July 3rd
A strong jawline.
Ainsley
A single beam of sunlight shines through the space between the window trim and the curtain, hitting me square in the eyes.
I blink a few times. I’m not sure what time we finally fell asleep, but it doesn’t matter.
Damon makes me feel like I’m the sexiest thing on earth, and that is something I’ve never felt before.
I look at him happily and smile, remembering how I woke up in a panic the morning after his sister’s wedding because he was naked in my bed.
Now, I just feel happy, content, satiated.
I take a moment to study him. His arm is draped across my body, keeping me close.
His hair is mussed, probably from me running my hands through it.
Damon has really beautiful hair. It’s thick but silky soft.
Blond with natural highlights. I know his hair bleaches out with the sun, but it’s more like he has strands of different colors.
Some almost platinum, others blond, some that are a darker blond, and a few that are more of a strawberry blond.
Half of his face is buried in my pillow, and I can’t help but reach out to touch it, my fingers caressing a high cheekbone before gliding down across a strong jawline, then running across his pale pink lips.
“Mmm.” He lets out a contented sigh as one eye flutters open, revealing a beautiful brown color, flecked with gold.
If he were a Greek god, he would probably be Apollo with his golden hair—a god associated with radiant light, sun, and beauty. But then you’d have to combine that with Hermes, the god of sports and athletes, who was known for his speed and agility.
And it makes me wonder, “How come you’re not a quarterback like your dad?”
He snuggles his face against my shoulder. “Shouldn’t we be talking about last night? Which was incredible, by the way.”
“It most definitely was, but answer my question.”
Instead of using his lips to speak, he decides to kiss my neck.
Which makes me giggle and squirm.
“I love your laugh,” he says when he stops kissing me and starts tickling me.
“I love him,” I say, just going for it and grabbing his crotch because it’s pretty clear the direction this playfulness is heading.
We shower together, and then he goes out to make breakfast while I blow-dry my hair.
I hurry through it, wanting to look nice, but at the same time, I don’t want to be away from him for even a moment. In the end, I partially dry it, put on some mascara and bronzer, and throw on a bikini, pulling a flirty little dress on over it.
When I step out of my bedroom and into the living room, I stand there for a second and observe him. It’s obviously not the first breakfast he’s ever cooked, I think, as I watch him move effortlessly around the kitchen.
He’s barefoot, wearing nothing but a pair of swim trunks. But the best part is that tall, buff, and hot Damon is also sporting a floral apron.
And there’s something so sexy about it. And I’m such a bad person, but if Brad had ever put that apron on in front of me, I would have laughed him right out of the room.
It’s small on Damon, the bottom of the apron hitting like my miniskirt does—high on the thigh.
He’s such a juxtaposition. Is that the word for it?
Or maybe he’s a walking contradiction. Like when a guy says a girl is a lady in the street but a freak in the bed.
Damon is this crazy combination of sweet but fiercely protective.
He’s serious about most things, but affable and fun. Always cracking jokes.
And I love all of it. All of him.
“Too bad you have on those shorts,” I say, flipping up the hem of the apron with a smirk.
“I’m pretty sure you could wave a wand or just kiss me, and they would magically vanish. Only problem is, I’m starved.”
“Whatcha cooking?”
“Everything,” he says with a laugh. “Bacon, hash browns, chocolate chip waffles, and although it’s kinda runny and not quite up to Mimi’s standards, her caramel sauce.”
And although my stomach felt slightly queasy when I smelled the bacon cooking earlier, I’m suddenly ravenous.
Lick it off.
Damon
I spread the food out on the counter, and then we fill up our plates.
“Wanna eat outside?” she asks me. “The porch is screened, so it’s not buggy, and it’s probably not too hot yet. Plus, the view.”
“The view is pretty good right here.” I give her ass a little slap as I walk past her and open the door.
“You’re obsessed with my ass,” she says in a singsong voice, a smile plastered on her face.
“I sure am. Of course, that’s all your fault,” I tell her as we take our seats.
She rolls her eyes, then drags a piece of her waffle through some caramel sauce. Her eyes move again, this time practically rolling to the back of her head. She likes it. A lot. And now, all I can think about is her licking it off my body.
“This is like a bite of ecstasy.”
“Ecstasy, huh? I’ll be sure to tell Mimi that,” I tease.
