20. Chapter 20 #2
“So, I’ve heard.” He nods slowly, looking thoughtful. “And seen,” he adds, amused, reminding me of a party back when we were young and stupid.
“You think she’s in this for real though?”
I don’t answer right away, debating how much of Jessica’s personal information I can share. Then I blow out a breath and say, “She was a virgin.”
His head whips toward me. “Well, fuck me sideways.” He whistles low and sits back. “So, either she really likes you or she’s got ‘lose it to a pro athlete’ on the bucket list.”
“Yeah, between ‘learn Spanish’ and ‘see Niagara Falls.’”
He shakes his head, chuckling. “So now you know what it’s like to pop a cherry. Welcome to the club.”
I narrow my eyes. Something clicks. Is he talking about my—
“Motherfucker,” I grind out, eyes wide and horrified.
Laughing, Jace leans back with his arms crossed behind his head.
“Look, man… it’s better knowing your sister’s only been with one guy and not greasy college fuckboys in a frat house with a mattress on the floor.
And that guy just happens to be your gorgeous, talented, athletic, rich, best friend in the whole world. ”
“Yeah,” I murmur, trying to block the image. “Makes it easier for my hit list to have one name on it.”
We pull into my driveway. The engine hums low as my automatic lights flick on. Light spills from Jace’s house next to mine; Melody’s still awake and waiting .
Jace unbuckles but doesn’t move to get out yet. He looks over at me. “Look,” he says, voice serious for once, “if you actually give a shit about this girl, and you clearly do, then you need to get out of your own way.”
“Huh?”
“Stop pretending you’ve got it all figured out. Stop assuming you know where her head’s at. You’re asking if this thing between you two is just sex? You can bet your arrogant ass she’s wondering the same thing.”
I never had to think too much about how to make a woman like me — it just came naturally. But now that I’ve got Jessica, it comes down to keeping her. Which is something I’ve never wanted before.
“What do you suggest, Romeo?” I ask.
Jace shrugs. “Ask her about anything. Talk to her and open up as well. Don’t just fuck her and freeze up after. That’s not what a man does when he actually likes someone.”
I can’t believe Miami’s biggest man-whore is giving me love advice. Well, former man-whore.
“Since when did you become such an expert on feelings?” I ask .
“Since Melody,” he says, a warm smile softening his face. “When you know, you know.”
“Right.” I try to figure out what ‘I know’ means. I know I never want her to leave.
“Goodnight, house pet.” He claps my shoulder, then opens the door with a grin. “We’ll come over for coffee tomorrow.”
“Sure.” I nod, and he closes the car door behind him.
I watch him walk up his driveway for a moment before I kill the engine and step out.
The front door clicks shut behind me. For so long I’ve come home to silence.
Now, I come home to the soft murmur of the TV and a speaker playing Madonna.
It drifts through the air, the faint sound of her singing overlapping with the house.
I round the corner into the kitchen, eyes taking it all in.
Jessica’s in a matching pajama set, long blonde hair tied high, ponytail bouncing as she moves around my kitchen. There’s flour on the counter and somehow none on her. She’s humming, singing under her breath, dancing as she stirs something in a bowl .
I don’t make my presence known. Instead, I lean against the wall and watch her, curious to see what she’s like when she thinks no one’s watching.
I’ve never wanted anything to stay the way it is more than this.
All the women I’ve fucked in this house — if they made it this far — never made it to the kitchen. They were walked out before the sheets even cooled.
I went full feral in my early twenties — breaking out from under my family’s grip with nothing but a black card and a short fuse. I was freefalling: drinking, fighting, fucking.
The first team I played for wasn’t happy with what the media was writing about me, and my parents were even less so. Which is why I did it to begin with, I think. The more I thought they’d hate something, the more I wanted to do it, knowing it’d reach them.
Until the PR team pulled me into a boardroom for an intervention and dropped a stack of preprinted NDAs in front of me, saying it was going to save my career. And honestly, they probably did.
But even when the chaos faded, the rules stayed. After that, I’d only hook up in places I controlled — my hotel, my house, my rules. And I never let them linger.
And now here she is. Not lingering, but living in my home. Covered in flour, dancing, wearing my house like it was built around her.
And all I can think is… fuck, don’t let this end.
“Making a mess again?” I finally say.
She jumps, nearly knocking the spoon out of her hand as she spins toward me. “Jesus, you scared me!”
I step farther in and lean against the island. “You have fun with the girls?”
“Mhm.” She tosses her ponytail back. “We showed Dannie the team roster and made her play Smash or Pass with your teammates.”
I blink. “I hope you told her which ones are married before she got too enthusiastic.”
“She was very respectful,” Jessica says, licking batter off her thumb. “We didn’t include you or Jace.”
“Oh?” I raise a brow.
