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“They won’t fit me,” she hedged.
“Then sleep naked,” I countered.
She glared.
Slipping the shirt off over my head—which proved to be a lot harder than normal—I bunched it up in my hands and launched it at her.
“Here,” the t-shirt I’d been wearing had my jersey number on it, as well as the Lumberjacks’ double L logo on the front breast area.
She immediately threw it back at me.
“No,” she refused, shaking her head. “I’m not wearing that.”
I frowned hard at her. “We just talked about this.”
She smiled.
“It has nothing to do with my weight, and it not fitting,” she told me. “And everything to do with the fact that I only wear the team shirts on game days.”
My mouth dropped open.
“Are you saying that you have superstitions?”
She blinked.
“No.”
I picked up the t-shirt.
“Then wear it.”
She immediately shook her head.
“No!”
My mouth kicked into a small grin.
“Why won’t you wear it?” I asked then.
“Because.”
“Because why?”
“Because if I do, you might lose!”
I was laughing by this point.
“Half-Pint,” I started. “That’s called a superstition.”
She glared and started rummaging through my drawers, coming up with one of my favorite shirts that I used to wear in high school. One that hadn’t fit me in a very long time.
In fact, it was so small that I wasn’t quite sure why the hell I even had it anymore.
With angry movements, she ripped her polo shirt off over her head, tossed it onto the chair in the corner of the room and snapped the shirt in the air to unfold it.
The moment she slipped it on, and the tight black Panthers baseball shirt slipped on over her breasts, I knew I’d made a good decision in saving it.
The t-shirt fit her like a glove.
Then she went and ruined me for all other women.
With a practiced move, she slipped her hand up the back of the shirt, unbuckled her bra, and slipped it off through one sleeve, followed shortly by the other.
My mouth went dry as I watched her breasts sway with the movement.
“Will you marry me?” I asked her.
She blinked.
“What did you just ask me?”
I licked my lips as she started to push her jeans down her thighs.
My cock started to pulse with each beat of my heart, and I wanted so badly for her to walk over here and sit on my cock.
I wanted to grab a hold of those luscious globes of her ass, dig my fingers in, and urge her to ride me hard.
“Black panties,” I muttered. “I said I like your black panties.”
She looked down at the black panties, and then back up to me.
“Huh,” she said, then an evil grin lifted the corner of her mouth. “If you like the front,” she turned. “Then you’ll definitely like the back.”
And oh, God, did I.
She was wearing those cheeky underwear where half of the ass cheeks hung out.
On others, they were definitely sexy.
On Sway…no words did her justice.
They were freakin’ amazing.
I had a stern talking to with my cock while she was in the bathroom, and then switched off the light in anticipation.
The moment she got out and switched off the bathroom light, I was nearly on the verge of demanding she take me.
Begging wasn’t beneath me.
But she crawled into bed moments after the light switched off, and then seconds later she was asleep.
How was that even possible?
She had to be faking. Had to.
But then a soft little snore had me blinking in surprise, and I laid there for another half an hour while I contemplated masturbating right next to her before I fell asleep.
***
“Ummm,” my brother drawled as he held the paper up the next morning. “Is there something you’d like to tell us?”
I looked over at the paper, and my eyes widened.
Sway, who’d been behind me, was reading it and staring in horror.
“Why do they think we’re getting married?” she cried. “Oh, my God. I need to call my parents!”
Then she left the room, leaving me to face my family. Alone.
“I wanted her in the room with me…so sue me.”Chapter 12Even if the voices aren’t real, they have some fucking awesome ideas!
-Hancock’s secret thoughts
Hancock
“Parts,” the reporter, the fifth in the last twenty minutes, grinned at me. “Gosh, but you’re huge.”
I nodded my head, aware that I would likely be on national television when I said what I had to say next, but I couldn’t help it.
It was the perfect opener.
“That’s what she said,” I pointed to the person behind me.
I hadn’t realized who it was until an outraged cry from Sway had me turning to look.
Then, like any man with a sense of humor, I burst out laughing and pissed her off even more.
By the time we ended the interview two minutes later—with me still laughing—I had tears running down my cheeks.
“That was wrong,” Gentry chuckled. “But so good.”
Sway glared hard, but I didn’t miss the lip twitch that was trying to make itself known.
