Page 61 of Sack

“That’s fantastic. Why didn’t you mention it?”

She shrugged. “Busy weekend. Slipped my mind.”

The picture of Ivy wearing practically nothing and enveloped by two men flashed in his mind. That damn photo would haunt him for the rest of his days. He unlocked his jaw and forced a smile. “I’m happy for you. I hope the meeting goes well.”

“Me, too.”

Reluctantly, he said, “I better go. Early morning.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay? My place is closer to the stadium than yours. You can sleep in an extra fifteen minutes.”

The idea was tempting.

Seeing his hesitance, she wheedled, “I’ve got an extra toothbrush.”

“Okay, you twisted my arm.” He picked her bags back up. “Lead the way.”

He’d never seen her room. If that’s what an open loft could be called. He was just thankful the bed was positioned far enough back it couldn’t be seen from the floor below.

“You can set the bags down anywhere. I’ll unpack in the morning.”

He eyed her suitcase. “I’d ask you to model that sexy costume, but I’m too wiped to take full advantage of it.”

Ivy chuckled as she pulled a tee from a dresser drawer. “I’ll be sure to bring it with me the next time I visit you.”

She disappeared into the bathroom and he looked around. A substantial portion of the space was used as a makeshift office. He felt a ping of satisfaction at the sight of the laptop he’d bought her sitting on the desk. A few vintage movie posters filled the available wall space and stacks of books lined the top of the dresser.

He was still looking through the titles when she came back into the room. “Do you know, I’d never be able to tell your personality based solely on your reading preference.” He looked over his shoulder at her. “You have books ranging from romance to mystery to thriller. But no science fiction or fantasy. Why is that?”

Holding up a finger, she went to her closet and slid open the mirrored door. “Voila! I like to keep these in some semblance of order.”

Taking up half the closet space was a bookshelf crammed full of books. Most of the authors he’d never heard of, but he did recognize Tolkien, H.G. Wells, Jules Verne, and, of course, J. K. Rowling.

She pulled back the flowered comforter to reveal light pink sheets. “I know it’s not quite what you’re used to, but I promise it’s more comfortable than it looks.”

He eyed the queen-sized bed, worried he’d knock her out at some point in the middle of the night. “You climb in first so you’re against the wall.”

Following her in, he tucked her back to his front, wrapping an arm around her waist. His fingers found the hem of her shirt and he rested his palm against the flat of her stomach.

He closed his eyes, his body relaxing, and took Ivy in. The warmth of her soft skin. The scent of her shampoo. Her weight pressed into him. He’d missed all of that. Missed her.

But it was probably for the best she’d been gone. Having Ivy close was something he couldn’t grow dependent on. Not with the season starting. For the next five months, he’d be living and breathing football. He wouldn’t have time for anything else.

Not if he wanted to win.

“Black twenty-two. Black twenty-two. Hut. Hut!”

Colt watched from the sidelines as his second-string quarterback, cocked his arm and let the football fly. He was looking good. All the hours Colt had worked with him were starting to pay off. In another couple of years, he’d be ready for the spotlight, and Colt would be ready to pass the torch.

It was their last preseason game, and they were in Philly. In one more week, he’d be out on the field. And he was ready. No, he was more than ready, he was itching for it.

The last few weeks had been a blur of game prep and conditioning. His mind was sharp, body strong, and priorities focused. But all that had come at a cost.

Ivy.

Hers was the last voice he heard every night before falling into an exhausted sleep. But he could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen her. And that wouldn’t be changing for the next seventeen weeks. Longer if they went to the playoffs.

He missed his time spent with Ivy. And not just the sex—though that continued to be phenomenal. But the way she made him laugh. Her eclectic bits of trivia. Watching the way her smile lit her eyes changing them from a pale gray to a shimmering light blue. Even her fiery temper when he stepped a toe out of line and the quick ease in which she returned to sweet with no lingering spitefulness.

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