Page 47 of Double Play

“Well,” Dasher drawls when neither of us answer. “You kids behave yourself.” He claps me once, hard, on my shoulder, then punctuates the touch by squeezing at my deltoid. His meaning: you have some explaining to do.

I’ll let him in on any explanation once I understand just what the hell is happening myself.

twenty

. . .

[India]

Coming to Declan’s place after midnight was impulsive. I should have called. I should have asked. But I’d been restless during the game, sneaking enough glances in the direction of the Tennessee Terrors coach that my cameraman had asked me if I was okay.

I wasn’t.

While the nights in Colorado had been an awakening, and whatever was happening with Declan and me was refreshing, I couldn’t seem to pump the brakes. I was barreling toward him when it had only been three nights. Three glorious nights of orgasms and giggles, quiet talks, and sweet kisses.

Declan Wylde has definitely changed as a lover. He was always attentive, cautious even, double-checking that I was comfortable and satisfied. Now, he didn’t ask. He used cues from my body to read me and studied me like he was cramming for an exam.

I wanted him to pass.

And, like a wanton hussy, I was desperate for him to touch me again.

So, I’d dressed in this ridiculous coat I’d found in the back of my closet, with a slip of a nightie underneath it, and dragged myself across town, uninvited, to learn he was already having a slumber party.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt an existing sleepover,” I state, remaining in the hallway after Dasher Wylde passes me.

Dasher is bigger than his brother. Brusque. Boisterous. Beautiful, but in a different way than his sibling.

And while he walks down the hallway, I eye his counterpart—the younger Wylde—who doesn’t answer me, but tugs at the belt secured around my waist and pulls me into his apartment.

Within seconds, I’m pressed up against the inner wall and kissed like I’m the air he needs to breathe. Open mouthed. Panting tongue. It’s over almost as quickly as it begins before Declan rests his forehead against mine.

“My daughter is here,” he whispers. “She’s the one with a sleep over.”

“Oh,” I whisper, in return. “I probably should have called.” I definitely shouldn’t be here.

With that thought in mind, Declan steps back, captures one loose end of the belt around my coat, and tugs me forward, slowly walking backward so I’ll follow him . . . right into this bedroom.

After closing the door, he takes a seat on the edge of his bed, bringing me between his spread knees. His warm hands cup the back of my upper thighs.

“I’d ask what you’re doing here, but I have a feeling I know.” He stares up at me, blue eyes like flames, before he glances toward his closed bedroom door.

“I don’t have to stay,” I tell him. I’ve overstepped. I took another risk with this man because my libido-meter is off the charts. Over the scoreboard and outside the ballpark.

At the same time, Declan says, “Take off your coat. Stay a while.”

“What about Montgomery?” I turn only my head toward the door.

“She’ll knock if she needs me. But she won’t.” He swallows, staring at me again. “Need me, that is.”

I could argue that every little girl needs her daddy, but I know what he means. In the middle of the night, she isn’t going to wander to his room unless it’s an emergency.

“I shouldn’t be here,” I say as I run my fingers through his hair, eager to touch him in some way.

His eyes close. “But you are. And it’s refreshing that you’re sneaking into my room for once.”

My mouth pops open just as his lids flip upward. He chuckles, releasing the back of my thighs, and falling back on his bed. Tucking one hand behind his head, he says, “Dare.” He tips his chin. “Take off the coat.”

Suddenly, I’m shy. I mean, I’m the one who put on the short jacket and wore nothing more than a slip of material underneath solely intending to seduce this man. Again.