CHAPTER 15
Paige
Dallas doesn’t bring up our sleepover again. Instead, he brings me an ultra-soft Renegades t-shirt to wear and feeds me in between bites for himself while he shares insider stories about the night’s game.
“I almost got ejected for getting in the ref’s face,” he admits, not an ounce of shame on his face. “Wasn’t my finest moment, but that call was bullshit. Coach made me sit down.”
“He made you sit down?” I can’t imagine anyone forcing Dallas to do anything.
“Incentive helps.” He cocks his head to one side, looking for all the world like a mischievous little boy who has gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “He said he’d make me come in to watch film on Tuesday. Couldn’t let that happen.”
“Because of me?”
“You’re the best incentive I can think of.” He tips back a bottle of beer, and I watch his throat work as he swallows. Why is that so sexy for a man to do?
“That’s really sweet of you to say.”
He winks. “I know.”
Oh, Lord. My cocky man is back. “What am I going to do with you?”
“I can think of a few things.”
“Only a few?”
He feeds me the last tortilla chip. “A dozen things.”
I chew while he starts to clean up the empty plates and containers. He groans a little when he reaches across the island.
Quickly swallowing, I ask, “Are you okay?”
“Mostly. Got nailed by a linebacker. Didn’t even see him coming.” He slices his gaze my way, his biceps bulging as he cleans. “Did you happen to catch his number?”
My cheeks start to burn. “I think I was watching Dance Moms at the time. I flipped back and forth between commercials.”
“How much of my game did you watch?”
“The best parts?”
His lips twitch. “Would that be the beginning and the end?”
“Don’t you think they’re the best parts?”
He slides in close, nipping at my ear with his teeth. I gasp. “The middle is pretty interesting. The middle is what gets us to the end. Some might say that if we were to skip the middle, then the end would never happen. No one would score, baby, and that would be a damn shame.”
“Life’s not all about scoring.”
“It is if that’s what you’re good at doing.” He nuzzles my hair. “How do you smell so good after eating what we did?”
“It’s the shampoo.”
“You should leave some here or tell me the brand so I can order it. Tell me your favorite bath stuff, too. Whatever girlie shit you like.”
I hold up a hand. “Hold your horses, mister. I’m not moving in with you.”
He laughs. “Who said anything about moving in with me? This is only our fourth date, Paige.”
It’s all I can do not to strangle him. I don’t think my hands would fit around his neck anyhow. “You’re the one who said to tell you what toiletries I liked.”
“And?”
“And that’s something you’d do when um… you’re moving in,” I finish lamely. What am I arguing about? Dallas didn’t say he had a drawer for me, or for my clothes to be delivered and hung in his closet.
“Or that’s something you do when you want to make sure your woman has what she needs once you’ve taken care of her.” He leans against his sub-zero fridge, smirking a little. “I’d suggest you leave a toothbrush, but I’m afraid you’d take that to mean I wanted to knock you up.”
“Moving in and getting me pregnant. No marriage in there?” I wait for him to answer, thinking I’ve backed him into a corner. A weird corner of my own making.
“Yeah, I want to get married. Have kids. Live in a nice neighborhood like this one and have BBQs. Walk my kids to school. Fuck my hot wife every night and make dinner sometimes.”
“That’s…” I swallow, envisioning him doing all of that with me. “Certainly a plan.”
“You don’t have one?” He gazes at me skeptically.
“I have one, but I’m not ready to implement it,” I admit. “Getting burned by lying, cheating boyfriends tends to do that to a person.”
He crosses the distance between us, cupping my face in his hand. “I won’t lie or cheat on you, Paige. That’s not my style. You got me?”
“Yes, I got you.”
He kisses the tip of my nose. “You’re such a worrier. Let me help with that. Get you all nice and relaxed.”
“Like you?” I ask as he slides his hands down my neck and to my shoulders, where he promptly starts to knead them. “You really do have magic hands.”
“All for you… and the NFL.”
I giggle, then smash my lips together.
“That was a little much, even for me,” he says.
“No. It was just right.” Still laughing, I shake my head and then moan in pure pleasure as he hits a rather sore spot on my shoulder. “Shouldn’t I be doing this for you? I’m not the one who was tackled by an entire NFL team in order to get my ball.”
“You don’t have any balls.” He kisses the top of my head. “And the only one who will be tackling you is me.”
He sounds so serious that it’s hard to remember this is probably only a game to him. “That’s mighty proprietary of you.”
“If you mean I’m marking my territory, I won’t deny it.” He smiles predatorily. “In fact, I’ve been thinking of all the places I want to mark you.”
Before I can say another word, he scoops me up in his arms, in a move worthy of any historical romance I’ve ever read, and moves to his room.
“Is our sleepover starting now?”
“Yeah.” His voice is husky. “You call the shots, bright eyes. Say stop and I stop. Got it?”
“I don’t want to stop, Dallas.”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “I know.”
