I decided to try another angle.
“I can talk to Tammi about getting you scheduled for the next holiday shift,” I offered.
The employees who worked certain holidays got double pay, so Tammi and I had put together a rotation schedule so that no one person could sign up for all of them and leave others without an opportunity to work them. It would be easy enough to simply swap her shift with someone else’s.
We fell silent again when Derek, now carrying filled glasses and a sandwich, strolled by. He shot us an unreadable look before backing through the door to return to the front of the deli.
Rylin crossed her arms over her chest and frowned at me. “That wouldn’t be fair, and you know it.”
I sighed. “I didn’t mean taking away someone else’s shift, baby. Just pushing you up in the rotation.”
She shook her head adamantly. “No.”
“Fine, I’ll stick to my powers of persuasion,” I murmured as I moved closer and glided my lips along her jaw again.
“Um…” Her breath hitched when I took a little bite, then soothed the sting with my tongue. A second later, she was out of my reach and hightailed it from the kitchen with the pie, making me laugh heartily.
It wasn’t until later in the afternoon, close to when I had to head out to practice, that I cornered her again—literally—by the back hallway near the storage closet. The kitchen was busy, customers eating and laughing out front, but she had a few minutes for me to make one last pitch.
I nudged the door open and pulled her inside, closing it behind us. She turned toward me, already smiling, but that expression died on her lips the second I stepped in and pressed her back against the wall.
I kissed her hard. My mouth was rough, tongue demanding. I pressed my hard-on against her pussy, and my hands gripped her hips with just enough pressure to make her gasp. She clutched at my shirt, dragging me closer, letting me devour her like I hadn’t already had her twice this morning.
“Still don’t wanna come to the game?” I murmured, dragging my lips down her neck, biting lightly in that spot, just above her collarbone, that drove her wild.
She let out a breathy little moan. “I said I couldn’t, not that I didn’t want to.”
Finally accepting that I wasn’t going to win this time, I leaned back and looked down at her, not bothering to hide my frustration.
“How about a compromise?” she suggested.
I raised an eyebrow and waited.
She shifted, wrapping her arms loosely around my waist like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to pull me in or push me away. “I’ll watch it at home. I get off at six thirty, and I’ll be on the couch with snacks for the kickoff, glued to the television until the last minute.”
I narrowed my eyes, tilting my head. “Home, huh?”
Nodding vigorously, she crossed her heart with a teasing smile. “Yep. That’s the deal.”
After thinking it over, I leaned in again, slow and deliberate, until our mouths were barely a breath apart. “New deal. You watch it at my place so you’re waiting for me when I get home.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but I cut her off with another kiss. Deeper this time. Possessive. My hand slid around to cup the back of her neck, thumb brushing her jaw. Her body was practically vibrating, and when her knees buckled, her fingers curled in my shirt, and I yanked her body into mine to steady her. When I finally pulled away, her pupils were wide and her lips swollen.
“Deal?” I whispered.
She blinked, then nodded slowly. “Deal.”
Smiling, I dropped one last kiss to her mouth, but just as I stepped back, she crossed her arms with a pout and muttered, “You know, you’re not always going to get your way just because you’re ridiculously good at kissing.”
“Wanna bet?” I asked, winking as I smacked her ass and opened the closet door.
She shuffled out, cheeks pink, expression caught somewhere between amusement and exasperation. In the kitchen, I tugged her close once more, brushed my lips over her temple, and told her I’d be back to pick her up when her shift ended. Then I left, already counting the hours.
Sunday came fast, and with it, game day.
Knowing she was watching flipped some kind of switch in me. I played harder. Hit meaner. Moved sharper. Every time I lined up across from a tight end or crashed through the O-line like a battering ram, I thought about her curled up on my couch, wearing one of my shirts, maybe eating the popcorn I’d left for her.
Twenty-one tackles.Fuck yeah!Not bad for a guy running on little sleep and a head full of sex-fueled adrenaline.
