Page 20 of Sportsball is for Lovers

Holding out his hand, I take it in mine for a shake, and a spark of static electricity runs through my palm. It must be the dry, recycled hotel air.

I jump back. “Come on in.”

As I keep the door open, he squeezes past me—and it is a squeeze. I’m definitely plus-sized, and he’s slightly thinner than me, but not by much. Mm, I do love me a big boy.

Our children will be fat and cute little cherubs with chunky thighs and arm rolls.

Not that, you know, I actively want kids. I’m just saying.

I want to say something, acknowledge how awkward this is. We’ve had sex. Plenty of sex. He’s seen parts of me I don’t share with just anyone.

And he’s my assistant’s brother??

“So you live in town?” I ask Jared as I try to fasten my necklace. The clasp is tiny, and the hook even smaller, and it always gives me fits. My great-aunt gave it to me for my bat mitzvah and thirteenth birthday, so it’s always been meaningful to me.

He nods, looking uncomfortable. “Not far from here, actually. Just a few blocks.”

“Nice. I like Denver. I haven’t been here in a while,” I comment. My fingers are clumsy as I try to fix the clasp. “Fuck.”

“You okay?” He arches a well-maintained eyebrow.

“I can’t get my freaking necklace on,” I huff.

He inhales sharply. “You want some help?”

I’m secure enough in who I am—and what I’m capable of—to accept help when I need it.

“If you don’t mind.”

Jared steps close to me, and I turn my back to him. Holding out the strands of the necklace, his fingers brush mine as they take over the chain, and I move to lift my hair out of the way. I can’t get it all, though; I have a lot of hair.

The pads of his fingers brush against my neck, smoothing a curl out of his way. A shiver runs through me. One of my biggest turn-ons is someone touching my neck. Specifically, a man’s hand across my throat as he fucks into me.

Fuck. Why did I let him help?

He feels solid behind me, steady. I feel like I can trust him.

Which, frankly, is ridiculous. I may be able to trust Yoni, but I’ve known him for a year. Jared is Yoni’s brother, and even though we’ve gotten naked together, I don’t know him.

Not yet, at least.

I want to, though. Fuck, do I want to.

The clasp catches, and I know because the necklace chain goes taut against my clavicle before it releases with slack, and I hear his soft exhalation. His thick fingers brush mine again as he takes my hair, and as I let it fall, he finger-combs the curls into place. Heat rises to my face, and I⁠—

“There,” he says, his voice rough.

The bathroom door opens, and Jared jumps back.

Yoni has a towel wrapped around his waist, and as he sees his brother—and no doubt how close we’re standing—his eyes narrow.

“Hi, Jare. Glad you could make it,” he says.

“Thanks for inviting me,” Jared says. He clears his throat. “Yonatan, where are your clothes?”

Yoni rolls his eyes. “You’re worse than Mom.” Crossing the room, he scoops a pair of blue plaid boxers off the bed. “Forgot my undies.” He gives his brother a cheeky grin.

“You walk around naked in front of—” Jared huffs. “It’s not appropriate.”