“Besides, Dannie picked Matt and Zed,” she says breezily.
My eyes narrow. “Matt and Zed? ”
She looks at me over her shoulder. “And I told her to stay away from your goalie.”
“Territorial over him?” I tilt my head.
She laughs. “I’m protective over Dannie. She might look tough, but I don’t think she’d survive Zed.”
I step around the island and glance at the tray she’s pulling from the oven. The smell is sweet — some kind of chocolate situation. “What is that?” I ask.
“Cookies,”
“…For?”
“You. Your team. So you can bring them to practice or where every you hang out.”
My chest does something I don’t like.
She sets the tray down and grabs a glass container off the counter. It’s already full. She holds it up so I can read the label in bold Sharpie: ADDAMS.
“This batch is for Addams only,” she says seriously. “I used lactose-free milk for him. I heard someone mention he’s intolerant.”
I stare at her, not believing what I’m seeing. She goes back to the tray, humming softly.
This woman, who wasn’t even supposed to be here, is now in her pajamas in my kitchen at midnight, making cookies for my team, labeling them with Sharpie, adjusting recipes based on who might shit their pants.
But the truth is, she cares about the people I care about.
I might be done for.
She hums again, reaching for the cooling rack. Her back is to me, ponytail swinging, fingers adjusting each cookie. I slide in behind her until there’s barely an inch of air between us, my body looming. I lean down slowly enough for my breath to skim her neck.
“So considerate,” I murmur.
She freezes for a second, then nods. Her hair brushes my chest when she shifts.
“Were you thinking about him when you bought the ingredients?” I ask.
She scoffs, trying to shove me away with an elbow, but I see the smile on her face.
I could stand here and just watch: watch her fuss over dough and chocolate chips and glass containers labeled in Sharpie. Let her do this for hours while I sit and take it in as though it’s the most entertaining thing in the world. It would be enough .
But there’s another part of me that wants to take. Wants to devour.
I lean in until my mouth hovers by her ear. I glance at the mess, then down at her legs, her ass, the ridiculous little pajama shorts she’s wearing.
“And you made a mess while I was gone,” I say, voice low.
“It’s a kitchen. That’s what happens when people cook.” Her voice is softer now, not matching her sass.
I press my hips into her, just enough for her to feel my hardening cock. My hands find her waist, fingers slipping under the hem of her shirt, palms hot against her skin.
“And what happens when they don’t clean up as they go?” I murmur.
“You gonna punish me for making cookies, Captain?”
I smile against her skin, already picturing it. “I just might,” I whisper, dragging my teeth along her jaw.
I grip her waist and turn her to face me. She’s got my blood running hot over a goddamn tray of cookies.
“Aren’t you gonna let me try one at least? ”
Her eyes sparkle. Then she reaches behind and grabs the whipped cream can. “Say ah.” She gives it a little shake with a devil’s grin.
She sprays a dollop straight onto my lips, hitting the corner of my mouth. “Oops,” she says sweetly.
I smile slowly, licking a bit off with the tip of my tongue. “Sorry, I don’t know how that happened.” She innocently, biting back a laugh. “Let me help you.”
She steps forward and my body tenses, cock jumping. She’s never been this bold before. I don’t know how much wine she’s had, but judging by her glistening eyes, it’s just enough.
She leans in, sticks her tongue out, and props a hand on my chest as she rises on her tiptoes. I have a second to brace before her soft, slippery tongue brushes the edge of my mouth.
Fuck me.
Her lips barely graze mine chasing the whipped cream, and the second I feel them, I’m done for.
I grab the back of her neck and press my mouth to hers; the kiss tastes like cream and sugar. Her gasp disappears against my lips. I take the can from her, fingers sliding up into her ponytail until I reach the base of her skull, then give it one sharp tug.
“Dom,” she gasps, neck arching, mouth parted in shock.
I click the whipped cream and spray a slow, cold swirl across the slope of her throat.
Her whole body shudders. Cream slides down her skin, and I lower my head like an animal ready to drink from a pond. I lick a clean stripe from collarbone to jaw, earning a high-pitched moan. Music to my ears.
My free hand slips under her shirt and palms her breast, thumb circling her nipple as I suck the last of the cream from her neck.
“God,” she whimpers.
“You think I don’t know when you’re begging for it?”
She trembles in my grip, chest rising fast, breath catching with every flick of my tongue. The smell of sugar and chocolate is everywhere, but it’s her I’m high on.
She gave me her body. Let me touch, taste, take. And I’ll worship it — every inch, every sound she makes, every shiver I cause. I’ll make her feel so fucking good she forgets who she was before me.
But I can’t stop there. I’m a greedy bastard. Always have been. Now that I have her body, I want the rest. Every brilliant part of her. I’m ready to crack myself open and give her anything she asks for in return.