Page 76 of Elite Player
“You okay?”
I stroke my fingers over his handsome face. “Yes.”
“You don’t hurt?”
I shrug. “Not really.”
“Not totally reassuring, but okay.” He laughs into a kiss and skims his hand over my back, down to grip my butt cheek. He drops little pecks all over my face, forcing a drunken giggle out of me, and it’s as if my amusement reenergizes him. He carefully pulls out of me and leaps out of bed to take care of the condom, disappearing into the bathroom for a minute, only to appear again with a warm, wet cloth. He tenderly wipes between my legs and upper thighs, and I am surprised at how comfortable I am, allowing him to perform the intimate gesture, uncaring what bodily fluid might be left on the washcloth. He folds it up then pushes a few strands of hair back from my face. “Water?”
“Please.”
“A snack?”
“Maybe.”
He tosses the cloth into the laundry hamper then helps himself to pouring two glasses of water and digging through the fridge for cheese sticks. “We gotta get more food in your kitchen, Jojo.”
Still naked and totally carefree, he places the glasses of water down then sprawls out on the bed next to me, tossing me a Polly-O. I open it, nibbling on a string. “I’m not much of a cook, but even if I were, I couldn’t do much in this apartment.”
“I can have meals delivered.”
“You already have my breakfast delivered every day.”
“Yeah, but you need more than string cheese and fruit cups for lunch and dinner. You have the diet of a ten-year-old.”
I refuse to give in to a laugh, and he pinches my side before relaxing on me, his head on my chest, as if I’m his personal recliner. “Nico.”
He tilts his head to look at me. “Hm?”
I gesture to how he’s lying, and he rolls his eyes with a grumble, shifting so we flip positions, my head against his chest. “Just for that, I’m setting you up with a meal-delivery service.”
My first instinct is to refuse him. I’ve worked on becoming independent, relying on only myself. Hell, I just gave him that whole speech on my soapbox about being a tough and gritty West Virginian the other day.
But I like being spoiled.
I like accepting his gifts.
I like allowing him to be the good and generous person I know he is.
So I merely twist to kiss him. “Thank you, Nico.”
He traces the tip of his index finger over my lips. “You’re welcome, Jojo.”
CHAPTER 22
JO
“I can’t even tellwhat that is.”
“Jo, you wound me.”
I set down my cell phone with Nico’s face on my screen to pick up my latest knitting project. “These are mittens. That is…not.”
He plays at being offended, his lump of yarn hanging off a knitting needle as Cubby laughs in the background. “Joey! You’ve turned the biggest player in the league into an old lady staying in to knit!”
Nico playfully rolls his eyes, shoving at Cubby when he tries to take over the frame, teasing him about not going out. Nico and I haven’t spent any time together since the morning he left my apartment to travel for a game. Even when the Iron’s played at home, they’ve been booked to travel directly after, so we’ve been communicating via FaceTime, texts, and through my camera lens.
“That’s okay, though,” Cubby says, giving Nico a patronizing pat on the head. “Whatever you’re doing, Jo, keep it up. Our man here is on fire.”
