Page 160 of Make the Play

The ride home is mostly him touching me.

His hand never leaves my thigh, his palm dragging slow, teasing circles over it while I struggle to keep my breathing even. His voice is low and lazy, all smoke and sex and satisfaction.

“You know what I’m gonna do when we get in that door?” he murmurs, thumb skating just under the hem of his jersey still draped over my thighs. I haven’t bothered to put my pants back on.

I glance at him. He’s got one hand on the wheel and the other up my leg, because he’s feral and clearly can’t help himself.

“Not give me water like a decent human being?”

He smirks. “I’m gonna bend you over the kitchen island and make you scream. Gonna eat you with your legs shaking while I hold you down by the throat and remind you who this pussy belongs to.”

“Wow. Romantic.”

He leans closer at a stoplight, pressing his mouth to my jaw. “You love it.”

I hum. “I do, but you’re a menace.”

He slides his hand higher, fingers skating right up the inside of my thigh. “You wore my jersey with no panties. Don’t act like I’m the problem here.”

I bite back a smile. “You’re not the problem. You’re just…” I glance at him. “So fucking horny right now it’s honestly a little concerning.”

He grins, eyes still on the road. “I don’t hear you complaining.”

“I mean, no. But do you have to act like you’re going to come every time I breathe?”

His hand moves again, this time higher. “Yes.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re mine, sweetheart,” he retorts.

I shake my head, laughing as I push his hand away—mostly just to feel smug about how easily he groans in protest. “We better be exclusive if you’re gonna talk like that.”

“We are.”

“And I’m on the pill.”

His eyes flick to me as we stop at another red. “You telling me I don’t have to wrap up?”

I tilt my head. “I’m telling you we’re good, but not invincible. So if you knock me up, I’m coming at you with a fork.”

He groans. “Fuck. I’d give you twins right now if you ask me nicely.”

“Fuck off.”

“Fine, but you don’t know what you’ve just said, baby.”

I roll my eyes but don’t answer because I know he means it. The post-game testosterone is high, and I plan to take full advantage.

When we reach the condo, I haphazardly slide back into my pants in the SUV. We giggle as we pass through the lobby and wave sheepishly to Nate before scuttling into the elevator. Once we’re inside the condo, Chase doesn’t even turn on the lights.

The door barely clicks shut before he’s backing me into it, sliding his hands under my thighs to lift me. I wrap around him instinctively as he fumbles with his pants, and then he’s pressing inside me in one thrust—no preamble, no patience. Just raw and consuming and completely fucking feral.

“I’m gonna fuck you in this jersey every night this week,” he grits, hips slamming into me. “I’m gonna fill you up and watch you drip in it. My cum, my name, all over you.”

I can’t even speak, all I can do is gasp and dig my nails into his shoulders like they’re the only anchor I have left.

What follows is a blur. A fever dream of skin and sweat and noise and teeth. I don’t know how many times it happens. I just know the lights stay off, the jersey stays on, and he doesn’t stop touching me. His mouth on my shoulder, his breath on my neck, his hands on my hips like he’s trying to brand himself onto my skin.

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