CHAPTER 14
Dallas
It’s a home-game day on a Saturday afternoon—a makeup game against Miami that was called because of Hurricane Edwardo. I’m sitting in the Renegades locker room with my earbuds in while I transition into beast mode. The Dolphins’ defense is a beast this season, which means there can be no mistakes. No distractions. No—
A text from Paige pops up on my notifications, and I swipe right.
Paige: Good luck today! I’ll be wearing my Renegades jersey while I cheer you on.
Me: Why don’t you put on jeans and join some of the guys and me for drinks after the game before we go back to my place for dinner? Finley’s not invited. JK.
Paige: That sounds nice, but I was thinking I could wear my jersey to your house and bring Mexican takeout? I’ll be starving by the time everything is done and over.
Paige at my place again. Wearing my jersey and bringing Mexican. I’m pretty fucking sure I’m about to die and go to heaven.
Me: I’ll let the guys know. BTW, this will be date 4 if you’re keeping count.
Paige: Sounds like you’re the one keeping count.
Me: I’m a fan of numbers. Math, especially. No matter where you go, 2+2=4.
Paige: That’s your go-to international language? I’m shocked.
Me: Number two is the language of love.
Paige: There he is… LOL.
Me: If you want to head on over to watch the game on my big screen, the codes to get into my gate and house are 5734, 31415.
Paige: Got it! See you tonight. Go Renegades!
I allow myself time to enjoy her last line before I put my phone in airplane mode and concentrate on the beat.
My blood starts to pound.
My leg starts to jump.
My hands start to flex.
The lead up to the game is almost exactly the same as the lead up to sex. Hell, I look at sex and football in almost the same light. Both require patience, a light touch, and the instinct to know when to drive in deep. A certain amount of finesse is required throughout, especially after everything is said and done. Everyone involved needs to be satisfied and go home with a smile on their face.
The main difference is I have more control over satisfaction and smiles in the bedroom. I can guaran-damn-tee that they’ll come back for more.
Except with Paige. With her, I actually have to try, have to learn new plays that keep me from scoring but will lead to a win by the end. Or at least, I hope so.
Coach strides in the locker room, the assistant coaches following close behind. He’s got his game face on. He wants to win this badly. Miami was his old team. The one he cut his teeth on when he first got started.
“We’re not going to let you down, Coach,” I say, and my teammates start to chime in.
“We’re going to spank Miami so hard they’ll cry.”
“They will know the Renegades hit them hard.”
As one, we stand up, getting more pumped with each passing moment, and bring it in for a last-minute huddle and prayer.
My thoughts shift to Paige and the long game I’m playing with her.
Shit, I know I’ll win.
I’m Dallas Drake. All-American tight end. Got the lightest hands and the biggest dick in the NFL. I know how to use them to my advantage.
It’s simply a matter of time before Paige is the beneficiary.
* * *
We managed to eke out a win with a two-point conversion. Press interviews didn’t last too long, but each second seemed like a fucking eternity. Usually, I enjoy the questions, the good-natured ribbing, and the chance to brag about the team.
But tonight, thoughts of Paige were overriding the awesome feeling of winning against a team like Miami. I think I even blanked on a couple of the questions tossed my way.
Good thing Aiden was there to make sure everyone knew it was all about him. By good thing, I mean what a fucking asshole… yet at the same time, I was grateful.
I tap the remote on my sun visor and the gates part. Paige’s sedan is parked in my driveway, and my heart speeds up to levels that are reserved for sex and games.
I park my Escalade in the garage and almost run inside to find her watching Sports Center as they talk about highlights from tonight’s game.
As soon as her baby blues find me, she jumps up from the sofa and smiles. “Congrats on beating Florida.”
“Miami.”
“Which is in Florida.” She giggles a little and winks at me. “I was kidding. I totally know who the Whales are now.”
“Dolphins.”
She frowns. “Who are they?” she asks, then snorts at the look of incredulity on my face. “Kidding again.”
A grin kicks up the corners of my mouth before I take a step back to admire her outfit—the Renegades jersey I sent to her and a pair of black leggings. Better than jeans and easier to remove… if she’s interested.
I know I am. The only thing that would make this moment better is if she’d been wearing my sweatshirt.
She spins around, looking at me over her shoulder. “I love that it has your name on the back.”
“I’d tattoo my name on your ass if I could,” I admit, starting to wonder if she didn’t wear my sweatshirt on purpose so I wouldn’t get the wrong message. Or any message for that matter.
