Andre shrugs his enormous shoulders and eyes Leo. “Like I said, I have my reasons for wanting to be down here.”
Elliot finishes his beer and leans forward. “Are you married? Kids or anything?”
Chase rolls his eyes. “Daddy Danes just wants to know if his kid will have a playmate at the games.”
“Hey,” Leo chimes in, “Frankie’s due in a couple months.”
Elliot shrugs and gives a soft laugh. “Asher’s not gonna wanna play with a newborn, dude.”
Andre laughs in amusement at the interactions, and I think of how well he’s already fitting in with the dynamic of our group. “Nah. No wife, no girl, no kids. Just me and my guns.” He jokingly lifts his elbows quickly and flexes biceps the size of my head.
I give him a half smile. “You and Chase should get along really well.”
“Oh!” Chase ignores my dig and jumps up from the barstool, eyeing the entrance to the roof where a pretty, stick-thin blond girl is walking in alone. “Speaking of chicks…”
I glare at him. “You’re engaged as fuck, Kennedy.”
He shakes his head. “Not for me, dumbass. She’s the daughter of the new offensive coordinator. I met her last week at practice. Total dime and total Dylan Rivera cup of tea.”
I knock back my whiskey and frown at him. “She’s here to meet me?”
“I mean, I know you brought Mel with you, but only because she’s crashing at your place, right?” Chase cranes his neck to peek over the crowd at his fiancée, who is still chatting away with Melody. “You said you guys aren’t a thing.”
“I mean, I guess…no. We’re not…” Are we a thing?
Suddenly, all I can think about is asking her. And I have absolutely no fucking clue what I want the answer to be.
Chase narrows his eyes and leans close to me. “Whit told me she’s leaving soon anyway, right? To go on some hippie boat?”
“Yeah…” I bite my lip and glance around. “It’s actually a luxury relaxation cruise.”
His brows shoot up as he gives an easy laugh. “All right then, man. Anyway, that’s Jennifer.” He nods subtly toward the skinny blonde. “I told her our kicker is single, and she’s, like, a perfect cutout of your type. And I know your type, dude.”
I look over at the woman who’s ordering something at the bar. Chase isn’t wrong. She looks like everything I’ve always said I wanted. Classic beauty, sophisticated, perfect wife material.
I clear my throat and finish what’s left in my glass, finding myself moving my gaze back over to Melody. Is she…reading someone’s palm?
An unexpected laugh rises in my chest as I watch her pink hair bounce around and her gorgeous mouth move as she talks a mile a minute to the bartender and traces the lines on the woman’s palm.
Her lips form a perfect O. Clearly, she’s excited about something on the bartender’s hand. Whitney is leaning against the bar and laughing softly, admiring Melody in the same way everyone who knows her seems to admire her. She has a light you can’t put out.
“Dude.” Chase nudges me, bringing me back to the world after yet another spiral of Melody thoughts. Damn. “Go talk to her.”
Oh right. The blonde.
I run a hand through my hair and pick up my empty glass. “I guess I could use another drink.”
“There’s our Cinderella. Go find your Princess Charming, or whatever.” Chase shrugs and shoves me away from the table.
I glance over my shoulder and give him a harsh side-eye. “Have I ever told you that you’re an idiot?”
“Once or twice.” He sips a beer.
I mean, I never called tonight with Melody a date. And it’s not like anything is gonna happen for real between us. Mel made it pretty clear that we are not gonna turn into anything. Not that we ever could, even if she wasn’t leaving.
If this Jennifer is as perfect for me as Kennedy says she is, I should be hyped to talk to her. But for some reason, I want to walk over to Melody and ask her to read my palm.
“Christ,” I whisper through a clenched jaw as I push my way through the crowded rooftop toward the bar.
“Hey.” I rest my arm on the shiny wood as I reach the bar and smile at the girl.
“Hi! You’re the Riders kicker, right? Dylan?” Her smile looks forced, like she’s smiling because she’s supposed to.
