21. Keep the Jersey On #2
I can tell from the look on his face that he doesn’t believe me. “We don’t have to keep going. I can stop right now, and we can put on a movie or go to bed. Whatever you want, Isa.” His words are so earnest they make me want to cry, and I have no idea where the emotion comes from.
“I—no. I don’t want to stop. It’s just that…” I trail off, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Heat climbs my cheeks, but not from lust anymore. I duck my chin to avoid making eye contact.
Ryan gently grips my chin between his thumb and index finger, lifting my face up until he can meet my eyes. “What is it?”
“It’s just that… no one’s ever…” I can’t even form the words to finish my sentence.
He considers me for a moment before he seems to connect the dots. “No one’s ever gone down on you?” I offer a shy nod of confirmation. “What about your ex? Weren’t you guys together for, like, years?”
“He, um, didn’t like it. So, he n-never did it,” I stutter out.
Ryan’s eyebrow raises but I’m not sure how to interpret this one.
Is it a question? Judgement? Suddenly, his body is off mine and the cool breeze that replaces his heat is disorienting.
He heads over to his dresser where he digs around a drawer until he pulls out whatever it is he was looking for.
A T-shirt. More specifically, the same T-shirt I wore to sleep in the last time I slept over.
He walks back over to the bed, mattress dipping as he lowers himself to sit next to where I’m still sprawled out.
I rise up onto my elbows and tilt my head at him in question.
A question he seems to be able to read from my face.
“We won’t do that tonight.” He taps my shoulder blade in a silent request for me to sit up.
Once I’m upright, he carefully removes the jersey and unclasps my bra, pulling it off.
It’s in no way sexual, but it’s still so intimate.
The way he cares for me. It causes hundreds of butterflies to take flight in my stomach.
“But, so we’re clear, I will do it. Because I love to do it.
” I flush as he pulls the T-shirt over my head and slips my arms through the sleeves.
“I want you to be comfortable. And I think that for tonight, while you said yes, you won’t be completely comfortable.
And that’s okay.” His expression is so genuine it stuns me.
I try to swallow past the thickness in my throat. “Okay,” I whisper.
He places a soft kiss on my hair before he scoops me up from the bed and carries me out into the living room and drops me onto the couch.
He tosses a throw blanket at me before making his way to the kitchen, still in nothing but boxer briefs.
I take my time tracing his body with my eyes.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many muscles on a man in my life.
He’s all thick, corded lines between his back, arms, and thighs.
How did I really fight my attraction to this man for so long?
He turns around, giving me the best view of his abs and my mouth waters.
I have the urge to lick my way over every dip and curve of them which is the wildest thought to ever cross my mind because I’ve never once had that sort of desire.
It takes me a moment to realize he’s just standing there in the kitchen staring at me as I proceed to eye-fuck him.
“See something you like?” he asks with a smirk.
Busted. “Eh, it’s alright.” I shrug, biting back the smile I’m fighting.
He barks out a laugh, seeing right through my nonchalant response. “Want some ice cream?” he asks as he turns back to the cabinets, pulling down a couple of bowls.
Ice cream sounds perfect right about now to cool my overheated body. “Sure, what have you got?”
“Rocky road?”
My jaw drops. “That’s my favorite.”
Looking back at me over his shoulder, he winks. “I know.”
A few minutes later, he plops himself right next to me on the couch with two bowls full of rocky road and two spoons. I grab my bowl from his extended arm before settling back into the couch and snuggling into his side.
“Any preference on what we watch?” he asks, looking down at me, eyes full of affection.
“Nah, put on whatever.”
And that’s how we end up curled into each other on the couch, eating ice cream, and watching She’s the Man.
Do you ever have those moments when you wake up and completely forget where you are, who you’re with, and what you’re doing? Well, this is one of those moments.
When I wake up, I register a few things all at the same time.
The first is the weight around my waist, holding me tucked into a firm warmth.
