Page 112 of End Game

She laughs.

“Hey, at least we’re getting closer,” I say once my laughter dies.

“Closer to what?”

“Getting you naked.” I go to my side of the bed and climb under the covers. “Come on. Join me.”

She rests her hands on her hips, slightly irritated. “We can’t mess around tonight, Nico. You have a concussion.”

“Slightconcussion,” I correct. “And you know what’s the best cure for a concussion?”

She’s frowning. “I don’t think there’s any type of cure for one.”

Well, she’s right, but I’m not going to tell her that. “If you get a concussion, you have to stay awake for hours.”

“Really?” Her skeptical expression and tone have me thinking she’s onto me.

I nod. I remember that’s what they used to tell us when I was younger, but the medical team didn’t mention anything like that earlier when they checked me out. I’m just trying to convince her that what we’re about to do—what I plan on doing to her, with her—has got medical clearance. “Definitely.”

“Uh-huh. Shouldn’t we stay up by watching something on Netflix or whatever?” She slowly joins me, sliding her body beneath the covers before tugging them up to her chin.

“Netflix and chill?”

“No chill.”

“You’re no fun.” I’m pouting, and I never pout. I always get what I want.

This woman? She makes me work for it. And I can’t lie ...

I love a challenge.

“Don’t look at me like that.” She laughs when I stick my lower lip out farther. “Is that what you did to your mom when you were little?”

The last person I want to talk about in this moment is my mother. “Quit playing hard to get.”

Before she can say anything, I’ve got my hands on her tiny waist and I’m pulling her close to me, curling one leg around both of hers so she’s trapped. I start tickling her sides, and she won’t stop giggling, smacking at my chest at one point and begging me to stop.

She won’t be begging me to stop soon enough, so I give her what she wants, but I don’t let go of her.

It’s like I can’t.

Ever snuggles up close, her cheek pressed against my chest, right where my heart beats. I reach my hand up and thread my fingers in her hair, combing it out slowly. She likes it when I do that, scooting closer to me until her body is halfway on top of mine.

“You scared me out on the field,” she admits, so soft I almost don’t hear her.

“Yeah, you said that earlier. And I’m sorry.” I kiss her forehead, breathe deep her sweet scent. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know. I’m not looking for an apology. I just—I want to tell you how I felt, after seeing you unconscious on the field.”

I go quiet, still stroking her hair. Waiting for her response.

“It shook me, in the worst possible way. At first the tackle seemed completely normal. I’ve watched a few games and seen you get hit numerous times.”

“It comes with the game,” I tell her, and she nods, her cheek sliding across my chest.

“But seeing you like that, surrounded by your coaches when you weren’t moving—I was terrified. It made me realize how devastated Iwould be if I lost you.” She hesitates, her fingers skimming across my stomach, and my dick twitches to life. “I know we’ve moved really fast, but ... I care about you, Nico.”

My heart swells to twice its normal size at her confession. “I care about you too.”

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