Not My Match (The Game Changers, #2)(79)

I make a moue with my lips. “Ah, little puppy, you need a pat on the head?”

He bares his teeth, and I smirk.

Devon comes back to the den and sits next to me, picking my hand up and threading our fingers together. He gives Aiden a look that says, Mine.

It makes me feel warm all over. If another woman gets near him—my brain explodes at the image, a scowl forming on my forehead. My hand tightens in his, and as if he reads me, he leans down and gives me a slow kiss. “Yours,” he whispers in my ear.

A few minutes later, Devon and Aiden help Danika pack while I check out the artwork in the hall mirror, a gorgeous blue butterfly with black edging around the wings and swirls of curvy black ink fanning out on the sides. She dabs Vaseline over it and puts a bandage on, filling me in on the aftercare instructions to remove the bandage after twenty-four hours, then clean it with antimicrobial soap, pat dry, and apply ointment, but leave off the bandages.

Aiden and she leave, and Devon walks them to the door while I go through the food left in the kitchen.

“Hey, who called earlier?” I ask when he returns.

He leans against the counter. “My dad.”

My eyes flare. “What did he say?”

He tucks his hands in his pockets. “Not much. Just that he’s okay.” He pauses. “He sounded sober.” There’s a hopeful look on his face that makes my heart snag.

“Did he say where he was?”

He shakes his head. “No, just that he’s with friends and wanted to make sure I got his note and that he didn’t want me to worry about him. I told him I paid off the debts.”

“Do you want to call him back?” It might have been hard to talk with company here.

“Nah, he said he had to go. I told him I’m here if he . . . wants to go to rehab.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “He said he’d think about it. He’s never been, you know, and I feel like if he could get therapy and a quiet place to figure things out, it might make a real difference. It’s his move now,” he says, weary acceptance in his voice. “He’ll always be my dad, but I can’t keep giving him money.”

“Whatever happens, I’m here for you.”

He stares at me, searching my face. “I believe you.”

“You hungry?” I indicate the food on the counter. “I can warm up the pasta? Aiden ate the bread.”

His eyes drift over me. “Not hungry for food.”

“Me neither,” I murmur and step closer and toy with edges of his hair, running it through my fingers. “I couldn’t sleep last night, hence the hiding in your closet, and I barely ate a thing today. Studies show that when we’re feeling this . . .” Intense early stages of romantic love . . . “Euphoria, our bodies forget about basic needs and beg for more elevated dopamine, almost like cocaine—not that I know, but—”

He kisses me long and slow, until I’m breathless. “We can talk later.” He pulls my shirt over my head and undoes the snap on my shorts, mindful of my back as he eases them down my legs. His eyes burn as he stands and takes in the lingerie. I do a little twirl, and he chuckles.

“You looked like a dream when I walked in; you know that? It was all I could do to keep my hands off you with them here.”

I put my hand on his chest. “Give me one sec.” I run to my room, grab the item, and rush back to him. He looks down and pops an eyebrow. “Pineapple lube?”

I work his shirt up his chest and over his head. “Hmm, you’re a big guy, and my inner cowgirl worked hard this morning. Myrtle gave me the lube for my birthday.”

“What if I don’t like pineapple?” he murmurs as I unbutton his jeans and push them down his legs; then he kicks them across the room.

“Got strawberry and cherry. You don’t eat it anyway.”

“I’ll eat you in every flavor. Does it come in bacon?”

“Gross!”

He laughs and hops around, taking his socks off. “I’m gonna show you what I can do with that lube. You had control this morning; it’s my turn.”

“Uh-huh,” I say and ease down his black underwear. Magnificent warrior.

After stepping away, I make a dash for his bedroom, looking over my shoulder. “I’ve put the mirror from my room in yours. I want to see your face for what I have planned.”

He chases after me, and I squeal when he catches me and sweeps me into his arms and places me at the foot of his bed. After jumping up, I switch around on him and push him down to sitting. “I get one more time in charge, and then you can do whatever you want.”

“Let me grab my flogger.”

“Hush.” I angle the mirror I grabbed earlier, making sure it displays his incredible physique.

“You know what you’re doing?” he asks slyly as I get on my knees in front of him.

“Books taught me everything I know, football player. Prepare to have your mind blown—and your dick.”

His lashes flutter against his flushed cheeks as I take the tip of him, my tongue dabbing as I lick up his steel rod. “Like a very delicious, very long lollipop,” I murmur against his skin.

“Dirty talker,” he says in a rough voice as his hands go in my hair.

My gaze finds him in the mirror, tracing the flex and ripple of his chest as he inhales deep breaths. My mouth swallows his crown, and he hisses. Using my tongue until he’s slippery, I take in several inches, flatten my tongue, and slide him against the roof of my mouth—little trick I read about—making it appear as if he’s in my throat. I meet his eyes, and he groans. With an exhale, he eases me off him and stands up, tugging me up.