I force myself to keep my attention on her and not look right past her straight, blond hair at the captivating, bubbly yoga teacher twenty feet away.
“Yeah.” I nod at the bartender for a refill. “Yeah, that’s me. The ex-soccer player.”
“Well…” She flips her hair over her shoulder, revealing every flawless feature of her face. “I’ve always thought the kicker is the most important and underrated position on the field.”
I grab my freshly filled glass and take a sip, letting myself sneak a glance past Pretty Blonde and at Melody.
Her eyes catch mine from across the crowd, and my chest flips for a split second. As soon as our gazes meet, Melody sparks with excitement, radiating her usual beauty.
But then she notices the girl I’m talking to. The way she’s leaning in close to me, obviously flirting.
I draw in a breath as I keep my eyes fixed on Melody. Her eyes shadow, and she quickly turns away. My throat tightens.
“Is everything all right?” The woman tilts her head and offers me another fake-looking smile.
“Yeah…” I search for words. Words that would make sense. Words that would somehow explain that I think I might be into my free-spirited, pink-haired, energy-reading temporary roommate and one-night stand.
“Dylan?” She reaches out and lightly grazes her fingers over my arm. Her nails are painted a nice neutral color. Her wrist is un-tattooed, and her clothes are a solid black and white.
“Sorry.” I look at her and offer a polite smile. “I gotta talk to someone. You’re gorgeous, but I have to go.”
Her thin brows knit together in confusion, and I smile again apologetically. “I’m sorry.”
I push through the crowd, keeping my eyes fixed on the strawberry waves and green polka dot dress. Not that she’s hard to track. Her laugh is brighter than any light in the entire downtown skyline.
“Melody.” I place a hand on her back and try to steady my heartbeat and shake off the tidal wave of emotion and attraction and flat-out confusion that just washed over me.
She turns around quickly at my touch, her eyes the deepest blue I’ve ever seen. “Oh!” She swallows and smiles, although it’s missing its usual fire. “Hi, Dylan.”
I pull her aside, not really sure what’s racing through my mind or what’s about to come out of my mouth. “Melody, I think you’re really…” Incredible.
“Strange?” she finishes sarcastically.
“No. Well, yes,” I add. “But in a great way. In a…hot way.”
She laughs and holds her hand to her mouth. Her cheeks flush pink, and all I can think about is kissing her. “We’ve established that we’re attracted to each other,” she says. “That was actually the very first thing we established…” She bites her lip and looks out over the balcony.
I reach out and cup her cheek, admiring every delicate feature. “Let’s go home.”
Her jaw falls in surprise, and she draws back, slipping out of my touch. “Dylan. Come on. I saw you talking to…” She looks past me, tilting her head. “Blondie over there. She’s pretty.”
“She’s boring,” I say a little too quickly.
Melody’s blue eyes look skyward. “You like boring, remember?”
“I like…” You. “I don’t know what I like. But I do know…” I lean close to her, tickling her ear with a whisper. “I haven’t stopped thinking about the night we met, and I know you haven’t, either.”
She wets her lips, the gesture a silent admission that I’m right.
“And I think we need to do it again.”
She drops her head back with laughter. “Is that what you think?”
I slide my hand do
wn to her lower back and pull her against me, drinking in her sweetness.
Heat and tension burn between us, and I feel the curves of her body aching for me.
I push a strand of her hair behind her ear and lean close, watching her lips part and her chest rise up and down with every breath. She’s the opposite of conventional. She’s the opposite of the pretty and seemingly normal woman by the bar. She’s the opposite of…me.
But right now, my entire body is on fire for her, and I know that, for whatever bizarre reason, the feeling is mutual.
She shuts her eyes and opens them slowly, her gaze wide and needy and sizzling. “All right-y, Dylan. Let’s go.”
“All righty,” I repeat with a smile.
I wrap an arm around Melody, practically counting down the seconds until I can get as close to her as I desperately want to.
