Page 54 of Offsides

There was so much more that he wanted to do and say to her. He wanted to continue what she had started when she launched herself at him having barely landed off the zip line. Where their conversation at dinner had been leading them. What her bet had meant.

She had bet on him.

Sure, she’d lost the twenty bucks she’d thrown down—this was Vegas after all—but that didn’t matter. It was the gesture. It was her way of showing him that she was in this, just as the day he had planned for her was his.

Heaving another sigh, he pressed his hand against the glass, the coolness of it against his warm skin a nice relief. He needed to tell her. No, he needed to kiss her. Show her exactly what he was thinking and feeling. If he had learned anything from Dulcie, it was that you didn’t waste time. You lived for the moment, and you told people how you felt, because you never knew when the sand would run out.

That’s what he needed to do.

Get back over there and kiss the fuck out of her…

Pushing back from the window, he spun around, racing for the door that separated their rooms. That sweet, gentle goodnight kiss he’d given her was bullshit. He knew it. She knew it. Now it was time to make up for it.

“Theo!” he called, crashing into her room.

The small bedside lamp was on, emitting just enough light for him to make out the bed. Her little black dress was in a heap on the floor, like she’d let it fall there, not bothering to pick it up. The sound of rushing water from the bathroom filled the still, silent room as he leaned over to pick up her dress. Tossing it on the bed, his eyes landed on a solid red jersey, draped over the side of her suitcase over by the window. Even in the darkness he could see it was faded, clearly well loved, but one he would know anywhere. The crest, the Liver bird, the four words that had shaped so much of his career—his life. That wasn’t just any jersey.

That was his jersey.

“Hey,” Theo’s sweet, melodic voice called.

Stepping out of the bathroom in nothing but her unmatched bra and panties, she looked like she belonged on a runway somewhere. Cowboy’s dick twitched at the sight of her, his body heating up with each passing second. She moved closer to him, her gaze flicking back and forth between his and the shirt he’d just been staring at.

“Theodosia,” he started, picking up the shirt. Part of him was tempted to look at the back of it, but he already knew what he would find. White lettering spelling out ‘Callahan’ positioned right above the number three. “What’s this?”

“My lucky sleep shirt,” she answered, a challenging look in her eye. “It’s what I sleep in whenever I have something important the next day. My own little ritual.”

“Lucky, huh? And what’s so special about this shirt?”

Pure joy mixed with anticipation rose within him, dying to hear her answer. He already knew it, but hearing her say it was something entirely different.

“That’s what I was wearing the night Liverpool won the Cup. A beautifully read play from my favorite player, sliding to block a pass, and the ball landing perfectly at the feet of arguably the greatest player of all time.”

Cowboy’s heart skipped a beat listening to the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen recount one of the greatest moments of his life. The tackle had given him just enough of the ball to get it to Cullen, who then did what he did best—scored. To know that Theo had been watching in the moment, wearing his number, sent a feeling through him he couldn’t describe.

“Put it on,” he told her, his voice gruff.

“I sleep in it,” she laughed.

“Put. It. On.”

“I’m standing here in my underwear and you want me to put clothes on?”

“Theodosia, I am not going to repeat myself for a third time,” he growled, closing the distance between them. His whole body was vibrating with lust, the desire to see her in his jersey taking control.

Theo took the shirt from him, slipping it over her head with ease. The oversized garment flowed effortlessly against her skin, dwarfing her lean frame, the hem coming to rest in the middle of her thighs.

It was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

Cowboy let out another growl, yanking her into him, her chest thudding against his, mouths colliding together like freight trains. His hand found the back of her head, snaking his fingers in her hair, holding her close to him. He needed her like he needed oxygen right now. Her kiss was everything.

Wrapping his hands around her long, dark mane, he backed her up, never letting up on the kiss. He was a man possessed, needing one thing and one thing only. This woman.

Theo cried out when her back hit the cool window, throwing her head back, exposing her neck. Cowboy took that as an invitation, moving his lips there, placing open-mouth kisses along her smooth skin. Theo moaned, shifting against him, her hands fisting his now partially tucked shirt. Nibbling at the soft spot right where her neck met her shoulder, Cowboy inhaled deeply, loving the sweetness of her, like she’d been dusted with sugar. But he knew there was an even sweeter part of her, and that was what he really wanted.

“Do you know how fucking sexy you look in my jersey?” he whispered into her ear. Theo let out a long, stuttered breath, nodding fast. Gliding his hand up her thigh, Cowboy nipped at her earlobe, earning him another moan. “Here’s the thing, darlin’, I don’t think you do. I don’t think you have any idea about just what seeing you in that color red does to me. Or all the dirty things it makes me want to do to you.”

Theo gasped, his fingers finding her sex, slowly dragging them back and forth along the crotch of her panties. They were flimsy and lacy, and he knew that it wouldn’t take much to make them disappear. A flick of his wrist and they were gone, ripped off her body.