Page 33

33

Holt

The best part of the team knowing my and Ziggy’s secret is that they’ve been going above and beyond to support us.

Random baby presents show up on my doorstep.

Someone—probably Fletcher—had a potato feast delivered to the main office for all of the headquarters staff one day, which resulted in leftovers at my house for three days.

Tatum flat-out asked Roland if the team could throw Ziggy a baby shower.

Since we’re all the baby’s uncles and all.

Miranda’s been working overtime getting me visible community service opportunities and more interviews, and the guys on the team are taking turns driving me everywhere since I’m still in the damn boot.

But that can’t beat what I find when Silas drops me off from a rugby clinic for kids that we volunteered at a week after the team found out .

It’s Ziggy.

On the couch.

Eating fried mozzarella sticks.

In a silver Pounders jersey.

Watching the championship match from a year ago. The one that we took that made us league champions.

I pause in the doorway, and that’s when I realize she’s not the only one in a jersey.

Jessica’s wearing my name and number on her back.

Wait.

Wait .

“Turn around,” I say to Ziggy.

She grins at me, then shifts so I can verify that it is, in fact, my name and number on her back.

My dick twitches. “Somebody’s been in my closet.”

“It looked comfortable. Come sit. I need you to explain the rules to me. Right now, all I know is that you look seriously hot when you tackle someone, and I might’ve played a clip of you spraying water on your face about thirty-four times. And then grabbed my vibrator.”

I am no longer twitching.

I am now full-mast.

“While you were wearing my jersey?” Fuck. My voice is hoarse.

“Yes.” She shifts again, parting her legs slightly, and fuck me sideways.

All she’s wearing is my jersey.

I thought maybe she was in short shorts, but nope.

No shorts.

No underwear.

No bra.

Just Ziggy skin against my jersey .

The jersey I’m never washing again.

I strip out of my own Pounders polo and drop my shorts and boxer briefs, which get stuck on the fucking boot.

While I lean over and tug the damn fabric around the boot, Jessica grumbles to herself, rises, shakes, and heads to the kitchen, which makes Ziggy laugh.

Her breasts bounce under my jersey as she shifts on the couch to make room for me. “Should I take this off?” she asks, toying with the hem and lifting it enough for me to see her pussy.

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s a little tight in the boob area.”

And I thought I couldn’t get any harder.

I finally free myself from the damn boot, kick my other shoe off, and stalk to the couch, gripping my bobbing cock.

She bites her lower lip as she looks down at my hard-on. “Is that all for me?”

“Tell me how you touched yourself while you were watching me on the pitch.”

“Well…” She spreads her legs and dips her fingers into her curls. “It went something like this…”

I growl as I push her legs wider and settle my shoulders between them, getting a better view of the pink skin hiding between her curls and her fingers stroking her seam.

She’s wet.

It’s fucking beautiful.

She touches her clit and tilts her head back with a sigh, and I’m done.

Just done.

Don’t want to watch anymore.

Now, I want to taste. Lick. Suck.

Devour .

And I do.

I bury my head between her thighs and feast on her pussy until she’s crying my name and bucking her hips into my face, coming all over my tongue.

This .

This is what I want to come home to every night.

Ziggy.

Naked or wearing my kit or fully dressed.

Trusting me.

Being my best friend.

My lover.

My world.

I don’t care if she wants a dozen dogs who hate me. I don’t care if Tater Tot has colic and doesn’t sleep. I don’t care if Ziggy quits cooking.

I just want to be .

I want to be with her.

The woman who’s brought me out of the fog I’d been living in, looking for a way to run away from the pain instead of working through it, the way she’s been working through losing her best friend.

Her body sags beneath me. “Holt?” she whispers.

“Yes, kitten?”

“That was—the best—ever—and I want—you—inside me—now. Please.”

I lift my head and watch her chest rising and falling rapidly under my jersey as she pants and tugs on my ears. “Already?”

“ Now ,” she repeats.

Still a pain in the ass to move in the boot, but I pull myself up her body, pushing my jersey out of the way so that I can kiss that swelling belly that I love so much, her belly button, her breastbone, sucking on one nipple, then the other as she wraps her legs around my hips and tilts them up to brush the tip of my cock.

I slide into her swollen, hot, wet center, and my eyes cross.

“Oh god, yes,” she gasps.

I can’t imagine going a second round immediately after the first the way she is, but I stroke in and out of her, my balls getting hot and heavy and tight with every moan and whimper out of her mouth.

She arches her head back and tightens her legs around me while I slam into her, harder and faster, following the cues from her cries and yes es and there s until her pussy clenches around my rock-hard cock, and she’s gasping my name again, straining into me while her inner walls pulse around me, gripping me tightly as I let my own release go.

I’m wrapped in Ziggy, the fabric of my jersey bunched up over her breasts, her breath hot on my shoulder as she pants while her body sags under me.

She’s everything.

Every fucking thing.

“I love you,” she whispers. “My god, I love you so much.”

I kiss her neck and she shivers.

“I love you too,” I whisper back.

I do.

I love her with everything inside me. I love her with everything outside of me.

I love her with the whole universe.

“When…baby comes…harder…do this,” she pants.

“Ziggy. I love you for so much more than how good the sex is.”

The woman hugs me even tighter .

With her arms. With her legs. With her face pressed to my shoulder, kissing me between gulps of air.

“You gonna make it?” I tease.

“I need to work out more.”

“You just did, kitten.”

She laughs a breathy, relaxed laugh. “Why kitten?”

Why kitten? Why indeed. “It was the way you ate that chicken. Like a kitten would.”

She laughs harder, but my dick’s still inside her, and the squeeze of her inner muscles is too much, and now I’m the one gasping for breath as my oversensitive cock tries to go into hiding.

“Thank you for being my friend,” she whispers.

“Thank you for being my everything.”