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Her hand flew out and latched on to my leg when I tried to turn. “Are you leaving?” she asked.

I thought about how Sierra’s hair had felt. How she’d melted into my chest. How she’d wrapped her hot little body around me when we’d danced. Damn it.

“Yeah. I think so.”

“Why?” Her eyes had a way of pulling me in.

“You’re drunk.” I pointed at her.

“So?”

“So. Even if I was thinking about taking you to bed again, it wouldn’t be like this.”

Because that’s what she was thinking. One drink. One slow dance. One cruise alone and she’d have me back where she wanted. In her bed. That she would be the one to fucking seduce me.

That wasn’t how this was going down.

“Didn’t we used to have amazing sex?” Her words were slow.

My cock twitched slightly. “Yeah. We did.”

My head flashed with an image of her tits. They were fucking incredible. I used to suck and bite them until she screamed my name in the back of my truck and my ears echoed with her voice.

That was when we had to sneak around. Sex in my truck. Sex behind a hidden sand dune. Sex on the boat if we could get out for the day.

But never this. Never in a house when we were the only two home. It was what I’d always wanted—to fuck her epically. To take her on her knees. To fuck her every which way I had invented and some I hadn’t yet. Alone, where she could suck my cock all night and I could bury myself inside her over and over again until the sun rose over the water. I’d had it so bad for this girl.

Her eyes lifted to mine. “Have you thought about what it would be like now?”

I knelt next to her, close enough my lips almost touched her ear. I brushed her silky hair to the side.

“It would be so fucking epic you’d never want another man inside you.”

She whimpered.

I stood, her eyes following me.

“Good night, Sierra.”

I walked out, letting the screen door creak behind me. I tried to rub the throbbing ache out of my cock as I strolled to the truck. I was so fucking hard I didn’t know how I managed to put one foot in front of the other. That girl was killing me.

11

Sierra

The next morning, I brushed my teeth with a tightly wrapped towel around my body. The hot shower hadn’t exactly washed away the humiliation or the hangover. I was pretty sure I had thrown myself at Blake last night.

I spit into the sink and rested the toothbrush in the holder. What in the hell was I thinking? I was mortified. And part of me was still turned on. Did he want me? Was it possible that he still wanted me after all this time?

His words still buzzed in my ear.

I retrieved a pair of tweezers from my cosmetic bag and critically studied my brow line. I had let my time in Aunt Lindy’s house get to me. When was the last time I had a facial or a wax?

I exhaled into the mirror as I wiped on a second layer of mascara.

Had he taken any of it seriously? I doubted it. Women were always throwing themselves at him. I saw it after every game. He had websites dedicated to him, created by a hot female fan base. There was a reason he was one of the AFA’s most notorious bachelors—he refused to get serious with any one person, and was known for sleeping around.

He wasn’t the sweet guy I had once known. I had to remember that.