“No one fits in it?”
“Just me and Kevin. I’ll need a house now if I’m going to have Skipper running around.”
A house.
A yard.
Jack lets his body fall to the bed, pulling me along with him, rolling so I’m beneath him, our legs still hanging over the side of the mattress.
He shifts us so we’re in the middle of the mattress, adjusting himself to hover above me. “I’m glad you’re here this weekend. I always feel like I’m…missing something.”
Missing something.
He sounds so serious as he continues. “I was excited to get back, knowing you would be here waiting for me.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Lana had invited us to Disney with them today, but I told her we’d be busy.”
“Busy? Doing what?” He’s cupping my cheek, fingers straying down my neck, causing me to shiver as they fiddle with the string on my team logo’d hoodie. I bought it at the game during halftime because I’d gone wearing a button-down plaid shirt and felt conspicuous and boring—especially compared to Lana and Portia and Beth and all the other wives and girlfriends who were decked out in team apparel.
It cost me sixty freaking dollars.
“Busy doing…this, I guess.”
Jack lowers his head to kiss me, warm lips pressed against my mouth, working their magic and wreaking havoc on my body. I trail my hand over his back up to the nape of his neck, threading my fingers through his hair.
It feels amazing with him on top of me, kissing me.
His hand lowers, down over the thick fabric of my hooded sweatshirt, down to the hem—then beneath it, his fingers skimming their way up my stomach. His thumb caresses the swell of my breast over my bra.
“What did you think of my playing today?”
His playing?
Um.
Is it bad to admit that I hadn’t paid much attention because Lana talked my ear off, filling me with information and gossip? Will he be offended if I say it out loud?
He leans in and kisses my neck. “Hmm? Did you see me knock that pass down on the line of scrimmage during the second quarter?”
Er, no. “Is that what that was? I’m still learning.”
Judging by the coy grin on his face, he knows I didn’t watch the game.
“Did you see anything at all during the game?”
“Of course I did! Pfft, it was very exciting.”
His palms skim my rib cage. “What was the score?”
Dammit! Is he being serious? “Why are you asking me such hard questions?”
“That’s the easiest question I could have possibly asked you.”
“Ask me another one.”
Jack considers it, then says, “What color is my uniform?”
I laugh. “Bright green and white.”
“What’s on the side of the helmet?”
I have to think about that one for a few seconds. “Silver…horns?”
His fingers trail along the cup of my bra. “How confident are you?”
“Pretty confident.”
“Confident enough to place a bet?”
I nod enthusiastically. “Yes.”
“Okay. If you’re wrong, you have to take this hoodie off.”
Oh—so he wants me to strip, does he? “And if I’m right, you have to take everything off.”
His face falls. “Damn. Now I wish I was going to lose.”
Jack pulls his phone out of his back pocket and googles, speaking out loud as he types. “What is on the helmet of the Colorado Mountaineers.” He holds the screen toward me.
Silver mountains grace the side of the green helmets.
“Dammit!” I laugh, giving him a push so I have the room to remove my hoodie, pulling it up and over my head and tossing it to the ground, lying there in just my bra. “Happy now?”
“Very.” He lowers his head again, kissing the globes of my breasts, finger hooking the bra and tugging it to the side so he can kiss my nipple and suck on it.
I squirm on the bed, plunging my fingers into his hair. “Don’t start anything you’re not going to finish.”
He lifts his head. “Who says I’m not going to finish it? This is our last night, and I probably won’t see you for a week, so we’re going to make it count.”
A whole week.
I’ve gotten used to his presence by now—him popping up on a semi-regular basis, taking me out or spending time with Skipper and me—that the thought of not seeing him for an entire week makes me…sad.
Sad. Is that right?
How can I be sad when he has his mouth on my tits and hand slowly creeping into my pants, fiddling with the button on my jeans?
“If you want me to get naked, you have to get naked—or at least take something off first so it’s even.”
“Done.”
Jack doesn’t even sit up to remove his shirt, peeling it up and over his broad shoulders as if his life depended on it.
Our lives.
I’m grateful that it’s not pitch black in here and that it hasn’t gotten dark outside because I want to see his body. And I want him to see mine. I feel sexy not just because he’s attracted to me but because I’ve had a baby—his baby—and he’s excited about it, and he wants to make things work. Jack wants to try again, and that is incredibly sexy.