Page 67 of Beg Me

“That was Josh’s mom,” he says, sliding his arm behind me and pulling me into him. “They’re going to head back in about an hour.”

“I should go then, huh?”

Despite saying the words, I snuggle closer against him. I’m fully aware that it’s goofy to be doing this—because he’s only my fake boyfriend for a couple of weeks. Before I know it, he’ll be back in Nashville or wherever he lives. Hell, I don’t even really know where he actually resides. And once he’s gone, I’ll be here, doing what I do, back at square one.

It’s the last part that makes me not pull away, because I know what that looks like; I have lived experience. But this? This is new.

It’s being held and not just touched. There’s warmth from his body, but also … inside mine. Nothing about this feels performative or like I’m asking too much of him, and I’ve not considered—not even for a second—that he doesn’t want me here.

The only sad part? I’m sorry that it’s taken my whole life to know what this feels like.

Jory takes a long, deep breath as his fingertips brush up and down my back. “I mean, if you want to go, then that’s cool, but you don’t have to.”

If being curled up next to him didn’t feel this amazing, I’d pull away so he couldn’t feel my heart racing.

“I just thought it might be confusing for Gus for me to still be here,” I say, trying to find the right way to express what I’m thinking without making it sound like I want to leave.

“Did you forget how we met?” He laughs softly. I grin against his chest. “Besides, Deidre has had men over before, so it’s not a new concept for him. And you’re certainly not a random woman who he’d be confused to find in the kitchen in the morning.”

“So you’re saying that you want me to stay the night?”

He leans back until I look up and see his decadent smirk. “If you think I’m done with you tonight, then you’re completely misreading this situation.”

“I guess there’s a first time for everything.” I sit up and straddle him, blocking his view of anything other than me. “Tell me something about you that I don’t already know.”

His hands find my breasts, his fingers toying with my nipples. “What do you want to know?”

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Where do you live normally? I mean, I know you play for the Royals in Nashville. I assume you live there during the rugby season. But is that where you live all the time? I don’t know how that works.”

“Yeah, I have an apartment in Nashville year-round. I’m not there all the time after the season ends in May or June until I have to report to the facilities in January. I go visit my mom and travel around. Sometimes I’ll hire a trainer in another city for a month or two and stay there. But, yes, I’ve been based in Nashville since I signed with the Royals.”

He traces the slope of my shoulder, watching his fingers as they move along my bare skin. His cock hardens beneath my pussy, growing longer and thicker. Feeling him react to me is powerful and watching him not give a shit that I know that is dizzying. Because men usually try to keep the upper hand—they want to tell you and remind you that you’re lucky you’re with them.

But with Jory? It’s the opposite. His actions—his words—show me that he believes he’s lucky to be with me.

And I want to hold on to this feeling for a little longer.

“That’s a decision I have to make,” he says, his voice soft.

I run my fingers through the back of his hair.

His gaze lifts to my face, his eyes shining with honesty. “I’m not sure what’s going to happen after I retire next year.”

I smile to reassure him because it’s obvious he’s been wrestling with this decision.

“Tennessee has been my home for several years,” he says. “I love it here. But Gus is in Nevada with Deidre, and I’ve already lost so many years with him …”

The weight of his words hangs in the air between us, and he searches my face as if I hold the answer.

“But I don’t want to live in Nevada,” he says as if I’m going to judge him negatively by his admission. “And I feel like the biggest asshole and the worst dad ever when I say that.”

“Hey.” I stop him with a look. “You are not an asshole, and you are an amazing dad. That kid loves you to death. And the way you look at him reminds me of the way my dad looked at me, and I’ll tell you a little secret: I was his favorite person in the world. So there’s that.”

Jory chuckles, cupping my face in his hands and kissing me. “Thank you for saying that.”

“It’s the truth.”

“What would you do if you were me?” he asks.