Page 3 of False Start: Chicago Engines (Gridiron Warriors #3)

Gia

The sun sat low on the horizon, painting the Chicago River in a wash of reds and oranges. The breeze lifted the hair on my shoulders and cooled my skin as we wandered along the boardwalk.

Hazel eyes sparkled down at me, a smirk twisting his face into something that had no right to be as attractive as it was on him. It turned out confidence was hot in a man who knew how to stop a panic attack and save an ill-fated interview.

“Desperately.”

“And yet I have no idea what you look like naked.”

It wasn’t until the joke sat in the air between us I realized what I’d suggested.

Stupid drunk brain. I had trouble controlling my mouth at the best of times, but put a couple of drinks in me and my filter went offline.

Weston was hot, and it had been a while since I’d spent any time with a man I liked.

Oh god. He knew it was a joke, right?

Was it?

An endless second stretched beyond my rapidly heating face before Weston threw his head back and barked a laugh.

“All you need to do is ask, Georgie girl. Just ask.”

The problem was, now all I could think about was how good it would feel to have his huge hands on me. He had proven he was kind and considerate, but would that translate in the bedroom?

“I mean… it would be a shame to waste this fake date. We can go back to being strangers in the morning, but for tonight…” I let the implication dangle. His eyes darkened, and a responding thrill raced through my body as he closed the space between us.

“A one-night stand to add authenticity to our fake relationship, then back to our own lives tomorrow. Is that what you’re proposing, princess?”

A sassy reply sat on the tip of my tongue, but his proximity stole the breath from my lungs. I licked my lips, lifting my chin in agreement.

The smile that broke across his face was both thrilling and a little terrifying as he swept my hair back and cupped my nape in one large palm.

“Then I should probably start by knowing what you taste like.” Keeping his grip gentle, he tilted my head and planted his lips against mine.

They were softer than I expected. Pillowy and warm and the perfect pressure as they molded against my own like they belonged there.

His other hand slid over my hip and around to the small of my back, and a whimper worked its way up my throat as he pulled me tightly against his firm body.

The moment was wonderful, perfect, and I needed more.

His collar crinkled beneath my fist as I pulled myself up to my tiptoes, licking at his mouth to encourage him to open for me.

An amused hum was all the warning I had before he took back control.

A sharp tug at my scalp sent a shiver of lust through me as he fisted my hair, plunging his tongue into my mouth in a possessive sweep that weakened my knees and dampened my panties.

More. I needed more.

Smoothing a hand over his wide chest, I vaguely noted the crazy firm muscle underneath before easing down over his abs.

This man was going to devastate me in the best way, and the sooner we started, the better it was going to feel.

As my fingers brushed his belt buckle, I wanted to cheer, but in the next moment, I was grasping at nothing.

Cold air filled the space he’d put between us.

“What…?” My mind was slow coming back online. Lust clogged my mental gears as if my brain was filled with cotton candy.

Weston raked a hand through his hair, the other positioned in front of his crotch as he glanced around at… the very public place we stood in.

Oh.

“If we go any further, we’re going to get arrested for public indecency,” he said, his flushed face indicating he had been as caught up in the moment as I was.

“I suppose we should probably find somewhere a little less public if we want to get more indecent, then.”

Weston breathed out a hard curse, his eyes dancing with something that could have been amusement.

“You’re something else, you know that?”

I shrugged. Something about him put me at ease. Maybe it was the fact he’d helped me out today. Maybe that we’d agreed to tonight only.

Either way, I was embracing the time we had. The problem was logistics.

As though he read my mind, Weston fished his cell from his pocket, casting a quick glance at me before clicking away at the screen.

Finally, I’d found a flaw in this beautiful man. He kept the keyboard noises on. I bet he didn’t keep his cell constantly on silent, either.

Oh god. Maybe he answered every time it rang, too.

Before I could overwhelm myself with catastrophic phone faux pas, Weston squeezed my hand.

“I have an idea. Give me just a second.” He lifted the device to his ear and stepped away.

“Hey, man. Can I ask a favor?”

His conversation was short, and a moment later, he came striding back with a smile.

“My friend has a place nearby we can borrow.” He paused, studying my face as though he could read my thoughts through sheer force of will.

“Unless you’ve changed your mind?”

“Do you keep your cell on silent? Or are you an assigned ringtone kind of guy?”

