Love Bites
The Doll in the Oversized Jersey
The flash of the cameras at the Allianz Arena was something Nini was slowly getting used to, but the internal monologue running through her head was far more blinding. She sat in the VIP section, surrounded by the wives and girlfriends of the other players. To her left was a stunning model with legs that seemed to go on for miles, and to her right was a woman with the kind of curves that made a simple sundress look like a work of art.
Nini looked down at herself. She was wearing Aleks’s home jersey, the deep red fabric swallowing her petite frame. The sleeves hung past her elbows, and the hem reached mid-thigh. She felt like a child playing dress-up. Her long curly brown hair was wild from the Munich wind, and despite her best efforts with makeup, she felt plain. Her chest barely filled out the front of the shirt, and her collarbones stood out sharply. She felt small—not the cute, dainty kind of small she usually embraced, but insignificant.
*He’s going to get bored,* she thought, her heart sinking as she watched Aleks sprint across the pitch. *He’s a superstar. He’s surrounded by glamour every day. Why would he want a girl who looks like a teenager in his clothes?*
She didn't notice the photographer from a major sports outlet zooming in on her. She didn't notice the way the late afternoon sun caught the pink flush of her cheeks or how the jersey had slipped slightly off one shoulder, revealing the soft, creamy skin that Aleks loved to mark. She was too busy comparing her flat chest to the bombshells in the rows behind her.
By the time the game ended and Aleks had secured another win, the photo was already trending.
"The Doll of the Allianz," the caption read. The image was ethereal. Nini looked wide-eyed and innocent, her dark curls framing a face that looked like it belonged on a porcelain figurine. The contrast between the aggressive, high-stakes environment of the stadium and her delicate appearance was striking. The internet was obsessed.
But Nini hadn't seen the comments yet. She was too busy overthinking as she waited for Aleks in the player's lounge. When he finally emerged, smelling of expensive soap and victory, he didn't even look at the other women in the room. His eyes locked onto her, and he was across the floor in seconds, hauling her into his arms.
"You stayed," he murmured, burying his face in her hair. "I saw you in the stands. You looked beautiful, liebling."
"I looked like a tent," she whispered into his chest, though she wrapped her arms around his waist tightly.
Aleks pulled back, his brow furrowed. "What are you talking about? You looked perfect. I could barely focus on the ball because I kept looking up at you."
He didn't mention that he had seen the viral photo on his way to the lounge. He didn't mention the way his jaw had tightened when he saw thousands of men calling his girlfriend a "doll" and "the ultimate prize." He was already feeling that familiar, dark possessiveness bubbling up. He wanted to get her home, away from the eyes of the world.
The drive back to their apartment was quiet. Nini was lost in her insecurities, convinced that Aleks was just being polite. When they finally stepped inside, the atmosphere changed instantly. The victory adrenaline was still pumping through Aleks’s veins, and the sight of Nini in his jersey—the one he had just worn on the pitch—was doing dangerous things to his self-control.
He dropped his keys on the counter and pulled her toward him, his hands sliding under the hem of the jersey to grip her hips. "Nini," he groaned, his voice low and gravelly. "You have no idea what you do to me in this shirt."
He began to kiss her, his mouth hungry and demanding. He tasted like mint and desire. Usually, Nini would melt into him, her hands wandering over his muscular back, but tonight she was stiff. When his hands moved upward, intending to slide the jersey over her head, she suddenly grabbed his wrists.
"Wait," she gasped, breaking the kiss.
Aleks stopped, his chest heaving. His dark eyes searched hers, filled with confusion. "What is it? Did I hurt you?"
"No, it’s not that," Nini said, her voice trembling. She stepped back, putting a few inches of space between them. She clutched the fabric of the jersey over her chest, her knuckles white. "I just... can we keep the lights off?"
Aleksandar’s expression softened, but the confusion remained. "Nini, I like seeing you. I love seeing you. Why do you want the lights off?"
"Because I don't look like them, Aleks!" she blurted out, the tears she had been holding back all day finally spilling over. "I’m so small. I’m flat. I look like a little girl compared to the other women at the stadium. You’re going to wake up one day and realize you could have someone... someone with a real body. Someone who actually fits into your clothes instead of drowning in them."
The silence that followed was heavy. Aleks stared at her, his mouth slightly open, processing the sheer absurdity of what she was saying. He looked at her petite frame, the way her curly hair was messy from his touch, and the way the oversized jersey made her look so fragile and precious.
"Is that what you think?" he asked, his voice dangerously quiet.
Nini nodded, sobbing quietly. "You’re a star. You deserve a queen, not a doll."
Aleks moved so fast she didn't have time to react. He closed the distance between them, grabbing her waist and hoisting her up onto the kitchen counter. He stepped between her legs, forcing her to look at him.
"Look at me, Nini," he commanded.
She reluctantly lifted her eyes to his. He looked furious, but not at her—at the idea that she could ever doubt herself.
