Page 103 of Scoring Lessons

“Has it ever happened before?”

I settled him with a What do you think? look.

“You squirted,” he said casually, like this wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.

Water got lodged in my throat, and I coughed. “That’s what that was?”

“Yeah.” His back met the panel board of his bed. “How did it feel?”

“It was intense, but good.” I finished my water then mirrored his pose. “How did you know how to do that?”

He gave me a one-shoulder shrug. “Not every woman can, but I like to try.”

I wiggled my eyebrows as I interlaced our fingers. His hands were rough, warm. I never wanted to let go. “Magic fingers.”

He shook his head with a small chuckle. “You trusted me enough to make you feel good. And that’s no easy feat. It was all you.”

“I guess we can scratch another thing off the list,” I sighed.

“We’ve been getting through it pretty quickly,” he said quietly, his hand squeezing mine.

My shoulders sagged, disappointment hitting me right in the chest. He was right, and I didn’t know why I hated the idea so much. “You’re efficient.”

“You’re a good sport,” he joked.

“A plus for team effort,” I quipped.

He reached for me, pulling my legs over his until I straddled his lap. “I’d say A plus, plus.”

“An eleven out of ten?”

“I’d say more like twenty out of ten.”

My hands met his muscled chest with a low laugh. I absentmindedly ran circles around it, running my fingers across everything he’d worked so hard for.

“How did you feel after tonight’s game?” I asked.

He ran his hands up and down my thighs, the touch making my skin break out in goosebumps, and I didn’t want it to stop. “It was good. I felt like my old self again,” he murmured.

I hummed with a subtle nod. “You were great. I thought you’d stay all night out partying with the team after that win.”

“They tried to get me to, but I wasn’t feeling it.” His gaze ran over my jersey, my neck, my lips. I felt his stare like he’d used his hand to touch me instead. It burned just as much. I loved it even more. “I was eager to get home.”

My lips turned into a thin line as I tried to hold back a grin. “Getting too old to party? Damn, Wesley. The thirties are hitting you hard.”

“Olivia.” My name was barely a rasp. “Are you going to make me say it out loud?”

I swore my heart skipped a whole beat. “Say what?”

“That I would rather spend time with you?” He said the words without an ounce of hesitation, like they’d been caught in his throat and he needed to let them out. “That I’d rather have you here, in my room, on my lap, and talk with you?” His hand swiped a few strands out of my face, and I instinctively closed my eyes and let the side of my head rest against the warmth of his hand. “Is that what you want to hear?”

My heart did this thing where it wanted to leap out of my chest. But my brain? Well, that was a different story. It sent alarms to the rest of my body to abort the mission before I fell deeper into this.

“Wesley, what are you doing?”

“Being honest for once. Is that so bad?”

My laugh was weak. “Since when do we do honesty?”