Page 69 of Passed Ball

"I would," I confirm. Something I didn't plan for when I started messing around with Xavier was falling for his daughter, but the sweet baby girl easily won me over.

"Now that we've established that, go to my bedroom."

"Go to . . ." My brows draw together. "No, that's your space."

"Exactly." He leans back in the chair, propping the phone up on the window ledge, giving me one of the best views I think I've ever seen.

"But . . . why?"

"Seeing you in my bed, preferably in one of my shirts, or naked--ladies' choice--makes the week without you more bearable."

His declaration has me tongue-tied as I push off the wall and follow his instructions. I barely breathe as I make my way through his house, afraid that any noise might wake Holland and put an end to this before it starts.

Although I know where his room is, I've never been inside. My hand stills on the knob and my gaze darts to the phone, checking to make sure he still wants this.

Oh, he wants this all right. His black joggers are already tented, his erection stretching toward his stomach.

I step inside and lock the door behind me, heading straight for his closet. "That was some game tonight," I comment offhandedly, crossing the room to his open closet door. When I get inside, I prop the phone on a shelf, making my way down the row of clothes, dancing my fingers over them.

Toward the back of the closet, there's a selection of jerseys. Thumbing through them I realize they go as far back as high school, I look at the phone, my eyebrow raised as I pull out an alternate Bandits jersey that I recognize from their community service day a few years back.

"No.Whenyou wear my jersey, I want to be there to strip it off you in person."

"That sounds awfully serious."

"That's because I feel very strongly about the ways I want to fuck you with my number on your back."

"Shit, that's hot." I tuck the jersey back in, moving to a shelf with a stack of soft and well-worn T-shirts. If I can't have his hands on me, this is the next best option.

With the shirt in hand, I set the phone on the shelf. As I reach for the hem of my oversized crew neck, pulling it over my head, the phone tips, falling face first. A barrage of curse words stream from the phone, making me laugh. It might be a little cruel, but I slip his shirt on before finally picking it up.

"No. No. No," he whines. "I want a do-over."

It only makes me laugh harder. No one's ever been so disappointed by a phone falling before and it's kind of adorable. "I would, but I feel very strongly about all the ways I want you to touch me the first time you see me naked."

"Tease."

"You like it."

"I do. But since you robbed me of seeing your perfect body, go get in my bed."

I want to push his buttons and see where it gets me, but I want to be in his bed surrounded by the smell of him even more. So, I slide my leggings off, enjoying the way the cool sheets feel against my skin as I climb into his bed.

He waits until I'm snuggled against his pillows to ask, "What did my three favorite girls do tonight?"

Those damn butterflies take off, flying circles around my stomach. Reminding myself what this is, and how we got our start, no longer tames them. They just keep swooping.

"Mostly stuffed ourselves with takeout and watched Tenley's favorite movies."

"Excellent. So I should expect my Netflix algorithm to be screwed." His laugh is deep and easy.

I bury my face in the pillow, hiding my smile, because Tenley refused to watch them using her profile and now I know why. "There's a possibility it might be a little skewed."

He hums. It's one of my favorite sounds he makes. "Is the mischievous streak from you, or was she born with it?"

I pull my face from the pillow, not wanting to hide when I tell him the truth. "I wish I could take credit, but her mother was a menace. Erica was the ultimate prankster." Like it always does, the memory of my late sister-in-law leaves a bittersweet ache settling in my chest.

"What happened to her?" he asks.

---