Blindsided (Fake Boyfriend #4)(32)

Miller’s smile makes the risk worth it.





Chapter Twelve





MILLER





Talon: I need to change my pregame ritual.

Me: To?

Talon: You.

Me: I’m your new pregame ritual?

Talon: Getting off with you is. Did you SEE that game?

Me: Wouldn’t have missed it. You guys were on fire, and I hate I’m not there with you.

Talon: We’re finally clicking. Everything was smooth, and it was one of those games where everything fell into place. Like the football gods were watching over us.

Me: And I’m somehow to thank for that? Are you saying I’m a football god, because I’ll take it.

Talon: Dunno, but we should do it again next game. You know … just in case.

Me: Right. Just in case.





*



Talon: 5 for 5, baby!

Me: My football god powers are strong.

Talon: Correction: your powers in getting me off are strong.

Me: How talented of me. Although, can I really take credit when I haven’t even touched you?

Talon: Trust me. It’s all you.

After texting every day and a weekly FaceTime call before game nights, we’ve created this little bubble where the rest of the world doesn’t exist and we don’t talk about anything real. It’s all football and getting off.

I’m letting this go at Talon’s pace and not pushing for things I really want, because even though he hasn’t freaked out yet, I don’t want to overstep. Which is why I hesitate before hitting the Send button on my next text.

Me: What’s your stance on celebratory video calls?

The call comes in seconds later, and I answer with a grin.

“That was quick.”

Talon pans the camera down his body. “I was already appropriately undressed and two seconds away from asking you the same thing.”

I swallow a groan. My cock goes from a semi to full mast instantly, and his camera isn’t even pointing at the good stuff. His bare chest, chiseled arms, and that gorgeous face fill my phone screen, and Talon’s blond hair sticks up at all angles from lying in bed.

It’s been weeks of staring at him this way—of being allowed to take advantage of it—but I can’t get enough. I want more. If only I had the balls to ask for it.

“Eight hundred miles is too far,” I complain.

“Ten weeks.”

If I weren’t so distracted by Talon’s body and raspy tone, I’d already have my hand in my boxers.

Ten weeks is way too long.

“Maybe I could skip PT one day this week and fly out—”

“No. Your leg needs to get better for next season. No skipping sessions.”

“But—”

“No,” Talon barks.

“There’s quarterback Talon again, Mr. Bossy.”

“You know it.” Talon’s eyes meet mine, the blue in them taking on a mischievous glimmer. “But I had something else in mind tonight.”

My heart hammers as I tell myself to be cool. “Yeah?” Apparently my voice didn’t get the message and comes out all gruff with a high-pitched squeak at the end.

“Yeah.” Talon’s tone is tentative, and he bites his lip.

“I’m pretty sure I can handle whatever it is.”

“I want you to boss me around. Like you do with the girls we’ve been with.”

Okay, I was one hundred percent wrong, because Talon asking me to boss him around in bed? I’m in no way prepared to handle that. This is a prank. I have to be being punked right now, because this doesn’t happen in real life.

It’s not that I’m bossy in bed. I’m the one asking a girl’s limits and asking for boundaries, because ever since the first time Talon and I were together, my life revolved around rules and limitations when it came to him. It’s about being wary, not about needing to be the one in control.

Now Talon’s asking me throw all my rules out the window.

He takes my hesitance as an opportunity to keep talking. “Ever since we started … fooling around? Is that what you’d call it?”

I grit my teeth. “Get to the point faster, Talon.”

“Right. Umm, well, yeah … all I can think about is you telling me what to do. I want to be the one to get you off.”

I understand what he’s saying. Mostly, when we’ve done this, it’s always been him watching me. I’ve been the focus of both of us, because I’ve been letting him run the show. Flipping the dynamic has me excited but scared I’m gonna push too far or fast.

“Remove the sheet,” I order.

Talon does as I say, but I can’t see anything because he hasn’t propped his phone on his bedside table like usual.

“Still can’t see anything,” I say.

“Impatient much?”

“Very. Now hurry up and show me what’s mine.”

“Yours?” Talon asks.

“What will be mine,” I growl.

Talon places his phone in a position that gives me a view of all his naked glory.

Before, where I felt deceptive looking at Talon’s naked body, now that it’s what he wants, there’s no tearing my gaze away.