Page 83 of So This Is War
They nod their heads, seeming genuine.
“Thank you.” I take a sip of my coffee and adjust my sunglasses. “My penis is tattooed.”
“What?” they all say together.
“How do the boys not know?” Blakely asks.
“You obviously see each other’s things in the shower, right?” Winnie cutely asks.
“We do, but my tattoo is on the underside.”
“Seriously?” Ollie asks. I nod, and she leans back in her chair, her eyes giving me a once-over. “Well, Levi Posey, you just got increasingly hotter in my eyes.”
“Thank you,” I reply with a smirk.
“Did you have to get hard for that?” Blakely asks.
“Yup.”
“And one prick of the needle didn’t deflate it?” Penny asks.
I shake my head. “Kind of thrive on pain.”
“Makes sense,” Winnie says. “Since you’re the bruiser of the team.” It’s true. Sometimes, I just want to be punched in the face. I like the adrenaline.
Is that healthy?
No, but it’s who I am.
“Wow, a tattooed penis. Never would have guessed the guy who eats bologna likes a tattooed dick.” Penny shakes her head.
“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me,” I say. “But we can learn more about each other later. Right now, I’m dealing with a crisis. Remember, the coach’s daughter?”
“Right,” Penny says. “So what has you hard all the time?”
“To sum it up, Coach Wood is forcing me to give her ridiculous tasks. I hate making her do things, but I have to report back to him, so I don’t have a choice. And of course he kicked her out of his house, and she was looking for a place to stay, so I offered her the nanny bedroom in my apartment, which is a hole, and I hate that she lives there when I have a perfectly good guest room, but Coach Wood said she couldn’t stay with me, so I’m breaking the rules, but I couldn’t let her not have a place to live, but now that she lives with me, well . . . she’s walking around the apartment in tight T-shirts with no bras, and wearing my shirts, and wet towels, and nipples on my bicep, and touching, and her smile, and she smells so good, and holy fuck my brain is about to explode.”
Blakely presses her hand to my shoulder. “Deep breaths, Posey.”
“Deep breaths don’t work!” I practically shout. “Meadows don’t work. Or cotton-candy skies. All I see are her breasts day in and day out, bouncing toward me. I want them in my mouth. I want to play with them. Fuck them. Watch them unravel from her present bra!”
“Okay, okay,” Penny says in a calming voice. “I can see that you’re getting yourself worked up. Let’s not draw attention to the lady in the bucket hat and scarf.” She glances around the café. Yep, people are looking toward us.
Right, trying to keep it incognito.
On a sad and heavy sigh, I say, “I just . . . I want her.”
“We can tell,” Winnie says.
I look up at all of them and say, “And I swear on my left nut that she’s fucking with my head on purpose. She knows how much I want her but can’t have her.”
“Why do you say that?” Blakely asks.
“Because she’s always in my apartment now. She’s walking around wearing practically nothing. She’s touching me. She’sgetting close but not intimate, and it’s driving me nuts. And worst of all . . .” I take a deep breath, lower my sunglasses to the tip of my nose, and say, “She loves bologna.”
A collective gasp falls over the group, all the women with slack jaws and blinking eyes.
“Oh dear God,” Winnie whispers, leaning back.
