The Game (That Girl, #2)(48)

“Dinner first, Number Eleven.”

“I’ve got my dinner,” he says, laying me back on the counter, sliding down my booty shorts.

“Holy f*ck, Jazzy, no panties. I just damn near jizzed myself.”

His words make me laugh, but he shuts me up as soon as his mouth touches me. A raw look of possession fills Levi’s eyes as he glances up at me. I’m propped on my elbows to savor the feeling of satisfaction he’s sending through me. Using a combination of his fingers, tongue, and teeth, he sends me sailing over the edge.

“Levi,” I scream.

“Teach you to wear an outfit like that again after I work out.”

He pulls me up while sliding my shorts back in place, and just when he adjusts the waistband, Rusty walks in with two bags of food. The man has walked in on us the past couple days more than I care to admit. He never acts shocked, instead he just continues on with whatever errand he was doing. The feeling actually makes me sick every time because it’s a reminder of all the women Levi’s been with. Of course, Rusty is used to walking in on him with various women, and probably more than one at a time.

“Stop, Jazzy,” Levi whispers into my ear.

“Stop what? I’m not doing anything.”

“I can hear you thinking.”

“Dinner, boss,” Rusty announces before I can counterattack.

Levi turns around, leaning against the counter between my legs, so I rest my arms on his shoulders, wrapping my legs around his middle. Rusty passes out to-go containers. I wave mine off and decide to just pick off of Levi’s. The two men spark up a conversation about football, football, and more football. They lose my attention about ten words in. I reach over Levi’s shoulder and snag some chicken pieces. Halfway through the conversation, he grabs the milk jug and takes a drink. He’s such a barbarian. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him drink milk from a glass, even at Lynlee’s house.

I grab my cellphone, snapping a picture of him with his head tilted back, shirtless, with his Adam’s apple bobbing while he gulps. His gym shorts are barely clinging to the front of his V.

“No pictures, please,” Rusty says, joking.

I admire him on my screen and quickly set it as every wallpaper possible. Levi gives me the stink eye as he grabs my food container and settles back into the counter with his back to me.

“Hey, I have to have something to sell when Levi leaves me.”

Neither of the men takes my comment seriously, but deep down in my gut it rings true for me. Our days are numbered before he has to go back to number eleven fulltime. He has a persona to live up to, the extreme party boy and beast on the field.

I grab for another piece of chicken and squeal when Levi bites my hand.

“What was that for?”

“Stop thinking like that,” he warns.

I pull my hand back and see a set of teeth marks printed in my skin.

“Asshole, that hurt.”

“Good.”

“Asshole.”

“Come play catch with your *.”

Levi turns me around, scoots my hips off the counter, and begins to pack me out of the house.

“Levi, I’m going to break your back.”

“Shut up, I’m not a *.”

“Okay, Groucho.”

Levi sets me down by the football, and we start our nightly routine. I start as the center, just so he can grope my ass and make comments, and then run a pattern he tries to explain. We last about forty-five minutes before I’m bitching and whining about not understanding the calls and wanting a zinger.

“Jazzy, you can’t even catch what I’m passing now.”

“Well, if you’d throw the ball to me, I could.”

“You didn’t just say that to me, did you?”

“Yes, throw me a zinger now.”

“No.”

“Fine, I’m done.”

Levi starts chasing me, and I know exactly what I started. When he catches me, he throws me over his shoulder and hauls my ass up to the bedroom.

“I swear you only play catch with me for one reason,” he says, patting my ass.

“You think?”

The next morning we wake up tangled in each other with our sheets on the floor. Levi quickly drifts back to sleep. I’ve noticed since visiting him here that he’s way more exhausted than he typically is, and I chalk it up to his extreme therapy and workouts. I’ve grown to love watching him sleep. It’s only in times like this he can’t seduce me with his killer looks, or make a smartass comment which I shouldn’t laugh at, but do. These are the times in the still of the morning when I love to watch him.

I snap a couple pictures of his profile and some of his hands covering my bare hip. I have no idea what the future holds, or even if it holds anything. I do know there is one thing I want to ask Levi before he goes, and this morning is the morning.

First, I need to sneak out of bed to visit the bathroom before he wakes up, but before I have the chance, Levi grips my hips, rolling me on top of him. His eyes are still shut, but a smile covers his face, and I know exactly what his game is.

“Need something?” I ask.

“Your * on me.”

“Oh my god, you have to be the biggest ass I know.”

“Hey, I have a reputation to live up to,” he says, this time with a chuckle.