Page 34 of Catching Feelings

I turn and look up at him, then behind him to where the red-headed woman who had draped herself all over him gives me a dirty look.

“Perfect because I’m already leaking.” Riley moves her arm and shows us the dark wet spots on her jersey.

“Babe.” Walker covers her boobs with his hands and shields her from Miles and anyone else who looks our way.

“Seriously.” Riley smacks his hands away. “There’s nothing sexy about lactating breasts.”

“If they’re boobs, they’re sexy.” Miles waggles his eyebrows.

“Fuck off.” Walker draws Riley into his side and tips his chin at me. “You sure you don’t want a lift?”

I open my mouth to respond but Miles cuts in. “I got it. You take care of taking the milk jugs home to my boy Emmitt.”

“You didn’t not just refer to my wife as milk jugs.”

Riley laughs and pushes Walker toward the exit. “He’s not wrong.”

Nash stands and points at the dance floor, curling his finger, beckoning Kendall his way. She lightly taps Brock’s cheek and sashays her way toward us.

That’s my BFF; always sexy, always pushing the limits with Nash.

“You wanna join me, husband?”

“Yeah. At home.” He pushes in his chair and reaches for Kendall’s hand.

“You promised me a dance.” She ignores his hand and snakes her arms around his neck, grinding into his front and kissing his neck.

I’m oddly turned on. I’ve seen my friends with their husbands before. They’re not shy about being affectionate in front of me, and I love how much in love they are, but tonight it’s giving me all sorts of...feels.

Voyeurism? That wasn’t on my Bingo card. Especially with my friends. I’ve never watched porn before, but maybe that’s what my body is craving.

Or maybe I’m craving having a man grind himself into me and wanting me with such desire that he can’t wait until I get home to—

“We’re out.” Nash grips Kendall’s hand and yanks her out the door.

“Sorry, Rowan. Call me tomorrow,” Kendall calls over her shoulder, giggling her way through the bar.

I turn to Miles. “I guess I’ll hit you up for that ride.”

“Wanna stay longer or head out now?”

“I should probably go. My early morning alarm will be going off before I know it.”

It’s only eight-thirty, but by the time I get home, shower, and pack my lunch, I’ll be tuckered out.

“My chariot awaits.” Miles places his hand on my lower back and guides me to the exit, holding the door open for me, then helping me into his truck.

He’s always been a gentleman to me, as most men are. Kendall says I give off that vibe which makes men treat me with respect.

Too bad I’m looking for a man to do the opposite in the bedroom.

“Random question. I asked the guys, and they shit on my idea. Would you be up for a low-key hike next Sunday? We don’t play again until Monday night, so Sunday is a rest day. Calves and Sinatra said they plan on hitting it hard Saturday night and need a recovery day, and Bankesy and Potato said it’s family day.”

Why is it that football players don’t ever call each other by their given names? They call Trenton Calves. He’s an amazing kicker and the guys are always commenting on his calves. Since Brock is from New York and has stunning blue eyes, they call him Sinatra.

While he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen, he doesn’t make my insides quiver. None of the guys on the team do, even though their bodies are sculpted with hard muscle.

The random tingles I’ve experienced around Miles are coincidence. Proximity. I’m sure if I spent more time with Brock or Trenton I’d have random spurts of awareness as well.

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