Overtime

9: Edge of the Bed

There was something about having a six-foot-four, two-hundred-pound quarterback in my queen-sized bed that I was enjoying. I wasn't sure if it was the fact he was cuddling with me or the fact I had a football player in my bed. I should say, naked football player.

I'm unsure what time it was or even when we went to sleep. I could tell the sun was up through the light seeping through the crack in my blinds. I think he was still sound asleep; I could feel his steady breath blowing in my ear. I didn't ever want to get up.

We didn't even get the chance to have sex before we both passed out. We were both exhausted from the alcohol and orgasms.

I wonder if he'd do this again with me. Or if we will pretend we don't know each other at the stadium. I hope he doesn't act like he doesn't know me. I know a few people have seen him walk me to my car, but there truly wasn't anything going on before last night.

I hope if something else happens, the Titans don't mind. Surely, there has been staff members who have dated players. It'll have to stay a secret.

The sound of a bottle crashing to the floor in the kitchen makes me jump. Christ. I can guarantee it's Emma and almost guarantee it was on purpose. Miles groans, tightening his grip on me and pulling me closer. I silently smile to myself, my heart fluttering. "I think my feet are hanging off your bed," he mutters, and my God. His morning voice. The rasp. I could feel my lady bits tingle at his words.

I peek my head over the sheets to look and laugh. Sure enough, I could see his feet off the end of the bed, almost peeking out of the sheets. "Sorry, it's not made for giants."

He yawns, taking his arm off me and stretching, "What time is it?"

I looked at my nightstand, but my phone wasn't there. I sit up, covering my breasts with the sheets, looking around on the floor, "I don't even know where my phone is."

He huffs before getting up, sliding his boxers on, before bending down in his pants pockets to retrieve his phone. I stare at his crotch, reliving the moments of last night: My lips wrapped around his thick, large cock as his hands fisted my hair.

It went better than I thought it would. I only gagged twice before getting used to him in the back of my throat. He came, so I think it went well. I know it wasn't pretty. But we joked about it afterward, confessing to him I hadn't had a man in my bed in over a year. He seemed surprised about that one, and I wasn't sure if I should have been offended.

He lays back on the bed, looking at his phone. I want to look and snoop, but I sit there and mind my business, staring at the wall. "It's almost nine if you're wondering," he says. "I'm gonna be late for practice, oh well."

"Gheeze, what time do you have to be there?"

"Nine. Everyone's late all the time. I'm not gonna have time to go home or get my truck. How far is the stadium from here?"

"Like a mile, maybe not even."

He looks at me questionably, "And you drive?"

My cheeks turn pink, and I roll my eyes, "You forget I am a woman. It's not safe to walk alone on the side of the streets at night."

"Unfortunate."

I scoff, quickly getting out of bed and pulling a shirt on to look for my phone because I'm tired of looking at him on his. "For someone late, you aren't hurrying to leave." I find my purse on the floor by my door, my phone lying underneath it. I checked my notifications and saw that Amber had taken Caleb back to her place. I hope her dad doesn't see.

He shrugs and smirks, "What are they gonna do? Fire me? Plus, it's only a mile. It's not far. I can run fast."

"In jeans?" I climb back in bed beside him and watch him watch his phone. What's even so interesting about it anyway? He looks pretty odd with a phone so small for a man so large. It almost gives me the ick. He needs an iPad or something. It's gross. I then hear his voice on a video playing on his phone. Is he— "Are you watching videos of yourself?"

He laughs, "fan edit." He points the phone towards me, and sure enough, someone has made a steamy edit video of him.

"I will agree that you look hot in that, you celebrity."

"I bet your camera captures some great footage of me, too." It does. I wish I didn't have to turn in my camera card daily. I would have an album full of just him.

"Christ, your ego," I mutter, "What do you do? Wake up and read your Instagram comments to start your day?" He could post a picture of a wall, and people would comment, "need you to push me up against that."

"You sound jealous," he reaches over and pinches my cheeks.

I swat his hand away, "I'd rather not have men confess their dying love for me every second of the day."

"You'll get to see it in person at the game next week. Try not to get too jealous, sweetheart."

I push his arm, but he doesn't move an inch, "I'm going to wear the jersey of the other team's quarterback. You try not to get jealous."

He grabs my hand and uses his other to drag me closer. He whispers, "playing a dangerous game when we're inches apart."

My eyes flicker to his lips, wanting to taste them again, to remember what they felt like. "Don't you need to go?"

"Yeah," he breathes. It's only a moment before his lips are on mine, kissing me like he won't see me again. It makes me wonder if I actually won't see him again.

He pulls away, kissing my cheek before letting me go and getting off the bed. He pulls his jeans on, and I take one last mental picture of his toned body before he slips his shirt on. I almost frowned as he waited for me to walk him out.

We walk silently down the hall to the front door, where I stop at the front door. "Turn left when you get outside and just keep straight. Goes straight there."

He hugs me and kisses the top of my head, "Thanks. I had a good night, Julia. I'll see ya in a few."

"Bye," I squeak out before he descends down the hall. I shut the door and leaned against it, speechless at the night we had.

Seconds later, Riley and Emma exited their rooms, waiting for me to spill everything. "Jules, tell us everything. Is he big?" Emma begs.

I blush, "I—uh...He's a good size." I push my hair behind my ear. "He's not small. I'll tell you that." I hadn't really ever talked about guys with them. I had banned myself from thinking of them after the frat boy cheating incident.

They look at each other before their jaws drop open. "I knew he'd be big. Fuck you."

"How was it?" Riley asks.

I smile, "Really good. We didn't fuck, but God, I think I'm obsessed with that man. Like seriously. I need a detox tea or something. And then he just said, "See you in a few," and my heart wants to explode."

"Julia's falling in love with a fucking NFL quarterback, and I can't get the guy who asked for my number to text me back," Emma grumbles. She means well, but she must hate seeing me have something she doesn't. Riley's always the nice one. She keeps whatever she's thinking to herself.

"Give me some time. Maybe he has another single friend for you. I've only met Caleb, but he hangs out with others. If I keep seeing him, I'll meet more."

"You better."