Page 39 of Biggest Player (Not Yours #2)

Margot

He wants to spoil me?

I mean—if he insists . . .

I run my fingers over the fabric of the pajamas he has laid out on his massive bed—my first time in his bedroom—staring down at a matching set. His and hers.

Dex’s.

Mine.

“How did you get jammies so soon? Did you assume I would cave this fast?”

He sits on the edge of the bed, looking all big and cute and like I want to climb in his lap ...

“An assistant. He was here earlier when I called on my way home from the park.” Dex smiles. “I was driving at least fifteen over the speed limit to get here, though. Surprised I didn’t get pulled over.”

Dang. He works quick.

I pick up the pajamas and hold them up to my chest.

Dex’s is a two-piece set, top and bottom, and mine is more of a nightgown but with matching material. Baby blue with little stars and moons.

“I figured if we’re doing a sleepover thing, we might as well do it right.” He comes up behind me, sliding his hands around my waist, and I have to crane my neck to peer into his eyes. “I had him pick them up because you deserve to be spoiled.”

Damn right, I do.

“Are you one of those guys who likes matching Christmas pajamas and stuff with your family?”

He shrugs. “I think I mentioned that my family isn’t close—but yeah, if I’m at a buddy’s house for Christmas, we’ve done the matching-group thing.”

That I would pay to see.

“Flattery and pajamas—very smooth. It will get you some places,” I tease, holding up the nightgown. “So, what’s the plan? A movie marathon, or are we going for the full sleepover experience with face masks and maybe a little gossip?”

“Well, no. First, I have something for you.”

Another something? Say more.

I wait as he disappears into another room, returning with an envelope and holding it out for me.

“What’s this?”

I mean, obviously it’s a card. But what’s inside it? And when did he have time to run to the card store if he didn’t have time to buy the pajamas himself?

My thumb peels up the edge of the paper, tearing it so that I can pull the card out, and a little tingle of disbelief bubbles up inside my throat.

“Did you ... make this?” I stare at the paper in my hands, at the construction paper heart and the glitter that falls from it like confetti. Foam hearts also adorn it, stuck all over, weighing it down.

“Yeah.” He shuffles his feet, suddenly looking bashful.

Margot, his manly scrawl begins. Let’s go back to the beginning and pretend I wasn’t an asshole. Will you go on a first date with me all over again?

Please check one. Yes or No

I don’t know what to say because this is a first for me. My daughter has made me cards before, but a man? Never.

“You are so freaking cute!” I throw my arms around him, kissing his jawline, landing my lips on his mouth. “Yes. Yes, I’ll go back to the beginning with you, and we can pretend this is our first date.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” I kiss him again. “You do realize, though, that I don’t put out on the first date.”

“You don’t? Oh.” His face falls. “Well fuck that, then.”

I shake my head, laughing. “Maybe I could make an exception?”

“Good, because I have stuff planned for us.” His grin widens.

“Stuff?”

“You know. Movies, snacks. And if you’re up for it, we can do some of that other stuff too.” He wiggles his eyebrows like a creep, and I giggle.

And other stuff . . .

“Oh yeah. Like what?”

His massive shoulders shrug. “Thought maybe you could take a bath while I sit and talk to you? I have a huge tub.”

Oh? My ears like the sound of that. “I haven’t taken a bath in ages. My tub is small and not all that relaxing.”

Eagerly I follow him to the master bathroom—the sight has my breath catching. Shiny tile. Gold hardware. An enormous glass-enclosed shower.

The room is spacious—larger than my entire bedroom at home—the soak tub like a small pool. He already lit candles (or his assistant did) and they cast a soft, flickering light that makes everything seem dreamlike. The flames reflect against the surrounding glossy tile.

“Oh my God,” I whisper. “This is incredible.” My fingers glide along the edge of the tub. “It’s like being at an actual spa.”

Not that I’ve been to a spa in ages. Last time was a friend’s bachelorette party three years ago. It was magic.

“I’m glad you think so. I don’t use it that often.” Dex steps closer. “Let me grab you a robe while you get comfortable. I’ll get the water running.”

I watch as he turns the gold faucet handles, adjusting the temperature until steam begins to rise. Then, he adds a giant blob of bubble bath, filling the room with the calming aroma of eucalyptus and mint.

