After giving myself a shake, I walk downstairs to the kitchen and pop a pod into the coffee maker to brew a cup, then open the fridge for my creamer and wait for the mug to fill.
I’m humming, swaying back and forth to sort of stretch out my sore inner-thigh muscles—damn, I’m so sore—and then I get goose bumps, and I feel him. He hasn’t said anything, but I know he’s standing in the doorway behind me.
“How long have you had that?”
I frown over my shoulder, and my breath catches.
Yep, he’s still shirtless.
And sweaty.
And breathing hard.
His dark eyes are narrowed and pinned to my back.
“Had what?”
“My jersey.”
“Oh.” I turn as I look down at it. “This one is really old. Maybe from your first season? It’s my sleep shirt now. I have others that are more appropriate to wear in public.”
He’s walking toward me so slowly, like a cat stalking its prey.
“You’re wearing my name on your back, sweetheart.”
With a smirk, I turn to pull my mug away from the coffee maker and put my creamer in, but his arms suddenly surround me, and he’s licking up the side of my neck.
I sigh in relief, and he stills.
“What was the big sigh for?”
“You’re not running away. Or telling me to go, like you did a couple of nights ago.”
He kisses my neck once more, and I shiver in his embrace.
“No, sweetheart. I told you last night, there’s no going back from this. Only moving forward. And right now, you have my name across your back.”
“Like that, do you?” I ask as I lean back against him.
“Fuck yeah. I’m going to show you just how much I love seeing my name on you.”
Chapter Twelve
Ryker
I don’t know if I’ve ever had such an immediate, visceral reaction as I did when I walked into this room and saw my girl in my jersey and nothing else, her hair wet, smelling like shampoo andWillow. It was like a punch to the fucking gut and the hottest aphrodisiac, all rolled into one.
“You’ve seen me in your jersey plenty of times,” she reminds me, her voice breathy as she pushes back against me and reaches up to cup my cheek when I kiss her neck.
“It’s been a while.” My hands glide up under the jersey, but I don’t pull it off her.
No, I’m going to fuck her while she has it on.
I cup her breasts and pluck at her nipples, making her gasp, and then I plant my lips near her ear.
“You’re going to lean forward and grab onto the countertop for me. Right now, baby.”
Without needing to be told twice, Willow steps back from the edge of the countertop, leans forward, and braces herself on her hands, and that little move has the jersey pulling up, offering me a spectacular view of her round ass.
