Page 57 of The Trade

Before I completely collapse onto his chest, I lift my hips and slide him out of me, rolling onto my back. We’re both breathing heavily now—panting—covered in a thin sheen of sweat from head to toe. The curls on my nape are damp from exertion, and my heart is out of control.

“That was—” I start, but the words seem to dissipate in the air, my brain still drenched in the hazy aftermath.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice a ragged whisper, echoing my thoughts exactly. “It was.”

“I’m gonna go clean up.” By some miracle, I summon the energy to slip out of bed, tugging a loose T-shirt over my head. The walk to the bathroom is a shaky one, though, my legs wobbling beneath me like a newborn baby deer’s.

Not to mention there’s a dull aching sensation that throbs between my thighs, but I savor the way it feels.

By the time I stumble back toward my bed, West has already slipped his boxers on. He’s leaning against the headrest, one arm perched around his neck, scrolling through his phone. And when he notices me approach, his dark, caramel eyes lift to meet mine. There’s a warm glow in them, mirroring the one in my chest.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he says, his gaze tracing over my silhouette with a hint of lingering heat. “What would you like to eat?”

“Pizza?”

“Pizza, it is,” he says, his tone suggesting it was never up for debate. “What toppings do you want?”

“Oh, uh—” I hesitate, unsure of how to respond. “Get whatever you like.”

“No, what doyoulike?”

“Okay, you asked for it.” Sighing in feigned exasperation, I roll my eyes at him. “I like pineapple and jalapeño.”

A brow arches on his forehead, a bemused expression sweeping across his features. “That’s ... devastating.”

“So dramatic.”

“I’ll just order Hawaiian with jalapeño on one side,” he says, his face softening into a teasing smile. “Sound good?”

“Yep.”

As he dials in our order, I climb back into the bed, nestling against his side. The warm scent of him wraps around me as he drapes an arm over my shoulder, pulling me close against his chest. When he ends the call, he leans over to press a soft kiss onto my hair.

“You still owe me a real date,” he reminds me, his voice a low murmur against the top of my head.

“You’re just mad that I hit more balls than you.”

“We weren’t even there for half an hour.” His chuckle is soft as his fingers dance along the curve of my shoulder. “But you’re right. Where’d you learn to swing like that?”

“Ace taught me,” I say proudly.

His brows knit together, eyes clouded with confusion. “Ace?”

“Oh, sorry, that’s Mica’s nickname. He calls me Lili, and I call him Ace,” I explain, warmth filling me as I mention my brother. “It’s short for his middle name, too.”

“You guys are pretty close, huh?”

“Yeah, he’s actually coming to stay with me next weekend.”

“That’s awesome.”

“Yeah.” I hesitate, biting my lip as I consider my next words. “Maybe you could come meet him? You know, if you’re gonna be around.”

“Are you sure?” His voice is laced with surprise, but the spark in his eyes betrays his interest.

“I mean, you guys have a lot in common,” I say, hoping to put him at ease. “Plus, I thought it might be cool for you.”

“That’d be really fucking cool for me,” he says, his face splitting into a grin. “I’d get to meet an NFL player, but more importantly, a member of your family.”

---