He’s so pink he looks sunburnt. That stupid smile is back on my face. I trace his jaw.
“So hot.”
His brow arches. “You’re joking.”
I shrug, hooking my pinky through the gold chain dangling from his neck. “Mmm, not joking.”
His grip loosens, but he doesn't let go. Our eyes meet. The corner of his lip lifts a fraction.
“I was at a disadvantage.”
“Were you?” I smirk.
He nods. “You’re wearing my jersey.”
“Ahhh, your kryptonite.”
His gaze softens. It's almost sad. “Yeah… you are.”
My breath catches. His head drops to the crook of my neck, nose skimming my pulse. “You’ve got me so fucked up, baby. So. Fucked. Up.”
I'm grinning through the ache in the back of my throat.
Baby.
Thirty-Eight
SEBA
Wringing out a damp towel,I return to the scene of the crime. My bed. Where Cade is sprawled, half-dozing in my jersey while the evidence of what we just did dries on his skin. My cock wakes back up at the sight of him: satiated, blissed out, sleepy.
I quickly avert my eyes. Two seconds later, I'm peeking at him again.
Humming low, he stretches like a cat and squints up at me with a smile that kicks the air out of my lungs.
“Why are you just standing there?”
I hold up the rag. “You’re a mess.”
Amusement sparkles in his eyes. “Clean me up, then.”
I level a deadpan glare at him. He gestures at the cum streaked across his chest and stomach. My insides twist.
“What, scared to touch me now?” He asks. There’s a subtle edge to his voice that wasn’t there a moment ago.
Pressing my lips together, I shake my head. “Not the problem.”
“Ok…” He drawls. “Then what?”
I stare at the pillow next to him and wave at the obvious tent in my pants.
“Ohhh.”
“Yeah.”
A chuckle. “I can help you with that.”
I roll my eyes, fighting a grin as I mutter, “Shut up,” and gently wipe him down. I’m instantly distracted, though. His skin is so smooth… and hairless… and warm…