She leans back and turns toward the table in the corner of the roof where my teammates are sitting. “Should we say goodbye to the—”
I don’t even hesitate. “Nah. They’ll live.” And my dick might not.
Melody giggles and follows me through the glass doors leading back into the building. As we walk through, I glance over my shoulder to see Chase Kennedy with his jaw gaping open, shaking his head slowly in disbelief.
I catch his eyes, and it’s clear he knows exactly what’s going on. Or at least he thinks he does. But now, I’m looking at Melody, holding her, wanting her more than I’ve ever wanted anything, and I’m not sure I even know what’s going on.
“I’m right, aren’t I? You want this, too?” I turn to Melody and gently hold her chin in my fingers, angling her beautiful face up toward me.
“More than you know.”
I press my lips to hers, wishing we could teleport back to the condo somehow.
“I guess…” She pulls away, breathing heavily. “Platonic was never really gonna happen anyway. Not with…” She glances down.
“Not with us,” I finish, trying to ignore how right the idea of “us” feels.
Fifteen
Melody
Déjà vu hits me like a moving train as Dylan and I frantically shove the door open into his condo, making out like teenagers and laughing through every kiss.
I don’t know what switch flipped in his head in the bar, but I can’t think straight enough to ponder it right now. I can’t think straight at all. I can’t think about anything but getting his clothes off and my clothes off and everything off.
So, fine. I’ve been crushing on Dylan pretty hard since that first night, and living under the same roof with undeniable chemistry and passionate sexual tension aren’t really helping the whole crush situation.
I pull at every button on his shirt until I yank the whole thing off and admire the perfection that is his bare, muscular chest.
It’s just sex.
But something in his enchanting brown eyes and hungry kisses make it feel like so much more.
“Wait,” I say through a giggle, my lips still touching his. “I wanna change first.”
He sighs and kisses me hard. “Change? Everything’s coming off anyway.”
“I know, but…” I reluctantly slip away and smile brightly, feeling light and floaty and giddy like a schoolgirl. “Hold on.”
I run into his bedroom and point a finger for him to stay put.
“That’s my room, crazy. Your clothes aren’t in there.” He gives me a smoldering, crooked smile.
“I know!” I shut the door and slip into his closet, my head buzzing and swimming, and not from the half a drink that I had at the bar. I’m drunk on something way stronger.
I smile to myself as I slip off the polka dot dress and grab his jersey off a hanger and pull it on, with nothing but my panties underneath. Which, coincidentally, are also covered in polka dots.
“Okay, I’m coming in.” I hear the door swing open, and I walk out of the closet, holding the thick, stretchy fabric next to my hips.
His lips part as his eyes take a trip down my body. “You are…”
I laugh and shimmy my shoulders, stepping closer to him and savoring the palpable arousal between us. He looks at me with visible desire, and with his gaze devouring me, I feel like the most beautiful girl to ever put on a jersey.
I melt into his embrace and lean up into his neck. “I always wanted to put one on. Secretly.”
“And I secretly want to put on yoga leggings.”
I draw back. “Seriously?”
“No.”
We laugh and fall into each other, our bodies crashing and moving together like ocean waves.
Dylan slips his hands under the jersey, savoring me and turning my knees to liquid. Heat pools between my legs, and everything in me is screaming for him.
“Now…” His breaths are panting, his chest rising and falling against me. “I have a surprise for you.”
I narrow my eyes and trace his abs with my fingers, teasing him at his waistband. “Is that so?”
Without another word, he lifts me up and carries me into the living room, where my yoga mat is laid out in front of the window.
I laugh wildly as he gently places me down on the mat and positions himself on top of me. “What is this all about?” I grip his hair as he kisses my collarbone, sending swirls of chills down my spine.
“I’ve been dreaming about this.” He rocks against me, sliding a finger into the elastic of my panties underneath the jersey, and suddenly I’m one big quivering pool of desire.
“Sex on the yoga mat?” I ask breathlessly through something between a sigh and a laugh.
