Page 30 of A Love That Broke Us
And I don’t know if I’ve ever wanted anything more.
Chapter Ten
JENSEN
THEN
JANUARY
“Babe, come on!”I shout from the couch. “You’re gonna miss kickoff!”
What’s she doing?She was just in the kitchen two minutes ago, putting wings in the air fryer, and now she’s vanished. “Babe!” I call again, glancing over my shoulder, keeping one eye on the TV.
She appears seconds later, padding down the hall in nothing but one of my Jets jerseys.
I raise a brow. “I can’t believe I’m saying this—but I’m gonna need you to put some pants on. This game’s important for my fantasy team, and if that’s all you’re wearing…” I scoff under my breath. “I’m gonna spend the whole game thinking about fucking you instead of watching my quarterback.”
She just laughs and flashes me a wicked grin, then grabs the charcuterie board and brings it over to the coffee table. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
I lick my lips. “It’s distracting.”
My eyes rake up her bare legs as she leans forward to make herselfa plate. She always wears one of my jerseys—it’s sexy as fuck. But no pants? That’s another level.
We’ve been dating for four months now. She’s been coming over every Sunday to watch football, and she goes all out—buffalo wings, charcuterie boards, little smokies, you name it. It’s not just impressive; it’s super cool. I’ve never had a girlfriend who actually liked football, let alone made it an event. It’s quickly becoming my favorite part of the week.
Sometimes Matt or a few other friends join, but today? Today, it’s just us.
Her eyes flick to mine, and I smother a grin.Busted—I was staring. Hard.
A sly smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. “Don’t worry… I’m wearing underwear.”
She plops down next to me, curling into my side, and weaves her fingers between mine.
I shift uncomfortably, adjusting my dick with my free hand. “Is that supposed to make you less fuckable?” I ask with a smirk.
Her bottom lip rolls between her teeth as she tries to suppress a grin. I press my lips to her temple as the kicker lines up. A few seconds later, his foot connects with the ball and the game begins.
“Which guys are yours again?” Alley asks.
“The quarterback and the tight end. Numbers seventeen and thirty-seven.”
“Okay. Cool.”
This is one of the best parts. She asks questions about my fantasy team. Cheers for my guys. She actuallywatchesthe game with me. She cares. It’s such a fucking turn-on.
It’s like I found my soulmate. We’re so incredibly different, but we want the same things. We have so much fun together.
We’ve been home from Chicago for about a week and a half. New Year’s was a whole different ball game. It made every other year feel like a joke—kissing some random at midnight or dragging a girl to Matt’s party just so I didn’t have to go alone? What was the point? I’d been playing the dating game without even knowing the rules. Just showing up because that’s what you’re supposed to do.
But this New Year’s, it was like I finally saw the whole picture. Finally understood what matters. What it means to win. The whole damn meaning of life. When you find someone like Alley, you don’t take the easy pass. You don’t half-ass it. Youclingto it.She’sthe touchdown. The game-winning point. Girls like her don’t come along for everyone. So when they do, you run for the goal.
You fucking show up.
Alley’s family and friends were cool. Easy to talk to, welcoming—but you could tell they’re protective of her. They love her. And honestly… how could you not?
She shifts beside me, my hand dropping to her thigh, fingers skimming her smooth skin. My gaze follows, thoughts of dragging up the hem of that jersey taking over, pushing football to the side.
“Oh! Your guy has the ball!” she says, nudging me with her elbow.
