Still, none of that’s what I’m thinking about when I check my phone after the final buzzer and see a text notification.
Havoc:Good game?
My mouth twitches, and I stare at the message, thumb hovering over the screen. I don’t respond right away, not because I don’t want to, but because I do. Don’t want to seem too eager.
The locker room is loud with post-game chirps and music, the hiss of showers and the thud of gear being stripped off and shoved into stalls. I lean back against the wall, just far enough from the mayhem to feel the edge of silence creeping in
Me: Yeah. Didn’t play, obviously. But was on the bench watching
Havoc: Contributing your moral presence?
Me: Contributing by looking hot in warmup gear.
Havoc: You think you’re hot?
Me: I think you thought I was hot last week when you told me to fuck you harder.
That earns me a full minute of silence, but I wait it out.
Havoc: I had a rough day.
Her words knock something loose in my chest because her sharing even an inkling of her day is something she wouldn’t usually do. It’s barely anything, but it’s a crack in the wall all the same.
Me: You home?
There’s another minute of waiting.
Havoc:Yeah.
Me: Want company?
The three dots appear, disappear, reappear. But when her message finally pings, it has me standing to my feet abruptly.
Havoc: Door code is 0923.
***
I don’t get two steps inside her place before she’s backing me against the door and kissing me hard, and I kiss her right back. Her fingers fist my hoodie, dragging my face down roughly. My hands find her hips, then slide lower, anchoring her flush against me as she bites at my bottom lip. She’s in leggings and some sort of crop top, an olive green cardigan hanging loose. The tiny scrap of skin I see across her stomach is driving me wild.
“Hard day?” I rasp.
She hums. “Fix it.”
“Fucking gladly.”
I grip her thighs and lift, letting her wrap around me as I carry her to her bedroom, where I drop her gently on the bed. She’s already stripping off her cardigan and top, and tugging down her leggings. I yank my hoodie off, then my T-shirt, and crawl over her naked body like I’m starving and she’s the only thing I want to eat.
Because she is.
“You want my mouth?”
She nods once, chest rising and falling.
“Tell me, Havoc.”
Her throat works. “I want your mouth on me.”
I tilt my head, studying her. “Where?”
