Page 93 of Playing Dirty

I turn my head and grin down at him. “Wow, how did that feel to say?”

He shrugs. “Seems the rivalry only applies to Blackmore athletes.” There’s a hesitancy in his gaze when it lifts to meet mine, almost like the words that leave his mouth next do so without permission. “With oneexception, I guess.”

It’s the closest thing to an admission I’ve gotten from him, and I know it’s in spite of himself. But him coming here tonight, meeting the three people who—besides my mom—mean the most to me?

It has to count for something, even if it still makes him uneasy.

Keeping it as light and teasing as I can manage, I mutter, “Should I be jealous of the lucky guy?”

The joke works, and his easy smile sends little zaps through my extremities, only to turn into a full electrical current when his focus dips from my eyes down to my lips. His gaze lingers there for longer than can be deemed innocent before sliding back up.

“Don’t let it go to your head, all right?”

“Oh, it’s way too late for that.”

And when he shifts upward to press his lips to mine, I realize it might be too late for my heart as well.

Twenty-Four

Theo

I startle awake in the middle of the night, disoriented and not having any idea where I am for a solid thirty seconds. It’s only when I realize I’m still at Madden’s that I relax again, and checking the time on my phone reveals it’s been barely an hour since we curled up on the couch to watch the movie.

Well, shit.

I must’ve fallen asleep, and a quick glance over at Madden reveals he did too.

I hadn’t intended on sleeping over tonight, but now, being tucked against his body, the idea of leaving holds absolutely no appeal. Resisting the urge to burrow deeper into his chest is nearly impossible, but there’s a good chance one of my gazillion roommates will notice my car missing by morning.

That thought alone gives me the strength to plan a silent escape, starting by slowly lifting his arm from where it’s wrapped around me. The real issue comes when I realize I’m still pinned between him and the back of the couch, and I’ve barely sat up when he stirs beside me.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” he whispers, voice thick with sleep.

I curse internally, but looking down, I find his eyes are still closed. “Nothing, sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep.”

He lets out a little noise—something between a sigh and a groan—before murmuring, “We fell asleep?”

God, how can someone as sexy as him be so…adorable at the same time? It’s really not fair, and it’s killing what little resolve I’m clinging to.

“Yeah. Must’ve during the movie.”

He’s silent for a moment, and I almost think he’s fallen back asleep when he quietly asks, “Are you gonna leave?”

The question is a knife to the heart, and I hate knowing the answer is yes. Especially if it means it’ll disappoint him.

“I probably should.”

He makes the softest little groan and throws his arm back over my waist in protest. Like it would be enough to keep me in place—though it probably would be if he weren’t half asleep. Of course, all of my willpowercrumbles like a house of cards when he utters two words.

“Just stay.”

My fingers skate over his arm, tracing the lines and patterns inked into his skin. Despite having come to know them rather intimately over the past weeks, I still don’t tire of touching them, mapping the intricate designs.

God. It’s kind of pathetic, honestly, how much pull he has over me in such a short amount of time. How much I crave being with him as much as possible.

“Can we at least go to your room if I stay?”

He hums and sits up, cracking his eyes half open. “Yeah, not a bad idea.”