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Me: Sorry to hear about that, bro.
Murph: hear Briggs is up there. She good?
Me: Yeah. She’s OUUUTTTT.
Murph: damn
As if she knows we’re talking about her, she lets out a sleepy sigh.
Me: Gotta go. Thanks for taking Rae.
Murph: *deuces emoji*
Padding over to where Saffie is lying sprawled on my bed, I contemplate my choices. I can sleep in my recliner, though at six foot four, that would suck ass. Or I could keep my sweats on and sleep next to her with the extra blanket. It’s a king-sized bed with plenty of room. After convincing myself that it’ll be fine, I go to my closet and grab the extra blanket before turning back to her. She has black leggings on, super comfy to sleep in, but her hoodie looks as if it’s about to strangle her and smells like shit. Not shit, shit, but like vodka, beer, and bad decisions.
“Fuck,” I mutter. Grabbing the hem, I lift to be sure she has a shirt on underneath before I try to wrestle her out of it as gently as I can. Satisfied that she at least has a tank top underneath, I start removing her arms from the sleeves, one by one and ever so slowly. All I need is for her to wake up now and think I’m some kind of fucking perv undressing her while she’s unconscious. I mean, I am undressing her and she is unconscious, but I’m doing it for her, not me. There’s a first time for everything, I guess.
Arms successfully uncovered, I try as best as I can to stretch out the neck and get her head through the hole. With only minimal tugging, I slip it over her head. As much as I want to just take her in, I don’t allow my gaze to linger.
“There.” I huff, tossing the sweatshirt onto the chair. Her phone falls out mid throw, landing with a thud on the plush carpet. I walk over and scoop it up, scowling when it lights up with a picture of Saffie and some douchey-looking guy I’m assuming is her boyfriend. “Asshole.” Not just because he has Saffie. I mean, does he have her? Whose bed is she in right now? Not that she’s in it for the reasons I wish she were, but I hate him for disappointing her. Which is pretty fucking funny coming from me. Other than my parents, coaches, and teammates, I’ve never cared about disappointing any-damn-body.
Not wanting to go there and dissect what that means, I put her phone on the nightstand and go get a Gatorade from the mini fridge. If she wakes up in the middle of the night she’s going to feel like shit. With that thought in mind, I head to the bathroom for some ibuprofen and a trash can. Snagging my towel from earlier, I place it on the floor next to the bed and put the trash can on top of it, and the pills next to her drink. I’ve never played nurse in my fucking life, yet here I am doing a damn good job of it. And for someone who doesn’t even like me.
Laughing at myself, I grab the corner of the blanket and pull it over her sleeping bag style to create a little more of a separation between us. Spare blanket in hand, I climb in next to her, wincing when the bed dips, and she rolls to her side. I do my best to get comfortable without disturbing her. My hands stacked under my head, I stare at the ceiling, wondering how the fuck I’m going to be able to sleep with her next to me. Even through the blankets, I can feel her heat, the sweet honey scent of her hair hovering between us. As I’m contemplating how the hell I thought this would work, Saffie rolls my way, out of her protective blanket, crossing onto my side of the bed. Head on my shoulder, hand splayed across my chest, heat-throwing pussy pressed into my thigh, and her leg tossed over my waist about two inches north of my now hardening dick.
Worst. Fucking. Idea. Ever.
Knowing that I’m only torturing myself, I bring my arms from behind my head and tuck her in even tighter to me, careful to keep my hands from the places I really want to grab, like her leggings-clad ass, the one she’s wiggling back and forth the same way she did when she was up to bat. With a low and long, tortured groan, I close my eyes and just accept my fate as the dumb bastard I am.
