Scored(29)

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 jabs 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.”