"You think I want those other women?" he asked, his hands sliding up to cup her face. "You think I want someone who looks like a manufactured image? Nini, I spend my entire life in a world that is loud, aggressive, and fake. When I come home, I want you. I want your curls, I want your soft skin, and I want exactly how you feel in my arms."
He leaned in, his nose brushing against hers. "You say you’re small? Good. I love that I can pick you up with one hand. You say you’re flat? I love every inch of your body because it’s *yours*. I don’t want a 'real body'—I want *your* body."
He reached down and firmly gripped the hem of the jersey again. "Now, are you going to let me take this off, or am I going to have to remind you why I’m so obsessed with you?"
Nini let out a shaky breath, her heart hammering against her ribs. The sincerity in his eyes was overwhelming. "You really don't think I'm... not enough?"
"Liebling, my only problem is that you’re *too much* for my heart to handle," he whispered.
He slowly pulled the jersey over her head. Nini instinctively tried to cover herself with her arms, her face flushing, but Aleks gently caught her hands and pinned them to the counter beside her hips. He let his eyes roam over her, his expression one of pure, unadulterated adoration.
"Beautiful," he breathed. "Absolutely perfect."
He leaned down, but he didn't go for her lips. Instead, he buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the scent of her vanilla perfume. He stayed there for a long moment, just breathing her in, before he began to trail slow, wet kisses along her collarbone.
"I saw that photo today," he murmured against her skin. "The one where you look like a doll."
Nini stiffened. "I knew it. I looked ridiculous."
"No," Aleks growled, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin just below her ear. "You looked like something I wanted to lock away and never let anyone else see. You looked so innocent, so sweet... and all I could think about was how much I wanted to ruin that innocence."
He bit down gently, a sharp nip that made Nini gasp and arch her back. The insecurity that had been plaguing her all day began to dissolve, replaced by the white-hot heat of his touch.
"You're not a doll, Nini," he whispered, his hand sliding down to the small of her back, pulling her flush against his hard, athletic frame. "Dolls don't feel like this. Dolls don't make me lose my mind."
He moved his mouth to her breast, his tongue swirling around the peak, making her cry out his name. He was being thorough, worshipping every curve and flat surface of her body with a devotion that left no room for doubt. He kissed the slope of her stomach, the inside of her thighs, and every hidden spot she had felt self-conscious about.
"Do you feel small now?" he asked, his voice muffled against her skin as he moved back up to her face.
"No," she panted, her fingers digging into his shoulders. "I feel... I feel like I'm the only thing you see."
"Because you are," he promised.
He picked her up from the counter, her legs automatically locking around his waist. He carried her toward the bedroom, but he didn't stop kissing her. He was relentless, his mouth moving from her lips to her jaw to her neck, leaving a trail of fire in his wake.
When he laid her down on the bed, the moonlight from the window hit her skin, making her glow. Aleks stripped off his own clothes with a frantic energy, his eyes never leaving hers. When he joined her on the silk sheets, the contrast between them was stark—his tan, muscular limbs against her pale, delicate frame.
He moved over her, his weight a comforting pressure that grounded her. He took her hands and interlaced his fingers with hers, pinning them against the pillow.
"Look at me," he whispered.
Nini opened her eyes, her breath hitching at the intensity in his gaze.
"I don't care about the cameras," Aleks said, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't care about the fans. I don't even care if the whole world thinks you're a doll. To me, you're the woman who makes me want to be a better man. You're the only one I want to mark. The only one I want to keep."
He leaned down, his teeth grazing her shoulder again, leaving another mark that would surely be the talk of the next paparazzi cycle. But Nini didn't care. She didn't care about the other wives, the flat chest, or the oversized jerseys.
As Aleks moved within her, his movements a perfect blend of tenderness and primal need, Nini finally understood. She wasn't a doll to be played with or a girl to be hidden away. She was his anchor, his obsession, and the only person who could make the fierce Aleksandar Pavlović crumble into nothing but a man in love.
Late that night, as they lay tangled together in the aftermath, Aleks pulled the duvet up over them. He reached out, his thumb tracing the new mark on her shoulder.
"Tomorrow," he said, his voice sleepy but firm, "I'm posting a photo of us. No more hiding."
Nini turned in his arms, resting her head on his chest. "Are you sure? What about the media?"
Aleks kissed the top of her head, his arms tightening around her. "Let them talk. Let them see that I have the most beautiful girl in Munich. Maybe then they'll stop calling you a doll and start calling you mine."
Nini smiled, finally closing her eyes. She might be small, but in this bed, in his arms, she felt like the biggest thing in his world. And as Aleks drifted off to sleep, his hand still resting protectively over her heart, he knew he would spend the rest of his life making sure she never felt insignificant again.
He wasn't a vampire, and she wasn't a doll. They were just two people, one a bit more "bitey" than the other, finding their way through the bright lights of fame, one mark at a time.