Scoring Her Heart

by Marquita Valentine

  “Too much?” he asks, pulling away a little.

  I make my eyes open. “Just right,” I assure him before diving back for more.

  Our kiss turns hot and hungry. His hands are no longer content to stay in place. Balancing me on his lap, while I writhe on him unashamedly. The thick ridge of his cock sends delicious thrills all through me each time I grind down on it.

  Guess what they said about him online is true. He’s hung and he knows how to use it out of bed. I think I’m three second away from an orgasm.

  “Love the sounds you keep making.” He nips at my throat. “You want more from me, sweetheart?”

  My brain is so infused with lust and desire that I almost say yes. I almost take him right there in the kitchen, up against the fridge. Or rather, I almost let him take me. But common sense prevails, along with the realization that his hand is on the zipper of my jeans and I’ve all but yanked his shirt over his head.

  Holy crap. When have I ever been so blinded by a hot body and a scorching hot kiss that I can barely control myself?

  Nervously, I laugh before I slam my mouth shut and try to convey everything by looking him right in the eyes. Only his are unreadable, and it’s a bit unnerving.

  “That would be a no,” Dallas says, but he doesn’t sound angry or frustrated. Okay, so he doesn’t sound too frustrated.

  “I don’t sleep with a guy on the first date.”

  “This is our second.”

  “I don’t sleep with guys who aren’t my boyfriend.” A dull flush creeps up my face as he slowly lowers me down his very hard body. “I can’t do casual sex.”

  “All right.” He kisses my forehead and walks—a little stiffly—back to the half-full sink of dishes. “Why don’t you pick out a movie for us to watch while I finish this up?”

  My mouth drops open. “Are you serious?” I ask before I can stop myself.

  He doesn’t turn my way when he says, “I told you I would take care of the dishes.”

  “Not about that—you’re okay with us not sleeping together?”

  He rolls his shoulders. “Mostly.”

  “And the part that’s not?”

  “Can get the fuck over it. I’m not some punk-ass kid, Paige. I understand what no means.”

  Warmth invades me. It’s tender and almost like the first rush of a buzz from drinking after a long day at work. “Does this mean you’ll want a third date with me?”

  He places the last dish into the dishwasher, washes his hands, dries them, and finally turns around to face me. “That’s not the question you should ask.”

  “Then what is?”

  His green eyes glitter under the kitchen lights. “Do you want a third date?”

  * * *

  Dallas is asleep in my recliner. I don’t know if his napping means he’s super comfortable at my place or he was so bored by the movie I picked out that he had to watch it from behind his eyelids.

  Either way, at this moment, it’s a win for me because it means I can indulge in looking at my favorite piece of man candy in real life. So sue me, I might have looked up shirtless images of Dallas on Google and gotten more than I bargained for with some nearly naked pictures of him in a Versace shoot.

  Nekkid and up to no good, is what my momma would say... right before she’d join in on the fun.

  I sigh and lean my hip against the doorframe, staring at Dallas as the light and shadows from the fire play on his sexy face.

  Who could blame any woman for wanting to join in on his fun? He kisses like a sex god and is built like an Adonis, all sculpted muscles and an ass that, for the first time in my life, made me want to sink my teeth into it, and he washes dishes.

  I just know that from a picture of him skinny dipping with a model in a fashion shoot that had more skin than actual clothes, mind you.

  Not that I could blame the photographer.

  I chew on the tip of a finger, imagining him lying around my place without a stitch of clothing on.

  Stop being a perv, Paige.

  Do you want a third date? His question pops into my head.

  Yes, I want a third date with him.

  No, I shouldn’t have a third date with him.

  Then again, I never should have agreed to a second date with him, but here we are...

  He mumbles something in his sleep, his forest-colored eyes opening a little, the thick lashes barely parting.

  I inch closer to him. “Are you okay?”

  His answering sleepy grin makes my heart flip. “Hey, bright eyes.”

  He gave me a nickname? “Bright eyes?”

