I stand, reaching behind my head and yanking off my long-sleeved t-shirt in one fluid motion. It’s a team shirt with my name scrawled across the back, my number on both sides, and the Mayhem’s logo front and center.
This is what I wore for the trip out here. A simple pair of sweatpants and some merch gear, casual and comfortable because I knew I’d need to rest up on the ride. Now, I’m glad I dressed this way, and took that nap on the train because I’m going to need every ounce of stamina tonight and she can wear this.
I hold the shirt out to her, meeting her wide-eyed gaze. “Put this on if you want something to wear.”
She blinks up at me, a flicker of hesitation in her eyes, but then she steps forward and takes it from my hand.
“You want me to wear your shirt?”
“Yeah,” I nod. “That and nothing else underneath.”
“Nothing?” she squeaks out.
“Nothing, Rosie.”
She clears her throat and nods. “Okay.” Then does as she’s told, pulling off her shirt to reveal a thin, black, silk bra and soft breasts.
My eyes track her every movement, and when she slips my shirt over her head, I already miss seeing her skin. Then her hands disappear under the hem of the shirt, unclasping the bra and tossing it aside, hidden from my view.
Next, she unbuttons, unzips and shimmies out of her jeans.
I can’t see much—my shirt is so oversized on her small frame it falls nearly to her knees like a dress—but damn, I’m enjoying the view of her undressing for me.
The moonlight streams in through the window, bouncing off the lake and catching on her bare legs, messy hair, and that sharp little chin of hers. Rosie looks like something out of a dream I once had before I knew what beauty really was, and all I can do is sit here and watch, wondering how I’m the lucky guy who married her.
When she finishes, she stands in front of me, legs peeking out from underneath my shirt, looking shy as she tucks a lock of her dark blonde hair behind her ear.
“You know, I looked up photos of Anastasia before we did that interview together,” she says softly. “I wanted to see how she dressed.”
“Why the hell would you do that?” I snap.
She bites down on her bottom lip. “Because my dad told me not to wear that sweatshirt I wore to your first game. He said I needed to look more like someone you’d actually marry.”
Her words hit me like a slap.
I’m not sure what pisses me off more: the fact that she listened to her dad’s bullshit advice, that she bothered to compare herself to my ex-fiancée—a woman I willingly broke up with—or that she followed through with it instead of asking me whatIliked.
Suddenly, it makes sense why she hasn’t worn my gear since that first game, the one where I spotted her in the crowd with my name across her back. And why she’s shown up to every game in dresses and heels instead of the jersey of the man she married.
It never really bothered me that Anastasia didn’t wear my jersey. If I’m being frank, I’ve never thought about it until now. Shemissed most of my games due to events around the city or her travel schedule. But now I’m wondering if it was because she never felt like mine the way Rosie does. Or maybe I never let myself care, because somewhere deep down, I knew it was never going to last.
Leaning forward, I grip the hem of my shirt on her and tug so that I have her attention. “From now on, you wearmyclothes to my games. Nothing you bought online. Not some knockoff shit. Don’t get a shirt from the stadium gift store. My stuff, straight out of my closet. Go into my room, even if I’m not home, and take whatever you want before my game. Do you understand?”
She swallows and nods. “Okay,” she whispers.
I sit back in my seat, spreading my legs wide and taking in her beauty. My voice dips lower.
“Good girl. Now walk over to the doorway and crawl to me.”
Her brows knit together. “Crawl?”
I smile lazily, “Yes. Crawl.”
My gaze locks on her as her eyes flick over my bare chest, the contracting of my abs and my exposed torso.
I know exactly what she’s seeing—the way my sweatpants aren’t hiding my arousal, the thick, hard line of my cock already stirring beneath them, ready for her skin to be back on mine.
Every nerve in my body is on edge like we’ve been waiting for this moment for months.
