Page 101 of Against the Clock

“See? I can be good,” I purr, running my fingers up and down his bicep as he finally puts the truck in gear and pulls out of the driveway. “I won.”

“That you did. I still can’t believe you managed a royal flush.”

“You and me both. I mean, I had a king high flush already, but when I got the ace on the river? Whew!” I clap my hands. “My dad’s going to be so proud. I can’t wait to tell him.”

“You said he taught you to play?”

“Oh yeah. He would stack the deck for me at first, and it wasn’t until I was older that I realized it. Apparently straight flushes weren’t as common as I thought.” I’m grinning at the memory, but the bubble of happiness fades all too quickly. “I worry about him, Daniel.”

“I know,” he says, and his tone is sympathetic. “I know you do.”

I worry about you, I want to tell him.

I don’t want to worry about either of them.

I want them both to be okay, and for us to all be healthy, and if it weren’t for fucking football, I might actually get that wish.

But that’s not reality.

I lean back against my seat, and at some point, I must fall asleep, because when I wake up again, I’m wearing only my underwear and a t-shirt, snuggled up to Daniel in his bed.

I get up to pee, then stare at myself in the mirror for a long time after I wash my hands.

Daniel’s breathing is deep and even in the next room, and my heart aches with feeling for him.

I really care about him. More than I would think possible after such a short amount of time. But he’s funny, and real, and kind, and so quick and handsome that the thought of him getting hurt makes feel physically sick.

I wish he didn’t play football.

By the time I finally get back in bed, my feet are cold as ice.

CHAPTER 38

DANIEL

“Wake up, sleepy head,” I whisper. There’s a latte in one hand, one from the local coffee house down the road, and a breakfast sandwich in the other. I wasn’t sure which kind she liked, so I bought three and a cruller. They’re in the kitchen if sausage, egg and cheese isn’t her jam.

Her brown eyes open slowly. I thrust the paper cup at her.

“Drink it. Then more water.”

“Huh?” she smacks her lips, stretching long in my bed.

God, she looks so fucking good in my bed. I never want her out of it. It’s too soon, too fast for me to feel so strongly about her.

But I know a good thing when I see it, and Kelsey is like all the good things wrapped up in a perfect package.

I kneel next to her, brushing my forefinger over the tip of her cute nose. “It’s a latte. I remember you saying you liked hazelnut lattes the other day. Extra hot.” I hold up the bag. “Breakfast, and then you gotta get dressed so we’re not late. I have your outfit all ready for you.”

“Huh?” she repeats, then takes a long swig of the coffee. “Mmm.”

My dick gets hard at the little sound. I ignore it, loving how she looks right now, disheveled, undone, gorgeous.

She drinks a bit more, then glances over at me. "Thank you."

"I would do it every morning if you let me,” I tell her honestly. She throws the sheets off, pointing her feet as she stretches some more, so fucking cute that it takes nearly all my willpower not to try and tackle her back to the bed right now.

We don’t have time for that.

---