He pushed back a lock of hair from her cheek. “You could cover football. The NFL has a lot going for it.”
“That better be a joke.”
“I see, you prefer ice sports. What about curling?” He tickled behind her ear. “That’s cool.”
“You have some sort of a death wish, huh, wise guy?”
He sucked the lobe of her ear just long enough to make her gasp. “Just wanted to see that pretty smile again.”
But her answering grin didn’t reach all the way to her eyes. “My kind of job doesn’t just spring into being. I had to bust my ass to get where I am. Sports journalism isn’t a field rolling out the red carpet for a woman. Being here, with you, having, you know...sex?That’s complicated. I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy it. I’m not saying that.”
“Why did you come? I know it wasn’t for the bet, at least not alone. You could have found an excuse.”
“I’m curious. I guess I—”
A phone rang in the other room.
Chapter Thirteen
What the heck does Scott Miller want?Neve glanced at her phone. Her pain-in-the-butt editor had called three times in as many minutes, disrupting her bath. She took a deep breath.Look on the bright side.While annoying, maybe this call was the adult version of getting saved by the bell. She’d had her fantasy fun—time to get a taste of reality.
She stared at the screen, debating whether or not to hit Answer. Hard to switch gears when she’d just spent the past twelve hours getting up close and personal with the head coach’s baby maker. Right now he was in the bathroom brushing his teeth. She could hear the scrub of bristles against his enamel. A spit. The sound of the faucet turning on as he rinsed his mouth.
She flicked off the screen and ran her fingers through her hair.
How was this happening?
She understood the concept of hate fucking. After all, love and hate were opposites, so a certain magnetic attraction made sense given the right circumstances. And Tor was sexy. It was an objective fact. Like the sky was blue. Or sucking hard candies was pretty much drinking flavored spit.
What she had done with Tor could be called many different things.
Passionate.
Tender.
Sweet.
IntensemindblowingcanIlockthehotelroomdoorandspendthenexttwodaysdoingitanddoingitanddoingitwell?
But it wasn’t hate sex. It wasn’t quick and dirty in some broom closet in the bowels of the stadium. She’d gone on vacation with him. There could be no slinking away into the shadows thinking,Good lord, that was incredible, and not only can it never happen again, no one can know.
Who knew what Scott was calling about, but she’d call him back downstairs, outside, before they went on the valley run.
Speaking of a run, she slipped on her tennis shoes, laced them up as Tor came out of the bathroom.
His running pants clung to his hard muscles like a second skin. His quads rose, thick and defined, while his hips were tapered. Abs flat. The merest suggestion of a bulge, if someone wanted to get their perv on.
Which, God help her, she did.
“Like what you see?” He gave her a wry look.
“I... just had something in my eye. Dust.” She rubbed her lids in an unconvincing pantomime. She wasn’t going to be winning acting awards for her “lady doth protest too much” routine.
“Dust. Is that what they are calling getting hot under the collar?”
“Hot under the collar? I think my granny Dee uses that expression.”
“Your granny Dee sounds like she has a way with words.”
