“And you should have doubled up on protection with one more condom, then maybe we wouldn’t have been in this situation.”
“If I’d doubled up, I’d have felt absolutely nothing.”
She shifts her pillow under her head. “Trust me, from the way you were pounding away, you would have felt something.”
I chuckle. “Pounding, huh?”
“Please, spare me. I can’t afford to offer you another compliment. Your ego is already big enough as it is.”
“You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”
“Because it is.”
“Ego is not a bad thing, it’s confidence.” I stare into her playful eyes and realize this is exactly what I’ve been looking for with her. The same fun, teasing behavior we’ve shared before. It’s what made me attach to her that night. Sure, the dress was the main show, but the joking with her, that was icing on the cake. Girls flirt with me—throw themselves at me—wherever I go. But it’s because I’m Eli Hornsby, Agitator defender. Not simply because I’m Eli. A guy who doesn’t want to be fawned over, but likes a good laugh.
“There’s a huge difference between being confident and having an ego.”
“I can agree to that, but don’t you think it’s almost a requirement to have an ego as a professional athlete?”
She shakes her head. “No, take Holmes for instance. He is very humble and doesn’t parade around like a buffoon searching for compliments, and he’s one of the best in the league. Some might say he’s paving his way to the Hall of Fame.”
I’d be shocked if Holmes wasn’t considered for the Hall of Fame whenever he retires. He has a while until that happens, but it just goes to show how great he is.
“You think I act like a buffoon?”
She smirks. “Sometimes.”
“Yeah, well . . . you slept with me.”
That makes her laugh out loud. “That’s the best comeback you can muster?”
“Unfortunately, it is. My brain is only partially functioning at night.”
“Well”—she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear—“that would explain all the late-night hookups.”
“Haven’t had one since you,” I admit, which of course wins her undivided attention.
“You haven’t had sex since the night we were together?” she asks in such a stunned tone that I almost find it mildly insulting.
“I haven’t.”
“Seriously? Wow, I mean, I’ve hooked up with at least eight guys since then, all of them far more endowed than you.”
“Is that so?” I ask. “And when you say you’ve hooked up with eight guys, do you mean eight flag poles? Because that’s the only thing bigger than me.”
She howls out with laughter and shakes her head. “Guys are so predictable. You mention penis size once and they claim they have the biggest penis in the hemisphere.”
“What can I say, I’m not all that different from the rest, other than my obvious good looks, addicting charm, and killer skills on the ice.”
“To name a few.” She scratches the side of her nose. “We all know what you’re good at, so why don’t you tell me something you’re not good at, or something you’re insecure about?”
“If you’re looking for a flaw, you’re going to need a magnifying glass, because you won’t find one without.”
She makes a gagging noise. “If you need help, I’m more than happy to offer my opinion.”
“Oh, you think I have flaws? Please, delight me with what’s wrong on my person.”
“Are you sure? I don’t think you’ll be able to handle the truth.”
