Page 17 of Mad Rivals (The Bradley Legacy #1)

I Want Him to Kiss Me

This entire night has been easier than I was expecting, and it’s only leaving me confused.

We’ve covered a lot of topics, but we haven’t gotten to the thing I know he wants to ask. He keeps ordering us another round, and I keep drinking, and I should really stop since my lips tend to get looser and looser the more the vodka flows, but I’m finding myself enjoying this evening.

He said his dad wouldn’t tell him what went down between our fathers, and I don’t honestly know all that much.

But it sort of feels like the next couple years of working on this project together will go a lot smoother if we can do it from a place of friendship rather than from that place of rivalry that I’ve been working from.

And I’m getting this strange sense from him that he’s being genuine. He cares. He’s not just here to get some insider info on me or my company.

It’s like something is shifting between us, and I like it. Maybe it’s the vodka, but maybe it’s not. I’m tucking my dad’s warning away, but I’m also an adult who can handle myself despite my recent failures proving otherwise .

I clear my throat after our server drops off our latest round of drinks, and I blurt, “Your dad did something underhanded to my dad. I don’t know what it was, but they played football together, and they were close friends until your dad stopped playing.

I guess they lost touch. Years later they were competing for bids, and your dad did something to win the bid over my dad, but he didn’t say what.

He made it sound like he’d do it again, and I asked what we could do to fight it, and he said that your dad has connections we can’t fight against. I don’t know what any of it means, but my dad warned me off your entire family. ”

He freezes at my words, and then he blinks as his brows dip close together as if he has no idea what I’m talking about. Maybe he does, but maybe he really doesn’t. I’m still trying to gain my bearings around him and figure out whether or not he’s trustworthy.

“Kinda makes you wonder what secrets he’s keeping,” I say absently, but I can tell Madden’s wheels are turning now.

His jaw continues working back and forth as he stares into his beer bottle, and then he seems to snap out of it. “I’ll get to the bottom of it.”

“Well, I gave up the farm on my secrets about not really being sure if I want to run the family business. You go.” I nod at him and punctuate my sentence with a sip of my drink.

He chuckles. “I’m thirty-five. I was traded in the last year of my contract from a place I loved and didn’t want to leave.

” He shrugs. “If I don’t have a stellar season, I’m basically fucked.

And there are already several receivers on San Diego who can outrun me.

I never asked to run the company when I retire, but it’s always been my father’s plan for me. ”

“What do you want?” I ask.

When he tilts his head as his eyes meet mine, I get the sense that nobody has ever asked him that before.

“I don’t really know. I guess I never had to think about it because this was always the plan. I majored in construction management at Purdue and played football, and I guess I’m just biding time to fulfill a destiny that was always meant to be mine.”

“Isn’t that poetic?” I tease, but the truth is I hear the melancholy in his tone. “What about a family?” I ask, and I’d never get so personal with a business associate if it weren’t for the vodka.

He lifts a shoulder. “Honestly, it’s just another thing I pushed off until I was done playing. I guess I’ll have a lot of decisions to make in the next few years.”

“Is there anyone you’d, um…you know. Start a family with?”

His eyes move back to mine, and there’s some heat in there as he seems to contemplate his answer. I shift under his scrutiny. Maybe I’m imagining the heat. It’s only one interpretation. He could just as well be looking at me like I’m nuts for asking something so personal.

He surprises me by saying, “No. I’ve done a pretty good job of setting my personal life aside to focus on football.”

“So you’ve never been in a serious relationship?” I ask, surprised both because he appears to be a pretty damn nice catch and because it’s one more thing we share in common.

“How can I be when I’m committed to football?” he shoots back.

It’s a valid point, but it also seems like that commitment is starting to fade as he stares down what’s potentially his last year playing.

“What about you?” he asks.

I point to my own chest rather dumbly, and he nods encouragingly. “I’ve never really had anything serious, either. I don’t have football as an excuse. I just never found anything worth hanging onto.”

He flattens his lips for a beat, and he squints as he studies me. “Yeah, you look like one of those.”

My brows pinch tightly together. “One of what?” I ask defensively .

“One of those women who won’t settle for less than the best. The happily ever after with the perfect man who doesn’t exist leading her to her storybook ending.” He points his bottle at me. “Right?”

“Just because I haven’t had a serious relationship doesn’t mean I’m seeking perfection.” Does it? Maybe Clem and I will need to dissect that later.

I don’t know why I’m getting defensive. I guess Madden just brings that out in me.

He nods. “Okay.”

“You don’t believe me,” I say.

“And you don’t care what I believe.”

I tilt my head a little in agreement. “True.”

He chuckles, and I blow out a breath.

“I should get home,” I say. I don’t have a real need to, but I think we’ve probably shared enough secrets this evening.

I’m afraid if I stay longer—if I drink much longer—my lips will get even looser, and that’s probably something I can’t afford.

“Did you walk here?” he asks.

I nod. “I live close by.”

“It’s late to be walking by yourself. Let me walk you home. Or at least let me add a stop to my own Uber home.”

I narrow my eyes at him, and I know he’s just doing it to be nice. I relent as I nod, even though the thought of him walking me to my door fills me with both tingles and dread. “Okay. You can Uber me.”

