Hail Mary: An Enemies-to-Lovers Roommate Sports Romance(22)

My hands shot out, catching her by the hips just as the back of her knees hit the couch. She angled back with a surprised squeak, arms windmilling, but I kept her from going down, pulling her back up onto her feet.

Her eyes were wide when she was upright again, chest heaving a bit like I’d scared the shit out of her. I guessed I probably had, swinging through the door like a bat out of hell and nearly tackling her. I kept my hands braced on her waist, making sure she was steady, and her hands had found my shoulders once they stopped flailing about.

Now, we were about two inches apart, and I took the lack of distance as an excuse to soak her in.

I was so used to being kept at a distance, but now, I could see every curve the burnt orange dress she was wearing hugged, and every little tattoo peeking out from under the fabric. I noted the flowers wrapping her shoulders, the little bumble bee nestled under her collarbone, the impressive sternum piece that spanned her chest and disappeared under her dress. She wasn’t wearing a bra, either, her breasts gaping enough for me to see how that tattoo dipped between them. I followed the black lines of that ink until I couldn’t see any farther, and then lingered on the outline of the metal piercing her nipples.

Fuck me.

My eyes dropped to where my hands held her hips, continuing down to where the ink began again under the hem of her dress, coloring her thighs and knees and shins all the way to her black boots.

I took my time trailing my gaze back up, and when my eyes met hers, she lifted her chin marginally, as if I were a predator and she wanted to prove she wasn’t afraid of me. Her septum piercing glinted in the light, and I noted how her throat constricted with a thick swallow before she pressed her hands into my chest and shoved me away.

“Can you watch where you’re going?” she said, annoyance evident in her voice. Then she looked down to where the contents of her purse had spilled out, sighing as she dropped to her knees to start picking it all up.

I was really tempted to stand there and enjoy that view, but good sense found me and I bent to help her.

“Sorry,” I said, scooping up a lipstick and mascara and dumping them into her bag. “I didn’t expect anyone to be home.”

We finished gathering her belongings off the floor, and I held out a hand to help her stand. She looked at it, scoffed, and used the couch, instead.

“Where are you off to?” I asked.

“I’m sorry, are you my daddy now?”

“In every single one of my dreams.”

Mary folded her arms over her chest, that usual bored expression she loved to wear settling in and erasing any trace of that curiosity that had been there before. I’d felt it, though — the way her breath hitched when I had my hands on her.

It gave me the confidence to pin her with a cocky grin that told her I saw right through the act.

She flattened her lips. “You look like hell, by the way.”

“And you look like a snack,” I shot back. “We haven’t given you a proper tour of the house yet, have we? We could do that now, start with my bedroom…”

I thought I saw a flicker of something in her eyes — amusement, maybe? Desire? The temptation to say yes to my offer just to see if I made good on it?

But she just shook her head, pressing her tongue into her cheek as she scrutinized me. “That actually works for you, doesn’t it?”

She looked almost sorry for me as she pushed past, and all the playfulness died with that look. I closed my eyes, internally groaning at the idiotic comment as my hand shot out, catching the crook of her elbow and spinning her back around before she could reach the door.

“Wait,” I said.

She shook me off. “Stop touching me.”

“Sorry.” I threw my hands up in surrender. “For the bedroom comment, too. It’s been a long day and I was just—”

“Joking. Yes, I’m aware,” she said, folding her arms over her chest again. I thought she was going to lay into me, but she just fell silent, her eyes flicking between mine.

I shifted under that lingering gaze.

“What happened?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You said it’s been a long day. What happened?”

I sighed, raking a hand back through my hair as I looked away from her and out the bay window. “Just some media bullshit.”

Mary frowned. “What’d you do?”

I chuckled. “Why do you automatically assume I did something?”

All she did was arch a brow.

“Some sorority girl wrote a story about me being a player, essentially,” I said, shrugging. “The twenty-seven exes of Leo Hernandez.”

“Twenty-seven, huh?” Mary let out a little whistle. “Impressive. All in the same sorority?”

“Of course not. I’m not a monster.” I grinned. “I try to keep it to five per house.”

It was a joke, one that came so easily from me I was almost surprised. Almost being the key word, because it was easier for this front to slip out than anything close to the truth.

It was clear to me that the way I presented myself was exactly how Mary saw me, too, when she rolled her eyes.

“So, the article is accurate, then?”

“What do you think?” I challenged.

She tilted her head a bit to the side, and again, I felt myself want to fidget under the weight of her gaze. The longer it lingered, the more I felt like she was stripping me down without my permission.