“I’m sorry, that wasn’t fair. Of course you can’t go against your rules. I’m sorry. I never should have said anything.” He rubbed his temples and winced when his fingers brushed against the goose egg.
Emmy had barely heard anything he’d said. “What do you think this is?”
“What?” He looked confused, but his eyes remained clear, so she wasn’t worried about his brain fart being a result of massive head injury.
“What are we? To each other I mean.”
Tucker, who’d been the first one to ask the question, could no longer pretend to be unsure of what she was asking. After a longer-than-reasonable pause, he said, “You’re my good-luck charm.”
Emmy stared at him. “Your what?”
“Can I sit down?”
She wanted to say he couldn’t leave until he’d explained himself, but it was hard for a medical professional to say no to someone who might be concussed. Emmy guided him back to the training room and picked the ice pack up, pressing it firmly to his forehead. “I’m your good-luck charm?”
He smiled, but it wavered when she adjusted the pack.
“We’ve won every game since…well…” He grinned, and this time it held. The familiar twinkle returned to his eyes, and he was starting to regain some of his color.
“You think you’re winning because we’re having sex?”
Tucker winked and took the ice pack from her hand. “Six-game winning streak. Seven days of sex. You do the math.”
“Am I your new superstition?”
“No.” His eyes widened like he wasn’t sure if he’d said the wrong thing and had somehow offended her. “No?”
“I’m the new grape chewing gum?”
“Bubble gum.”
Emmy laughed then and turned away from him, picking up a first-aid kit so she could get a small optical flashlight. “You’re saying I’m your new bubble gum, then?”
“I still chew the gum. I’d say you’re more of…an additional item.”
She leaned against his legs and held his eyelids open while she shined the flashlight into each eye in turn, watching for the dilation of his pupils. Seeing the response she wanted, she remained in place against his legs but shut the flashlight off.
“That’s it, then?” Emmy tapped the flashlight on his knee, and he kicked in response. “I’m your new rabbit foot.”
Tucker put his hands on her waist and parted his legs so she fit between his thighs. “Are you okay with that?”
What did Emmy want him to say? It was love and he needed her, that she completed him somehow? Thinking he would say something like that would be insane a week into their relationship. If any man told her he loved her seven days into their secret affair, she would think he was nuts.
But for Emmy it was love. She’d started falling in love with Tucker the first moment he kissed her, and even though she’d fought against it, she hadn’t been able to. She had believed his consistent interest in her meant something, but maybe she really didn’t understand how men worked.
Maybe all she was was a good-luck charm.
Was she okay with that? Was sex enough?
Well…the sex was fucking phenomenal.
“All right, kid. As your good-luck charm, I’m going to have to insist you get an MRI and a clean bill of health before I can have sex with you again. Fair deal?”
“Brain scan for blowjobs.”
“You’re a real charming bastard some days, aren’t you?”
“Even with a head injury, I’m betting I could still get you out of your top.”
“MRI first. If you have a concussion, seeing my boobs would probably kill you.”
He put a hand on each of her breasts and gave them a testing squeeze. “You’re right. This alone is making me dizzy.”
“Because all the blood necessary to keep you from keeling over has now been redirected to your dick.”
“Can we schedule the MRI now? I’ve been told you have to keep me up all night, and it seems like you now have a reason to be in my hotel room after hours.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Tucker didn’t want to make a habit of hanging out with Emmy in hospitals, but so far it had only helped bring them closer. He was also hoping not to have to be one of the people in the hospital, but a line drive to the head had made that impossible to avoid.
Once the doctor had cleared him and given him a clean bill of health, he and Emmy took a cab back to the hotel, sitting in silence. She’d been a little off since he’d told her she was good luck for him.
Other girls he’d known would have been flattered by the sentiment, even considered it romantic, but he had a feeling Emmy wasn’t that kind of woman.