Page 72 of The Midseason Fakeout

“You came, too, didn’t you?”

“Why would you think I wouldn’t?”

“Because I don’t know what I’m doing.”

I cup her cheek. “Angel, you definitely know what you’re doing because it’s me. We’re in sync and so are our bodies.”

She drops her head to my chest, and I hold her until our breaths even out. Until the moment is over, but not gone. It’ll never be gone.

It sounds so damn cheesy, but I’m going to treasure this. That someone trusted me enough to take care of them in such a vulnerable moment, I have to be doing something right.

“Next time we do this, I want you on top.”

I chuckle. “That’s what you’re thinking about?” Here I am waxing poetic, and she just wants more of my dick.

Nodding, she says, “I want to see your moves.”

I roll her over, and she squeals while I kiss her collarbone. Shifting up, I hold the top of the condom while I pull out.

Traces of blood redden the rubber. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

“Nope. Not at all.”

I frown. “We might have to take it easy. You bled a little.”

“Really?” She peers down her body, shrugging.

I walk to the bathroom to throw away the condom, but I also grab a washcloth and wet it down.

She’s sitting on the edge of the bed, but I ease her back down. “Hold on. Spread those legs, Angel.”

She smiles, leaning onto her elbows. I wipe her up, making sure the traces of blood are all gone. “Let me know if you need pain reliever or anything.”

It hits me then that I’ve never taken care of my partner like this before. This is a first.

“You really are a gentleman, aren’t you?”

Only for her. “I try.”

“Well, you’re doing a damn good job.”

Bailey reaches for her clothes, but I refuse to let her get dressed. Instead, I pull her onto the bed with me, and we spend the rest of the night watching a movie.

It’s the best end to a great game day.

20

BAILEY

I waketo soft kisses across my shoulders, the featherlight touches giving me goose bumps. A moan of content escapes my lips that surprises me.

Turning, I find Aidan kneeling on the bed next to me. His eyes roam over my body in a slow perusal.

“What time is it?” I ask.

“Not too late.”

I stretch, feeling the ache in my limbs and between my legs. It’s a good kind of sore. “You turn into a furnace in the middle of the night,” I chastise.

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