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I rest my hand over his, letting him know I’m awake, and he nuzzles my neck, his lips moving against my skin as he murmurs, “You wore my jersey.”
His hand slides down lower, over my bare ass.
“And nothing else,” I whisper.
“I’ve missed you,” he confesses.
“It’s only been a couple of hours.”
“No, I mean over the last month.” He pauses. “I thought I lost you.”
His voice is so serious, and I’m wide awake now. “You didn’t.”
“Thank you for waiting for me, even when I probably didn’t deserve it.”
I go stiff in his arms. “Don’t start with that kind of talk.”
“You’re right.” He kisses my neck. Then my shoulder. “Hard habit to break.”
I slowly turn in his arms until I’m facing him, streaking my fingers down his bare chest, impressed with all the hard muscle I feel there. I scoot backward, wishing the light was on so I could really check him out, but I can tell. “You are bigger.”
“I told you.” He sounds proud of himself. “I’m working out all the time.”
“It shows.” I trace my fingers down the center of his pecs. “Are you tired?”
“Exhausted.” He kisses my forehead. I like how he can’t seem to keep his lips off me. “But never too tired for you.”
“We don’t have to—”
“I have been thinking about you in my jersey, waiting in my bed and nothing else for the entire ride home. We’re doing this.” His voice is firm and he sits up, reaching over to turn on the lamp that sits on his nightstand.
I hold my hand up in front of my face like I’m a vampire. I’m even hissing. “That is so bright.”
“I wanted to look at you.” His touch is gentle when he grips my wrist. “Come on.”
He removes my hand from my face and I let my arm drop to my side, sitting up. Letting him look his fill. His gaze roams over me. My messy bed hair, my sleepy face. The jersey hanging on me. I probably don’t look great. I wonder if he’s disappointed.
“You look sexy wearing my number,” he practically growls.
Oh. Wrong assessment on my part.
“Even though it’s gone from here.” He reaches for me, his thumb streaking across my cheek.
“I had to wash my face.”
“I know.” He cups my cheeks, bringing me in for a kiss. “You’re so pretty. I love you.”
The tears threaten and I try to blink them away. But it just feels so good, hearing him say the words so easily. “I love you too.”
He frowns. “Why are you crying?”
“I’m emotional.” I take a heaving, shuddery breath. “It’s been an emotional day. We’re back together. You won your game. You told me you loved me on the Jumbotron.”
“Pretty epic, am I right?” He raises his brows, his thumbs drifting across my face as he still holds it in his hands.
I nod, my gaze locking with his. “You didn’t really check to see what I was wearing under the jersey.”
His frown returns. “Yeah, I did.”
