Fuck, why the hell am I sore? I think to myself as the morning sun tumbles inside the room, making its way past the curtains and hitting me straight in the face. I sit up on the bed, kicking the sheets back, and I start smelling something … Eggs. What the hell?

Fiona, her name lights up in my mind like a neon sign, and the memories of last night flood me all at once. No wonder I’m sore today; I really gave it my all with her. It’s kinda ironic, really. I usually don’t wake up this sore after a tough game. Bruised and battered, sure, but not sore. That girl really is something else …

I even showered with her; can you believe that? Yeah, shampooed her hair and shit like that. And it felt fucking amazing. I have a feeling that if I keep her around much longer that stuff like that is going to happen more often. Fuck, I hope I don’t end up like these idiots.

I swing my legs out of the bed and go up to my feet, stretching. My back pops as I do it, like it does every morning, and I walk out of the room only in my boxer briefs. I head downstairs, following the smell of scrambled eggs and fried bacon, and Fiona doesn’t even notice me coming up behind her.

She’s standing in the kitchen, barefoot and wearing only her thong and my button-up shirt from last night. On her, it looks more like a dress than a shirt.

“‘G’morning,” I say, resting my hands on her hips and pressing my body against hers. I lay one kiss on her neck and she turns to me with an easy smile.

“G’morning,” she repeats with a purr, leaning in and softly brushing her lips against mine. Just tasting her mouth is enough for my cock to come back to life, and she notices it right away. “What’s this?” she asks me, sliding one hand down my stomach and curling her fingers around my growing shaft.

“No idea, ma’am.”

“Concealed carry? You gotta have a license for that, Mr. Manning,” she teases me, tightening her fingers around my cock. Fuck, I’ve been awake for only a few minutes and I’m already dying to be inside of her again. Every time I spend a night with a woman I usually kick them out the moment I wake up.

“I don’t have a license. But I can take my gun out, if that’s what you want,” I tell her, pulling her into me and pressing my lips on hers.

“Maybe,” she whispers, but then my toaster goes off with a ding! New item on my to-do list: throw that toaster out the window. “But breakfast first.”

“You can be my breakfast,” I say, helping her take the bacon out of the frying pan and placing it on the plate with the eggs.

“I think your coach would kill me if you left home with an empty stomach,” she laughs, sitting on the stools by the side of the counter. I sit across her, taking a distracted bite out of a piece of toast as my eyes wander to her breasts. The shirt she has on is too big for her and the top buttons are undone, so I have a nice view of the upper curves of her breasts. I have no idea how I’m going to eat with her looking like this in front of me.

“You know, this is the first time I’m having breakfast like this,” I say, having no idea about why I’m telling her this.

“And by ‘like this’ you mean…?”

“I usually don’t hang around women after fucking them,” I tell her bluntly. Sometimes it’s better to not be a pussy and just call things by their names.

“Uh, I’ll take it as a good sign the fact that you still haven’t kicked me out,” she says with a soft smile. Somehow she knows I won’t do that. Fuck, just look at her; what a change. When she got to the restaurant yesterday she was so nervous I actually thought she might pass out; and now here she is, having breakfast in my kitchen as if she owns the place. She’s a box full of surprises, that’s for sure.

“I might change my mind, you know,” I shoot back at her, but she remains unfazed. She thinks she has me hooked, and fuck, I think I really am hooked.

“That’d be a shame. Last night was really great,” she takes a bite out of her toast, acting so casually it almost seems like she has guys like me banging on her door. I mean, she deserves it, but I seriously doubt there are enough real men to go around.

“It was,” I agree, thinking back to how amazing it felt to have her naked body pressed against mine. “And I can’t wait to repeat it.”

“Well, if you want more of me, you better win your next game.” What’s this? Is she bribing me with sex? I like this; I like a lot. We’re playing the Chicago Pounders next Sunday and, after what Fiona just said, they don’t have a chance. They’re to be steamrolled, even if I have to do it just by myself.

“You have a deal,” I tell her with a smile. Standing up, I go around the counter and grab her by the hand; I pull her into me, and the moment she’s in my arms I just pick her up from the floor.

“I guess that deal can be delayed for a couple more hours,” she says, still smiling.

“I was thinking the same,” I reply, carrying her toward the stairs. I make the climb toward the upper floor and there I go straight for my bedroom. Once inside, I close the door with my feet and then lay Fiona down on the bed, my lips locked on hers.

I don’t know exactly what it is about her, but I’m starting to think that I don’t want to let go of her.