I inhale. Ahhh, it smells fantastic.

“I’m impressed.” I already feel relaxed, and I haven’t gotten into the water yet.

Dex’s eyes roam my face. “Anything for you.”

I shiver and slowly begin to undress, a mix of anticipation and exhilaration thrumming through my body. He’s seen me naked—of course he has; we’ve had sex and fooled around—but when he doesn’t look away, I shiver again. His gaze is appreciative and filled with desire, and he isn’t shy about it.

My shirt hits the floor.

I ease off my bottoms, and those land around my ankles.

I bend, sliding off my underwear—wishing I’d worn something sexier—trying to be smooth and casual about it, as if I were a dancer in an exotic club.

He watches me, transfixed.

Once my bra joins the rest of my clothes, I walk to the tub and dip my toe over the edge, into the bubbles.

Perfect.

One leg in, then the other, I ease myself in and let the hot, rushing water envelop me. I let out a sigh of contentment as bubbles surround my breasts, stomach, and legs, just my shoulders above the waterline.

“This feels amazing,” I murmur, sinking deeper. “Mmm.”

There is a chair at the vanity, and Dex pulls it next to the tub, close enough to put his fingers in the water. “You deserve to be pampered,” he says softly. “The last twenty-four hours have been stressful, and it’s been my fault.”

Eh, that’s not entirely true. My ex and my daughter add a certain amount of stress, too, and let’s not forget about my mother, whose nonstop meddling in my life does not help.

I close my eyes, the soothing sound of his deep voice above me. “You’re right. This is exactly what I needed.”

Dex moves forward, leaning over the side so his lips can brush mine in a tender kiss.

The warmth of the water and the softness of his touch combine to create a heady sensation that gives me goose bumps all over my body. God, I feel like I’m in a movie—or at least one of those reality shows where the contestants climb into a bath together and sip champagne.

I kiss him back, more passionately than I ever have before, the water against my skin and the fact that I’m naked making me feel sensual and seductive. Dex responds with a low, appreciative moan deep in his chest.

As the water laps around me, our kisses grow more intense, the tips of his fingers trailing up my arm and across my collarbone, leaving a path of tingling skin in their wake.

More goose bumps.

More shivers.

When I pull back to look up at him, my heart is racing in a way only he can make it race.

The heat between us is literally unbearable.

Maybe it was meant to be?

“Why don’t you join me?” My voice is husky with desire.

He doesn’t need to be asked twice. The man stands so quickly to shed his clothes I think he might topple over.

But my laugh is caught in my throat when he begins tearing off his shirt, revealing his sculpted body. Abs. Chest.

Yum.

As he pushes his pants and boxers down to the floor, I can’t help noticing he’s already hard, his dick bouncing when he steps gingerly into the water. It sloshes as he settles himself on the other side to face me.

My feet find his chest, and he immediately begins rubbing them, our best body parts pressed together beneath the hot water. I sigh, toes curling as his hands move up my calves, massaging and caressing muscles I didn’t realize were sore.

“That feels so, so good.” I lean my head back, closing my eyes.

“Not as good as you,” he replies.

I raise my head to look at him and giggle at his cheesy comeback. “When is the last time you were in here?”

“It’s been a while. Maybe a few times since I bought the house.”

“Why did you buy a house so big?” If you didn’t have or want a family ...?

“Don’t know. Guess it’s because I had the money.” Dex sniffs. “At least I’ll make money on the investment when I go to sell it.”

“Are you moving already?” I laugh.

“I’m not planning on it, but there’s always the chance I’ll get traded.”

Oh.

Ohhh, duh.

I hadn’t thought of that—the work stuff. How the football industry works and how unstable their positions can be.

Dex’s hands are still working magic on my feet, thumbs pressing into the pads as he says, “Every year during the draft, we risk being traded if the team picks a newer, shinier, and less expensive version of ourselves.”

I nod, understanding. Sort of.

I’m still learning.

His large palms move higher below the water, running slowly up my legs. Down again.

Lord, I wish I’d shaved ...

I cringe every time his hands splay over my thighs—kneading there the same way he kneaded my calves—dying inside because of the hair on my legs, but I remind myself that I’m naked and men love naked women ...