Big, broad, built like a damn tank.
A hockey guy, I think. Maybe football? Either way—he is huge, warm, and looked like he could throw me around a little.
And after one too many tequila shots, I decided—him.
“You’re looking real good tonight,” I murmured, my fingers trailing over his ridiculously muscled arm.
He smirked, leaning in. “Yeah?”
“Mhm.” I swayed a little, the liquor making me loose and bold. “Bet you could break me in half.”
His dark eyes lit up. “Oh, sweetheart, I’d ruin you.”
That was all I needed.
“Prove it.”
Five minutes later, we were in his room.
Ten minutes later, we were still in his room… and absolutely nothing had happened.
Because, well. Deano couldn’t get it up.
He kept trying, muttering about how it was “just the alcohol”, but eventually, he just flopped onto his back with a frustrated groan.
“Shit! Sorry, babe, this never happens. I’ve been fucking spiked or some shit.”
“Mhm.” I stared at the ceiling, pressing my lips together to stop from laughing. Not at him. Not really. At the situation because, of course, the one night I actually go out of my way to find good sex, this happens. I end up in my bra, in bedsheets I am not sure have ever been washed, staring at this guy’s flaccid penis.
Deano sighed heavily. “Sorry, babe. Guess I talked a big game, huh?” He kept calling me babe. I wonder if he actually knew my name.
“Just a little.”
He ran a hand down his face. “Fuck. This is embarrassing.”
“For both of us,” I muttered, then winced. “Sorry. That was mean.”
He chuckled, surprisingly good-natured about it. “Nah, I deserve that.”
I sighed, already planning my escape. Normally, this is where I’d leave. Where I’d mutter some excuse, grab my stuff, and slip back into the cold night alone.
But then he quietly said, “You can still stay, y’know.”
I blinked and looked over at him.
“To spoon.” He scratched the back of his head, suddenly looking a little shy for a guy built like a Viking. “If you want.”
I should’ve said no and gotten the hell out of there.
But…Something about the way he asked made me hesitate.
It wasn’t sleazy or expectant.
It was genuine. And Deano was warm. Like, really warm. And my apartment was fucking freezing.
So instead of leaving like I should’ve, I let out a deep sigh, rolled over, and mumbled?—
“Fine. But I swear to god, if you try anything?—”