  “Yeah, you have the brightest blue eyes, like Lake Michigan in the summer.” He rubs his chest with his free hand before reaching out to caress my face. “Never wanted to kiss anyone as much as I do you. That first kiss was hot as fuck.”

  My lips part in eager anticipation. I want to kiss him again. Instead, I take a step back from his amazing hands and swallow. Hard. “Wake up, Dallas. You’re dreaming.”

  He shakes his head, a sleepy smile pushing up his lips at the corners. “No, I’m not, but I am a little buzzed.”

  Dallas only had a few beers with dinner, and that was four hours ago. A guy his size couldn’t still be drunk, could he? “Want me to take you home?”

  “What time is it?” he asks.

  “Almost eleven.”

  “I’ll get an Uber and pick up my SUV tomorrow. You don’t need to be out driving this late.”

  Usually, when someone gets overly protective, they get bossy and cross lines that I drew a long time ago... but with Dallas, his tone conveys genuine concern. It’s very sweet, and I appreciate it. Not only is it unwarranted, but I’d like to have more time with him. “Wake Forest is pretty safe. Quiet. Nothing really happens here.”

  “Maybe so, but I’d feel better if you’d keep your sweet cheeks here, bright eyes.”

  “But I—”

  “Humor me.” There’s an edge to his voice now.

  “Fine. I don’t want to have to get dressed anyway.” After he started snoring once the credits rolled, I changed into my pajamas. They’re not the least bit sexy.

  His gaze drops to my bare legs and the corner of his mouth quirks. “Is that what you sleep in?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with boxers and a t-shirt,” I say defensively.

  He lifts his eyes to my face. “Do you normally wear a bra, too?”

  I flush hotly. “That’s none of your business.”

  “I’ll take that as a no.” He stretches, flexing those mouthwatering arms and shoulders.

  “You can take it any way you want.”

  Dallas stands up, his hard body inches from mine. “I know I can, but I’m going to wait. Make you wait, too.”

  “I’m not the one on a diet.”

  He laughs. “You are the one with the no-casual-sex rule. That’s pretty fucking restrictive.”

  I purse my lips. “You make that sound like a bad thing.”

  “It’s inconvenient.”

  “All things worth waiting for are.”

  He studies me for a moment. “True.” Slowly, he pulls out his phone while my mind reels from his agreement. “The closest Uber is fifteen minutes away. Mind if I use your bathroom?”

  “Down the hall. First door on your left.”

  “Thanks.”

  A couple of minutes later, he joins me in the living room. A few drops of water cling to his jaw. “Did you take a shower?” I tease, unable to stop myself from touching those spots.

  “Should I have?” he replies roughly. “Don’t answer that.”

  Another pass of my fingers and he takes a step forward, his big hands coming to rest on my waist. “I don’t want to give you the wrong signal, but I really like it when you touch me,” I confess.

  “I know you do, and I can be a patient man.”

  “Are you going to try to change my mind about casual sex?”

  He bites his bottom lip, then says, “No.”

  Disappointment j
abs at me. Stupid, considering I know what I can and can’t handle, and the fact that he’s just respecting my body and my rules.

  The door opens, and Layton comes barreling in. I jump, shoving Dallas’ hands away at the same time. I’m sure I look guilty as anything for doing absolutely nothing.

  “Hey, y’all. Sorry, my momma had an emergency. I had to cover for her at the Junior League meeting this evening.”

  “And you still drove home?”

  Layton nods, pushing her dark hair away from her face. She twists her pearl necklace with one finger. “She wants me to move back home. Daddy, too.”

  “After the wedding, of course, and not into their house,” Layton adds, smiling brightly, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “But right in between our parents. Doesn’t that sound lovely?”

  “Yes?” I’m not sure how to answer her because stress tends to make Layton unusually negative and resentful. Tomorrow, she’ll wake up feeling refreshed and over the moon about moving home and living in the same neighborhood as her parents and in-laws.

  “I’m going to wait in the foyer so you two can talk in private,” Dallas says. He touches my hand as he walks past me. “Text me tomorrow when you get a chance.”

