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“Tell me in German.”
“Ich liebe dich.”
“Ich liebe dich,” Will repeats. Then again, his lips brushing my shoulder as he whispers the words against my skin like a secret meant only for me.
My hands dip beneath the hem of his cotton T-shirt, lifting the fabric and revealing the carved muscles beneath. I run my fingers over the stacks of muscle, memorizing each dip and groove all over again. An endless spread of warm golden skin, covering muscles so harshly defined that you could hurt yourself on them.
I lean back on my heels, looking at him. Mussed hair. Exposed abs. Big bulge. He’s so masculine, an urge that’s primal and feral tugging low in my stomach as I stare at him. “You’re really hot.”
Will laughs, a ragged rasp that settles in my stomach. That tells me how much I’m affecting him. “Is that what put pretty sure over the top?”
“I was sure. I just…I didn’t know how you’d react.”
His expression turns serious. “I haven’t done this before.”
He rubs his thumb across my lower lip, my awareness narrowing to that one spot where he’s touching me. His other hand leaves its spot on my hip, drifting down to my knee and then back up again. Only this time, he doesn’t go over the material of my shorts; he slips under it. My heartbeat races as he draws nearer to the apex of my thighs, setting each spot he touches ablaze. It feels like liquid heat is flowing through my veins, flushing my skin and burning away oxygen. My breathing turns choppy and is embarrassingly fast.
“I haven’t either,” I manage to say. Something he knows, yet feels important to say.
“I want all your firsts, Sophia. You’re mine.”
My moan is loud, the combination of his possessive words and his intimate touch a heady cocktail.
Will’s eyes darken to a shade of green that’s nearly black as he takes in my reactions. My hips are moving against his hand, but I need more than his fingers.
I lean forward and close the gap between our mouths again. When I bite down gently on his bottom lip, he groans, sliding his hand from my chin into my hair and angling my head. Will kisses the same way he does everything else—skilled and confident. Aggressive yet controlled. It shocks my system like a shot of adrenaline, except a thousand times more powerful. Everything builds between us—the urgency, the desire, the want.
The perfect sort of numbness spreads. I’m unaware of anything else. Drowning in desire and breathing in him.
And then he’s pushing inside of me from a deeper, different angle. My gasp is startled, surprise quickly ebbing into pleasure. I’m so wet I can hear him working in and out of my body. Will’s pace is steady, but not rushed. My body adjusts, meeting each thrust.
His lips move to my neck, caressing and nipping and sucking at the skin. I feel on display in the best way. Like I’m the main attraction and the only focus. I can feel the pressure tightening and strengthening. Building and forming. Simmering and spreading.
He’s a high I never want to come down from.
But every fall has a landing.
THIRTY-FOUR
WILL
Wagner obviously made some sort of announcement to the entire team about my absence because I catch a lot of sympathetic looks during my first practice back. None of my teammates mention anything to me about it directly, just some version of how it’s nice to see me or they’re glad to have me back. I’m relieved by the slight detachment. I’m not close enough to any of them to talk about my family, and I don’t want their respect because I left to see my injured brother. I want to earn it on the field.
Even Beck offers me a smile when he spots me instead of sticking with his typical stoicism, which makes me feel a little guilty about how I’m secretly sleeping with his sister. The secret part makes it seem like Sophia is something I’m ashamed of, that we’re something to be ashamed of, and I hate that. Sophia is no longer a choice. She’s woven so deeply into my life it’s nearly impossible to remember what it looked like without her in it. She’s worth any consequences Beck might throw at me. But I’m still apprehensive about what those might be. Sophia hasn’t brought up me remeeting her family members, and I’ve been focused on getting resettled in Kluvberg and checking in with Tripp ever since I returned to Germany.
Tripp’s out of the hospital now, at a rehab center that’s supposed to be the best in Boston. He protested when I paid for it, until I told him it was either I pay or I move back to Boston. After that, he didn’t raise any more complaints about me footing the bill.
Practice ends, and it’s a relief. The summer heat has faded, but I’m still drenched with sweat. I didn’t work out once while I was gone, and it’s been a rough transition back to the exhausting regimen here. Plus, I have better places to be. I’m not headed home to an empty apartment.
Fritz asks me if I want to grab a beer once we’re in the locker room. Since I begged off last time and have been gone for the past week, I agree, even though I’d really just like to head straight to Sophia’s apartment like I was planning to. I text her, letting her know I’ll be late, then head out with Fritz. Olivier and a couple of midfielders end up joining us. It’s fun and relaxed, a dynamic similar to what it was like with my teammates in Seattle. An easiness I wasn’t sure I’d ever experience here. They rib me about ignoring the women approaching our table until they’re occupied themselves.
I leave as early as I can without seeming rude. In Seattle, I never had anyone to go home to. Anyone I was missing.
Sophia’s already in bed when I let myself into her place.
It’s past eleven, but none of the other guys seemed likely to head out soon. It’ll be interesting to see how they fare during practice tomorrow. I drink a glass of water and then head into her bedroom. Sophia’s not asleep yet, clicking through photos on her laptop with an adorable furrow creasing her forehead.
“Hey.”
