Page 49 of Irresistibly Risky

“Yes, but sleeping is all we’re doing.”

“Even so, I’ll be dreaming about you in bed beside me. And it won’t be PG-13.”

“Keep it to yourself, player.”

I snatch his toothbrush and brush my teeth because mine is on the other side of his condo, and right now, I don’t feel good about leaving him.

“Can you pull up Mason on the app? It’s his first night in a new place.”

He unlocks his phone and taps the camera app. The feed of Mason comes through, and he’s out. He’s a good sleeper, and I know he won’t wake again until around seven. After that, we climb into his bed, in the dark, but I can feel it. His quiet grunt. The tense way his body shifts under the covers.

“You wake me if you need me. Promise?”

“Promise.”

Those are the last groggy words he utters before he passes out.

* * *

I checked on Asher twice overnight. He felt warm to my lips somewhere around 1:00 a.m., and I got up and called in a prescription to his pharmacy that I plan to pick it up for him once they open. Thankfully, he was sleeping soundly, though his body was tense. I think the player overdid it yesterday and it caught up to him, but I also think he’s brewing a minor infection I want to get rid of before it turns into something more.

An infection is not only serious, but it could also hinder his recovery.

My lips gently press against his forehead. He’s still asleep and feels relatively cool. In addition to getting his antibiotic today, I’ll also get him a damn thermometer. As I slink out of his bed and silently pad from his room, I glance around his condo, peeking into rooms as I pass them. A theater room. A gym that’s twice the size of the apartment I had in Miami. An office. A library. I shake my head. This place is a lot.

He’s a lot.

A celebrity. A quarterback. And now I not only live here with him, but he’s my son’s father.

There is so much to figure out with that, but no matter what he says or how he looks at me, I need to create an emotional divide between us. He’s already pushing me. Hell, a few simple pleases and that molten gaze on me, and I let him bring me to orgasm in his dining room.

He makes it easy to fall into him. He makes it easy to forget the dangers he poses.

But what happens when he grows bored of the chase? Of playing the game? What happens when he breaks my heart? It’s a risk I can’t take.

I shoot out a quick text to Limbick, letting him know I’m monitoring our VIP patient today because I’m concerned there might be a minor infection brewing. That’s another thing. My job. Right now, it’s all about Asher and his football team. The sooner I can get him healthy and back where he belongs, the sooner I’ll be done with that assignment—with freaking Joe Cardone—and I can get back to my life. My job. I can move out of here, and we’ll fall into a normal routine.

I just have to get there. Hold on and be patient a little longer.

I find my bra still slung over the back of the barstool in the kitchen where I left it last night, and I snatch it quickly, swinging it from my fingers as I head toward my room. A room I haven’t even checked out yet. A room I’m a little terrified to see if it’s anything like what he did for the playroom and Mason’s room.

I need a shower before Mason wakes up. I also need to get that app Asher has on my phone. Just as I pass the entrance, the front door swings open, and I freeze as Callan and Greyson walk into the condo and then shut off the alarm that starts to buzz. They freeze as well, the three of us staring at each other until, in unison, both of their glances snag on the bra dangling from my fingers.

I turn seven thousand shades of red. I haven’t even met Greyson Monroe yet and only met Callan yesterday. Plus, I work with Callan at the hospital, so there goes any professionalism I had going.

“It’s not what it looks like,” I squeak out, balling the lace up in my hand to hide it.

Considering I’m wearing leggings and a rumpled shirt, and my hair is very obviously sleep—or something else—tussled, I doubt I’m selling it.

“Uh.” Greyson clears his throat, amusement dancing in his dark eyes. “We wanted to check on the patient.”

Callan is fighting his smile. “Yes. Before I have to head into the hospital.”

“He’s still sleeping.” And if I thought I was red a second ago, I’m a freaking fire engine now because I’m holding my bra and just admitted to having knowledge of Asher in his bed.

Greyson wipes at the smile on his lips. “We’ll, um, we’ll wait then.”

“If that’s okay with you,” Callan tacks on.

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