Page 71 of Playing for Keeps
When we get back to my place, I hold her close in the elevator like I have before, though she’s calmer tonight. Probably the vodka taking the edge off. As I unlock the front door, I glanceover to see her already slipping off her heels and picking them up with a sigh.
“God, that’s better. My feet are killing me.” She drops them in the entryway and pads barefoot across the apartment toward the kitchen. “Mind if I grab a water?” she asks, tossing a look over her shoulder.
“Help yourself,” I say, my eyes grazing over her exposed back.
“I’m wide awake now,” she says, cracking open a bottle and taking a long sip. “Wanna watch a movie?”
I smile, hoping that means she’s not ready for the night to end either. “Sure. I’ll go and change.”
“Me too,” she says, leaving her bottle on the counter.
We head toward the bedrooms together, and just before she disappears into hers, I reach out and lightly touch her arm.
“Wait a sec. I’ve got something for you.”
Her brows lift in surprise as I open the door to my room and wave her in. “Something else?” she asks curiously.
I nod and duck into the walk-in closet. After rummaging through a drawer, I pull out one of my jerseys and return to her.
“One of my game jerseys, just like you asked.”
Her face lights up as she takes it from me, unfolding it with a grin.
“I thought you forgot.”
“Ha! As if I could. You’ve only reminded me like ten times.”
She laughs, then steps closer and rises onto her toes to kiss my cheek. “Thank you. For this and everything.” Her fingers brush the diamond at her throat, and my eyes follow the motion. “Today was perfect.”
“Good. You deserve it.”
“I really have had the best time,” she whispers, holding my gaze. After a moment, she starts backing toward the door. “I’ll go get changed.”
I nod, watching her until she turns and closes the door behind her. The second she’s gone, I groan and fall face-first onto the bed. I had every excuse to touch her tonight, to keep her close. But now we’re back here, there’s no crowd, no more pretending and no more touching.
I’m going to have to sit on my damn hands.
I’m already stretched out on the living room sofa when she appears beside me, and the second I glance her way, my mouth goes dry. She’s wearing the jersey I just gave her, and nothing else from what I can tell. It hits her mid-thigh, the oversized fabric skimming over her curves. My gaze flicks from the bold number on her chest down to her long, toned legs, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.
I’ve never seen my number on anyone who mattered, at least, not like this. Ash wears it, but she’s family. It’s not the same. But Ivy? My feelings for her are becoming something I don’t fully understand, but I feel it in my chest every time she’s within arm’s reach. And right now, with her standing in my jersey like that, it’s taking everything I’ve got not to pull her into my arms.
She lifts her arms and spins in a slow circle, and my heart slams against my ribs when I catch sight of my name stretched across her back. Seeing my name and number on her feels like too much, but in the best possible way. She flashes a grin, completely unaware of the effect she’s having on me.
“Thought I’d see if Ash was right about it being the comfiest shirt ever,” she teases.
“And?” I manage.
She nods, eyes twinkling. “Definitely. I think this just became my new favorite,” she says with a wink. “Might even need two. One to wear, one for laundry day.”
I take a steadying breath. “You’re trouble,” I say, reaching for her hand and tugging her down beside me. “Now, park that cute ass right here so we can pick a movie.”
I need her sitting down and out of view before I lose all control and find out exactly how good that jersey looks crumpled on my bedroom floor.
She looks a little surprised when I tug her down beside me. Maybe it was the “cute ass” comment, or maybe just the closeness. Either way, I can feel her eyes on me, but I don’t dare meet her gaze. If I do, I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep a lid on the mess of feelings storming through me.
“What do you want to watch?” I ask, trying to keep my voice even and ignore the electricity crackling between us.
“I don’t mind,” she says. “You pick.”
