Scored(28)

“Not football players?”

Licking my lips, I shake my head. “As a rule, no.”

“Do you think I could be your kryptonite?”

My heart slams against my chest. He’s so close his body is almost touching mine, yet the only part of him touching me is his hand. His long fingers manage to stroke my sensitive skin and make me shiver with need.

“Anything is possible.”

He smirks and lowers his head. My lashes begin to close. “Anything?”

“Yes.” I’m not just answering his question. I’m giving him permission, encouragement… whatever to let him know that he has to kiss me.

His lips touch mine in what has to be the softest kiss I’ve ever experienced. He pulls away and I blindly lean forward, wanting more of what he’s offering.

“Don’t stop,” I tell him.

He doesn’t answer me, not with words, anyway. Instead he kisses me again, his tongue flicking at my lips until I can’t take it anymore and tangle my tongue with his.

I wrap my arms around his shoulders and all but melt into him. His arms go under my thighs, lifting me to the most perfect position between him and the fridge. Neither of us seem willing to break our kiss.

We keep exploring and tasting one another, until I’m tugging at his hair and he’s possessing my mouth like no man ever has before.

Shamelessly, I rub against him. He grips my ass harder, and I whimper.

“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.