I hold up my hands in surrender. “I call it like I see it.”
“Second of all,” she says, her eyes flashing with annoyance. “If you hit on me again, I’ll kick you somewhere you won’t come back from easily.”
I break into a loud laugh as I cup my crotch. “My dick and I will keep that in mind.”
“Good.”
I lean in close to her ear and whisper, “But my dick doesn’t scare easy. And neither do I.”
She inhales, but before she can respond, the ball is snapped, and the game is on.
Chapter Eleven
Like always, I get into the game right away. I call for the ball every chance I get, and I score twice in the first twenty minutes of play.
But the other thing I do as much as possible? I get close to Sky. I pretend I’m just coming over to explain one of the rules to her, but I make sure to whisper them into her ear.
And she flushes pink every time. She also curses…a lot. It always takes me by surprise, and it never fails to turn me on.
“Fuck,” she says as she runs down the field, and I follow her. “I’m just running back and forth for no fucking reason.”
“You’re in good shape for someone who says they never exercise,” I say.
She shrugs. “I like running, I guess. But you’re obviously an athlete. You really love this God-awful game, don’t you?”
“I do,” I say, frustrated when I nearly choke up. Talking about football never made me emotional before, but this year, all I do is think about Dad.
I clench my jaw and stop talking.
“You okay?” she says, her green eyes looking like they don’t miss a thing.
“Yeah.” I go for a joke. “Did you see me run over your brother to get into the end zone on that last touchdown? He’s going to get me back next chance he gets.”
“He’ll surely try. I can’t believe you can fucking score by just running over somebody,” she says. “I thought this was no-contact.”
“It’s supposed to be,” I agree. “But I keep forgetting that rule.”
To make my point, I brush so close to her that my bare arm touches hers. She noticeably shivers.
And then, she shocks the hell out of me by calling for the ball as soon as it’s snapped.
Not only does she catch the pass, she makes it thirty yards downfield. Nobody can catch her. If she didn’t stop and run out of bounds so she could catch her breath, she could have scored.
Before I can blink, she gets thrown to again. And again, she catches the football and runs for another ten yards before someone finally grabs her flag.
This time, I race downfield to her.
“Shit, you’re fast,” I say in all seriousness. “Those two plays provided a big spark for your team. I’m going to call you Sparky.”
“Oh, God. Please don’t call me that.”
“See, that just makes me want to do it more. Sparky.”
“Colton.”
That’s the first time she’s said my name, and I feel my dick react at the way it rolls off her tongue. So, I deflect. “Can’t believe you hate sports. You’re a natural athlete.” I want to add that her long legs don’t hurt with her speed, but I don’t think that would sound very appropriate.
“I may enjoy running,” she says. “But I don’t like the competition. Or really, anything with a ball.”
