
My fingers trail down her arm as she rests her head against my chest—and I explain the game of football to her.
