Despite my attempts to explain otherwise, he remained stubbornly convinced that he did not, in fact, have the incorrect address. What’s more, he argued with me about what my address was. Negotiating nicely to get him the hell off my front step took far longer than it should have and used every ounce of patience I possessed.

After he finally left, I jogged back upstairs and pushed the door to my room open. I stopped on the spot, and my heart bounced off my ribcage like a puck hitting a goalpost. Bailey was perched on the edge of my bed, looking at her phone—wearing my red Falcons T-shirt.

It was everything.

“Sorry.” She set her phone on the nightstand, lifting her eyes to meet mine. “I was writing Shiv back. She said they’re going to O’Connor’s for a couple of drinks.”

Good.

I hoped they stayed there. All night.

I shut the door behind me and locked it again. Spinning around, I couldn’t help but slowly scan up and down her body, drinking in the sight of her and growing more intoxicated by the second.

Dark blond hair loose around her shoulders, lush lips parted. My shirt. And tiny gray pajama shorts showing off her slender, endless legs. Legs that might be over my shoulders later, in a different way than last time. Or in both ways, maybe.

Both would be great.

I gave her a crooked grin and finally regained my ability to speak. “Nice shirt.”

“Isn’t it?” Bailey’s mouth tugged into a flirty smile. “I’m a big fan of number nineteen. He’s pretty cute.”

“What did I do to deserve this?” I asked, stepping closer. Whatever it was, I’d repeat it on the daily.

As I reached the bed, she pushed herself to stand and nibbled her bottom lip. “Just being you.”

Her hands landed on my shirt, slowly unbuttoning it from the top down and helping me shrug it off. She slid her fingers down my bare torso, probing. Then she took hold of my belt and unfastened it, followed by my pants. I quickly stepped out of them, pulling my socks off at the same time. Suddenly, I was left standing in front of her in nothing but black boxer briefs.

Her turn. But first…

“Are you nervous?” I brushed the hair out of her face and slid my hands down to her waist, gripping over top of the worn cotton.

Bailey’s eyes drifted shut for a beat before opening again and focusing on mine. “A little.”

“You don’t need to be nervous with me, James.”

“I know.” Her expression softened. “Are you?”

I gave her a small smile. “Maybe a little.”

Brutal honesty strikes again. But she’d told me the truth, so it was only fair. Feeling like this was a first for me, at any rate.

“Really?” she asked quietly, blond brows pulling together. “Why?”