Second, I’m in an extremely comfortable bed. Definitely not mine.
And the third would be the hard length currently pressed up against my backside.
My body immediately stiffens in that split second before the rest of my brain catches up with last night.
Dry humping Ryan in the stadium hallway, doing much more than that up against his apartment door, the ice cream, movie…
and that’s where the memory of the evening turns a bit foggy.
I must have fallen asleep on the couch, and he carried me into bed.
That thought has my limbs loosening as I relax back into him, but my movements seem to rouse him from sleep. He drags me even closer to his body, burying his nose into the back of my neck and inhaling deeply.
“Good morning.” His voice rumbles, rough from sleep. The tickle of his breath on my neck sends a shiver down my spine.
“Mmm,” I hum in response. I feel weightless this morning. “Good morning.” My voice comes out like a whisper, scared to disturb this peace we’ve found ourselves in.
His fingers draw circles over the exposed skin of my thigh where the shirt I’m wearing has risen. The action simultaneously heats my skin and causes me to break out into goosebumps.
“You hungry?” he asks as he drops his lips to press a gentle kiss into my neck.
I roll so I can lie flat on my back and turn my head to face him with a sly smile. “Is that supposed to be some sort of innuendo?”
He rolls his eyes but smiles as he leans in to press a kiss to my temple and lets his mouth linger by my ear. “No, you fucking pervert. I want to make you breakfast.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Do you even have things to make breakfast?”
“I’m sure I’ve got something,” he says with a shrug. “If not, I’ll run out to grab something quick.”
I take a second to watch him. He looks so relaxed, at ease. We broke so many rules last night—or, well, I guess I did—and he’s just lying here next to me like this is something we do every morning, and asking if I want breakfast.
I’m not freaking out. I swear, I’m not. There’s no panic about what could go wrong.
How things could go wrong. Okay, maybe I’m thinking about that a little.
But that’s normal, right? To think of all the outcomes of things and how to plan for those situations?
My job doesn’t allow for us to be romantically involved, and yet last night I threw my whole work contract out the window.
If we get caught, I’ll lose my job. My shot at the promised promotion flushed down the toilet.
It’s a worry that still niggles in the back of my mind.
Or what if we fizzle out? What if he realizes I’m not as perfect as the pedestal he’s put me on?
What then? I would probably crumble if I have to see him every time there’s a game after knowing what he tastes like, what he looks like almost entirely naked.
And if I lost my job? Then what? I’ll have to move in with my parents.
I’ll be a laughingstock in the industry. A failure.
But the longer I stare at him gazing back at me with something deeply intense, I can’t find it in myself to be concerned about what will happen once we leave the bubble that is his apartment. Wishing we could stay like this forever.
“Breakfast sounds great,” I finally say, shoving all my worries to the little box I created for it in the back of my mind.
“Excellent,” he says with a wide grin before leaning over enough to drop his lips to mine in the briefest of kisses. As he pulls away, my upper body follows, intending to keep my lips firmly planted.
A fact that of course he notices, letting out a soft chuckle. “Insatiable now are you, baby?”
I roll my eyes and scrunch my nose. “Don’t call me baby.”
“You didn’t seem to mind it last night,” he retorts with a smirk as he waltzes to his dresser, still only clothed in his briefs as he had been last night.
“Yeah, well my brain was a bit frazzled by lust.” I huff as I pull myself into sitting up, leaning back against the headboard. “Maybe let’s stick with firecracker, yeah?”
If it’s possible, his smile beams even brighter. “I knew you liked it!” He rounds the bed to drop a kiss to the crown of my head.
“Ew, as if.” I shove at him playfully. “But I definitely prefer it over baby.”
“Whatever you say, firecracker,” he whispers before he heads out toward the kitchen, pulling a T-shirt down over his exposed upper body, taking his time so I get to enjoy every second of his flexing muscles.
“When you’re finished with your eye fucking, come join me in the kitchen,” he calls without even looking over his shoulder.