“Oh,” she says, as if the floor dropped out from under her. “I’m—”
I press a finger to her lips. “Let me finish.”
“Okay.”
I slide my fingers through her hair. “What I’m saying is I don’t do hookups because I don’t want one-time things. And that means I want to see you again. Beyond tonight.”
She looks like I’ve just said I want to travel to Mars.
On a space horse.
“You . . . do?”
“I do,” I say, getting fully in the saddle. “I think you’re fantastic. And maybe this sounds crazy. Maybe it sounds too soon, but I don’t care. I know what I want. I’d love to see you again. That’s not a line. It’s the God’s honest truth. You’re going to be working in San Francisco. I play in San Francisco a couple of times a year. And Los Angeles isn’t that far away,” I say, even though I’m only there during the season. “I’d love to see you again. Would you like to go out with me another time?”
She looks like she’s about to rocket to the moon. “Yes. I want that. Yes. Absolutely. And yes.”
I laugh softly. “You answered in threes.”
“Just like you said yes in threes in your email.”
“What can I say? I was eager.”
She wiggles a brow. “Same here. For me. Right now.”
I grin, then press my forehead to hers. “I want to kiss you again tonight. And we can take it slow. No pressure,” I say. I don’t want her to think I’m handing her a line. “I’m not trying to get you into bed tonight by saying that. I swear I’m good with just kissing these gorgeous lips.”
Her mouth curves into the most tantalizing smile ever. She’s all Cheshire Cat for a few seconds, then coy and flirty. Mischief dances in her eyes. “But what if I want to get you into my bed?”
A jolt of pleasure slides down my spine, making my pulse surge.
That whole thing about not doing hookups?
It just flew out the window.
But this is not a hookup—this is the start of something.
“My roommates aren’t home tonight,” she says. “It’s just me.”
I pay the bill, guide her out of the diner, and set a hand on her back as I walk her back to her place.
I don’t stand a chance at resisting Reese Fallon.
I follow her up the steps to her third-floor apartment, savoring the view with each step.
Her ass is spectacular. Round, firm, and incredibly squeezable. Highly spankable.
I could stare at her ass for ten flights, twenty, make it one hundred.
But then, I need to devote ample attention to those legs too. Lean, strong, and so long. I bet they’d look terrific wrapped around my face.
Wait. Can’t forget her hair—all those blonde waves. I’ll be tugging, stroking, getting that hair all messed up.
She flicks her gaze back to me. “I don’t do hookups either,” she says, lifting her chin, her voice firm as she returns to the topic from dinner. “I should have said something at the diner, but I was sort of in shock.”
“Glad to hear this isn’t the norm for you.”
“It’s the opposite of the norm,” she says when we reach the landing. Fishing around in her purse, she grabs her keys, opens the door, then shuts it behind us, spinning around to meet my eyes. “Tell me something, Holden.”
“Something,” I answer playfully, stepping into her home. It’s small but cozy, with pillows everywhere.
With a laugh, she tugs at my shirt, jerking me closer. “How are you not a hookup guy?”
“Does that mean you think all athletes have hookups?”
“No. I just think . . . many do, and many guys do. I was surprised.”
“Ah, you said you were shocked.”
“I was. Let’s be honest. It’s unusual.”
“A bad unusual?” I ask, hoping she says no, hoping she’s good with this score.
“A very good unusual,” she says, dropping her purse on a table.
I breathe a sigh of relief.
She moves closer to me, pressing her body against mine.
“I like that you like unusual a whole helluva lot,” I murmur as I loop a hand around her waist, moaning softly at the lush feel of her body, the hint of her delicate flesh under her blouse. My fingers tease along her back right above her jeans.
“You didn’t answer the question,” she says, sliding her hands up my chest, spreading them over the fabric of my shirt.
I groan from her touch, from the curious and eager way she explores my body. “You love to ask questions.”
“I do,” she whispers, all sultry and enticing as she covers my pecs with those hands. “So, why are you not a hookup guy?”
“I prefer getting to know a woman,” I say, dipping my face to her neck, dusting my lips there as I inhale her scent. No perfume, no lotion or potion. Just that showery goodness, and it’s my kryptonite. “I prefer to have a connection. Everything’s sexier, better, more . . . real.” I press a kiss to the hollow of her throat. A needy gasp falls from her mouth. “And honestly, I’m not interested in being a playboy. It’s not my scene. It holds no appeal,” I tell her as I travel up the gorgeous column of her neck, savoring the sounds of her arousal, the rush of breath, the soft sighs.
“This is appealing though,” she says, all feathery light.
“So appealing,” I say as I catalog the way she responds, how her hips arch against me, how her hands grip my chest harder.
The way she moves makes me want to discover more of her. All of her.
I thread my fingers through those lush strands of her hair, giving it a quick tug.
“You’re a very interesting man,” she says, then travels back down, playing with my abs through my shirt but stopping there.
“Interesting is sexy,” I say.
“It’s very sexy,” she counters, her fingers close, so damn close to undoing my jeans.
The prospect of her hand dipping into my briefs, grabbing my cock, touching, stroking, is electrifying.
But I want to get her naked first. I slide my hands through her hair, let it fall through my fingers, then lift her chin. Meet her gaze straight-on. “This would be even more interesting if we were in bed,” I say in a low voice.
She shivers, all eager and desperate. “Yes. Bed. Now.”
I laugh as I trail my fingers down the bare skin of her arm. “Good. Because I have all sorts of plans for your body. Plans that involve you and a bed and many, many orgasms.”
She rewards me with a throaty moan. “Yes, please, yes.”
As I kiss the shell of her ear, my hand slides down the back of her jeans. Groaning, I make contact with the ass I admired on the steps. I curl my palm over the soft skin of her rear. She trembles, a desperate cry falling from those red lips.
“I want to undress you,” I rasp in her ear. “Spread you out on the bed so I can kiss you everywhere.”
Her knees wobble, and I wrap an arm tighter, squeeze harder. Hold on to the woman who’s rocking my world.
I pull back so I can meet her gorgeous blue eyes. Hers are glassy, lust drunk. “And I want to taste you. Feel you on my tongue.”
She shudders, her shoulders heaving, her breath stuttering. “Please, Holden,” she says, and the need in her voice undoes me even more. “I can’t take the teasing anymore.”