Her features soften, and she looks at her fingers on the guitar before pausing. Against my better judgment, I lean forward, trying not to have my chest flush against her back as I reach my hand over hers.
“Like this,” I say quietly, and she nods, letting my hand guide hers.
“Relax your hand a little bit, Kincaid.” I can feel her body tense up the further along we get.
She peers up at me through dark lashes, two bright blue pools staring back at me as her fingers rest on the strings under my hand.
“Better?” she whispers, sending a shiver up and down my spine.
“Perfect.” I manage to get out on a shaky breath.
She smiles and then removes her hand from the strings, taking the guitar and placing it carefully on the bed beside us.
I’ve got about 3 percent of my willpower left as she stares and turns to face me. Her chest is rising and falling almost in rhythm with mine.
You can’t fucking kiss her again.
The words ring in my ears and I’m hanging by a thread to stay focused on them. I should be getting up and ushering us outof my bedroom and getting her on her way. But if I stand up right now, the fact that I’m so fucking turned on will be too obvious.
She stands from the bed and turns, stopping when she’s just in front of my legs. Her eyes roam from my thighs and up my chest until she finally meets my gaze again and I see it written all over her face. If I kiss her, she’ll welcome it.
Instead of waiting for me to do anything, she comes closer, letting her leg hit the bed, causing me to lean back slightly. She bends to bring us face to face and rests her hand on the side of my cheek as she leans forward. My heart feels like it fucking stops the second she breathes on my neck.
“Thank you for the lesson,” she whispers. Her thumb lightly feathers my jaw as she pulls away and leaves my bedroom.
And I’m left just trying to wrap my head around how the woman who has done nothing but rile me up as long as I’ve known her, is now the same one to make me completely weak for her.
The Knights have the eight o’clock game this evening, and while I wish I could be there in person, I’ve got the next best thing. CeCe snuggled under my arm, popcorn to my left on the end table and the sounds of Sunday night football coming from the television.
After she got changed into her pajamas, she suggested we both have matching braids before bed and I couldn’t say no to that. And while I’m not the best at braiding my own hair, hers looks photo worthy.
“Look at those shoes,” I say, giggling with CeCe.
One of the players is shown on the screen with a pair of bright orange cleats. I know there are many reasons why the players will sometimes wear special cleats, and the ones this guy has on are definitely eye-catching. Bright orange with white stripes, similar to a tiger and bright yellow splatters of color all over them.
“I like them,” CeCe declares, taking a sip from her juice.
“Me too.” My words are jumbled through my mouthful of popcorn.
The kickoff begins and in typical fashion, they do close ups of a lot of the players. We see Liam right away on the sidelines as the other team won the coin toss so our defense is on the field first. Liam’s chiseled jawline stands out and his stoic game face is such a difference from his off the field persona. He’s the definition of being on stage and doing his job for sixty minutes every week.
Along the bottom of the screen we see the player introductions coming up. CeCe shouts when Chase shows up, declaring the college he went to while his picture sits in the bottom right corner.
“Go, Daddy!” I yell, mimicking her excitement.
If only she knew that my excitement wasn’t solely for her benefit because I do actually love watching Chase play. I have ever since high school. He was good back then, better in college, but he’s downright unstoppable in the NFL.
“Why isn’t he smiling?” CeCe asks when she notices his blank expression.
“All the good smiles are for you,” I say, squeezing her a little tighter.
She giggles at the contact and we continue to watch the first quarter of the game before I glance down and see her eyelids closed, still holding an empty juice box in her hand and head leaning heavily against my shoulder.
“Come on,” I whisper, pulling her up into my arms the best I can.
Chase makes this look so effortless when he picks her up and carries her into her bed, and I’m over here trying to maneuver it without tripping over my own feet.
When I get her into her bed, she’s awake, but sleepy. I’m certain the moment I leave her room she’ll be passed out again.
