Page 32 of The Blame Game

“I am now. Hang on, let me go in my bedroom though. I think Audra’s asleep but she’ll kill me if she walks in on me jerking off in the living room.”

Dom chuckled. “This isn’t why I called, you know.”

“I know.” Dom heard the sound of a door closing softly, then a rustle. “But we can, if you want.”

They had phone sessions sometimes when Dom was on the road and too tightly wound, needing a release. It wasn’t the same but it was better than nothing.

“Please,” Dom said, the word coming out breathier than he intended.

“What do you want?”

“I … I don’t know. I was just thinking about that night,” he admitted. “Remembering it.”

“The two-goal night?”

“Yeah.”

“God.” Shea let out a low groan. “You were … you were fucking intense, Dom. I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard.”

“Really?” Dom wanted to believe that was true.

“Really. And when you bit my shoulder, I felt … shit, it was so good. What are you wearing?”

Dom glanced down. “I’m still in my game day suit.”

“Which one did you wear tonight? I haven’t checked social media.”

“The small grey and black check Armani with the smoky blue shirt and black tie from Tom Ford.”

“Mmm, that combo looks so good on you. Fuck.”

“Yeah?” Dom smiled. “You’re the one who picked it out for me.”

“I have good taste, don’t I?” Shea sounded smug.

Why did Dom think he was talking about more than the suit?

Shea continued. “Do you have all of it on?”

“No, I took off the jacket and tie. I’m wearing the button-down and the trousers now.”

“Mmm. That’s a good look too.”

“What about you?”

“Sweats and nothing else.”

“Nothing else?” Dom raised an eyebrow. “Nothing underneath?”

“Nope.”

“Fuck.” Dom drew in a sharp breath, skin heating at the thought.

“Yeah, you like that?”

“I do. God. I want to see.”

“One sec. I’ll switch this to a video call.”

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