“Such a romantic thing to say.” She turns back to face me, her smile falling. “You don’t look happy to see me wearing your name on my back.”
“I wanted to see you wearing my sweatshirt.”
Her eyes round. “Please tell me you mean my sweatshirt because you picked it out and not because it’s really yours.”
“The second one.”
She groans audibly. “I might have given it to Nolan in exchange for time off from work.”
“So you’re not not wearing it to prove a point?” I rub the back of my neck, wishing I’d kept my damn mouth shut.
“No. Oh, no.” She plops down on the sofa. “I didn’t realize it was yours or I wouldn’t have given it to him.”
Paige looks so sad that I believe her. “I have more.”
“Go get one right now and I’ll put it on.” She rips the jersey off, which leaves her sitting on my sofa with only a black lacy bra holding up small, perfect tits. “I don’t want to ruin your night with my thoughtlessness.”
“Pretty sure you’ve made up for it.”
She blushes. “I didn’t… I wasn’t… I brought Mexican food.” She hides her lace-covered tits with the jersey and stands up. “If you’ll get the sweatshirt, I’ll get everything set up. I read that players are super hungry and amped up after a game—win or lose.”
I cross the distance between us, keeping my gaze on her face. “Amped up?”
Biting her lip, she nods. “Very excited and over-stimulated.”
My jaw works because I am both of those things. “Did you read what players like to do in order to relax?” Eat, have sex, and sleep. Then repeat.
“Some of the blogs and pages were very descriptive of what each player likes to do after games,” she says softly.
My entire body aches with the need to touch her, but I can’t, not until I know where this is going. If I need to put myself in the friend zone, I’ll… fuck that, I’m playing to win tonight.
“What did it say about me?”
The tip of her tongue touches her top lip, and my cock goes from semi to full-on rock solid. “That you like to eat, fu—have sex, and sleep.”
“Did that bother you?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know, but I’m still here.”
I nod, my hands clenching and unclenching at my sides. “What do you need from me?”
“To, ah… be reassured that this isn’t a onetime thing.” Her pretty eyes bounce from my face to my shoulder, then back to my face again. “I still can’t do casual sex, Dallas.”
“I’m good for a hell of a lot more than one time, bright eyes.”
“More than one night, then.”
“I’m good for every night you can take me.” I allow myself to touch her cheek, to feel the satiny skin that defies reality with its softness. Her lashes flutter as her lips part. “I want to date you exclusively.”
Her eyes open wide. “Just me?”
I nod once. “I can be a good guy. Keep it locked up tight just for you.”
“Can you keep us secret… private?” She nibbles on her bottom lip. “I don’t want to be part of Drake’s Dolls. People say such vicious things about them, and I wouldn’t be able to handle it. And I don’t want my family dragged into the spotlight either. That would be the worst.”
A rush of emotion floods me. Even as turned on as I am right now, I can’t help but admire her way of looking at things. How protective she is of her family. And of herself. She’s not willing to sell out for fame or fortune. The thing is that I didn’t create Drake’s Dolls—the media and the women who called themselves that did.
But I’ve never discouraged it either.
“How about this? We’ll date in secret until you’re comfortable enough to go public. I’ll play by your rules.”
“That would mean I’d eventually have to tell my sister about us,” she says with a shudder.
“I can handle Finley.”
“At least one of us can.”
“I haven’t kissed my girlfriend hello yet,” I say to distract her.
“Oh.” She tips up her chin. “By all means, don’t let me stop you.”
Smiling, I kiss her as her arms go around me. “Hi, beautiful.”
“Hey.”
“Want to have a sleepover with me?” I ask, teasing her jaw with my mouth.
On a sigh, she says, “I didn’t bring any pajamas.”
“We’ll match,” I remind her.
I work my way down her throat, pausing where her pulse is beating wildly. “I can stay.”
“The entire night in my bed. With me inside you.” I bite the side of her neck.
“Oh, God.” She tilts her head to one side to give me better access. “I can’t think when you’re doing that.”
“Want me to stop?” I pull away slightly, but she grabs the back of my neck and tries to force me back to where I was before. “I need to know what I’m in for tonight, bright eyes. I need to know what plays to make or if I’ll be riding pine.”
“I want to ride you,” she says after a beat. “Is that clear enough?”
She still has the jersey between us, like a barrier, but I don’t give a damn because I know that by the end of the night, I’ll have Paige in my bed, naked and wet.
“Very clear.” I press a kiss against her skin and force myself to put some distance between us. “Let’s go eat. I need fuel for later.”