“Okay, and how about the jersey with your name and number on it?”
“You need something to wear to the homecoming game.”
“Uh-huh, and how about the?—”
“Did you know some punk little shit won’t leave Laurel alone?”
“What? Since when?”
“I don’t know when it started—at least a few weeks. All I know is I’m putting a stop to it real damn quick.” His words, though spoken softly, were firm, his resolve seeping into each syllable.
So…this was what contentment felt like.
I loved this little life Laurel and I had built. But there was no denying it got lonely. Would be even lonelier once she went off to college and I was by myself. I knew that was still two years away, and if my past was anything to go by, we wouldn’t even be here when that time rolled around.
Still, a glimpse of my future flashed before my eyes—Laurel coming home from college to see me. But that home wasn’t the cottage or some vague residence in some unknown town. It wasthishouse. And it wasn’t just me she was visiting. It was Atlas and the kitten of terror too.
That thought should have scared me more than it did. Should have sent me running. But I was too exhausted, my meds forcing me to suffer through what I referred to as a migraine hangover.
“How’s your head?” Atlas murmured against my temple, tucking his legs beneath mine.
“Just a dull throb now. It should be gone in the morning.”
He hummed and palmed my stomach, sliding his hand down until he tucked the tips of his fingers into my panties. “Maybe I can help you with that and get you back to sleep.”
“And how do you plan to do that?”
“I heard orgasms relieve headaches.”
“Oh, you heard that, huh?”
“I may have done a little research today.”
“You have a lot of players who are migraine sufferers?”
“Something like that.”
I breathed out a laugh. “While I very much appreciate the offer, being on the receiving end of one of your ground-shaking fucks is a surefire way to throw me right back into Migraineville.”
“I wasn’t talking about fucking you. Jesus, trouble, how selfish do you think I am?”
I lifted a single shoulder in a shrug. “You did say you didn’t want to go a day without it.”
“I say a lot of things when I’m drunk on your pussy. I’m not going to do anything that would make this worse for you.” Lowering his voice, he grumbled, “God knows if I don’t concentrate at work tomorrow, they’ll probably fire me.”
A smile curved the corner of my lips, and I rested my hand on top of his. “Are you saying you were distracted today because of me?”
He tucked his face into my neck, scraping his teeth along the sensitive skin. “I’m saying I want to make you come slow and easy so you can get some relief.”
“What about you?”
“Don’t worry about me. It won’t be the first time this magic pussy has sent me to sleep with a hard-on. Now, are you going to let me make you come?”
“Nice and easy?” I huffed out a breath, knowing the likelihood of that was slim. I never got there nice and easy. “You can try.”
He hummed against my skin, his voice a low rumble. “What did I tell you about that? I don’t try, I just do.”
Reaching down, he gripped my knee and tugged my leg back over his, opening me wide for him. Then he ran his hand down my stomach and slipped it into my panties. The first brush of his rough fingertip against my clit made me gasp and arch against him.
