The Guy on the Left (The Underdogs, #2)(82)

“I can’t believe you remembered that.”

He stops his movements, cupping my face. “I’ve memorized you, Clarissa, the shape of your lips, the lilt of your voice, your every smile, every mood, your everything. I used to think it was because I’ve grown so used to watching because of Dante,” he wipes another tear from my cheek, “but it’s not just our son, baby, it’s you. He wasn’t the only one I was falling for.”

I shake my head incredulous, my heart exploding with his sentiment. “This is…I can’t believe it. It’s the best gift I’ve ever gotten. You, you gave me a piece of my childhood back. Thank you,” I kiss his jaw, his nose, his neck over and over as he holds me close. “You have no idea what this means to me.” I kiss him again and again, my heart soaring. “I’m so thankful. You have no idea how much.”

“I think I’m getting a good idea,” he manages through the rain of affection as I run my kisses along his jaw.

I look up to him, and he searches my eyes, his alight with raw happiness at my reaction. I can feel the shake in his limbs as my heart speeds up. Troy’s lips seal over my mouth before he deepens our kiss. Clinging to each other, his tongue strokes mine, seeking, exploring, while I melt in his embrace. This kiss just as powerful as our last and the kiss before, but behind it, I feel more than I imagined possible. My body sinks into him, and he grips the back of my head, plunging his tongue over and over until we’re breathless.

“Take me home and ravage me, superstar.”

“No can do, baby, I’ve got a promise to keep.”

“I don’t think I can take much more of this adult dating.”

“All in good time. Happy Birthday, pretty woman.”

“I love thirty.”

“You should. It looks fucking amazing on you.”

“No, no, that’s you.”

I reach up and tug at the back of his neck, bringing him closer until I’m kissing him with all I feel, and he kisses me back just as fevered. Horns of passersby sound around us, and I couldn’t care less, because for the first time since we met, we’re no longer a secret, and I don’t care who sees that I’ve fallen for Troy Jenner.





Clarissa



Troy nestles himself between my parted legs, where I sit on the dryer sweeping his tongue across my lips. Opening for him, he deepens our kiss while tugging the neck of my T-shirt beneath my breasts. It’s a trick he does often, cradling them together before he feasts. My nipples draw tight in anticipation, the pulse between my thighs beats heavy from the hunger in his eyes. The stroke of his thumbs over the lace covering my pebbled flesh has me on the verge as he grinds his rock-hard length just where I need him. He silences my whimper with his tongue just as Dante calls to him from the living room.

“Troy, can we play football?”

Reluctantly he pulls his lips away, eyes full of lust while he caresses the swell of my cleavage with his palm. “Sure, bud, but only for a few minutes. We have to head to the airport soon.”

Slowly, he lifts my aching flesh from the lace of my bra before sucking my nipple into his mouth.

Yes, we’re horrible parents.

It’s been ten days of utter bliss. Since Troy’s been home, we’ve been doing a hell of a lot of ‘laundry.’ Ever the hustler, he’s been working odd jobs with Kevin in construction to try and catch up on his bills. When he’s not working out for endless hours to keep up his time and stamina, we spend every spare adult second exploring each other’s bodies. He’s given me exactly what I asked for, what I hoped for, a real courting, and I’m loving every minute of it.

“I can’t find it. Where is it?” Dante asks.

“In my truck,” Troy calls, before placing a tongue-filled kiss on my shoulder. “Keys are on the table.”

“K!”

Warm hands cover me while his lips travel, and I entertain getting down on my knees for a second time.

“Fuck, baby, I’m about to explode,” he rasps out against my skin as I clutch him to me.

“Me too,” I murmur, ripping at his hair. “If you would stop being so stingy with the penis, maybe we wouldn’t be so sexually frustrated.”

“That’s ‘Grand Commander,’” he says pointedly through the worship of his lips, “and I have a point to prove,” he murmurs, running his knuckles down my cheek.

“Fine, fine, you’ve proved it, you’re now the poster boy of courting and commitment, happy?”

“Hell yes, I am,” he says softly, his eyes lifting to mine, the sentiment blanketing me in warmth, resonating deep.

I beam up at him, sliding my fingers through his thick mane. “Me too.”

“How many sleeps?” he groans. After the Combine, he’s set to meet up and sign with an agent. They’ve been talking for the past three weeks, and he’s kept me in the loop. The closer the draft gets, the more he’s scrutinized by different camps. His performance in the next few days is key, and I can’t believe how relaxed he is with the pressure he’s under.

“Six sleeps. You’ll make it.”

“No, I won’t,” he groans, rubbing his erection against me.

“You’ve got this. I’m so excited for you. You’re going to kill it. And we’ll be cheering you on from here.”