“And my personal favorite, a support group for men with performance anxiety.” She’s grinning like the cat that got the cream. “The newsletters are daily.”
“You’re evil.”
“I prefer ‘proportionately responsive.’” But she’s laughing now, too. “Come on, you have to admit it’s a little funny.”
“It’s fucking hilarious.” I roll over, covering her body with mine.
She squeaks but doesn’t move or wiggle away. We’re face to face now, smiling at each other like idiots. The moment is significant, but I can’t quite articulate why.
Maybe it’s the easy intimacy. The laughter mixed with the lingering heat between us, the way she’s looking at me like I’m more than just a hookup. It’s everything I didn’t know I wanted and everything I convinced myself wasn’t worth hoping for.
“Your vindictiveness is quite the turn-on.”
She smiles, no doubt noticing just how turned on I am.
“Good to know.” She rolls her hips, brushing against my hard length. “And here I thought you’d be grumpy after I apparently stole all the covers.”
I can’t help but smile. “Easy fix. I’ll just buy you a second comforter like the Scandinavians do.”
She giggles, the sound light and airy, and snakes her arms around my neck. “You plan on spending more time in my bed, Cameron Davies?”
“I told you we weren’t done,” I remind her. “Did you think I just meant last night?”
The corners of her lips quirk up and her eyes flash as she wraps her legs around my torso. “Adding sex to the mix is a bad idea.”
I rock against her, and as her warmth seeps into me, I groan. “Possibly.”
“Definitely.”
“We’re going to do it, anyway, though.”
“Yeah. We are.”
God help us both.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
cameron
I checkmy phone for what has to be the fiftieth time as I step into the practice facility, looking for a text from Kennedy, only to once again find a blank screen.
Maybe she’s still sleeping, I remind myself.
She was out late handling two wedding cake drop-offs and a Bat Mitzvah dessert table. It’s why she didn’t make it to our game yesterday, although she did text me throughout the night with unhinged yet hilarious real-time thoughts.
Marcus, our goalie coach, is already in the corridor when I walk in, coffee in hand and looking far too happy.
“Morning, Cam. Sleep well?” His tone is knowing, and that immediately makes me suspicious.
“Fine.”
“Yeah?” He takes a sip of what’s probably his third coffee of the morning, studying me over the rim.
The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. “Why are you being weird?”
“Just gauging how pissed you’re going to be when you get to the locker room.” He shrugs. “You’ve been in a better mood the past few weeks, though.”
Yeah, I’m in a “better mood” because I’ve been having earth-shattering sex, my ex is only popping up in the locker room every other day instead of twice a day, and my friends don’t look at me like I’m a volcano waiting to erupt.
