Page 46 of Hard to Score

And instead of words, I lean forward and press my lips to hers, preferring to get lost in her again, rather than to figure it all out.

There will be time for that.

But not here.

Not now.

I’ll do anything to keep the outside world at bay for a little bit longer, because this is the first time in forever that I’ve found reprieve from it all.

With her.

Because of her.

And fuck if I’m not going to hold on to it and not let go for the next several hours.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

BREXTON

STANDING AT THE FOOT OF my bed, I can’t stop staring at Drew in the mid-morning light. He’s sprawled out sideways across the sheets, the comforter covers his ass and below, but his broad shoulders are bare, and his arms are tucked under the pillow that his head is buried in.

I swear my heart skips a beat. One I don’t want it to skip, because I’m more than surprised that he stayed the night.

It’s not like we had a one-night stand. I mean, we do in fact know each other—sort of. So there shouldn’t be a walk of shame or any moments of awkwardness this morning when he leaves. After all, we didn’t exactly fall asleep after that first time. It was almost as if each time our lips met, we couldn’t stop until we’d connected once again. Until we thought we’d gotten our fill of each other only to learn we hadn’t.

It’s never been like that for me with someone before, and I’m not quite sure what that means.

Are we simply a match striking, igniting, and then waiting to burn itself out? A foregone conclusion that we were going to sleep together before identifying that it was enough?

But as I stand here studying him—the scar on his shoulder blade, the defined muscles, his thick lashes against his tanned cheek—I settle in with the thought that this feels like it could be the start of something good.

You’ve sworn off men, Brex.

But this isn’t just any man. This is Drew.

And while I may be looking at him right now—grown-up Drew with his incredible body and quick wit—long ago I liked all the things that still seem to be the same. Sure his features are more mature now, but there’s the lopsided grin that’s part sheepish, part seduction that wins me over every time. There’s that impish look in his eye before he shakes his head when he knows you’re right but can’t admit it. There’s the way he narrows his eyes slightly before he fades into deep thought.

I’ve seen little glimpses of that teenage boy I once knew—the playful and funny side to him—and I’m pleased to admit I’m more than enamored by the man he’s grown into. His passion for a game that seemingly has screwed him.

The way he showed up here last night even if it took two shots.

And yet, my subconscious complains to shut my heart out and to listen to my head. Things like this don’t happen to me. They’re never this easy.

The other shoe always drops.

And more often than not, it’s heavy and destructive when it does.

“Hey,” Drew murmurs in a sleep-drugged voice. It’s made to sin with and pulls me from my thoughts.

I take my time dragging my gaze up his body until I meet his eyes. “Hey.”

“Don’t look at me like that, Brex.” He chuckles with a subtle shake of his head as I cross the room. “There’s no way you can possibly be up for another round.”

I crawl onto the bed beside him, and when he turns onto his back to follow me, I straddle his hips over the comforter between us. “Mentally, yes.” I wiggle my hips playfully. “Physically, give me a minute or two.”

He belts out a laugh as his hands find their way beneath the oversized T-shirt I have on. He hums when he finds my hips bare and without panties. “I hear what your lips are saying, but this body is tempting me with something altogether different.”

Our eyes meet, the smile on his lips crinkling lines at the corner of his, making him even sexier. “Thank you for coming over last night,” I murmur and lean down and press a kiss against his chest. I have the strongest urge to lay my head there and hold on to him—almost as if I need to cherish this moment because it won’t happen again.