Page 97 of Shot Taker

“The entire floor will hear.”

“Then make it extra loud. For Miles.”

I laugh, and he grins as if I’ve given him the best gift in the world.

I slip a hand between us, playing with my clit. He takes my breast in his hand, twisting my nipple.

I can’t hold on.

Pleasure splits me, and a low moan erupts from my throat. His name follows, and he fists my hair and drags my mouth to his, swallowing my sounds as he thrust into me, fast and furious.

Then he’s coming too, a wrenching release that rips through his hard body.

* * *

CLAY

It’s late when we make it to the bed.

First time is against the windows.

The second is on the chair in the corner.

The third is somewhere between the minifridge and the floor.

I carry her to the king-sized mattress, tugging down the bedspread to lay her between the sheets.

I shift over her, concerned. “You okay?”

I tip her chin toward me so I can look in her eyes.

They crinkle at the corners. “If I didn’t already have your jersey, I’d have to buy it.”

I chuckle, a feeling that reaches my toes. “Every road game, I want pictures of you in it. No panties. Just like this.”

“If I’m naked except for the jersey, I might be too distracted to take pictures.”

She nestles against my shoulder, and I twist a piece of her hair around my finger. It’s pink against the black ink of my tattoos.

I like this.

I could get used to it.

My heart rate’s barely returned to normal when I hear myself speak. “Move in with me.”

She pulls back. “What?”

Hell, maybe I have lost my head. But I plow on anyway. “I like waking up and seeing you in my bed. Going to sleep with you next to me.”

“We do that already.”

It’s not the response I hoped for. “But right now, we have to fight for time together. This way, you'd have more than a toothbrush at my place.” My life is routines and schedules, and I don’t want to leave being with her to chance. “My place won’t just be a place you crash but a place you’re at home.”

The last girl I tried to commit to bailed on me, and that hurt sneaks up in my chest, a suspicious snake ready to lash out.

“Can I think about it?”

“Yeah.” I inch away, but she pulls me back with surprising strength.

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