Write Me Off | Complete

chapter thirty-three

I woke up this morning to the feel of Abby's cold nose nuzzling into the crook of my neck. She kissed her way up to my cheek and then traced every line and curve of the ink etched into my shoulder down to my wrist with a feather-light touch. It was somehow the most relaxing thing I've ever experienced, and paired with her fingers dragging gently through my hair, I was dangerously close to drooling on her pillowcase. When I finally opened my eyes, she smiled up at me with an innocent, oh, you're awake, what a surprise look, as if she wasn't purposely trying to get me up.

That smile turned into something much sexier when she climbed into my lap, straddling my hips while she grazed her lips over my collarbone. I knew exactly what she was doing, and when she pulled back to look at me again, the playful gleam in her eyes had me wide awake. My fingers were already looping in the waistband of her pajama pants, but her hands came up to stop me before she wiggled off of me, rolling off the bed and stopping by the door. Her brows were quirked, and a smile was pulling at her perfect lips as if to say, come on, sleepyhead, let's go.

I didn't hesitate for a second. I was out of bed and pulling my sweats up my legs before I could ask where we were going. But to be honest, it didn't even matter where she was leading me because I knew I'd follow Abby Ryan anywhere.

I know I should be listening to James right now, but even though he's sprawled out on the couch next to me, absently listening to Greg Bradshaw list off this week's highlights, I can't take my eyes off of Abby. She's wearing yoga pants, which I think she's quickly realizing are my favorite item of clothing because she smirked at me over her shoulder when she slid them up her legs earlier, wiggling her ass as the blue cotton underwear on her hips finally disappeared under the leggings.

If we hadn't just had sex in the shower, I probably would have been tempted to pull the leggings back down, but since I keep forgetting to buy a box of condoms to leave at her apartment, we've somehow already managed to have unprotected sex twice. Actually, three times, if the two times in the shower count as separate times, which, I guess, they do. We probably shouldn't go for a fourth before she gets on birth control.

"—He said it wouldn't impact his game, but he still seemed pissed off. I could see him doing something stupid to get back at him on the court."

Glancing back over to James, I blink a few times, trying to get that memory of the shower sex that Abby and I just had out of my head. He's staring at me with a cocked brow, and I know I've been caught, but I try to save face anyway. I wasn't paying attention to the details, but I still got the gist—Luke has something against one of the University of Central Washington players.

"What's the kid's name?" I ask, glancing back up at the sports reporter still reading off stats on the TV mounted over their fireplace.

"Grayson Wilder." James sighs, pulling my attention instantly.