Page 47 of Play Maker

17

Apersistent, annoying beeping brought me to consciousness right as dream me was running my tongue along the grooves of Adam’s abs. Sunlight filled the room, and I glared blearily at my phone as I swiped at the alarm. After a fitful night of dreams where Adam showed off his real prowess, I woke feeling horny, frustrated, and hungry. The dry toast hadn’t made it past my desk, so I’d fully skipped dinner.

I shouldn’t have gone out for the stupid toast. Shouldn’t have let him lift me onto the counter.Definitelyshouldn’t have let him show me what I was missing.

The sneaky voice in the back of my mind addedshouldn’t have left him out there alone.

I burrowed under my pillow on the giant bed and grabbed two handfuls of comforter. Tremors still occasionally shook my leg muscles, and I couldn’t squeeze them together hard enough to relieve the ache.

This was Adam’s fault.

My stomach growled in a demand for real food, and I released my death grip on the bedding. Logically, I shouldn’t blame Adam for my own reaction to him, but for once, I didn’t feel like being logical. I wanted to throw all the consequences out the window and indulge.

Instead, I listened for any sounds of movement in the hallway. Theoretically, all the football players should be at training now, but Adam had skipped several times since I’d moved in. No one said anything about his absences, so I kept my mouth shut too. Shaw was the captain. He’d know better than me about Adam’s team responsibilities.

Usually when he skipped, Adam waited until Shaw, RJ, and Noah left, then went out himself shortly after. I was extremely curious about where he spent his alone time, but the secretive vibe made me hold my tongue. If he wanted me to know, he’d tell me.

I didn’t have any say over where he went or what he was doing—or who he was doing it to. Despite the contradictory evidence of last night, Adam and I were only friends. Friends who didn’t kiss. Friends who delivered on promised orgasms. Friends who would never work as anything more because Adam was Adam—funny, sweet, massively hot, surrounded by friends—and I couldn’t even keep my Mom around.

The constant need to remind myself of that fact was getting on my nerves. I’d never had a real relationship, never really wanted one until now. The thought of putting faith in someone to hold up their end of the deal, to stick, to want me enough to stay even when a better offer came along… What was I supposed to do with the clammy palms and the churning in my stomach?

Easier to wait for the inevitable. Or it had been. Now, I’m wondering if the all or nothing mentality might not be the way to go. I’d asked Adam to teach me, maybe I should pay attention toallhis lessons.

With a huff, I tossed the covers aside, slapped on my glasses, and threw my hair into a messy ponytail. If I were back in my apartment, would I be lazing about in bed? No. I’d be prepping for a job I hated.

My movements slowed with the elastic only half wrapped around my hair. I didn’t hate working at the dress shop. Did I?

I mean, I didn’t enjoy it, especially when I had to deal with people. Half of the time I couldn’t identify the front side of the dress, and people tended to expect someone who could give them advice on fashion.

My arms lowered, and I sank onto the side of the bed. It wasn’t just the clients. I hated having my time tied to the hours of the shop and having to rush to make my classes when Mom inevitably showed up late once again. The utterly useless attempts to modernize the computer system. The constant struggle to cover expenses. Helga, the temperamental mannequin who refused to keep her left leg attached unless we bribed her with the good spot in the window.

Huh. I hated my job—and I didn’t have to go back. Ever.

I waited for the rush of excitement, but none came. The dress shop was gone. Mom had hired someone to clear out the last of the merchandise, and construction had already begun on the new cowboy-themed bar going in. The version of me who had worked there wasn’t the same person who spent her free time pretending not to want to sneak into her roommate’s bed every night.

And who now had a very good reason to actually try it. I didn’t hate the idea. I didn’t hate the person I was now. Change freaked me out, but after last night, I realized I might have been selling myself short. I could do hard things. Like take a chance with my roommate.

I squeezed my eyes—and my legs—shut for a second, willing myself to think about anything except Adam. Food. I should get food. I could satisfy at least one hunger. Besides, the counter needed to be cleaned, preferably before Shaw and RJ got back from training and did their morning smoothie routine.

The hallway was quiet, the apartment, the whole world maybe, but when I entered the kitchen, I found Adam there in a pair of basketball shorts and nothing else. He leaned against the counter eating a bowl of sugary kid cereal, and his eyes lifted to me before I could reverse course.

I rooted to the spot, one leg extended like I’d intended to keep walking. His gaze trailed over me in a lazy perusal that I felteverywhere. A few hours ago, the phantom touch had been his real hands and mouth.

He hadn’t said anything—hadn’t even moved—and I was on the verge of begging him for a repeat.

Adam’s lips curved into a sexy grin. “Morning, Sunshine. Sleep well?”

“What are you doing here?” I blurted out.

“I live here. Want some breakfast?”

I shook my head and started past him to make coffee before I realized there was already some made. Adam followed my gaze.

“I thought you might be tired after your long night,” he said.

“I thought we were going to pretend it never happened?”

He snorted. “I never agreed to that. I said I changed my mind—and I meant it—but if you need us to keep classifying ourselves as friends without benefits, I can do that. For now.”

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