His eyes held mine even closer than our palms touching as we shook hands, and a frission of heat arced through me to throb between my thighs.
Slowly, reluctantly, he let me go. “How ’bout I walk you to your car?”
“Sure. Thanks,” popped out of my mouth before I had time to think about it.
Of course, if I’d thought about it, I’d have had to admit my intense attraction to this guy. The heat radiating from his hand on the small of my back puckered my nipples and pulsed my core as we walked out to the parking lot. After The Fuckery, I had no intention of becoming involved with anyone anytime soon, but as we neared my car, I decided I wouldn’t be opposed to a hookup with superhot football player.
Chapter Two
Wyatt
Practice was abitch after our loss to the Lumberjacks last Saturday. We’d all sat with it long enough, and tempers had frayed at the house I shared with three other players. As usual, Finn McCabe, our killer D-end and idiot-with-girls roomie had headed to the library to “study”—read that, hang out with jersey chasers. Danny Chambers, the new guy who walked on at receiver and had a solid chance at starting before the end of the season, went over to his “friend” Taryn’s. I didn’t feel like hanging out at the house like a damn third wheel while Callahan O’Reilly, tight end extraordinaire and rock-star roommate and friend, entertained the hot brunette he’d met in class at the start of the semester.
So I headed to Stromboli’s with the idea I might meet up with Fitz and Johnson. But for some weird reason as I drove to our usual hangout, my truck veered into the parking lot of the Molly. Usually we hit the place on Monday nights after practice to catch a pro game over a few rounds of pool. Since I didn’t go out much on weeknights otherwise, I couldn’t remember hanging out at this bar on a Thursday before. As I walked in and looked around, though, my gaze had landed on the hottest woman I’d ever seen doing an admirable job of running off a guy who wanted the empty barstool beside her. I’d ordered a beer and ambled back by the pool tables to watch the show.
Over the next half hour, I entertained myself with watching her send eight guys packing without directly looking at any of them. The woman was a badass. Yet she couldn’t seem to stop looking at me. In the low light, I clocked a bit of pink tinging her cheeks the first time I caught her checking me out in the mirror behind the bar. After that she kept sneaking glances, her gaze catching mine. As the evening wore on, her gazes became bolder, and I had to discreetly adjust the fly of my jeans.
Since she was sitting, I couldn’t gauge how tall she was, but I liked how her short black leather skirt rode high up her creamy thighs. Sexy black leather boots ended right below her knees. Her short jacket looked to be imitation silver fox and gave her a punk-rock vibe. As she shifted to reach for her drink, I caught a glimpse of satiny teal fabric framing the shadow of cleavage I wanted to check out up close.
When the rangy guy I’d seen her blow off when I first entered the bar made a second run at her, I decided I’d take my chances. For once I wasn’t the one who walked away disappointed. Instead, I walked Piper Maxwell to her car, my body tingling in anticipation of getting her number.
Stopping beside a sweet burgundy Camaro parked beneath a street light in the parking lot, she said, “Well, this is inconvenient.”
“What is? Being smart?” I asked.
She huffed out a sardonic laugh. “Yeah.”
My heart pounded as I worked to keep my hopes in check. “Why is that?”
“I had this idea we could continue talking in my car”—she glanced around the ring of light haloing her ride—“but we’d be rather conspicuous.”
When she reached into her purse for her keys, I covered her hand with mine. “My truck’s parked over there.” I nodded to where my F-150 nosed up to the leafless hedge bordering the lot. “It’s less conspicuous.”
Her eyes snagged mine, and I held my breath while she decided what she wanted. The smile that bloomed over her lips let me breathe again even as my heart somersaulted in my chest.
“How convenient.”
Taking her hand, I walked her over to my truck and opened the passenger door for the back seat. With a sly grin, she climbed in and slid to the middle of the bench seat. I wasted no time scrambling in beside her.
Casually sliding my arm across the back of her shoulders, I said, “What was it you wanted to talk about?”
Facing me, she rested her palm on my chest. “Tattoos.”
“Tattoos,” I echoed. Her hand on my pec did funny things to my heart—like tripping it into double-time.
“When we were in the bar, I asked you to describe yours, but you didn’t.”
Grabbing a handful of fabric at the back of my neck, I tugged my T-shirt over my head, dropping it over the seat in front of us. In the low light of the street lamp behind us, the Celtic knot design I’d had tattooed on my shoulder in honor of my grandpa when he passed stood out on my skin.
Half-turning on the seat, Piper traced the intricate black lines of intertwining infinity symbols with the pad of her finger. “Did you design this yourself?”
My skin rippled beneath her touch. “Yes.”
“It’s one of the coolest designs I’ve ever seen.” Naughty violet-colored eyes rose to mine as she dropped her hand on the top of my thigh. “What about your other ones?”
Damn. I’d never been with a girl as bold as Piper. Usually by this point in the evening, the girl had her shirt off, not me, and I was putting my hand on her thigh, coming on to her. Hoping she’d give me a chance. This role reversal excited me—gave me permission to tease.
“Mmm, getting a look at those is going to cost you.”
