“What, what? I’m just driving.” The traffic was already beginning to jam up.
“You wrinkled your nose in a funny way. You do that when you’re thinking.”
My stomach did a painful flip-flop, which clearly made absolutely no sense, but it was as uncomfortable as fuck. “And how would you know, since this is only the third time you’ve seen me in person?”
“Yeah, but I see you on our video calls too.”
“Aren’t you supposed to just grunt and think about football?”
Anson laughed. “Are you saying jocks are dumb? It’s because of football that I notice shit like that. I need to be able to read people, moves. Maybe I don’t see facial expressions on the field, but there are little things about the other players I notice, habits they have that I can read so I know what to expect.”
“And you know my nose wrinkle?”
“I know your nose wrinkle,” he confirmed. “I also know you tap your fingers when you’re nervous, but you don’t like to ever look nervous.”
I stopped my fingers from tapping on the steering wheel. Shit. I’d never had anyone call me on that before, and didn’t know if anyone else had noticed. It hit me then how we really had started to get to know each other over the past couple of months. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
“Funny. I used to think I liked you, but now I’m not so sure.”
Anson let out a loud laugh, surprising me, then lowered his voice and added a little extra Southern twang. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll keep your secrets.” Then…then the motherfucker winked at me, and I shifted, feeling flushed as if I were the virgin.
“Where have you been hiding that voice? It was hot.”
Sadness crept over his features, but he blinked it away quickly. “Flirting with the wrong people.”
It was the reminder we both needed. Our arrangement was a onetime—a one-day—thing. Afterward, Anson wouldn’t be with men. He was going to go back to pretending to be the straight football player.
I shouldn’t have needed the reminder.
We didn’t talk much the rest of the way to my house, which was in a secluded area of the city, surrounded by other homes and people who also wanted their privacy.
I pulled into the garage and popped the trunk. Anson grabbed his bag and followed me to the door. I pressed the code on my alarm system, and the second it was deactivated, I was on him.
He made an umpf sound as his back collided with the door. It wasn’t soft or easy, and I felt bad about that. For all I knew, Anson liked slow and gentle sex. Before I could say anything, his bag hit the floor, his hands were in my hair, and he tugged my mouth down to his. The kiss went from zero to sixty in one second flat. My tongue pushed into his mouth. Anson pulled my hair, then slid his hands down until they were around my waist. His fingers pressed into me hard, and I knew they’d leave a mark, and I couldn’t fucking wait. I wanted to be bruised by him.
I shoved my erection against him, then pushed a leg between his as I ground my groin on him.
I was surprised when I was shoved backward against the other wall of my kitchen. Fear shot through me. I thought maybe I’d done something wrong or gone too fast, but then it was his leg shoving between mine as his mouth slammed down on me a second time.
Anson’s hold on my hips tightened. I flinched as I rode his thigh and slid my hands under his hoodie and T-shirt. He had way too many clothes on, but I couldn’t pull myself away long enough to remedy that.
Instead, I shoved my hands down his sweats and gripped his ass. He trembled, his teeth digging into my lip.
Anson pulled back. “Shit. I didn’t mean to bite you. I’m sorry. I was just getting into it.”
“Bashful, you don’t have to be soft with me. In fact, I’d rather you weren’t.”
I swear to Christ, he fucking growled at me, and then our mouths smashed together, teeth clinking. We kissed as he rutted against me. His ass tightened in my hands, and fuck, was he muscular. I’d seen him, I knew that, but it was something else altogether to feel it.
He bit my lip again, his hips thrusting with mine, and I knew if I didn’t stop us, he’d come like that, rubbing his clothed body against mine. As much as I loved that I could make him jizz that way, I wanted more.
I pushed off the wall, and he stumbled backward, hitting the door again with another umpf. When I dropped to my knees in front of him—which fucking hurt on the tiled floor—he cursed.
I didn’t waste any time tugging his sweats down to his feet. The bulge behind his boxer briefs was massive, the length swollen and thick, and I couldn’t fucking wait to see it. His thighs were tight with long cords of thick muscle. Anson was a physical specimen, and for the next twenty-four hours, he was all mine.