He slides into bed behind me, pressing his bare chest against my back as his hands smooth over my ass. Then he wraps them around my waist and pulls me in just as his lips find my neck.
“I think you should talk to him.”
“Why? He doesn’t even want me to be with you.”
“He doesn’t, and I can’t believe I’m defending your dad right now,” he murmurs, kissing me behind my ear, “but if he’s calling, there’s probably a reason. The man doesn’t take a breath without turning it into a strategy. Hell, he still calls just to remind me to have a backup plan in case the NFL fucks me sideways.”
His erect cock presses against my ass to emphasize the point, making me arch my back. I hum noncommittally, threading my fingers through his damp hair.
“Ugh, don’t remind me.”
“He’s a smart man.” Zach drags his mouth along my collarbone. “He knows we’re endgame and wants to make sure you’re taken care of. He cares, just in that weird, too-rich-to-have-sense kind of way.”
I groan and break away from Zach so I can turn in his arms and look at him. “I’ll think about it.”
He kisses me softly on the forehead, then pulls back completely, standing from the bed. “That’s all I can ask for,” hesays, patting my ass on his way to the dresser. “Now get up, Honeycomb. I’m buying you coffee.”
Once I’m showered and ready to go, I grab my bag from the kitchen and head to Zach’s front door.
“What the—?”
I gasp, clutching the open door to catch myself from the thing on the floor threatening to break my ankle.
A football.
I nudge it gently with my foot, only for it to roll into another. Then another. And another. I follow the line of footballs and realize the pile is only the beginning—Zach’s porch is a full-on minefield, each ball tagged with a Post-it note.
Zach’s hands land on my hips, and he kisses my cheek from behind. “You ready to go?”
I glance over my shoulder and jab a finger toward the sea of footballs. “Um, do you see this?”
He follows my gaze. “Oh, the balls?”
“Yeah,” I say, kicking another one out of my way and stepping forward so Zach can lock the door.
“People leave them here asking for autographs. Thought it’d stop after I moved out of the dorms. Guess not.”
“Seriously?” I bend down to read one of the notes:To Lily, you are my sunshine. I’d beg you to wreck me and say thank you after.
I toss it into his chest and smile. “Maybe I should sign it and leave my own note. Something sweet, likeLily,he moans my name when he comes, not yours.”
He flashes me a smile, tugging me into him so our hips are flush. “Miss Sanderson, are you jealous?”
I groan at his teasing, trying to look away but he grabs my chin and holds me in place. Then he plants an exaggerated kiss on my lips.
“I only ever sign them, Honeycomb. I never write the shit they ask me to. That’s what Coach Summers told me to do, but if it upsets you, I’ll stop.”
If it upsets me? Why is he worried about that?
That’s when I realize I’m clutching my bag and my jaw is tightening. Am I annoyed girls are all over Zach? No. It’s part of the territory, but I guess I didn’t think they were coming to his house before I’d even seen it.
Forcing out a smile, I mask my disapproval and push him lightly in the chest with my finger. “Ah, but if you do that, you’ll destroy your golden boy persona.”
“You know the only thing I care about is you,” he says simply. “It’s part of why I want you here. At least then I might not be dragged into some of those girls’ obsessive delusions, and I know they can’t hurt you.”
I shoot him a side-eye. “No one’s going to hurt me.”
“You sure about that? Some of the shit girls post about me online. It’s not cute.”