He eyes me, leaning on his elbows over me. His impressive erection rages against me and makes me even weaker.
“Slow down there, Miss Eager. I didn’t say sex. Yet.” Dylan sits up, his body taut and hard and dangerously sexy.
A begging whimper slips out of my throat as he moves down to the bottom of the mat, and every inch of me is desperate for him to get back on top of me. Like, now.
“What are you—”
“Shhh.” Dylan runs his long, masculine fingers along the insides of my thighs, and I spread my legs for him almost instinctively.
I shut my eyes and try to catch my breath as he kisses up my legs, opening my hips wide and marveling at how easily I can bend in whatever way he wants.
Dylan slowly runs his tongue closer and closer to the flesh between my legs, and my whole body is begging and screaming for more.
He grabs my hips and shifts them under his mouth, snagging my panties with his teeth and effortlessly slipping them off. I’m practically choking on air as he pulls the polka dot thong all the way off me.
His mouth makes its way back up my body, and I seem to melt under his kiss and touch and weight. Everything feels hot and floaty, and all I can see is the dirty lust in his deep-brown eyes.
“Oh,” he whispers, his lips finding the tiny tattoo above my left hip, a sinful smile sliding across his handsome face. “I forgot about this.”
I manage a smile and lift my head, running my hand through his perfectly messy hair. “Remember what it means?”
Definitely not. He probably brushed it off as some weird hippie tattoo on his slightly drunk one-night stand.
“Unity, right?” Dylan rasps with no hesitation. He smiles at the tattoo and kisses it again. “Because only a select few get to see it. Only those who are about to experience…unity with you.”
“You remember,” I whisper, practically silent. My eyes widen, and I melt into him even more. I turn my head to the side and bite my lip through a smile, trying to contain the giddy butterflies that ripple through my belly and chest.
He gets it. He doesn’t think it’s stupid or weird or too quirky. I look at the man kissing my thighs and making me shiver and burn for more, and in the craziest way possible, he gets me.
I remind myself that it’s nothing more than physical and fun and so dreadfully temporary and do my best to shoo those butterflies far, far away.
Pleasure and electricity slam through m
e as Dylan glides his tongue exactly where it needs to be, making me wetter and hotter and needier every second.
I feel him suck in a breath as he licks my clit softly, drawing heat waves over me and between us.
“Holy…” I moan. The room is practically spinning, and suddenly his mouth is the greatest gift the world, and my body, has ever seen.
My heart and my head are pounding as my entire body contracts and writhes at the will of his magnificent lips.
I grab his hair, clinging to him for literal dear life, and feel him picking up the pace, making me even more desperate and hot.
“You’re so perfect,” he slurs, his mouth pressing into me and vibrating with his words.
I’m breathing like I just ran a marathon, and those three tiny words from him send another cluster of damned butterflies through me.
“You’re…” I pant, grazing my nails along the back of his head as he licks and kisses and teases me. “Amazing.”
He smiles, naughty and sexy and hungry. I’m shaking and begging him for more, my entire body screaming for him.
He’s savoring my desperation, looking at me with that wild fascination and amusement and captivation I’ve seen in his eyes since that first night we spent together.
My chest rises and falls as my heart slams, and I arch against him. The attraction is turning into raw, undeniable heat.
He dips his head low and keeps going down on me, harder and faster now, making me practically cry out his name. I could say that name forever. I could feel this pleasure and grasp his hair and watch his eyes and…
Holy hell, the ground is shaking. My toes curl, and my eyes close, and everything spirals into white-hot pleasure as I come.
He loves it, teasing and licking and smiling with awe and attraction and lust. Fireworks are still exploding through my head and between my legs and basically everywhere, and I turn into a puddle of complete satisfaction right on my yoga mat in the living room.
When I finally stop seeing stars, Dylan kisses up my body and neck and finds my mouth.
I look down and see his jersey still on my body, pushed up all the way to my boobs. My legs are still quivering slightly, and I bend and melt to his touch. I laugh softly and kiss him.
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