Tayvis One-Shots

what are you doing to me

Travis's POV

I don't think I've ever been more out of my element in my life.

Football? I can handle. Cameras in my face? No problem. Pressure on the field? Love it.

But standing in the middle of a lingerie store, surrounded by silk, lace, and mannequins in things I am absolutely not allowed to touch? Yeah, I'm in trouble.

Taylor, on the other hand, looks completely at ease, flipping through delicate little slips and sets like she does this every day. And maybe she does, I wouldn't know. But right now, I'm just trying to keep my cool, which is damn near impossible when my girlfriend, the most beautiful woman on the planet, keeps holding up tiny pieces of fabric with a knowing smirk.

"You're being awfully quiet," she teases, turning to glance at me over her shoulder. The glint in her eye tells me she knows exactly what she's doing. "Cat got your tongue?"

I clear my throat, shifting awkwardly where I stand. "Nope. Just, uh... taking it all in."

She hums in amusement, then holds up something red and lacy, tilting her head. "What about this one?"

I swallow hard, because Jesus Christ. It's barely anything, thin straps, see-through lace, and little satin bows that look more like decoration than function.

"Yeah," I say, my voice coming out rougher than I intended. "That's, uh... yeah."

Taylor laughs, shaking her head. "You're adorable when you're flustered."

"I'm not flustered," I lie.

She raises an eyebrow. "Oh, really?" Then, with an infuriatingly slow motion, she drapes the red set over her arm and picks up another one, black, this time, with delicate floral lace. "Which one do you like better?"

I blink at her. "You're seriously asking me to choose?"

Taylor shrugs, feigning innocence. "Well, you're the one who's going to be seeing it, aren't you?"

Oh, hell.

I rub a hand over my jaw, feeling the heat rise up my neck. "Babe, I don't think you understand. If you wear either of those, I'm not gonna be doing much 'seeing' at all before I-"

She grins and presses a finger to my lips, effectively shutting me up. "Shhh. You're in public, Travis."

"Yeah, and whose fault is that?" I mutter, but she just winks and turns back to the racks, flipping through more options like she isn't completely wrecking me right now.

I exhale sharply and take a step closer, resting my hands on her waist. "For the record," I murmur into her ear, "you'd look good in anything. Or, you know... nothing at all."

Taylor makes a little pleased noise in her throat, leaning into me just slightly. "Good answer."

I grin. "I thought so."

She twists in my arms, tilting her head up to look at me. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

I chuckle. "I'm suffering, actually."

Her laughter is soft and warm, and she reaches up to brush her fingers along my jaw. "Pick one."

I glance down at the two sets in her hands—the sinful red one, and the elegant black one. It's an impossible choice, but eventually, I tap the black one with my finger. "This one."

She smiles, satisfied. "Good to know." Then, to my utter devastation, she sets both of them over her arm and walks toward the fitting rooms.

I watch her go, my brain short-circuiting. "Wait—"