  “Oh, no,” Layton says in a rush. “It’s not like that... I’m happy Joe took the job at Daddy’s firm. You two keep talking. I’m beat anyway.”

  “Go relax,” I say softly. “Dallas and I are waiting on his Uber.”

  One of Layton’s perfectly arched brows rise. “I thought you drove.”

  Dallas tilts his head toward me. “She got me drunk and tried to take advantage of me. I told her I wasn’t that kind of guy.”

  “What? That’s not what happened.”

  “Don’t worry, bright eyes. I’ll let you make it up to me on our third date.”

  Oh, he is soooo good.

  A genuine smile chases away the worry from Layton’s face, so I don’t bother to give him a hard time for his smooth ways.

  “That’s so nice of you,” I reply instead.

  Dallas smirks. “It is, isn’t it?”

  Layton’s phone rings, and she whimpers. “I have to take this. More wedding planning and lecturing.”

  “Night, honey.” I give her a quick hug before she disappears into the bedroom.

  Dallas checks his phone. “The Uber is only about eight minutes away.”

  “I’ll wait with you on the porch. I’m sure you can protect me from bad guys until I go inside.”

  We go outside and I wrap my arms around my middle, trying not to let the cool night air make my teeth chatter. The concrete is cold and rough under my feet, but I do a little side-to-side dance to keep my blood pumping.

  “Are you really that cold?”

  “I’m a hothouse flower. I don’t do well with cool temps.” However, I love my A/C when it’s pushing eighty and above. A contradiction to be sure, but that’s how I’ve always been.

  “It’s like summer out here.”

  “Only a guy from Michigan would think that.”

  He stares at me, his muscles bunching like he’s going to make a fire or give me the shirt off his back. I’d like either to be honest. “Your friend going to be okay?”

  “I don’t know,” I say. “She and Joe have been officially together since middle school. Their parents are friends—same country club, same junior league... golfing buddies. You name it... their parents do it together. Don’t get me wrong, Layton’s parents are super nice, but she’s like me, the middle child, but unlike me, she’s the only girl. So they over-worry, over-schedule, and over-prearrange her life. It was like an act of congress to get her up here. The only reason they agreed was because I moved here to live with my sister when she decided to start her own public relations firm.”

  He scratches his jaw. “You do have a trustworthy face.”

  “I’ve been friends with Layton since kindergarten.”

  “Loyal, too.” There’s admiration in his voice. Like the middle child I am, I crave more compliments and attention.

  “I’ve also been told I’m a great listener.”

  “Really? I find that hard to believe.”

  My mouth drops open, and I uncross my arms to smack his shoulder. “I can tell you everything you’ve told me.”

  “I’d love to hear it.”

  The Uber driver pulls up, and I grin. “Your ride is here. Maybe next time.”

  “Convenient timing. Are you good at that, too?”

  I laugh.

  Dallas focuses on me, his sexy eyes intent. “When’s your next day off?”

  “Next Tuesday. Nolan and I switched days so he could take his wife to the Asheboro Zoo to see the new baby panda twins.”

  “Consider yourself booked for the rest of the day. I’ll pick you up at six so we can make it to the airport in time. Bring your bikini, bright eyes, because we’re heading to the Keys with some friends for the day.”

  My heart speeds up. He wants to spend more time with me. Oh... with friends. “You want to make sure Aiden knows we’re legit. Gotcha.” I give him an over-exaggerated wink, clicking my tongue against my cheek a couple of times and pretending to shoot at the air with finger pistols. “I won’t let you down, partner.”

  He shakes his head, biting back a laugh—I just know it—while remaining completely serious. “Not asking you for that reason. All right, so I’m not asking you for only that reason.”

  “You’re not?” I reply faintly. “What other reason would you have?”

  “Beyond that hot as fuck make-out session in your kitchen?”

  “I admit that it was exactly that, but with my rule and all...” Oh, God. I sound like a prude and an idiot.

