Page 59 of Elite Player
“Well, lately it’s been starting with a breakfast delivery.”
He offers me a sly smile. “That’s nice. Then what?”
“I do some morning stretches.”
His brows fly up in surprise, and he pauses mid-removal of his suit pants. “Yeah?” When I nod, he sits on the bed and gestures to the five square feet of space between us. “By all means, don’t let me interrupt.”
I shake my head at him and snatch up the YUNGBLUD shirt he had on a minute ago then pull a bra, underwear, and jeans from my drawers. “You said it yourself, we’ve got to get moving.”
He waves the thought away. “No, this is about your health. You can’t skip your morning stretches.”
I bite back my smile and pivot to the bathroom, but he stops me. “Where are you going?”
“To change.”
“In the bathroom?”
I toss him a confused glance over my shoulder. “Yes…?”
He pointedly drags his gaze over me from head to toe. “Even after last night?”
Last night, he may have had his hands and mouth on me, but we didn’t take our clothes off. Yes, it was a big step for me, a huge leap forward in this fake engagement, but is he really saying he wants me to strip right here? In front of him?
Apparently so.
Because he pulls off his slacks and stands, in only his black boxer briefs and black shirt with the Iron’s logo, a hand gripping a blacksmith’s hammer, then juts his chin out at me as if it’s my turn.
I’m usually not one to take a dare. In fact, I’m not sure I’ve ever played truth or dare in my life, but I don’t want to back down from him. He’s helped me come this far, be confident in who I am, so why not take another step? It’s not much further.
Swallowing down my nerves, I place my clothes on the chair next to me. Underneath my pajamas, I’m not wearing anything, no bra or underwear, and while I want to be brave, my reflexive modesty has me rotating a quarter, so I’m in profile to him.
Trying to ignore Nico’s hot stare on me, I slip my sleep T-shirt over my head, but I can’t ignore the quiet intake of breath coming from my left. Still, I focus on completing one task at a time, starting with my bra, which takes longer than normal to put on because my fingers are trembling.
I developed early, and by the time I graduated high school, I sported DDD bras. It’s why I started wearing baggy clothes when I was fourteen. Because my mother told me I had to cover up. Even with the dresses she made me wear to church, shewould order me to put a sweater on. “What will boys think of you?”
Funny. Because Nico seems to like me whether I’m in my baggy clothes or in an ugly beige bra.
And that thought pushes me to shimmy out of my pajama pants. Another audible intake of breath from Nico, this one louder. When I bend to step into my underwear, he swears quietly. And the idea of him finding my body—the one I’ve been so careful to conceal—attractive makes me bold.
Bolder than I ever believed I could be.
In my bra and underwear, I face him. “Don’t you need to get dressed too?”
His eyes burn with something that looks an awful lot like lust, and he nods dazedly, distractedly palming a growing bulge in his boxers. For me.
I did that to him.
And I fill with pride.
“Nico?”
He snaps out of it and clears his throat. “Yeah, get your ass in gear, Jo. What are you doing, trying to seduce me?”
“You—”
“Please, for the love of god, put your clothes on.” Then he squeezes his eyes shut and plops down on my bed.
Silently laughing to myself, I finish dressing in my shirt and jeans, black of course, then head into the bathroom. At some point in time, he finished getting dressed as well, in sweats and his sneakers, his backward cap on, and he steps up next to me in the cramped bathroom.
