“And you absolutely cannot call a 280-pound lineman ‘Softy,’ especially not in front of his roommates. Do you have any idea what that kind of nickname could do to a man?” He shuddered.
Tapping a finger to my lips, I added, “You’re also more sensitive than I imagined. I mean, the way you blow through the line when you blitz would cause a person to think you have no feelings at all, and yet here you are, all Mr.Soft and Sensitive.”
Pulling into the horseshoe drive in front of my dorm, he put the truck in park and turned in his seat, a wicked twinkle in his gorgeous whiskey-brown eyes. “I can show you soft and sensitive, if you’re interested.”
Now it was my turn for a full-body shiver. “Um.” I bit my lip. “We only met tonight.”
His eyes strayed to my mouth, and involuntarily, my tongue slipped out and soothed the indentation my teeth left behind.
With a subtle move, he unclicked his seat belt but otherwise stayed where he was. “And we’re getting to know each other, yeah?” The low rumble of his voice rippled through me.
“I think so.”
Wait. Since when was I ever anything but assertive? How had the tables turned? How had he gone from Mr.Bashful with pink cheeks to Super Hottie coming on to me with that heated stare?
How was it possible Finn could initiate that relentless pulsing between my legs with only his eyes and his voice?
Someone pounded on the window beside me. The only reason I didn’t jump through the ceiling of the truck was that I was still buckled in.
“Finn! Hey, Finn!”
Even above the rumble of the truck’s engine, I recognized that evil, high-pitched voice. Slowly turning my head, I came face-to-face with the biggest nightmare of my life.
“Finn! What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded loud enough for the entire dorm to hear, even the rooms upstairs in the back.
Giving my attention back to my ride, I caught a guilty expression crossing his face for a split second before he shook his head and leaned forward to see around me. He gave her a one-finger wave.
Knotting my hands in my lap, I asked, “How do you know Tory Miller?”
“She and her friends like to hang with the team.” His eyes darted to mine when he clocked the disdain in my voice. “Callahan keeps telling me not to let her hang out with us, but she’s harmless.”
Narrowing my eyes, I said, “Harmless, huh? You should listen to your friend.”
Tory had made her way around the front of Finn’s truck and was now banging on the driver’s window. “Finn McCabe! You can’t be serious.”
“Sounds like you have something else to do.” I unbuckled my seat belt. “Thanks for the ride.”
When I grabbed the door handle, Finn stayed me exiting his truck with his hand on my arm. That one touch sent sparks cascading through my blood, but I ignored them.
“Wait. Can I get your number?”
“You said you weren’t a player, but that out there”—I nodded to the cacophony still going on outside his driver’s window—“tells a different story. I don’t have time for players. Or for guys who hang out with girls like Tory Miller.”
Pushing the passenger door open, I stepped out into the chilly October breeze, and I didn’t look back as I marched into the dorm. I thought I was wrong about him—had given him the benefit of the doubt—but Jamaica was right: I needed to stay away from Finn McCabe.
Chapter Two
Finn
“Who crapped inyour Wheaties?” Bax asked when I stumbled into the kitchen after dropping Chessly at her dorm.
Making a beeline for the fridge, I grabbed a beer and downed it in one go. It wasn’t enough. I tossed the can at the recycle box and grabbed another.
Bax’s eyes rounded to dinner plates. “That bad, huh?” Crossing his arms over his latest slogan T-shirt which read “Life is an inherently dangerous sport,” he waited for me to finish my second beer.
Pointing at his shirt with my third beer, I said, “That should read ‘Dating is an inherently dangerous sport.’”
He snorted. “Dating? Since when do either of us do that?”