“If she likes sweets, she will totally understand. Now, back to our original broadcast,” she says.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“When you arrived, I told you I was excited to hang out and learn more about you. So, I will ask again. You already know that my major is interior design. And while I know your goal is playing pro, are you planning on getting a degree?” she asks.
“For sure. In fact, I’ll be taking higher class loads in the spring and summer so that I can graduate in December of my junior year, before the draft.”
“That’s awesome. And what’s your major going to be?”
“Business. Finance, specifically. Ultimately, I would like to get a law degree.”
“That surprises me,” she says.
“You asked me before if I was smart,” I tease.
“I know you’re smart. Why law?”
“A couple of reasons. My dad’s agent, Carter Crawford, was a star quarterback in college.
He got hurt and couldn’t play anymore, so he got his law degree and stayed in the game that way.
If something like that ever happened to me, it would be a fun way to still be a part of the process.
And in general, I’d like to understand the intricacies of contracts.
All the legal jargon.” I laugh. “Although when Chase and I were young, we used to joke that our backup plan was to be rock stars.”
“I can see you being drawn to that. And you do have a nice voice,” she says with a smile on her face before polishing off everything on her plate.
“You must have been hungry,” I tell her. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat that much.”
“I’m starving,” she says. “And you’re a good cook.”
“Thank you.”
“Although I can think of something that would have made seeing you in the kitchen even better.”
She’s wearing a naughty grin, and I am hoping she is ready for breakfast in bed.
“What?” I ask.
“It would’ve been fun if you’d cooked with just the apron on.”
“We would not be sitting out here right now,” I say as she crosses her long legs. I stop speaking to watch.
“True.” She laughs.
And although I know being a rock star is not in my future, I feel like I could write a song about that laugh. Those legs. Her perfect curves. Long brown hair. Big green eyes. And a smile that brightens my world.
“And back to my question. Why aren’t you a quarterback like your dad?”
“Oh, that’s easy,” I start to say, but then she touches my hand and says, “Hold please,” then gets up. “I think I need one more little square of waffle. And some more milk. Do you want anything?”
“Just you,” I say. Although the second it comes out of my mouth, I realize it sounds kinda cheesy, but I don’t care. I’m crazy about this girl.
She’s back a few moments later with more food, and I watch as she slathers butter into the waffle’s indentations, then picks it up and dips it directly into a bowl of caramel before taking a big bite. “Okay, keep going.”
And I can’t even remember what I’m supposed to keep going with because she has a little drop of caramel on the corner of her lips. I stare at it.
“What?” she says self-consciously, looking down at herself. “Did I spill?”
I lean over, rub my thumb across the offending caramel, and then lick it off my finger.
“Why is you simply sucking that off your thumb so damn sexy?” she asks me.
“Probably because you’re thinking about other things I can suck on,” I say in a deep, aroused tone, motioning with my head toward the door.
“One, I have to finish eating. And two, I don’t think I can … you know, on a full belly. Isn’t sex like swimming? You should wait an hour before you get back in the water?”
That makes me laugh. “Probably. Okay then. Why I’m not a QB is because as a kid—well, still, even now—I liked to run.
Fast. So, when Chase and I played ball in the backyard, I’d want him to throw it to me so that I could run and catch it.
And I’m glad I did. I still love the freedom of running as fast as I can to get to the spot where the ball appears to just drop into my hands.
And it helps that I ended up with physical traits suited for the position—good speed and agility. Good hands and good length.”
“Good length.” She glances toward my crotch and raises an eyebrow at me as she polishes off her second helping. “That you do.”
Then she gets up, strips off her dress, tosses it at me, and saunters inside. It doesn’t matter that she still has a bikini top on.
I get the hint.
As I follow her inside, a conversation I had with Chase earlier this summer replays in my head.
“I’m a little worried, to be honest,” Chase said. “I know you really like her, and I just don’t want—”
“Me to get hurt?”
“When Dani and I were struggling at school last semester, it affected me.”
“I thought it was the guys calling you Hype that affected your relationship with her.”
“I think it goes both ways. I want you to be happy, but at the same time, I’m worried about what happens if you aren’t.”
“I can keep my personal life separate from football,” I stated, grinning at him. “Always have. Champion mindset right here.”