All the Way (Hot Jocks #2)(31)

Becca laughs, smiling down at her phone.

That could be fun . . .

My fingers skate across the keys.

Fake a stomachache. I’ll drive you home.

She shakes her head, meeting my eyes briefly before typing a reply.

Everyone will know.

“Dude, get off your phone and play,” Teddy says.

I stuff my phone into my pocket, realizing it’s somehow my turn again.

I focus on the game for a few minutes, but I can’t keep my gaze from straying to Becca every few seconds. There’s a rosy blush on her cheeks, and I wonder if it’s because she’s imagining what might happen later like I am. Hell, maybe she doesn’t want anything to happen later and I need to back off, which would suck, but of course I would respect her wishes.

Becca excuses herself from the girl talk and heads to the kitchen. I slap my hand down on the table, folding, and follow her.

“Hey,” I say, pausing at the threshold to the kitchen.

Becca stands by the sink and slowly turns to face me. We’re alone for the first time all night, although someone could come around the corner at any minute and find us.

“Are you having fun?” she asks, smiling at me.

I stalk closer and bring one hand to her waist. “I think you’re enjoying teasing me,” I murmur, dipping my face close to hers.

“I would never do that,” she whispers back, her mouth now only a breath from mine.

I close the distance between us, taking her mouth in a slow, lingering kiss. She tastes like frosting from the cupcake she ate earlier. I want to devour her, but I make myself pull back.

“Please, let’s go,” I beg. “Nothing else has to happen tonight, but I need to kiss you. A lot.”

Becca smiles against my lips. “Okay.”

I groan in relief and take her hand, practically tugging her out of the kitchen.

“I’m driving Becca home,” I tell Teddy as I cash out my chips.

Justin’s eyes widen as Teddy says, “O-kay,” in slo-mo like he’s confused.

Elise comes over to give Becca a hug and ask if everything’s all right. I wonder if she notices how flushed Becca’s cheeks are.

“Yeah. Call me tomorrow,” Becca says.

By the time we climb into my car, we’re both laughing like we just got away with some stealthy crime.

“Your place or mine?” I ask as I start up the engine.

“Mine,” she says. “Because Justin and Elise will probably be at yours soon.”

“Good point.” I step on the gas, and my heart rate jumps at the idea of being alone with her.





12




* * *





Better Than Okay





Becca



Owen may be a half-decent poker player, but the second he turns in his chips, any chance of him keeping a poker face disappears. Exhibit A—our hasty exit from Teddy’s apartment.

We laugh the whole way home about how he couldn’t have been any less subtle about announcing that we were leaving together. I’m hoping Elise and the guys assume it was nothing more than a carpool. Or at least that’s what I have to count on, so I don’t overanalyze this thing to death.

Besides, I can’t focus on worrying whether our friends think we’re up to something. Every brain cell I’ve got is focused on Owen—his long, thick fingers wound tightly around the steering wheel as he navigates us toward my place. We’re both at risk of imploding if we can’t get our hands on each other as soon as possible.

This is so new to me. Normally, this would be the time I’d begin to freak out and panic while trying desperately to come up with an excuse for the guy to drop me off at home and leave. Dates in the past were okay, I could handle those, but it was the expectation afterward that would have me spiraling into nightmares.

But with Owen, it’s completely different. I want him to stay. And I can’t help but wonder how long I’ll have to wait between Owen parking in front of my building and his mouth devouring mine.

The answer, it turns out? Less than a minute.

Owen and I barely make it through my front door before crashing into each other. His fingers weave through my hair as he takes my lower lip in his mouth, making every hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

Unlike the last few times we’ve kissed, my nerves are completely at ease tonight. Any anxiety I had about being with Owen has been replaced with a warm flutter of excitement in my chest as his tongue massages mine in slow, skillful strokes.

He tastes heavenly, a striking blend of Owen and brown sugar. It’s exactly what I’ve been craving since the moment he stepped out of my office to catch his flight for the away game. That was just a few days ago, but you’d think it was a decade by the way he kisses me—deeply and passionately, like he’s never letting go.

And part of me hopes he never will.

When I break our kiss to ask if we should move this out of my foyer and into my actual apartment, Owen speaks up before I get a chance to catch my breath.

“You never responded to the text I sent you at Teddy’s place.”

“Which one? You were blowing my phone up all night,” I tease, running the pads of my fingers down the sandpapery scruff of his jawline. I missed touching him like this, in the little ways, while he was gone. Even if it was only for a couple of days.