She could handle this—and Jared—all on her own.
…
Jared snuck into the hotel suite, his footsteps light as he shut the door with a quiet click. The room was dark, save for the dim light directly overhead, and he hit the switch, shrouding the area in complete darkness.
He moved through the room, the scent of her lingering in the air. Fresh, floral, uniquely Sheridan. Just knowing she was near eased his weary bones, his tired head. His shoulder ached like a bitch, even after the PT and the cortisone shot. He’d grown tired of everyone hovering, trying to fix him.
Broken. That’s what he was. At least, he felt like it that night. A broken-down, old man who was now regularly replaced by his second string QB. He was so damn sick of dealing with it all.
He just wanted to shut down and forget.
Shedding his clothing, he let everything drop to the floor until he was down to his boxer briefs. The two-bedroom suite wasn’t the normal type of room he stayed in while on the road, so he guessed it had been reserved for Sheridan’s benefit. And lo and behold, he’d found her in the smaller bedroom last night, curled up asleep in the center of the bed when he’d crept into the room just before midnight.
She’d come to him after the game, waiting for him just outside the locker room. Her face anxious, her eyes bright, she’d run up and embraced him, surprising the hell out of him. The tremor that had moved through her body when he carefully placed his hands on her back had nearly been his undoing.
Her concern had touched him. But she hadn’t hovered or offered any meaningless platitudes. She’d asked if he was all right and he’d answered honestly.
Not really.
So when she’d leaned up on tiptoe and sweetly covered his
mouth with hers for a too-brief moment, he’d been surprised. And then when she’d tugged his head down so she could whisper in his ear, “I’ll take care of you later,” he’d been intrigued.
And later, there she lay in his bed, most likely warm. And soft. In his darkest, wildest dreams, completely naked…
Lust shot through him despite the pain and carefully he tugged back the covers, slipping into the big bed beside her. He was a man who preferred to sleep alone, always had. Most of the women he’d been with escaped as soon as possible—or else he escaped.
Funny how he wanted to grab hold of Sheridan and pull her close. Sleep with her in his arms all night long.
Pushing the disconcerting thought far out of his head, Jared flipped on his side, facing her. She murmured in her sleep, scooting closer to him. Without thought, he slung his arm over her and pulled her in, her face against his chest, her smooth, bare legs tangling with his.
“You’re back,” she whispered, nuzzling her cheek against his chest. Shit, it was too easy, how agreeable she was. How pliant and curvy and freaking perfectly she fit against him.
He could get used to it. Having her greet him after a particularly brutal game with open arms.
“Shh.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, breathing deeply the fragrance of her hair. “Go back to sleep.”
“How’s your shoulder?” She smoothed her hand along his side, his eyes nearly crossing at how good it felt. “Poor baby.”
“Don’t worry about me.” He smoothed his hand over her hair, his fingers catching in the silky tresses. “I’ll be fine. Thinking about getting a massage early tomorrow before we fly home.”
“I could give you one right now.” She lowered her voice, her concern evident. “I want to, Jared. You take care of everyone else. It’s about time someone took care of you.”
She wanted to take care of him. No one ever really had. His dad had always been about the push, push, push. So were his coaches, his publicist, his agent…his entire team. There had never been someone just—there. Willing to listen, wanting to nurture, longing to touch.
He pulled away from her, his shoulder aching with the movement. “You want to?” Because he definitely wanted her to. The idea of those slender hands all over his body…Oh yeah, his dick most assuredly wanted her to. And considering he could think with his other head, it meant the pain couldn’t be too bad.
Or he just wanted Sheridan so damn much the pain didn’t matter.
“Of course I do. You were brutalized out there today. Watching you get hurt…it scared me.”
Her admission touched him. Had anyone been scared for him before?
“Where do you want me to start? What hurts the most?”
Everything. Not that he could tell her that but, hell, it was the truth. His entire body ached. Despite the earlier treatments, the long shower, and the pain reliever, he was a fucked up mess.
“My right shoulder,” he admitted, sure she already knew. They all knew his faults. “That pileup you saw on the field was brutal.”