Don't Promise (Don't 3)
“I can’t. We can’t,” she replied.
“How about something to eat? Maybe something to drink? A back rub?”
She giggled. “The Sharks quarterback gives out backrubs, or do you think I’m that naïve?”
“I’m hoping you’re that naïve, baby.” I winked.
“Well, I’m not. I think you should take me home.”
Did she realize it didn’t matter where we went—I’d want the same thing? I had to kiss her. To touch her. To soothe the hurt from the night away from her. I wanted to be the kind of man that could that for her and I don’t know when in the hell something like that mattered to me.
“After tonight, you still don’t trust me?” I questioned.
“You’re not the one I don’t trust,” she whispered.
Fuck. My dick hardened at the words. She wanted me. She wanted the same thing. But I had to prove I could be the kind of man who wasn’t a sex addict. I could respect her. I could take her home and take care of her.
“I have some frozen pizzas we can throw in the oven and I might even have a bottle of wine.” I looked at her skeptical face. “And a guestroom. It’s all yours. You shouldn’t be alone tonight after what you’ve been through. And to be honest, I don’t think I want to be either.”
She nodded. “All right. Frozen pizzas it is.”
“It’s good, isn’t it?”
We sat on the living room floor, our plates on the coffee table and a bottle of wine between us.
Julie nodded. “If you’re trying to impress me with your cooking skills, you need some work.” She ripped off a corner of burned crust.
I chuckled. “I’m better with a grill.”
“That’s what all men say.”
“All men? And just how many men are you talking about?” I don’t know where the question came from, but I suddenly wanted to know about her. How many men had she dated?
She blushed. “It’s just an understood guy thing.”
“I’m not buying that bullshit,” I teased. “Tell me. How many have there been?”
“What? I’m not telling you that.”
I grabbed the pizza from her hand and held it up in the air out of reach. “No more pizza until I get a number.”
Her eyes beaded together. “I’m not telling you that, Hawk. That’s personal.”
I took a huge bite of the pizza. “Oh well.”
She lunged forward to grab it from me, but ended up toppling onto my chest. We fell backward on the floor. The pizza landed
under the table and I fastened my arms around her.
She looked into my eyes before I drew her lips to mine. She kissed me slowly at first, cautiously, and then I felt the weight of her lush lips bear against mine with fire.
My hands coasted over her hips and down her ass, grabbing, pulling, tugging. I wanted everything at once.
She moaned when I yanked her skirt up over her ass and palmed the bare skin of her bottom. I slapped against her, coaxing a whimper from her lips.
“Fuck,” I growled. She ground her hips into me and I slapped her again.
“Oh God.” She panted.