Page 90 of Love at Second Down

What do you have in mind?

AVERY:

The girls are asleep. Meet me at our suite and text me once you’re outside. I’ll let you in and sneak you back to my room.

The air freezes in my lungs as my heart jumps into my throat. Suddenly, I no longer know how to breathe.

I close my eyes, pulling in a deep breath. I know I should say no. Going to her room the night before our big game is a bad idea. It could wreck everything and screw my focus.

But fuck if I don’t want just a little more time with her one-on-one, without my friends watching our every move. Without having to worry about them judging or eavesdropping.

We’re just going to talk, I tell myself as I throw the covers back and hop out of bed. I’ll spend an hour there, two tops, and once I have my fix, I’ll come back here and get some sleep.

I grab a pair of joggers from my suitcase and slide them on. Taking one of the room keys off the dresser, I toe on my slides by the door, and quietly leave the room, making my way toward the elevators.

The doors open with a quietwoosh, and I step inside, a tangle of nerves as I hit the button for the top floor. It doesn’t take long to reach her suite, and once I do, I pull out my phone and shoot her a text, letting her know that I’m here.

A minute later, I hear the click of the lock, and then she’s pulling the door open, standing before me like something out of my dreams. Her blonde hair falls in messy waves around her shoulders. The matching sleep top and pants I’m almost certain are real silk cling to her curves like a second skin, the pale pink fabric catching the dim light of the hallway, casting her in ethereal shadows.

She looks soft, vulnerable in a way I haven’t seen in a long time but can remember like it was yesterday, and my mouth goes dry at the sight of her.

“Hey,” she whispers, and I realize I’ve been staring.

“Hey,” I manage to choke out, my voice rougher than I intended.

The sight of her like this—relaxed, unguarded, her makeup washed away to reveal the smattering of golden freckles across her nose—has short-circuited my brain.

The silk shifts as she breathes, revealing the perfect shape of her breasts, and I clench my fists at my sides to keep from reaching for her.

“You coming in?” Her smile is small, almost shy, and she’s clearly oblivious to her effect on me.

“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Yeah.”

When I step inside, she closes the door quietly behind me. There’s the soft click of the latch, barely audible in the stillness of the suite. The common area is dimly lit, the shapes of the couches and coffee table where we played cards throughout the week visible only by the light of the moon outside the massive windows.

I fix my eyes on Avery as she moves in front of me. Her fingers brush against mine, tentative at first, then more certain as she intertwines our hands. The simple touch brings my nerve endings to life and sends my heart racing.

She tugs gently, leading me away from the living room as she lifts a finger to her lips in the silence, signaling for me to be quiet. We tiptoe past two closed doors, and I hold my breath, hyperaware of every creak in the floor beneath our feet and the frantic drumming of my pulse growing louder in my ears with every step I take.

The warmth of Avery’s hand sinks into my bones while her thumb absently strokes my skin in a way that makes it hard to focus on anything other than her as she pauses outside a door. The smallest sliver of lamplight from within cascades onto the floor in front of us as she pushes inside. Turning to me, she drops my hand before she makes her way to the bed and sits on the edge of it. The pillow behind her shifts, and she grabs it, hugging it to her chest as she motions toward the small desk in the corner, as well as the empty space on the bed beside her. “Take a seat. Wherever you’re comfortable.”

I quickly scan my surroundings, but I have tunnel vision. All I can see is the massive king-sized bed where Avery sits. She’s like my biggest temptation come to life.

I push a hand into my hair, laughing a little at myself for being nervous and getting so worked up; it’s like I’ve never been alone with a girl before.

Suddenly, I think back to the conversation I had with the boys last week in the film room. The one where I admitted I’ve never been with another girl—not since Avery, not ever—and I suddenly wonder if that was the wisest decision. I have zero expectations for this evening. When I texted her, all I wanted was to spend more time with her, albeit alone. But when the time comes for us to take things a step further, toshoweach other how we feel, what if I’m so out of practice I’m a disappointment?

I remain frozen in place, my pulse racing. Every instinct wants me to cross the room and pull her close, but the rational part ofmy brain—the part that knows tomorrow’s game depends on my focus—keeps me rooted in place.

“I should sit at the desk,” I say.

It’s the smart choice, the safe choice.

Yet despite my words, my body betrays me by taking a step toward the bed.

Avery laughs, a soft rumble from her chest as she watches me sink down onto the mattress beside her, the pillow still clutched to her chest like a shield, her features soft and angelic in the lamplight.

I reach out, needing to touch her as my fingers brush a blonde curl from her face. “Sorry about texting you so late, but I couldn’t sleep without seeing you tonight.”

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