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“Don’t downplay it,” I snap firmly. His Caribbean-colored eyes wander from the fuzzy carpet to my thumb that continues to rub circles around his. His eyes slowly rake up my body and meet mine with glazed hurt coated over them. “You deserved better.” His hand squeezes mine before traveling at a torturous pace up my thigh, then to my arm. His touch fires goosebumps everywhere. He makes his way up my shoulder and to the base of my neck. His eyes darken with each slow touch, never leaving mine.

My brain powers down because I’mtiredof fighting whatever this is between us. For one day, hour, minute, or even second, I don’t want to think about anything but the undeniable attraction I have for the man behind the hurt eyes. His eyes dart down to my glossy lips before I wet them with my tongue. He takes a deep breath, moving his body slightly. As if I can read his mind, I nod my head, and that’s all it takes for his lips to meet mine in a blazing fury. His hand never leaves my neck, holding steady like he never intends to let go. Mine lace around his body, pulling him closer in. To get a better angle, I break contact to tuck my feet underneath me, but I don’t stay in that position long because his strong grip flips my body onto his lap. His skin blazes with heat as I open my mouth, allowing him in. My heart pounds out of my chest while my mind only focuses on the feeling of his lips on mine. He doesn’t hesitate to deepen the kiss and prolong our connection. His initial taste is spicy, but the aftertaste is sweet, similar to his personality.

I finally break our connection and I stare into his dark, lustful eyes for longer than I care to admit. My hands stay firmly planted on his chest, our foreheads still touching as my breathing begins to even out. When the reality of what we just did dawns on me, I jump off his lap and scurry to grab my purse.

“I. . . I. . . shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why?” He leans back on his elbows with a cocky smirk painted on his face. “Was I that bad of a kisser?”

“No,” I snap. “You know why.”

Realization flashes across his eyes. His easy smile quickly turns into a scowl. “Because you’re scared I’ll be likehim,” he retorts with understanding and frustration balled into one. “Yeah, I remember.” Pushing himself off the bed, he invades my space until I’m backed into the wall with no escape from his intoxicating presence. “Newsflash, Goldie. Your ex was an idiot to let you out of his sight for even a second.” His hands caress my lips as he rubs gently. Then, he pops his finger in his mouth to taste. “So sweet.”

“You c. . . c. . . can’t say things like that,” I answer, flustered with how intense he is.

“I can and I will. I take what I want, and I think you’ve known for a while that I want you to the point of insanity.”

“So did he and look where that got me.”

“It landed you in the arms of a man that won’tevertake a minute of the time you spend with him for granted.” He braces his muscular arms on both sides of me. “Let me prove that to you.”

I inhale his spiced scent and close my eyes for a second, grounding me to the present. Why am I fighting so hard against what I want?

“I don’t know.” I shift my lips back and forth. My brain becomes a running wheel that won’t stop conjuring excuses for why I can’t give in to him. “It’s not that simple.”

“When’s our next art session?” He flips the script, changing the subject from my uncertainty.

“Umm. Next week? I’d like to sketch you practicing on the field next.”

“It’s a date.” He winks. “And yes I mean a real date.”

“Not a date,” I mumble as I gather my things together to leave.

“Keep telling yourself that!” he hollers out as I close his bedroom door, catching a last minute glimpse of him sprawled out on the bed.

23

Hartley

Next week is here and I’m buzzing with excitement for afternoon practice. This isn’t an ordinary practice, though. Liza is coming to sketch, and the primal part of me is ready for her to see me break a few legs on the field with my superior route running. What she doesn’t know is that I planned a date that is too good to refuse after I finish up. Kissing Liza was everything I thought it would be, and as I predicted, she became flighty after. Texts were left unanswered, and she came up with every excuse in the book to avoid my presence until she had to see me to work on her project. I’m going to prove that I’m not her loser ex and that I can give her everything she wants and needs out of someone.

I won’t mess up this opportunity to prove myself to her.

“Done daydreaming, Knox?” Mason yells, jolting me out of my head and back onto the field.

“Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not.” Standing with my helmet in hand, I jog toward him. “The world may never know.”

“You’re a certified nutcase.” He laughs and shakes his head. “How are the grades looking?” As team captain, Mason getsweekly reports from Coach about who’s struggling academically. It holds us accountable while also having a teammate check in instead of the coaching staff.

“Better. The tutoring has been working.”

“Well good, man.” He pats my back. “You’re more talented than you give yourself credit for.” A closed lipped smile forms across his face. “Or maybe it took a certain bubbly blonde to kick you into gear.”

I knew it wouldn’t take long for word about Liza tutoring me to travel to the locker room. A few of my teammates passed by the study room while we were there, and they did a double take before leaving. Football players are the worst gossips on campus.

“She’s amazing isn’t she?” I smile at my captain, but envision Liza’s laugh and the crinkle her nose makes when she does.

“Wait. . .” He pushes my shoulder to face him. He tilts his head as if he’s searching my face for a secret code. “You like her,” he says matter-of-factly.