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Still, against all logic, he wanted her more than anything.
He wasn’t satisfied with just this.
What the hell is going on with me?
Yawning, she rolled onto her side and smiled at him, her lipstick long gone, her hair sticking up everywhere. She was still, hands down, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and he was, without doubt, enamored with her. He wasn’t sure what to do about that.
What to say.
So, he said nothing at all.
She smiled sleepily at him and rubbed her nose. She was glowing ethereally. “Do you need something to change into? I mean, all I have is girl clothes, but you’re welcome to use my pajamas. Warning, though. They’re all gowns.”
He frowned. “Gowns?”
“Yeah. Like…dresses.”
He grinned up at her ceiling fan and rolled onto his back. Since they’d drunk way too much, they’d decided it would be a good idea for him to spend the night, and she had insisted he sleep in her king-size bed with her, since it was large enough for both of them—including him and his, as she called it, big-ass muscles. The fan whirled slowly, blowing a gentle breeze down on them. She shivered, so he sat up and tugged the comforter at the bottom of the bed over her body. “I’m good in this, thanks. If Anna found out I wore a gown, she’d tell the press.”
She eyed his dress pants and partially unbuttoned shirt. “I wouldn’t tell.”
She was unbelievably adorable when she blushed like that. “I’m fine, it’s not the first time I’ve crashed in my suit, and it won’t be the last,” he said.
“Don’t you normally take them off, though?” She bit her lip. “With other girls you spend the night with but don’t…spend the night with.”
“Sometimes,” he said idly. Reaching out, he played with a piece of her hair, tugging on it gently. “Sometimes not.”
He didn’t tell her she was the first woman he spent the night with that he hadn’t slept with. This wasn’t exactly chartered territory for him. It was bad enough she had a hold over him without knowing it. If he told her, there was no telling what would happen next. Being with her had been…fun. Yeah, that’s right. Fun. He didn’t really have fun anymore.
Instead, he focused on his game, on and off the field, and flitted from one chick to another, never stopping long enough to actually learn anything about them, for one very good reason…
So he couldn’t fall for them.
But he’d broken his rule. He’d gotten close to a girl, and he liked what he saw. A lot. Now, there was nothing left to do but sober up and leave in the morning before he did something he regretted, like tell her how much he liked her. He didn’t want to lead her on, to make her think he wanted more than a night of fun when he didn’t.
And never would, no matter how much he liked her.
“How old’s your sister?”
He let go of her hair. “She’s probably about your age.”
“Which is…?” she asked teasingly.
Shit. Didn’t he read somewhere to never guess a woman’s age? “I might not be a relationship guy, but even I’m smart enough to sense that this is a trap…”
“Fine, don’t guess my age,” she said, chuckling. “Tell me hers.”
“Twenty-six.” He flopped back again. “She’s engaged.?
?
“I’m twenty-four.”
“Shit.” He rolled toward her, smiling. “You’re practically a baby.”
“Hardly,” she scoffed.
“When I was twenty-four, I was barely able to throw a ball.”
