Page 41 of A Quarterback for Christmas

“I’ll sit on the tub's edge with the towel draped on my lap and close my eyes.” Here we go. I never thought of Drew as a white knight, or that I’d be the damsel in distress that he’s saving. But here we are. “Take all the time you need, but once you’re sitting on my lap, you can put the robe on. Sound good?”

Ever the gentleman, now that there are hardly any suds covering my body, he’s not looking.

“Sounds great.” Drew wants me to sit on his lap naked. I can tell this is going to end well.

When he sits on the same side as my cast, I take my time, thinking about how I can maneuver myself out of this tub elegantly. “I’ll close my eyes now.”

Drew’s facing forward, so I can’t technically tell if he’s looking, but I trust him. At this point, I have no other option, and he’s seen it all, anyway. “You’ll need to keep them closed for a while,” I warn, pulling the lever up to release the water. As the bubbles drain, my skin dimples, and that bathrobe Drew brought is looking more and more enticing by the minute.

Bracing my hands on the edges of the tub, I lift myself slowly, carefully keeping my casted foot out of the water, and plop myself on Drew’s lap. True to his word, his eyes are still clenched shut, and I notice he flinches a little when I sit. Leaning over, I grab the robe and wrap myself in Drew’s now familiar scent.

“I’m dressed,” I mutter, feeling foolish for sitting on his lap like an overeager two-year-old waiting for Santa’s attention.

When his dark eyes open, they dart down and take in the fluffy, blue fabric covering my body. His glare intensifies, and I shrink under the scrutiny.

As per usual, he lifts me in a bridal carry with ease and takes me into the living room to my broken bag with clothes thrown around the room. It really is a pigsty in here, but with my cast, it’s not like I can easily clean up.

When he drops me on the sofa, I say, “Thank you,” and Drew responds with a small, accepting smile. We’re being civil now. Not angry, not flirty, just friendly, and I guess that’s okay.

“Anytime.” He rocks back on his heels, stuffing his hands in his pocket. “That was a lot easier than I expected. We should do it again.” He grins, proud that his little plan worked.

I snort, pushing him on the shoulder. “Tell me I smell without telling me I smell.”

His eyes widen in horror with the implication and I burst out laughing. “Relax. I know I stunk. I’m not offended that you don’t want to live with someone who reeks.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know. Thanks for figuring out a way for me to bathe without risking injury. I’ll probably have to take you up on that offer if we’re stuck here a little longer.”

“Just say when. I’ll be there.” Then there’s silence, and I pop out my lips and look around the room for some fresh panties. Although I packed enough for two weeks, most of them ended up decorating the streets by Hope airport. Even thinking about that expensive neon pink thong blaring against the white snow gets me upset.

Drew points his thumb to the stairs. “We’ve got a washing machine, you know? I can do some laundry for you, if you want?” Before I can think about it, I shake my head vigorously, because after seeing Drew fondle my nightie the first night, there’s no way I want his big paws messing with my underwear again. “Okay, well, if you need me, I’ll be upstairs doing mine. Just yell real loudly if you need something. Merry Christmas, Bella.”

“Merry Christmas, Drew.”

I watch as he climbs the stairs, never once looking back, and I feel something in my body. Light-headiness? Nausea? I can’t figure out the right word, but it feels like my stomach is a tin can, and someone’s using a crinkle-cut scissor to tear it up. I want to call him back. To have him come down here and look at me, but why? I don’t know. There’s definitely a horniness element to it, and my mind can’t help but wonder what it might feel like to have him untie my robe and check that my bruises are healing nicely. Maybe even kiss them better.

Okay, so maybe a lot of itishorniness, but there’s definitely something else.

Just like earlier, I have to shake my head because I feel lost. One second I hate him, and the next, I want to ravish him. It’s got to be something to do with survival. My body hasn’t seenanother person in three days, and it’s acting as though Drew is the last man on earth.

The snow still falls, but it’s slower now, and there seems to be an end in sight. With every passing day, I’m closer to the moment that I’ll be able to go back to my dorm. Only, I don’t know if I want that to happen.

My knuckles go white as I grip the stairs, and my cast bangs the wood with every step, but I’m determined to see Drew. It’s been forty minutes since he came up here for his ‘laundry’ expedition, which is way too long to leave me downstairs ruminating in my thoughts. Thoughts that were only going in one direction. My downfall. All I’ve been able to think about since watching his perfect tushy climb the stairs is how much I’d like to squeeze said tushy.

Yup, you heard that correctly. I want to stroke Drew’s ass. So instead of sitting there, letting that sink in, I decided I needed to take action. I put on a pair of Drew’s shorts and one of my white t-shirts, ready to tell him how I was feeling.

Although the snow is thick as mud outside, my mind is as clear as day. We aren’t leaving the house anytime soon, and the only way I will get through these next few days without inadvertently humping my roommate is to put him on watch. He needs to know that my brain is running with reckless abandon, and he’s in the starring role.

“Drew?” I call out as I make it to the landing. I fall to the side, bracing myself against the wall because I was too stubborn to bring the crutches with me. Taking it step by step, I test each door as I walk past, trying to find the laundry room. There’s no denying a slight smell of sweat socks that lingers in the back of my throat up here. It’s nothing like the calming citrus tones ofdownstairs, but as long as I don’t keep any of the guys doors open too long, I should be fine.

After trying almost every room, I’m far enough down the hall to hear the low humming of a masculine voice. Following it, I open the door to the final room, and sure enough, Drew’s standing with his back to me, folding a pair of his shorts.

“Drew.” It’s barely a whisper, and I know he doesn’t hear me because he digs deeper into the drum to pull out more clothes.

Leaning on the frame, I knock on the door, jolting Drew’s attention to me. Looking over his shoulder, a small smile forms. “Hey, Bella,” he says, pulling out the little white AirPods in his ears. “Sorry I didn’t hear you back there. Did you need something?”

That’s a very good question, and it’s one that I’m not sure of the answer to. Did I need something? He watches me expectantly, and my thighs tingle. That overeager mind of mine has drifted to what it might feel like if he placed me on top of that dryer and ate me out while it was turned on. Okay, I know I came up here to be honest, but maybe that’s a little too honest.

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