“Tell me, Natalie. Tell me now.” “Tell you what?” I ask nervously. “Why are you wearing my jersey?” he growls. Shocked and more than a little turned-on, I stare up at him. “Should I not have worn it?” “No, sweetheart. I fucking love seeing my name on you. But I need to know why. I need to know what it means.” “You told me I had to let you know when I was ready for more, Brady. This is me telling you I’m ready for everything.” He’s on me instantly. This isn’t a sweet kiss. This is a claiming. His hands are on my ass, and his tongue is in my mouth.