“Both.” His lip twitched.

“How…? You know what? Never mind. Let’s go to your friend’s sex dungeon.” I took the lead back toward the road as Weston doubled over with a coughing fit.

“Jesus,” he muttered, catching up to me a moment later.

“Should we get an Uber?”

“No need. It’s only two blocks that way. Unless your shoes are hurting?”

I glanced at my feet. The stilettos I’d matched with my dress this morning were my old faithfuls. Cute and worn in, I’d forgotten I was wearing them until he mentioned it.

“I’m fine. Lead the way.”

Less than five minutes later, we walked up to a well-appointed apartment building with keycode access. Once inside, we took the elevator to the top floor, and once again, Weston keyed in a code to give us access to the door on the right.

As he hit the lights, a beautiful open floorplan was revealed. Deeply stained wooden floorboards stretched across the expanse of a combination living room/kitchen layout with perfectly placed furniture and tasteful art decorating the walls.

“Can I get you a drink?” he asked as I sank into the butter-soft cream leather sofa.

“Yes, please. Whatever you’re having.”

I tugged the hem of my dress down over my knees as he retrieved two bottles of beer from the fridge and took a seat beside me.

“This place is beautiful,” I said, accepting a drink.

Now that we were alone, the mood had shifted. Slowed.

Maybe he had asked if I was still interested because he had been having second thoughts.

“Do you still want me?”

Weston’s head snapped toward me, his brow furrowed like he’d lost the thread of the conversation.

“Yes. Very much so. But only if you’re comfortable. What made you think I might not?”

Apparently, I’d misread the situation again.

Stupid Georgia.

“I guess because we’ve gone backward. From making out back to drinking. It’s okay if you’re bored now. Just tell me, and I’ll go.”

The beer bottle was cool in my hand. Condensation made the glass slick as I picked at the edge of the label, unwilling to meet Weston’s eye.

A thunk on the table in front of us preceded his hand entering my eyeline long enough to take the beer from my hand. There was a second thunk as my bottle joined his and then there was a whole lot of man in my field of view.

“I was trying to be polite,” he murmured, cupping my face and forcing my eyes to meet his.

“You’re incredibly beautiful, and I’ve been hard since we walked through the door.

I want nothing more than to learn every inch of your body and fuck you until neither one of us can move, but the reality is that regardless of what we told your acquaintance today, we’re strangers.

I want you to be comfortable, and a willing participant.

Not someone who got themselves into a situation, then felt obligated to follow through with because they’d come this far.

You’re safe with me, Georgia. If you say stop at any point, I want you to know I will. ”

“Oh,” I whispered, a little overwhelmed by his honesty.

I’d never been told I could say no.

And now that I had permission, I didn’t feel the need to use it.

Before I could overthink the situation again, I gripped his knee. “Tell me more about how you want to learn my body?”

His rumbling laugh cut off as he pressed his lips to mine, picking up from where we left off earlier. With a quick shift, he laid me out on the sofa, stretching out above me as he slowly stole my mind with his talented tongue.

He hadn’t lied about his erection. It pressed insistently into my lower belly as he moved away from my mouth, pressing warm kisses along my cheekbones and toward my ear.

“Fuck, your skin is so soft. I can’t wait to taste every inch of you.”

I groaned, tilting my hips in search of friction. My skin hummed everywhere his lips landed as he trailed them down my throat and along the neckline of my dress.

“Can I take this off?” he asked, running a finger under the strap.

“Yesss.” I arched my back, giving him access to the zipper, and felt a whole body shiver as his fingers brushed along my overheated skin.

He took his time sliding the fabric down my body as I shifted to help him along. I ached for him in a way I didn’t remember wanting anyone before.

“Please,” I whispered when he paused at my knees. His brow furrowed slightly, his eyes catching on to something. A row of four red crescents ran along each thigh where I had dug my nails in earlier.

“You hurt yourself.”

He brushed a gentle finger across the marks on my left thigh.

“You’re focusing on the wrong part of my body, Weston.”

I didn’t want to talk about anxiety or stressors right now. I didn’t want to talk at all. Just feel.

Luckily, I knew a great way to get himback on track. Sliding a hand between my shoulder blades, I released the hooks on my bra and dropped it on the floor. I stretched my arms overhead and gave him my best seductive smile.

“I thought you wanted to taste me.”