Page 90 of Overtime Goal
We locked eyes, and I squeezed his hand. “Let’s go back and be us. No big declarations, no hiding, but always telling the truth.”
He nodded. “We’ll be real and let this grow.”
My heart skittered. Love, something I’d never really believed in, existed after all. I dared to dream that we could last forever.
We lingered on the terrace a while longer, but when the sun got too strong, we moved inside to pack our bags. Since we’d be leaving for Naples early the next morning, there wouldn’t be much time then. Somewhere between folding and arranging things in our luggage, Logan dropped a kiss on the back of my neck. Our lips met when I turned to face him.
After a moment lost in each other’s mouths, he pulled away and said, “Should we spend the afternoon in bed or go into town and make some last Positano memories?”
“Hmm. That’s a hard decision.” I glanced at his shorts, which barely contained the hard dick inside. “But let’s go make some memories. Then we can fuck all night.”
He palmed my erection. “You’re a hard man, but I think your idea’s a good one. Let’s finish packing and get on our way.”
In town, we had a quick lunch and walked the streets one last time, picking up a few more souvenirs to take home. We laughed our asses off when we found hand-carved wooden gifts for our friends, a basset hound for Dog, and a guy with a gigantic head for Holky.
“How about this for Harpy?” Logan held up an angel figurine. “We can put a C on the chest and paint red horns under thehalo.” Angel was one of the team’s nicknames for Harpy since he looked so innocent yet had such a dirty mind.
“That’s fucking awesome. And this for Packy?” I’d found a boxer. Packy had been going through shit with his wife and had taken a lot out on enemy players who pissed him off.
Once we’d found something for everyone, we walked on. After we bought some handmade ceramics, we visited a shop that had beautiful white gold chains, and we each bought one for the other.
“Exactly right for my boyfriend,” Logan said after he’d fastened one around my neck and stepped back to look me over. “It’s perfect on you.”
I put the other chain around his neck and admired the way the color gleamed against the hair showing at the collar of his shirt. “Makes you look like a stud,” I said. “I won’t be able to look at it without thinking of all that sexy hair on your chest.”
He gave me a dubious grin. “I onlylooklike a stud?”
“All right. Itaccentuatesyour studliness.”
“That’s more like it. Keep talking that way, and I’ll fuck you twice tonight.”
I shook my head. “Three times, and it’s a deal.”
“Done.”
Later, we went back to the restaurant we’d loved most, on a cliffside with a perfect view of the water. The host seated us at a corner table, and while we waited for the server to bring our wine, we watched the lights glittering across the coast.
When the antipasto came, Logan lifted his glass. “To next season.”
“To the playoffs,” I replied.
“To summer,” he added.
We clinked, and I said, “New toast. To us, officially starting a new life together.”
After our first sips, we dug into the antipasto, a spread of chilled seafood that tasted like it had come out of the water that morning. Hunger won out over words. For a while, it was only the two of us trading bites, making dumb noises of approval, and me shoving a fork at Logan with a “you gotta try this.”
“This is the last one,” he said, holding up a shrimp. “If I peel it, will you eat half?”
“Sure.” He got to work, and for some reason, it was about the sexiest thing I’d seen all day. The devil whispered in my ear, and though I made a half-assed attempt to keep my mouth shut, I couldn’t do it. “Can I tell you something?”
He looked up and passed me his fork, half a shrimp speared on the tines. “What is it?”
I ate the bite and leaned across the table. “You did that like a pro. I’ll happily let you peel my shrimp any day.”
He tried to control his twitching lips, then rolled his eyes. “And I’ll happily take you up on that offer as soon as we get home. But Riles?”
I raised a brow.