Chapter 15
Saffie
The pounding in my temples feels as if someone is using my favorite bat to bash me upside the head. Over and over. Not even wanting to attempt to open my eyes, I snuggle deeper into Landon’s arms. He must be really hitting the gym since I’ve been gone. His pecs are way more defined where my head rests, thighs hard under my leg, arms like steel around me. I run my nose along his collarbone, inhaling before pressing a soft kiss to his warm skin. “Mmm.” He feels good under me. It’s been so long that being in his arms like this again feels brand new. Feels right. I inhale again. He must be using a new soap too. Instead of the woody scent I’m used to, he smells cool. Like a winter breeze or like ice. Ice. He smells like ice. My eyes fly open, and my head comes up with a snap. Not Landon, Levi! I’m in Levi “Sexy” Sexton’s room. In his bed. In. His. Arms. Holy fuck. I look down, hands patting at clothes. Okay, I’m fully dressed. But he’s not. My gaze darts to his chest, bare except for the gold chain and medal resting where my head had just been. Blanket low on his waist but not low enough to tell me if he’s dressed. I gingerly lift the edge and peek under, relieved when I see that he’s wearing sweats, although they’re not doing a very good job of keeping his massive hard-on in check. Jesus. It’s as big as the rest of him.
“Like what you see?” Dropping the blanket as if it’s burned me, I whip my head to his face, and the wicked smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. “Morning, Briggsy.” His dimples flash along with his ridiculously perfect white teeth.
“What in the fuck?” I croak out. Literally croak. Like a frog being strangled.
“How’s the head?” he asks, concern in his voice. How does he sound so normal right now? My brain feels as if it’s in quicksand. I just stare blankly, trying to string sentences together in my mind to ask more questions. Like “how did I end up here?” “Why am I in your bed?” Why, oh why did I freaking like it so much?” It doesn’t happen, and he doesn’t wait for me to get my shit together. Instead, he rolls over, pressing me into the mattress and pinning me with his massive body. All of his massive…body. Propped on his elbows, he focuses his eyes on mine. His fingers make their way into my hair, massaging my scalp, then down to the base of my neck and back again.
“Get off me,” I splutter, though it’s half-hearted at best. My head is in a fog, and my body is aching…in all kinds of ways. Ways that I am going to ignore from now until forever.
With a smile that tells me he knows exactly why I want him off, he stays put, instead reaching for something on the nightstand. Before I have time to think about what he could be grabbing, he brings his fingers to my mouth. “Open.”
Like hell. I shout silently to myself even as I do exactly what I’m told. Levi places two tablets on my tongue, reaching again onto the nightstand and returning with a bottle of Gatorade. He squeezes, squirting the liquid into my mouth the whole act impossibly sinful even in its innocence. “Swallow,” he murmurs, his voice gruffer than it was just a moment ago. The two commands shouldn’t sound as dirty as they do. Maybe it’s the way he’s watching me as I do what he tells me to. Or the way I can feel his dick against me growing with every breath I take.
“Good girl,” he rumbles.
I blink slowly, trying to focus. This is Levi, I remind myself. You don’t even like him.
“I don’t even like you.” Shit. That was out loud.
Levi smirks. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, sweetheart.”
“Uggghhhh, you’re so infuriating.” I push at his rock-hard pecs, knowing that if he didn’t want to budge, I couldn't do anything about it. For some reason, the thought doesn’t worry me as much as it should. With his weight off me, I can think a little more clearly. “What am I even doing here with you?” My voice is less croaky than it was but still a little weak because of the marching band in my head. Not letting that slow me down, I kick free of the covers and stand, looking for my things. “Where’s Rae? I’m going to kill her.” I don’t ask the question I really want the answer to. Mostly because I don’t know how to even approach the subject and also because of my body’s reaction to him, I’m almost afraid of the answer.
Levi just sits propped against his headboard, watching me rant and stomp around the room without actually getting anything accomplished. I still don’t have my hoodie, my phone, my shoes, or answers. “Well? Are you just going to sit there, or are you going to help me?” I huff. I know I sound like an ungrateful bitch, but he’s got me flustered and clearly when Levi has me this way, I act out.