  “Guess you’ll have to wait and see, then.” He kisses me quickly. “Night, bright eyes.”

  He strides to the waiting car, his long legs eating the distance.

  Even after he gets inside, the car doesn’t move an inch. It dawns on me that Dallas is waiting for me to go inside as well. Waving, I open the door and step inside, warm air greeting me, then shut the door behind me and lock it for good measure.

  Finally, I hear the car take off.

  “How was your not-a-date number two?” Layton asks.

  I open my mouth to answer, but realize I have no idea what just happened. Moving to the living room, I plop down on the sofa, pull a soft blanket into my lap, and stare at the television without really seeing anything.

  “Paige?”

  “Right here.”

  Layton suddenly appears in front of me. “Are you okay?”

  “Actually... I feel amazing.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Dallas

  Wednesday is known as hell day for the Renegades, and it’s set on repeat every week of the season. Our trainer pushes us to the max, then makes us go those extra steps to his own personal version of exercise hell. The only good thing I can say about today is that he switched things up by having us spar with a partner.

  Luckily for me, I get Aiden.

  By luckily, I mean every Irish ancestor on my mother’s side has cursed me because the Renegades All-American quarterback hits like a son of a bitch. Don’t get me wrong, Aiden’s not a little guy by any stretch of the imagination—the dude’s an inch shorter than me and I outweigh him by twenty pounds, which makes him one of the smallest guys on the team. But I’d still rather go up against one of our Hulk-huge linebackers.

  It’s like Aiden has a personal vendetta against whoever he gets to fight.

  “Little birdie told me you’re making a play for Finley’s sister,” he says and lands a punch to my solar plexus.

  “Dude. Not so loud.” I clip him in the jaw, but the fucker smiles like I’ve just given him a love tap.

  “Afraid of Finley?”

  “Fuck yes.” It doesn’t make me less of a man to admit I fear the woman who holds my public image by the balls. She can squeeze and twist them on a dime.

  He rolls his shoulders. “Good.”

  We start blockin
g more punches than we’re landing, the way it should be, in my opinion. We’re on the same team, damn it.

  “You got a thing for her?” I ask, just to mess with him.

  “No.”

  “Then why are you worried?”

  “Because you’re using her. She’s good people. Hangs out with good people.”

  I take a step back and hold up my gloves, signaling him to stop. “You were the one to challenge me to find a nice girl. I found one.”

  “Find a different one.”

  “Not happening.” I grab a bottle of water and squeeze, gulping down copious amounts of the refreshing liquid. “Besides, I told her about our bet.”

  “Paige went for that?”

  “Yeah.” I toss the bottle to the side. “You still into her sister?”

  Aiden laughs. “That ship sailed out to sea, caught on fire, and sank to the bottom.”

  “No second chances?”

  “We’ve second chanced it enough. She’s done. I’m done. We’re fucking toxic together, and I don’t need that shit to fuck with my career. Hell, she’s moved on, and I’m good with that. I’m happy for her. Everything’s peaceful with us for once.”

  Aiden is dead serious. I know that look. Not even God can change his mind once it’s made up. That kind of dedication is what makes him one of the best to have ever played the game.

  “Now are we through with this sharing-is-caring bullshit, or do you need more me time?” Aiden asks, that stupid-as-fuck smirk on his lips as he steps to me.

  I hit him with a right hook to the jaw, and he goes down like a sack of potatoes.

  “Looks like you might need some me time. Oh, and I’m the winner of the fucking bet, so pay up, asshole.” I swagger out of the ring like I’ve just won the championship ring, fist bumping most of the team along the way. “Fellas, if you need me, I’ll be soaking in the tub.”

  * * *

  After our last team meeting to go over new plays, I hit up Paige on my phone before I drive home in my SUV that I had my assistant arrange to be dropped off at the stadium earlier today. With every letter I tap, I’m cursing my sore knuckles and Aiden’s granite jaw.

  I shouldn’t have hit Aiden so hard, but at the time, it felt good as fuck.

  Would I do it again?