My thoughts exactly.
“No.” I shake my head. “We can’t do that to him. I can handle it for a few more days.”
He exhales a deep sigh. “I’m worried about you.”
“I can handle it.”
“Yeah, I know, but that’s not the point. You don’t have to be tough all the time, Reese. What’s happening right now sucks. People suck. What they’re saying online...”
I force out a smile. “I promise, I’m fine.”
“Reese—”
“You’re right, Emmett. I should try to get some sleep.”
It’s a three-hour flight to Miami and though I’d rather spend my time getting some work done or doomscrolling through nasty comments online, I don’t think Emmett is going to allow me to do either.
Shifting, I angle my body toward the window and rest my head against the fuselage.
An arm lands on my leg and when I look down, I find Emmett’s arm reaching across the center console to offer me his team-issued hoodie.
“Here,” he says softly, and thankfully the engines have started and are loud enough that we can speak at a more normal volume without anyone else hearing us. “Use it as a pillow.”
“Thank you.” I take it from him, folding it up tightly. “How’d you know I was a pillow princess?”
A smile finally cracks on Emmett’s lips and it’s nice to see him a bit less concerned, even if I had to force out a mildly dirty joke to make it happen.
“Match made in heaven,” he says quietly. “I would happily do all the work.”
The skin around my eyes crinkles and it feels good to be a little lighter around him, even for a second.
Shifting, I situate his sweatshirt against the window and try to concentrate on getting a few hours of sleep. But as soon asI rest my head on it, his scent is the only thing I can focus on. It’s practically melted into the fibers of this fabric and the smell instantly takes me back to the other night.
Images of us in the mirror. The way he could hardly control his breathing as he looked at me. The way his body felt between my legs, deliciously hard.
Everything was hard. His... yeah, that was hard too. And big.
Not too much of a surprise, I suppose. The amount of big dick energy Emmett exudes, I half expected it to be dragging on the floor. It doesn’t, thank God, but he’s definitely...blessedin that department.
I close my eyes and attempt to concentrate on anything other than how utterly fucked I am when it comes to the man sitting next to me.
Using one hand to prop his sweatshirt up, I place my other on the center console between us, fingers hooked over the edge of the mutual armrest. My arm is draped there for no more than a few seconds when I feel Emmett’s arm join me.
Firm pressure from elbow to wrist, his skin on mine.
Then he reminds me that I’m completely done for when his pinky finger reaches out and grazes my own.
It’s the smallest of touches, completely discreet if anyone were to look over here right now, but the back-and-forth slide of his finger against mine, reminding me that he’s here, is all the comfort I need to finally fall asleep.
We sat Milo for the last couple of games, letting him get acquainted with his new team and how we run our system. I also had a delusional hope that allowing two games to pass would give us some time for the noise to settle down. That it might take some of the pressure off this poor kid’s shoulders.
Unfortunately, it hasn’t.
All this extended time has done is make people even more curious about the new guy on the team.
Will he be able to fill the role that was left by Harrison? I sure hope so.
Is he even ready for this? Again, let’s hope.
