Page 54 of Unrivaled Love (D.C. Renegades #2)

Strong, long legs clad in faux leather. A bubble of a butt just asking for my handprint. As my eyes devour her I catch my last name across her back and I stop.

I’ve only seen her with her last name across her shoulder blades.

My stomach twists as she turns to smile at me.

I return it and shove whatever caused that gut reaction away.

My girl.

Jo walks over and wraps her arms around my neck.

“Fuck that go-ahead goal was sexy. The way you waited patiently for their defense to create the opening.” She leans in and whispers in my ear. “I had to excuse myself after to rub one out in the bathroom because my clit was throbbing.”

Holy shit.

When she pulls back the mischievous look in her emerald eyes tells me she is dead serious.

“How am I supposed to take you out to dinner knowing that?” I ask and she simply giggles.

Fucking minx.

“I am excited to have dinner though. I looked this place up, it’s fancy.” She says like she didn’t just admit to fingering herself thirty minutes ago.

I clear my throat and widen my stance a bit. “It is, so you’ll have to take the jersey off I’m afraid.”

She looks up from where she was digging through her purse and her eyebrows close in. “What? ”

“Yeah, there was another top in the box. I figured you’d wear that under the jersey.”

“I’m not wearing anything under the jersey.”

Is it hot in here?

My head feels a little woozy.

Aiden jokes about Harper finding him when he was feverish and he blamed it on her being too hot but he might not have been joking.

Jo’s words in the last two minutes have completely altered my body chemistry.

My forehead is dotted in sweat droplets, little shivers are dancing down my spine, and my cock is swelling too quickly for the setting.

“Bryson, you okay?” She asks with a tilt of her head.

“Josephine Hamilton. Let me get this straight.” I hold up one finger. “You only have the rough fabric of my jersey against your perfect chest right now.” I lift another. “And you fingered yourself in that jersey within the hour.”

“I grabbed my tit through the jersey while I was doing it too.” She lifts a third finger from my fist.

“Fuck it.” I mutter and I grab her hand.

“Bryson!” She laughs but she jogs behind me.

I drag her out to the waiting car, all but shove her into the back seat, and instruct the driver to take us to the hotel.

“What about dinner?” She pouts.

“I’ll get room service.” I grit out as I start doing long division in my head to keep my cool.

“And champagne?”

“Yep. Whatever you want.”

“Bry, baby, are you okay?” She asks and when I look at her I realize she knows exactly what she is doing to me .

“What’s your resolution for next year?” I ask her because that was a topic of conversation I had planned for dinner. Now all I want to eat is her pussy.

“Really? You want to talk about that now?” She asks.

“Humor me Jo, I had plans and your little admissions derailed them.” My cock twitches his agreement in my pants.

She giggles. “Fine, I umm, want to win a World Cup.”

“That’s not a resolution.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not something you can totally control.”

“Rude.” She gruffs.

“No, I mean like, I want to be the best long-distance HAB the world has ever seen.”

“Of course you do.”

“So, in order to become the world champion of supportive sport boyfriendship I will not only pay attention to your games and your training but I’ll make sure you’re taking mental breaks and have the right food to refuel with.

I’ll make sure we schedule our calls so we stay in touch outside of constant texts.

I’ll research recovery techniques, and equipment improvements.

And I’ll be there for you every step of the way. ”

Jo blinks heavily and then sniffles.

Hot dog! Did I make my iron girlfriend emotional?

“Okay, I can see how that would make you the world's best HAB.” She says and I can hear the breath caught in her throat.

“So what’s your resolution?”

She looks out the window for a minute. Her eyes focus on anything outside the car and her hands get caught on the pleather as she tries to wipe them down her thighs.

“I don’t want to say it.” She whispers.

“Why not? ”

She inhales and blows a shaky exhale through a little circle of her lips. I’ve never seen her so distraught. She was pissed over the summer when she walked into the house. She was sad when the bookmark incident happened.

But this is a whole new level of pain. The caved in shoulders I want to massage. The wringing hands I want to hold. The scrunched up facial features adding lines I hope to see everyday when we’re old.

“Because it’s selfish.” Jo says to the floor.

I finally reach out and pull her hand into mine. Her face relaxes some but not nearly enough.

“Tell me anyway.” I brush my thumb along her knuckles.

She sniffles and tries to sit taller. Fuck, it is killing me that she’s battling herself right now. Just fucking tell me Jo! I want to scream.

“I want to win the World Cup, which I now know isn’t a resolution.” She chuffs. “But it’s what I want. So while you have decided to become the best support system for me all I want is to work on myself and my game. I want to get stronger. I want to get faster. I want to reach a new level.”

“That’s amazing.”

“But I feel like I need to do something that will benefit you!” She pulls her hand away. “I’m just not good at being in a relationship.”

“Bullshit. Look at me Jo.” She slowly brings her eyes to me.

“We get to define what this relationship looks like. We decide. You and me. And guess what. If you do everything you just promised you’d do.

If you exceed every limit you’ve faced before.

And I get to be with you while you do it? Fuck, that’s incredible.”

“But I won’t-”

“I don’t care. Josie, I need you to chase your dream. Your family, our families, need you to do this. Don’t you see how working your ass off will bring us all joy simply from watching you?”

“That’s it? ”

“That’s it baby. I get a front row seat to the Jo Hamilton show. Let me support you. Let me be there. That’s it.”