Chapter Fifteen
Wyatt
Ittook allmy willpower not to shout my triumph at talking Piper into riding with me over to my place. All through post-game pizza and beer, I’d crowded her, pushed to see if I might have a chance of moving from the sidelines and into the game. Sitting so close to her, I tuned into every shift in her responses from stiff at first to interested to chasing me when I left a sliver of space between us. Only when the guys joined us and I suggested the change in who should ride with who did she go rigid.
After the two glorious evenings we’d spent in the back seat of my truck, her reaction to riding with me was confusing. She’d told me how much fun she’d had with me there, for shit’s sake. Maybe she had an aversion to riding in the front seat?
A grin spread over my face as I thought about how I could talk her out of that.
My truck waited on a side street around the corner from Stromboli’s. As we walked up to it, I said, “We could pregame the party in the back seat and risk taking a bunch of shit from our friends—”
Piper raised a brow.
“Or we could show up right behind them and sneak off to my room when they’re busy drinking, dancing, and playing games.”
She shivered, and I rubbed my hands up and down her arms.
“It’s warmer in my bed than in the back seat of the truck, but I can fire it up and turn on the heater if that’s what you want.”
I knew what I wanted. From the first time I set eyes on her, I’d appreciated that Piper was her own woman. It was one of many things attracting me to her.
She shivered again. “From past experience”—the corner of her mouth kicked up—“I know you’re a furnace that can heat me up from the inside out in about twenty seconds flat.” Going up on her toes, she whispered in my ear, “But I kinda like the idea of your bed.”
Wrapping my arms around her, I pulled her front flush with mine. “Me too,” I said against her pretty mouth. Then I did what I’d been dying to do since I saw her sitting in the booth at Stromboli’s. I kissed the shit out of her. I’d been starving for this girl since that surprise make-out session in the back of the bar the other night, and I poured every ounce of the desire coursing through me like a damn tsunami into that kiss. When I finally let us up for air, her unfocused gaze on my lips as we panted almost made me forget I was taking her home with me. Especially with the back seat of my truck only one tug on the door handle away.
“Come on, babe. Let’s go check out a party before we have our own private party.” I pulled the driver’s door open and gestured for her to climb in.
She slid to the center of the bench seat and glanced around for a seat belt. Taking advantage, I brushed my forearm across her luscious rack as I reached behind her right shoulder for the middle-seat shoulder harness. I brushed my knuckles across her thighs as I tugged it across her lap to snap it into place.
Instead of calling me out for my antics, she slid me a side-eye and a half-grin. Then she surprised me by mimicking my actions as she belted me in—only, her knuckles seemed to get stuck over my fly. She rubbed them across my hardening length—back and forth, back and forth—until I thought I might jump out of my skin. With an evil little chuckle, at last she pulled the belt all the way over and clicked it into place.
“Where do you live?” Her breezy tone pretended she had no clue what she’d just put me through.
Naughty, naughtygirl.
“I hope you know you’re going to pay for that,” I said as I turned the key in the ignition.
She patted the top of my thigh then let her fingers slide to the inside, her pinkie so damn close to where I desperately wanted her to touch me. Yet she remained still, resting her hand right where it was. “I’m counting on it.”
A laugh barked out of me.
Jesus. This girl.
Gorgeous. Football fan. Casual, no-strings-attached hookup.
Perfect.
Except for that last part.
Maybe it was because she wouldn’t give me her number. Maybe it was because the chances of seeing her were exactly that—chance. Maybe it was because from the second we locked eyes in a mirror behind a bar, I’d sensed a connection with her. Whatever. All I knew was I had an opportunity to make one hell of an impression on her, and I was going to fucking rock it.
As expected, the big old Victorian I shared with my three roommates was lit up like daylight when I pulled my truck into my designated spot in the driveway. Taking Piper by the hand, I led her up the walkway to the front door where one of the guys from the wrestling team sat in as bouncer.
“Hey, Logan. How’s it goin’?” I fist-bumped him with my free hand.
“This place is rocking already. I’m looking forward to my relief so I can join the fun.”
It was a point of honor among the sports teams that whenever one team threw a party, they could call on another team to supply some adult supervision. None of us wanted to court a suspension from our respective coaches—or worse face the scrutiny of campus officials—so we did our best to keep out the underage kids and the assholes who occasionally showed up to make trouble or prove their toughness against athletes.
