His bare chest rose and fell against my back, his arm slung lazily around my waist. I didn’t think I’d ever get sick of the warmth of his body curled around mine, holding me there. His breath stirred the back of my neck, and when I shifted slightly, I felt the soft press of his mouth against my shoulder. His hand drifted lower, skimming my inner thigh, fingertips tracing sensitive skin that sent sparks dancing through my hips.
“Jordan?” I murmured, eyes still closed.
“Mhm?” His voice was rough and laden with sleep.
“You’re making me wet and I haven’t even opened my eyes yet,” I said, teasing.
His laugh rumbled warmly against my neck. “I’ll add that to my list of talents.”
“Well,” I breathed, smiling into the pillow, “last night was…aggressive.”
He huffed a laugh against my skin. “You loved it.”
“You ripped my dress,” I said, exasperated.
“I’ll buy you a new one.” He laughed.
He had a later start this morning, which was a relief considering I’d been getting up at 6:00 a.m. on my bloody week off for a man I’d only just met. What in the crimes against feminism was that about? I turned toward him, and there he was, eyes soft, hair a glorious, unruly mess, that lazy grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. God help me.
“You’re smiling,” I said, stretching like a cat beneath the sheets.
He brushed a thumb along my jaw. “You’re here. What’s not to smile about?”
He had no idea what he was doing to me. I felt a pang in my ribs, somewhere just behind my heart. He pulled me into a kiss that was slow, drawn-out, and familiar now in a way that felt far too dangerous. Then I shoved his shoulder lightly. “Go make coffee before I change my mind about liking you.”
He groaned as he rolled out of bed, dramatically muttering something about slave labour, and left me cocooned in the sheets like that stupid grin hadn’t just undone me.
A few minutes later, I padded out to the kitchen wearing nothing but his T-shirt. It drowned me, skimming the tops of my thighs, and I liked the way his eyes flicked up and down my entire body when I wandered in.
“You’re dangerously cute right now,” he muttered, handing me my mug.
“Oh, then my plan is working,” I said, taking a long sip. “Wimbledon final tomorrow, and I’m still keeping you coming back for more.”
He chuckled, leaning back against the counter, bare chest on display like he hadn’t a clue what he was doing to me. The urge I had to run my tongue down his abs was borderline criminal. We stood side by side, elbows brushing, the morning light catching the gold in his skin.
“I’m proud of you, you know,” I said after a moment, nudging his elbow. “Which is mad, considering I only met you five days ago.” I added, shaking my head with a smile.
He glanced sideways at me, his grin turning gentle. “I couldn’t stopthinking about you yesterday. Even out there. Between points. Every time I looked up, I only saw you.”
My throat tightened. This was overwhelming. Not because I didn’t feel the same, but because of how fast it was hurtling toward me. I could feel myself being pulled under, fast, and it scared me a little. It scared me how much I wanted it. I looked away, blinked it back, intending to deflect. Because that’s what I did.
Before I could say anything else, his phone buzzed on the counter. I could see the FaceTime call lit up withMum. Without hesitation, he answered.
“Mum,” he said, his voice lighting up instantly. “Hey.”
And just like that, I watched him become someone’s son.
His shoulders dropped. His tone softened. He leaned against the counter like he was eighteen again, not a grown man about to play the biggest match of his life. Her voice came through bright and warm, teasing him, checking in, promising to watch the final no matter the hour back home.
And I just…watched.
I didn’t say a word. Just sat there in his T-shirt, hands wrapped around my mug, with this quiet flurry in my chest. Because of course, he was like this. Of course he loved openly, easily. You could hear it in her voice: pride, affection, a calm certainty that had nothing to do with tennis. Just who he was.
And then I heard it.
“So, who’s this girl I’ve seen in the papers then, Jord? Mystery blonde in the stands?”
It felt like my heart stopped, the colour draining from my cheeks.
