She sighed, the sound full of longing and…something else he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Not that he wanted to dissect it. “Okay. Lay on your stomach.”
He could hear her smile and it made him want to smile in return, even though she couldn’t see it. The blackout curtains certainly did the trick.
Sheridan slipped out of bed and went to the wall of windows, cracking open the curtains so a shard of light shone within. “That way I can see you,” she explained as she came back to the bed.
He watched her, his mouth going dry when he saw she wore a teeny pair of cotton boxer shorts and a Hawks T-shirt with his freaking number on the front, a giant six right in the center. Her hair was a sloppy knot on top of her head, loose strands falling around her face. This was how he liked Sheridan best. In her natural state, no makeup, casual clothes. No one really saw her like this.
Except for him. That she wore his number sorta did it for him, too, not that he understood why. Lots of people wore his number. His jersey was the team’s top seller. But seeing Sheridan wear that T-shirt, knowing that his name was emblazoned on the back of it as well, made him feel possessive.
Like he wanted to grab her, sling her over his shoulder and scream, “Mine” while he beat his chest with his fist.
She crawled into bed, went to his side, and rested her hands at the center of his back. He waited breathlessly for her to start, his entire body tense, and when he heard her sigh, he lifted his head, squinting at her. “What?”
“Do you mind if I straddle you?” She smoothed her hands down his back. “It would be so much easier if I could, like, sit on you and rub your shoulders. Otherwise, you’re so broad and my hands are small.”
Did he mind if she straddled him? His cock sure as hell didn’t. It was already twitching in anticipation of feeling those long, silky smooth legs clamped on either side of his body, her hands on his skin. “I don’t mind,” he choked out, closing his eyes. He sounded like a damn fool.
“Oh wait.” She hopped off the bed again, went into the bathroom and turned on the light. Rummaging around for a while, she finally came back into the room and resumed her position. “I brought lotion.”
Jesus. This was either going to be absolute torture…
Or end with the both of them experiencing exquisite pleasure.
Chapter Twelve
Sheridan climbed on top of Jared, her bent legs on either side of him, her butt resting on his lower back. She couldn’t believe she was doing it. That he was letting her do it. Yesterday, he avoided her. Now, she was sitting on top of him, her girly bits coming into close contact with his hard muscles. Shock waves of bliss pulsed through her blood, but she ignored them.
It wasn’t about her at the moment. It was all about him.
He was so big, so solid, that hopefully he hardly felt her weight on him at all, she mused as she popped open the travel-sized bottle of lotion and poured a dollop into her palm. Rubbing her hands together, she set them on his shoulders and dug in.
Earning an agonized groan for her initial efforts.
She paused, her fingers curved around his stiff muscles. “Am I hurting you?”
“Hell, no.” He moaned again when she dug her fingers extra deep. “Don’t ever fuckin’ stop.”
Smiling, she rubbed him, pleased when she felt him slowly relax beneath her touch. The poor man was expected to do all of these extraordinary things on a daily basis, yet no one took care of his most basic needs. He deserved to know someone cared. Someone wanted to take care of him through the good times and the bad.
Sheridan frowned. She was thinking like they were really married. Completely ridiculous and setting herself up for failure, thank you very much. She needed to follow the advice she’d whispered to herself like some sort of mantra on the drive back from the stadium: Live in the present and enjoy these moments with Jared. They aren’t going to last very long, so you have to cherish what you get.
The clause always hung in the back of her mind, and she wished for about the millionth time that she’d never asked for it. Guilt hung over her like a shroud. If he knew it was included at her request, he might never forgive her. Especially since she decided she didn’t want to hold herself to it any longer. She wanted her husband too much. Needed him. But in Jared’s eyes, it might look like a calculated move. As if she were setting him up to have their marriage rendered null and void.
Not good.
Focusing on the man before her, beneath her, she slid her hands down, rubbing the smooth, muscled expanse of his back. He had such a beautiful body. Big and muscular, but not over the top. Tall and with those broad, capable shoulders and long, quick legs, he was built like a super human.
But he wasn’t a super human. He was vulnerable and real and hurting. She wished she could ease his pain, at least for one night.
“Feels so good,” he murmured as he flipped his head to the side, his arms up and curved above his head. “You have the magic touch, wife.”
Her belly tingled. She loved it when he called her “wife” and he hadn’t for a while. They always summoned each other with “wife” or “husband” while in public, but rarely in private. The media certainly liked it.
So did she.
“I like touching you, husband,” she replied, nibbling on her lower lip. She wanted to do something but she didn’t want to freak him out. It was a bold move, especially after what happened between them the last time they shed a few articles of clothing. But he was so relaxed and warm and he felt so good beneath her…
She wanted him to trust her. So much, it made her heart ache. It wasn’t about her selling him out, no matter what he believed. She wanted him. Felt as if she needed him. If only he felt the same way…