I want to swoon over this moment. Over how it feels to be carried so securely in his arms, how massive his body is, and how incredibly overwhelmed with desire I am.
As he jogs up the stairs, he holds me tighter against him, like he’s trying to protect me. He’s both defense and offense—something I learned when I read up on his position as tight end, I remind myself. His job has always been to protect, to make a safe path, so it would naturally spill over into his personal life. Just like with his bet to help his teammate and his need to tell me about it so I didn’t get the wrong idea.
“If you’re going to ask me about other women, I—”
“I don’t care, Dallas.”
He arches a brow.
“That much, but how fair is it of me to hold you to a chaste standard that I would be mortified and outraged if you attempted to do that to me?”
“Baby, in my head, those other guys don’t exist.”
“What a coincidence—I pretend those other guys don’t exist either.” I snort/giggle because that’s even cheesier than the line Dallas gave me earlier.
He kicks open his door. “While it doesn’t matter to you, it does to me. I haven’t had any woman, not related to me, spend the night in this house. No one has slept in that bed but me. Or ate in my kitchen. Pretended to watch football on my flat screen either.”
“That’s so swee—wait a minute.” I narrow my eyes at him. “When did you buy this house?”
His ears turn red. “Three months ago.”
“Are you saying that you haven’t had time to have anyone over to do all those things?”
“I’m saying that regardless of the time frame, you’re the only one here and for as long as you’ll have me, it will stay that way.” He tips up his chin, almost daring me to disagree with him.
To my eternal shock, I don’t want to disagree, not even when I dig deep and try to find a reason to be annoyed or turned off. It’s simply not happening with Dallas. “I’m sorry for ruining your moment.”
“That’s okay. I’d rather clear the air now than afterward.”
“I won’t regret this,” I insist, feeling brave. Silly, but completely brave for a woman like me. There are so many things that can go wrong. So many ways our relationship can end up in the public eye. So many ways I can get burned to a crisp while he doesn’t suffer at all.
Men never suffer.
Not my exes.
Certainly not my father, or even Finley or Bond’s… God, why am I thinking about this now?
“What’s wrong?” he asks, still standing at the entrance to his room and holding me like I weigh less than air.
“Aren’t I too heavy for you?”
“My pinky finger can bench more than what you weigh.”
I doubt that very much, but I’m going to go with it. “Nothing’s wrong. I get all quiet when I’m excited or nervous.”
“No, you don’t. You giggle, make cute little weird noises with your tongue, and use lots of hand gestures.”
“Cute little weird noises?”
“That’s what they sound like to me.”
And that’s what I get for lying. “Fine. I was having deep thoughts about my past and since no good can come from that, I’ll focus on the hot guy who is trying to carry me to bed so we can have the best nude sleepover in the history of nude sleepovers.”
“There’s my Paige.” Satisfied with my answer, he walks the rest of the way inside. I get a glimpse of light grey walls, dark hardwood floors and a massive dresser on one side.
He turns. “What do you think of the bed?”
I sit up a little, only to find the biggest bed I’ve ever seen in my life in the middle of the longest wall in the room. “Is that a California king?”
“More like two of them shoved together. My feet hang off the ends of regular kings and the California isn’t wide enough for me. I like to sleep like a starfish.”
“I’d like to see that.”
“You can sleep on top of me, if you want.”
“What about under you?”
“As sexy as that sounds, if I were dead to the world, I’d squish you flat.”
The image that springs to mind makes me laugh so hard that I throw my head back and cackle like a witch. It’s not my best laugh, but it is the truest. “Oh my gosh. One time, I had to read a book called Flat Stanley to the power-hour toddler group. I’d be Flat Paige and knowing what I want to happen tonight, I’d be nude. So… it would have to be in the adult section of the library.”
“Glad to see your funny bone is working right.” With a swift kiss that leaves me breathless, he places me on his bed. The mattress and covers are so soft that I want to throw myself back and sink into it. “It’s time for your reward, bright eyes.”
“For what—making corny jokes?”
“Wearing my jersey tonight and bringing dinner… and looking so fucking hot.” His big hands go to either side of my hips. The look in his forest-colored eyes makes me squirm. It’s as if he wants to devour me. “You didn’t give me the option when we had dinner last week, but I’m going to get down on my knees for you and eat your pussy for dessert. That is, if you don’t object.”
How could any woman object to Dallas doing anything to their body? “You are?”
“Oh, yeah.” He drops to his knees, his head dipping to nip between my thighs. I squeal a little in excitement and shock. “How about a little pussy for dessert? I promise to eat every last bite. Won’t waste a drop.”
Slowly, he inches his hands up my legs and to my waist, then tucks his fingers under the top of my leggings and tugs. I lift a little, making it easier for him to pull them down.
He smiles wolfishly as my pale skin is revealed to him inch by inch. “Bare underneath. You think of everything.”
My hands come up, fluttering in the air before settling at my sides. It’s not like I don’t know what do—I just don’t know what to do with him. He looks excited. He acts like this is the only thing he wants to do in his life.
