swipe my hair from my face, open my eyes, and take in the muscled, bare-chested, insanely hot football player hovering above me with the darkest eyes devouring every inch of me. I’m not ashamed as I do the same to him. My eyes snag on each and every piece of ink on show, the rose and vines that start at his strong throat, to the compass near his left pec, all the way down to the trail of dark hair between his muscled V-shape hips. The masterpiece of him is overwhelming.
