Page 225 of Off Limits: The Firsts

To the feel of the stick in my hand.

To the chill of the arena on my cheeks.

Just like when Jonah and I were kids.

I’ve got you, brother.

I never stopped.

Dekker

“What’s this?” I ask, as I look at the gigantic box Hunter’s carrying through my front door.

“Things.”

“Things?” I ask with a laugh.

“Yes, things.” He sets it down on the kitchen counter and pushes it my way.

“Can I open, said, things?” I ask as I toy with its edges.

“Yes.” He presses a kiss to my lips. “I can only stay for your initial reaction and then I’ve got to get to work.”

“Okay.” I draw the word out as I lift the flaps of the box and then a laugh bubbles out when I see the team colors of the Jacks. Like lots of team colors. Black and red on hats and T-shirts and jackets and koozies and pens and everywhere. “Did you mug a vendor?” I ask when my laughter subsides and my sides ache.

“Perhaps,” he says with a shrug of innocence but a smile like the devil.

“And these?” I ask as I pull out a thong—if you can even call them that—with the Jacks logo imprinted on the only spot of fabric big enough to hold it and dangle them off my fingertips. “These are sold in the kiosks?”

“We like to make sure everybody’s covered.”

“Covered being the operative word there,” I say as I hold them with both hands to show how small they are.

“I wouldn’t complain to see how they cover you.” He quirks an eyebrow, and I roll my eyes. “Now there’s no excuse why you can’t wear Jacks gear to the next game.”

“And I told you I only wear it after a team wins.” I toss the thong back in the box and shake my head at the gear. “Besides, why are you pushing this? I thought athletes were superstitious and never liked to jinx anything.”

“We are . . . but sometimes when you feel something in your bones, you just know that no amount of superstition is going to mess with your game.”

“Getting cocky now, are we?”

He takes a step toward me and grabs his crotch. “Why yes, I have a cock.”

“Jesus.” I push against his chest and roll my eyes, but can’t say it’s not a hot sight. “Besides, a lot of players would disagree with you.”

“I’m not a lot of players.” He leans in and presses a kiss to my lips that is unexpected and heartfelt and stokes those fires he’s damn good at sparking to life.

“Thank you for the gear, Mr. Maddox, but while you might not be superstitious, I, for the record, am.” I wink and trail my fingernail down the midline of his chest. “Only after you win.”

“Whatever.” He exhales dramatically. “After we win, I’ll make you wear them every day for a week.”

“A week?”

“A week. And especially those panties.”

I smile. “Deal.”

He kisses me again, his hands wandering to places I want him to not let go of. Everything about the moment is perfectly right.