Dallas licks his lips, and I almost burst into flames right then.
“Ready?”
“I’m dying.”
He grins that familiar smirk and lowers his head… finally, finally putting his mouth on me. Without saying another word, he parts me, his thumbs gentle as they stroke my skin. His tongue flicks out, then presses against my clit. I close my eyes, moaning loudly.
I half expect him to make a comment or brag, but he doesn’t. Instead, he’s concentrating on licking me like there is no tomorrow.
Suddenly, he stops, murmuring, “Put your legs over my shoulders, bright eyes.”
Oh, sweet Lord. I do as he says, giving him better access as his wide shoulders press closer. Dallas resumes his sweet torture, making my hips thrust up when he starts to tongue me.
Holy crap, he’s good.
He slides one of his thick fingers inside me, where I’m so, so wet, and the feel of it almost sends me over the edge before I want to fall. And when he starts to suck my clit and pump his finger in and out, I grab his head.
Hold on for dear life.
Grind against him and hope he doesn’t need air to breathe.
I moan his name.
He nips at me, making stars spark against the backs of my eyes.
Dragging his finger out, he pushes back in and finds the spot. The one that makes me come on command.
This time, I scream—maybe his name or God’s. My body moves frantically against him, wanting more, and he gives it all. He makes me come for so long that I eventually stop moving and let him lick me until my hands relax enough to let go of his hair.
He lifts his head, his lips shiny as he licks them. “How was that?”
“You have to ask?”
“Yes.”
“It was freaking amazing.”
“Amazing enough for us go another round tonight?”
“I don’t know if I could survive.”
He pushes to his feet, looming over me until he bends to kiss my lips. I slip my tongue inside his mouth, tasting myself on his tongue. We stay like this for a while, neither of us in a hurry to stop.
When he finally pulls away, his green gaze burns into mine. “You are beautiful when you come.”
A thousand replies spring to mind, but all I can say is… “Thank you.”
“Need more recovery time?” The smirk is back, along with his less-than-serious attitude, and my heart skips a beat. His attitude shouldn’t matter. Less than serious means nothing, especially when I had serious exes with serious attitudes who seriously cheated on me.
“What about you?”
“I think we’re going to follow your rules and take things slow.”
My mouth drops open in shock. “What? But you can’t do that to me.”
“My body. My rules. And the rules are that you may help me get off tonight—with your hand or your mouth—but I’m saving that pussy for another time.”
“Are you punishing me for not watching the entire game?” That has to be it because no man in his right mind would turn down sex.
“Nah. I’m a big believer in saving myself for date number five.”
Oh, dear Lord. He’s out of his mind. “You’re going to make me wait until Tuesday?”
“Abstinence will make your pussy get that much wetter for me.”
“You are such a—oooh.” Reaching up, I grab a pillow and smack him with it. He goes down, except I can’t cheer in victory because he’s pinning me to the bed. “Get off.”
“Trust me, I want to, but I’m afraid of what you’ll do to me when I’m otherwise occupied.”
A burst of laughter leaves me. “Is this what sex is going to be like? Alternating between lust and laughing?”
He wriggles his brows. “Seems to be heading that way.”
“Except for your new take-it-slow edict,” I complain. “Guess you’ll have to find other ways to be satisfied.” I want to be one of those ways he finds satisfaction, but I want to get my way first.
“Watching you come is going straight into prime position in the spank bank so that will help me find satisfaction pretty quickly.” He laughs and shakes his head. “You look fucking hot like this, wearing my jersey and showing off your bare pussy.”
Blushing and curious, I ask, “What’s in second place?”
He grins. “Watching my finger sliding in and out of you, followed by the feeling of my tongue on your swollen clit. Need me to keep listing things?”
“Ahhh, no.”
“You’re the only woman in my bank,” he says in all seriousness. I can’t keep up with his change in mood, or maybe I’m not supposed to. Maybe I should simply go with the moment. Lose control. “Have been since the first time I met you.”
“I want to complain about being your masturbation material, but I can’t. Coming from you, I know it’s as romantic as you can be.” Except he was pretty dang romantic when he literally swept me off my feet.
He cups my cheek. “I suck at true romance, but I’m willing to try, Paige.”
“I’m not asking you to change for me.”
“That’s what makes it so right.” He leans in, giving me the softest kiss imaginable. I can still taste myself, but the moment is more sweet than erotic. He pulls back a little. “I’ve already won the bet. Aiden’s pissed. The newbie’s got a mentor.”
“Really?”
He nods. “Yeah, really.”
“Is this confession supposed to make me not want to date you?”
Lowering the delicious weight of his still-clothed body on mine, he says, “It’s supposed to make you realize how much I don’t need you to date me.”
“You’re not supposed to tell a woman you don’t need her.”
When he subtly flexes his hips, his enormous erection rubs against me. “I need you all right. Need you so bad that I’m about to come from looking at you.”
“Then what are you waiting for?”