He pulls out his credit card to pay the tab, and I start to put up an argument.

He holds up a hand. “Stop. It’s a business expense.”

I narrow my eyes at him, but I hold up both hands in surrender anyway.

We head out front, and the cool evening air sends shivers down my spine.

“The car is four minutes away,” he says, flashing his phone at me to show me the driver is en route to us, and I wander back toward the building and lean on the bricks several yards down from the door.

He steps into place and leans beside me, and he’s just a fraction too close.

I make the mistake of drawing in a deep breath, and it’s filled with him. It’s warm and rich, a little spicy and heady, and it makes me think of sex. With him. Tonight.

It’s off the table. I know it is. Still, I can’t help but peek over at him, and when I do, I find his head angled down as he studies me. His eyes are heated and glow with need, and despite the way I should feel tentative, I don’t.

I want him to kiss me.

I want to see if the passion is as strong as I imagine it will be.

It’s like he senses what I’m thinking as he kicks off the wall and moves to stand directly in front of me. His eyes are hot on mine as something unspoken passes between us.

“Tonight was nice,” he says softly.

I can’t seem to come up with any sort of coherent response. “Yeah.” It’s a mumbled word that nearly rides the line of being a needy moan.

His eyes flick to my lips before they move back to my eyes, and I wonder if he does this with all his female business rivals or if this is a first for him the way it is for me.

Are we even still rivals after tonight? It’s hard to tell.

My father doesn’t want me going near him, and yet his head is starting to lower, and all I can think about is his lips connecting with mine.

I’m a little drunk, I think. Sober Kennedy would stop this train, but right now, I can’t. I can’t look away from his gorgeous face as it moves closer to mine.

I can’t push away the body that takes a step closer. Well, I can . I don’t want to.

All I can think about is his lips, his hands, his body as it closes the space between us until I’m consumed by him.

His body presses to mine, pushing me back into the brick wall of the building, and my breath catches in my throat as one of his hands moves toward my hips and the other slides around my neck.

He’s touching me, and I grip onto his biceps to steady myself. I’m still pressed against the wall, yet it feels like I’ll fall to the ground if I don’t hold onto him.

I tilt my chin up, anticipation and adrenaline running rampant through my chest as he moves until there are no more inches between us.

My stomach flips as he leans down, and his nose brushes mine.

It’s a million sensations all at once. His scent overwhelming me.

His touch pulsing a dull ache down low in my belly.

The sound of cars rushing past down the street drowned out by the beating of my heart pounding in my ears.

And now it’s time to find out how he tastes.

I close my eyes, and his lips connect with mine.

It’s overwhelming.

It’s explosive and hot, and when his fingers grip a little harder on my hips, a moan rises up out of my chest.

He takes the opportunity to open his mouth to mine at my moan, and his kiss is somehow both tender and aggressive at the same time. His tongue moves against mine with a skilled sort of confidence that tells me he must have many talents with that tongue.

I dive right in, too, meeting his tongue brush for brush as we attempt to navigate this new, unexpected connection together.

My God, this man can kiss. It’s not just his firm lips or the way he’s holding me.

It’s the way he’s all-consuming in any room he walks into, the way he overwhelms me with simply how hot he is, the way we can bicker and banter and yet still somehow wind up right here in this moment.

It’s that heat of hate lined on the backside of this passionate moment.

His fingertips dig into my hip as he shifts, and I feel his erection as it presses against my stomach. It’s long and hard, and it’s proof he wants me as much as I’ve been fighting against the fact that I want him, too .

This kiss is unlike any other I’ve ever encountered. There’s passion there as we explore the attraction we’ve both felt, and it’s making me want more with him. It’s making me want to set aside whatever differences we had and take him into my bed.

I can’t, obviously.

I live with my parents, one of whom expressly forbade this sort of thing.

But maybe we could go to his place?

Tingles explode in my chest at the thought.

He pulls back unexpectedly, and he leans his forehead to mine. “Fuck,” he groans, his voice a hoarse, strangled rasp.

My chest tightens at his curse. He’s kissing the enemy, and then he stopped. He didn’t mean to kiss me at all.

I can’t back up out of his embrace since he has me pinned to the wall, but shame and embarrassment fill me in equal measures at his single word that managed to ruin whatever this moment was.

Heat pricks behind my eyes, and I finally gather the courage to set both of my hands on his chest to push him away.

I touch my lips, and then I glare at him.

He looks epically confused at my glare. “What?” he asks.

“You know what,” I hiss.

He tilts his head, but then he glances away from me and toward the black car that’s idling at the curb. “Our ride is here.”

“I’ll just walk,” I spit at him, and I move to walk away.

He grabs my arm, halting my progress. “Where the fuck are you going?”

“Home!” I yell at him. I’m crushed that he pulled away so abruptly when he must’ve realized what we were doing, and I hate that I feel that way.

“The car is here,” he says, his voice an overly calm contrast to mine. “Why are you acting like this?”

Oh, now he wants me to relive the whole mortifying experience? I don’t think so.

I rip my arm from his grasp, and I’m halfway between embarrassed and furious over this whole situation. I practically run to get away from him, my feet stomping with each clap against the pavement, and I never look back.